JOHANNES jacet hic Mirandula-cætera norunt Et Tagus et Ganges-forsan et Antipodes.

APPLIED Tο F.C.

HERE Francis Chartres lies *-be civil!
The rest God knows-perhaps the Devil.

EPIGRAM.

PETER complains, that God has given
To his poor babe a life so short:
Consider, Peter, he's in Heaven;
'Tis good to have a friend at court.

ANOTHER.

You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come:
Knock as you please, there's nobody at home.

ΕΡΙΤΑΡΗ OF BY-WORDS.

HERE lies a round woman, who thought mighty odd Ev'ry word she e'er heard in this church about God. To convince her of God the good Dean did endeavour; But still in her heart she held Nature more clever.

* Thus applied by Mr. Pope: "Here lies lord Coningsby." H.

Tho' he talk'd much of virtue, her head always run
Upon something or other she found better fun:
For the dame, by her skill in affairs astronomical,
Imagin'd, to live in the clouds was but comical.
In this world she despis'd ev'ry soul she met here;
And now she's in t'other, she thinks it but queer.

EPIGRAM FROM THE FRENCH.

SIR, I admit your gen'ral rule,
That ev'ry poet is a fool:
But you yourself may serve to show it,
That every fool is not a poet.

ΕΡΙΤΑΡΗ.

WELL then, poor Glies under ground! So there's an end of honest Jack.

So little justice here he found,

•

EPIGRAM

ON THE TOASTS OF THE KIT-CAT CLUB.
ANNO 1716.

WHENCE deathless KIT-CAT took its name,
Few criticks can unriddle:
Some say from PASTRYCOOK it came,
And some, from CAT and FIDDLE.
From no trim beaux its name it boasts,
Gray statesmen, or green wits;
But from this pellmell pack of toasts
Of old CATS and young KITS.

TO A LADY,

WITH THE TEMPLE OF FAME.

WHAT'S fame with men, by custom of the nation,
Is call'd, in women, only reputation:
About them both why keep we such a pother?,
Part you with one, and I'll renounce the other.

VERSES

To be placed under the Picture of England's Arch Poet, [sit Richard Blackmore,) containing a complete Catalogue of his Works.

SEE who ne'er was or will be half read!

Who first sung Arthur *, then sung Alfred +;
Prais'd great Eliza ‡ in God's anger,
Till all true Englishmen cried, Hang her!
Made William's virtues wipe the bare a-,
And hanged up Marlborough in arras :
Then, hiss'd from earth, grew heavenly quite:
Made every reader curse the light || ;
Maul'd human wit, in one thick satire §;
Next in three books sent Human Nature **;
Undid Creation †† at a jerk;
And of Redemption ‡‡ made damn'd work.
Then took his Muse, at once, and dipp'd her
Full in the middle of the Scripture:
What wonders there the man grown old did!
Sternhold himself he out-Sternholded;
Made David §§ seem so mad and freakish,
All thought him just what thought king Achish.

* Two heroick poems in folio, twenty books.

+ An heroick poem, in twelve books.

† An heroick poem in folio, ten books.

Instructions to Vanderbank, a tapestry weaver.

Hymn to the Light.

§ Satire against Wit.

** Of the Nature of Man.

++ Creation, a poem, in seven books.

‡ The Redeemer, another heroick poem, in six books.

Translation of all the Psalms.

74

VERSES ON ENGLAND'S ARCH-POET.

No mortal read his Solomon †,
But judg'd R'oboam his own son.
Moses he serv'd as Moses Pharaoh,
And Deborah as she Siserah;
Made Jeremy full sore to cry,

And Job || himself curse God and die.

What punishment all this must follow?
Shall Arthur use him like king Tollo?
Shall David as Uriah slay him?
Or dextrous Deb'rah Siserah him?
Or shall Eliza lay a plot
To treat him like her sister Scot?
Shall William dub his better end § ?
Or Marlb'rough serve him like a friend?
No, none of these-Heaven spare his life!
But send him, honest Job, thy wife.

BOUNCE TO FOP:

AN EPISTLE FROM A DOG AT TWICKENHAM
TO A DOG AT COURT.

To thee, sweet Fop, these lines I send,
Who, though no spaniel, am a friend.
Though once my tail, in wanton play
Now frisking this and then that way,

+ Canticles and Ecclesiastes.

I Paraphrase of the Canticles of Moses and Deborah, &c. The Lamentations...

The whole book of Job, a poem, in folio.

Kick him on the breech, not knight him on the sho deg.