Imatges de pÓgina
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But for the Politicks of S Plle, Thinks every Syllable is true. And since he owns the King of Sweden Is dead at last; without evading; Now all his Hopes are in the Czar; “ Why, Muscovy is not so far; "Down the Black-Sea, and up the Streights, « And in a Month he's at your Gates :

Perhaps from what the Packet brings
By Christmas we shall see strange Things."

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Why should I tell of Ponds and Drains, What Carps we met with for our Pains; Of Sparrows tam'd, and Nurs innumerable, To choak the Girls, and to consuine a Rabble ? But you, who are a Scholar, know How transient all Things are below; How prone to change is human Life ; Last Night arriv'd † Clem and his Wife This grand Event hath broke our Measures; Their Reign began with cruel Seizures : The Dean must with his Quilt supply The Bed in which thefe Tyränts lie : N 2

Nimi

| A Tory Nesus-Writer,

Ur. Clement Barry.

Nim lost his Wig-Block, Dan his Jordan;
(My Lady says she can't afford one)
George is half scar'd out of his Wits,
For Clem all the tiny Birs.
Henceforth expect a different Survey;
This House will soon turn Topfy-turvey.
They talk of further Alterations,
Which causes many Speculations.

gets

APOLLO to the DEAN.

Written in the Year 1720.

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Ight Trusty, and so forth, -We let you to

know,
We are very ill us'd by you Mortals below:
For first, I have often by Chymists been told,
Tho'I know nothing on't, it is I that makes Gold,
Which when

got, you so carefully hide it,'.
That fince I was born, I hardly have spy'd it.
Then it must be allow'd, that when ever I thine,
I forward the Grass, and I ripen the Vine;

you have

То

To me the good Fellows apply for Relief, Without whom they could get neither Claret, nor

Beef; Yet their Wine and their Vietuals these Curmud

geon Lubbards, Lock

up
from

my Sight, in Cellars and Cupboards.
That I have an ill Eye, they wickedly think,
And taint all their Meat, and sow'r all their Drink,
But thirdly and lastly, it must be allow'd,
I alone can inspire the poétical Croud:
This is gratefully own’d by each Boy in the College,
Whom if I inspire, it is not to my Knowledge.
This ev'ry Pretender to Rhime will admit,
Without troubling his Head about Judgment or

Wit, These Gentlemen ufe me with Kindness and

Freedom, And

aş for their Works, when I please I may read 'em : They lie open on purpose on Counters and Stalls, And the Titles I view, when I shine on the Walls. But a Comrade of yours, that Traitor Delany, Whom I, for your Sake, love better than any, And of my mere Motion and Special good Grace, Intended in Time to succeed in your Place;

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On Tuesday the Tenth feditionsly came,
With a certain false Traitress, one Stella by Name,
To the Deanary House, and on the North Glass,
Where for fear of the Cold I never can pass;
Then and there, Vi & Armis, with a certain Utenfil

,
Of Value five Shillings, in English a Pencil,
Did maliciously, falfly, and trait'roully write;
Whilft Stella aforesaid stood by with a Light.
My Sister has lately depos'd upon Oath,
That she stopt in her Course to look at them both
That Stella was helping, abetting and aiding,
And still as he writ, stood smiling and reading;
That her Eyes were as bright as my self at Noon-

day, But her graceful black Locks were mingled with

grey. And by the Description I certainly know, 'Tis the Nymph chat I courted some ten Years ago; Who, when I with the best of my Talents endu'd On her Promise of yielding; she acted the Prude. That some Verses were writ with felonious Intent, Direct to the North, where I never went; That the Letters appear'd reverse thro' the Pane, But in Stella's bright Eyes they were plac'd right again;

Wherein

!

Wherein the distinctly could read e’ry Line,
And presently guess’d the Fancy was mine.
Now you fee, why his Verses so feldom are sħewn;
The Reason is plain, they're none of his own;
And observe while you live, that no Man is lhy
To discover the Goods, he came honestly by.
If I light on a Thought, he'll certainly steal it,
And when he has got it, find Ways to conceal it ;
Of all the fine Things he keeps in the Dark,
There's scarce one in Ten, but what has my Mark;
And let them be seen by the World if he dare,
I'll make it appear, they are all stolen Ware.
But as for the Poem he writ on your Sash,
I think I have now got him under my Lash;
My Sister transcrib'd it last Night to his Sorrow,
And the Publick fhall see't, if I live till To-morrow
Thro' the Zodiack around, it shall quickly be spread
In all Parts of the Globe, where your Language is

read. He knows very well, I ne'er gave a Refusal, When he ask'd for my Aid in the Forms that are

usual : But the Secret is this. I did lately intend To write a few Verses on you, as my Friend:

I studied

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