Imatges de pàgina
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DRIVE all Objections from your Mind,
Elfe you relapse to human Kind:
Ambition, Avarice and Luft,

And factious Rage, and Breach of Truft;
And Flatt'ry tipt with naufeous Fleer,
And guilty Shame, and fervile Fear,
Envy, and Cruelty, and Pride,
Will in your tainted Heart prefide.

HEROES and Heroins of old,
By Honour only were enroll'd
Among their Brethren of the Skies;
To which (though late) fhall Stella rife.
Ten thousand Oaths upon Record,
Are not fo facred as her Word;

The World shall in its Atoms end, .
E're Stella can deceive a Friend.
By Honour feated in her Breast,
She ftill determines what is beft;
What Indignation in her Mind
Against Enflavers of Mankind!
Base Kings and Minifters of State,
Eternal Objects of her Hate.

SHE thinks, that Nature ne'er defign'd

Courage to Man alone confin'd:

Can Cowardice her Sex adorn,

Which most exposes ours to Scorn?
She wonders where the Charm appears
In Florimel's affected Fears:

For Stella, never learn'd the Art,

At proper times to fcream and start;

Nor

Nor calls up all the Houfe at Night,
And fwears the faw a thing in white:
Doll never flies to cut her Lace,
Or throw cold Water in her Face,
Because she heard a fudden Drum,
Or found an Earwig in a Plum.

HER Hearers are amaz'd from whence
Proceeds that Fund of Wit and Sense;
Which tho' her Modefty would fhroud,
Breaks like the Sun behind a Cloud;
While Gracefulness its Art conceals,
And yet through ev'ry Motion steals.

SAY, Stella, was Prometheus blind,
And forming you, miftook your Kind ?
No: 'Twas for you alone he stole
The Fire that forms a manly Soul;
Then to compleat it ev'ry way,
He moulded it with Female Clay :
To that you owe the nobler Flame,
To this, the Beauty of your Frame.

How would Ingratitude delight
And, how would Cenfure glut her Spight?
If I fhould Stella's Kindness hide
In Silence, or forget with Pride,
When on my fickly Couch I lay,
Impatient both of Night and Day,
Lamenting in unmanly Strains,
Call'd ev'ry Pow'r to ease my Pains:

7

Then

Then Stella ran to my Relief,

With chearful Face, and inward Grief:
And, though by Heav'n's fevere Decree
She fuffers hourly more than me:
No cruel Master could require

From Slaves employ'd for daily Hire,
What Stella, by her Friendship warm'd,
With Vigour and Delight perform'd:
My finking Spirits now supplies,
With Cordials in her Hands and Eyes;
Now, with a foft and filent Tread,
Unheard she moves about my Bed.
I fee her tafte each naufeous Draught,
And so obligingly am caught;

I bless the Hand from whence they came,
Nor dare distort my Face for Shame.

BEST Pattern of true Friends, beware
You pay too dearly for your Care:
If while your Tenderness secures
My Life, it must endanger yours.
For fuch a Fool was never found,
Who pull❜d a Palace to the Ground,
Only to have the Ruins made
Materials for an House decay'd.

با.

On

On cutting down the OLD THORN at MARKET-HILL,

AT

Written in the Year 1727.

T Market-Hill, as well appears
By Chronicle of ancient Date,
There ftood for many a Hundred Years,
A fpacious Thorn before the Gate.

Hither came every Village-Maid,

And on the Boughs her Garland hung;
And here, beneath the spreading Shade,
Secure from Satyrs, fat and fung.

*Sir Archibald, that val'rous Knight,
Then Lord of all the fruitful Plain,
Would come to liften with Delight,
For he was fond of rural Strain.

(Sir Archibald whofe fav'rite Name Shall stand for Ages on Record, By Scottish Bards of highest Fame,

+ Wife Hawtborden and Sterling's Lord.)

But

*Sir ARCHIBALD ACHESON, Secretary of State for Scotland. + DRUMMOND of Howthorden, and Sir WILLIAM ALEXANDER, Earl of Sterling, both famous for their Poetry, who were Friends to Sir ARCHIBALD.

But Time, with Iron Teeth, I ween,
Has canker'd all its Branches round ;
No Fruit or Bloffom to be feen,

Its Head reclining tow'rds the Ground.

This aged, fickly, faplefs Thorn,
Which must alas no longer ftand;
Behold! the cruel Dean in Scorn

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Cuts down with facrilegious Hand.

Dame Nature, when fhe faw the Blow,
Astonish'd gave a dreadful Shriek;

And Mother Tellus trembled fo,

She scarce recover'd in a Week.

The Sylvan Pow'rs with Fear perplex'd,
In Prudence and Compaffion fent,
(For none could tell whofe Turn was next
Sad Omens of the dire Event.

The Magpye, lighting on the Stock,
Stood chatt'ring with inceffant Din.;
And with her Beak gave many a Knock
To rouze and warn the Nymph within.

The Owl forefaw in penfive Mood,
The Ruin of her antient Seat;
And fled in Hafte with all her Brood,
To feek a more fecure Retreat.

Laft trotted forth the gentle Swine,
To eafe her Itch against the Stump,
And difmally was heard to whine,
All as the fcrubb'd her meazly Rump..

The

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