From her red Locks her Mouth with Venom fills; The Q incens'd, his Services forgot, Now, through the Realm a* Proclamation spread, While innocent, he scorns ignoble Flight; By Harley's Favour once again he shines; Is now carefs'd by Candidate Divines; Who change Opinions with the changing Scene: Lord! how were they mistaken in the Dean! Now, Delawere again familiar grows; And, in St's Ear thrufts half his powder'd Nose. $ The Scottish Nation, whom he durft offend, Again apply, that S would be their Friend. By *The Proclamation was against the Author of a Pamphlet, called, The Publick Spirit of the Whigs, against which the Scotch Lords complained. Lord DELAWERE, then Treasurer of the Houfhold, always careffing the Author at Court: But during the Tryal of the Printers before the Houfe of Lords, and while the Proclamation hung over the Author, his Lordship would not feem to know him, till the Danger was past. The Scotch Lords treated and visited the Author more after the Proclamation than before, except the D. of ARE, who would never be reconciled. By Faction tir'd, with Grief he waits a while, * The Author retired to a Friend in Berkshire, ten Weeks before the Qu- died; and never saw the Ministry after. In SICKNESS. Written foon after the Author's coming to live in IRELAND, upon the Queen's Death, October, 1714. 'T -then why should I repine, IS true, But, why obfcurely here alone? Where I am neither lov'd nor known. Preferring his Regard for me Before his Credit or his Fee. Some Some formal Vifits, Looks, and Words, I meet perhaps from three or four, But, no obliging, tender Friend In your YE formal Weepers for the Sick, To late To the Earl of OXFORD, Lord Treasurer. Sent to him when he was in the Tower, before his Tryal. Out of HORACE. Written in the Year 1716. OW bleft is he, who for his Country dies; Since Death pursues the Coward as he flies. The Youth, in vain, would fly from Fate's Attack, With trembling Knees, and Terror at his Back; Tho' Fear fhould lend him Pinions like the Wind, Yet swifter Fate will feize him from behind. VIRTUE repuls'd, yet knows not to repine; But fhall with unattainted Honour shine; Nor stoops to take the Staff, nor lays it down, Just as the Rabble please to smile or frown, VIRTUE, to crown her Fav'rites, loves to try Some new unbeaten Paffage to the Sky; Where Jove a Seat among the Gods will give To those who die, for meriting to live. NEXT, faithful Silence hath a fure Reward: Within our Breast be ev'ry Secret barr'd : He who betrays his Friend, fhall never be Under one Roof, or in one Ship with me; For, who with Traytors would his Safety truft, Left, with the Wicked, Heaven involve the Juft? And, tho' the Villain 'fcape a while, he feels Slow Vengeance, like a Blood-hound at his Heels. Upon the South-Sea PROJECT, Written in the Year 1721. E wife Philofophers, explain, What Magick makes our Money rise, Put in your Money fairly told; Prefto be gone 'Tis here agen: Ladies and Gentlemen, behold, Here's ev'ry Piece as big as Ten. Thus, |