Whence takes it its increase, and whence its birth, Or from the fun, or from the air, or from the earth,

Where all the fruitful atoms lie,

How fome go downward to the root,
Some more ambitioufly upwards fly,

And form the leaves, the branches, and the fruit.

You ftrove to cultivate a barren court in vain,
Your garden's better worth your noble pain,
Here mankind fell, and hence muft rise again.

XI.

Shall I believe a spirit fo divine

Was caft in the fame mold with mine? Why then does nature fo unjustly share Among her elder fons the whole eftate, And all her jewels and her plate?

Poor we, cadets of heav'n, not worth her care, Take up at beft with lumber and the leavings of a fare:

Some the binds 'prentice to the spade,

Some to the drudgery of a trade,

Some fhe does to Egyptian bondage draw,

Bids us make bricks, yet fends us to look out for ftraw:

Some fhe condemns for life to try
To dig the leaden mines of deep philofophy:

Me

Me the has to the mufe's gallies tied,
In vain I ftrive to cross this fpacious main,
In vain I tug and pull the oar,

And when I almost reach the shore,

Straight the mufe turns the helm, and I launch

out again:

And yet, to feed

my pride,

Whene'er I mourn, ftops my complaining

breath,

With promise of a mad reverfion after death.

XII.

Then (Sir) accept this worthlefs verse,
The tribute of an humble muse,

"Tis all the portion of my niggard stars ;

Nature the hidden fpark did at my birth in

fufe,

And kindled first with indolence and ease;

And fince too oft debauch'd by praise,
'Tis now grown an incurable disease:
In vain to quench this foolish fire I try
In wisdom and philofophy;

In vain all wholefome herbs I fow,

Where nought but weeds will grow. Whate'er I plant (like corn on barren earth) By an equivocal birth

Seeds and runs up to poetry.

On

On DAN JACKSON's Picture cut

T

in Paper.

O fair lady Betty Dan fat for his picture,

And defy'd her to draw him so oft as he piqu'd her :

He knew he'd no pencil or colouring by her,

And therefore he thought he might safely defy her.

Come fit, fays my lady, then whips up her fciffar,

And cuts out his coxcomb in filk in a trice, Sir.

Dan fat with attention, and saw with

furprize

How the lengthen'd his chin, how the hollow'd his eyes,

But flatter'd himself with a fecret conceit, That his thin leathern jaws all her art wou'd defeat.

Lady Betty obferv'd it, then pulls out a pin, And varies the grain of the ftuff to his grin; And to make roafted filk to resemble his

raw-bone,

She rais'd up a thread to the jett of his

jaw-bone;

Till

Till at length in exacteft proportion he rose, From the crown of his head to the arch of his nofe.

And if lady Betty had drawn him with wig and all,

'Tis certain the copy had out-done the original.

Well, that's but my out-fide, fays Dan with a vapour.

Say you fo? fays my lady; I've lin❜d it

with paper.

PDfculpfit.

Another.

CLA

LARISSA draws her fciffars from
the cafe

To draw the lines of poor Dan Jackson's
face.

One floping cut made forehead, nofe, and chin,

A nick produc'd a mouth and made him
grin,

Such as in taylor's measure you have seen.
But still were wanting his grimalkin eyes,
For which grey worfted-ftocking paint
fupplies.

Th'

ww

'Th' unravel'd thread thro' needle's eye convey'd

Transferr'd itself into his pafte-board head. How came the fciffars to be thus out-done? The needle had an eye, and they had none. O wond'rous force of art! now look at

The dev❜l, fays he, the head is not fo fullIndeed it is, behold the paper skull.

THO. S―N fculp.

Another.

DAN's evil genius in a trice

Had ftripp'd him of his coin at dice;

Chloe, obferving this difgrace,
On pam cut out his rueful face:
By G-, fays Dan, 'tis very hard,
Cut out at dice, cut out at card!