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On his Birth-day, 1742.



ESIGN’D to live, prepar'd to die,

With not one fin, but poetry,
This day Tom's fair account has run
(Without a blot) to eighty one.
Kind Boyle, before his poet, lays
A table, with a cloth of bays;
And Ireland, mother of sweet singers,
Presents her harp still to his fingers.
The feast, his tow’ring genius marks
In yonder wild goose and the larks !
The mushrooms shew his wit was sudden!
And for his judgment, lo a pudden!
Roast beef, tho' old, proclaims him stout,

grace, altho' a bard, devout,


Notes. VER. 5. A talle] He was invited to dine on his birth-day with this Nobleman, who had prepared for him the entertainment of which the bill of fare is here set down.

VER. 8 Presents her har ] The Harp is generally wove on the Irish Linen, such as Table-cloths, etc. Vol. VI.



May TOM, whom heav'n fent down to raise
The price of prologuies and of plays,
Be ev'ry birth-day more a winner,
Digest his thirty-thousandth dinner;
Walk to his


without reproach, And scorn a rascal and a coach.


NOTES. Ver. 16. The price of piologues and of plays,] This alJudes to a story Mr. Southern told of Dryden, about the same time, to Mr. P. and Mr. W. When Southern first wrote for the stage, Dryden was so famous for his Prologues, that the players would act nothing without that decoration. His usual price till then had been four guineas: But when Southern came to him for the Prologuc he had bespoke, Dryden told him he must have six guineas for it ; “ which (faid he) young man, “ is out of no disrespect to you; but the Players have had my “ goods too cheap."-- We now look upon these Prologues with the fune admiration that the Vir.uofi do on the Apothecariex? pots painted by Raphael.


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His faltem accumulem donis, et fungar inani
Munere !



On CHARLes Earl of Dorset,
In the Church of Withyam in Sussex.


ORSET, the Grace of Courts, the Muses'

Patron of Arts, and judge of Nature, dy'd.
The scourge of Pride, tho’ fanctify'd or great,
Of Fops in Learning, and of Knaves in State :

Notis. Epitaphs.] These little compositions far exceed any thirg we have of the same kind from other hands; yet, if we except the Epitaph on the yug Duke of Buckingham, and perhaps one or two more, they are not of equal force with the rest of our Author's writings. The nature of the Composition itself is delicate ; and generally it was a task imposed on him; tho' he rarely complied with requests of this nature, as we may see by the small number of these poems, but where the subject was worthy of his pen.

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