EPIGRAMS & SHORT POEMS.

ON A COMPANY

OF BAD DANCERS TO GOOD MUSIC.

How ill the motion with the music suits!
So Orpheus fiddl'd and so danc'd the brutes.

EPIGRAM.

GEORGE came to the crown without striking a blow: Ah! quoth the Pretender, would I could do so!

IN ANSWER TO THE QUESTION,

WHAT IS THOUGHT?

THE hermit's solace in his cell,

The fire that warms the poet's brain,

The lover's heav'n or his hell,

TO MR. ADDISON ON CATO.

THE mind to virtue is by verse subdu’d,
And the true poet is a public good:

This Britain feels, while, by your lines inspir'd,
Her freeborn sons to glorious thoughts are fir'd.
In Rome had you espous'd the vanquish'd cause,
Inflam'd her senate and upheld her laws,'
Your manly scenes had liberty restor'd,
And giv'n the just success to Cato's sword,
O'er Cæsar's arms your genius had prevail'd,
And the Muse triumph'd where the patriot fail'a,

ON WIT AND WISDOM.

A FRAGMENT.

In search of Wisdom, far from Wit I fly;
Wit is a harlot beauteous to the eye,
In whose bewitching arms our early time
We waste, and vigour of our youthful prime;
But when Reflection comes with riper years,
And Manhood with a thoughtful brow appears,
We cast the mistress off, to take a wife,
And wed to Wisdom, lead a happy life.

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