Imatges de pÓgina
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A great Bottle of Wine, long buried,

being that Day dug up.

Written about the Year 1722.


Esol v'd my annual Verse to pay,

By Duty bound, on Stella's Day;
Furnish'd with Paper, Pens, and Ink,
I gravely fat me down to think :
I bie my Nails, and scratch'd my Head,
But found

my Wit and Fancy fled:
Or, if with more than usual Pain,
A Thought came fowly from my Brain,
It cost me Lord knows how much Time
To Thape it into Sense and Rhyme :
And, what was yet a greater Curse,
Long-thinking made my Fancy worse.


FORSAKEN by th' inspiring Nine,
Í waited at Apollo's Shrine;
I told him what the World would say
If Stellá were unsung To-day;
How I should hide my Head for Shame,
When both the Jacks and Robin came;
How Ford would frown, how Jimi would leer
How Sb-n the Rogue would sneer :
And swear it does not always follow,
That Semeln anno ridet Apollo,
I have assur'd them Twenty Times,
That Phoebus help'd me in my Rhymes ;
Pbæbus inspir’d me from above,
And He and I were Hand and Glove.
But finding me so dull and dry fince,
They'll call it all poetick Licence:
And when I brag of Aid Divine,
Think Eusden's Right as good as mine.

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APOLLO, having thought a little, Return'd this Answer to a Tittle.


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Though you should live like old Methusalem; I furnish Hints, and you should use all 'em; You yearly fing as the grows old, You'd leave her Virtues half untold: But to say Truth, such Dulness reigns Through the whole Set of frib Deans; I'm daily stunn'd with such a Medley, Dean W-d, Dean D

1, and Dean Smedly; Thar, let what Dean:soever come,

ş!r2 My Orders are, I'm not at Home; And if your Voice had not been loud,

- NA You must have pass’d among the Crowd.


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But now, your Danger to prevent,
You must apply to † Mrs. Brent.
For she, as Priestess, knows the Rites
Wherein the God of Earth delights:
First, nine Ways looking, let her stand
With an old Poker in her Hand;
Let her describe a Circle round
In * Saunder's Cellar on the Ground:
Vol. II.



A Spade

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* The Butler

A Spade let prudent S Archy hold,
And with Discretion dig the Mould:
Let Stella look with watchful Eye,
Rebecca, Ford, and † Grattans by.

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BEHOLD the BOTTLE, where it lies
With Neck elated tow'rds the Skies!
The God of Winds and God of Fire,
Did to it's wondrous Birth conspire ;
And Bacchus, for the Poet's Use,
Pour'd in a strong inspiring Juice ::
See! as you raise it from its Tomb,
It drags behind a spacious Womb,
And in the spacious Womb contains
A fov'reign Medicine for the Brains.

You'll find it soon if Fáte consents
If not, a Thoufand Mrs. Brents,
Ten Thousand Archys arm’d with Spades,
May dig in vain to Pluto's Shades.

From thence a plenteous Draught infuse, And boldly then invoke the Muse:


The Footman.

A Lady; Friend to Stellas

(But first let * Robert, on his Knees, With Caution drain it from the Lees) The Mufe will at your


appear, With Stella's Praise to crowh the Year:

| The Valet.

Cont0000000000000009 129

M ÄR Ý the Cook-Maid's L E T T E R

то, Doctor SHERIDAN


LL; if ever I saw such another Man

fince my Mother bound my Head, You a Gentleman! marry come up, I wondet where you were bred?

sure such Words does not become a Man of your Cloth, I would not give such Language to a Dog, faith


and troth,

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