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The strange misfortunes of this worthless man, has secured
him a fame which his writings would never otherwise have obtained.
Polly, from me, though now a love-sick youth,
Nay though a poet hear the voice of truth !
Polly, you're not a beauty, yet you're pretty ;
So grave, yet gay; so silly, yet so witty s
A heart of softness, yet a tongue of satire ;
You've cruelty, yet even with that, good nature:
Now you are free, and now reserved awhile;
Now a forced frown betrays a willing smile.
Reproach'd for absence, yet your sight denied ;
My tongue you silence, yet my silence chide.
How would you chide me, should your sex defame!
Yet, should they praise, grow jealous, and exclaim.
If you despair, with some kind look you bless;
But if I hope, at once all hope suppress.
You scorn ; yet should my passion change or fail,
Too late you'd wimper out a softer tale.
You love ; yet from your lover's wish retire;
Doubt, yet discern ; deny, and yet desire.
Such Polly, are your sex-part truth, part fiction,
Some thought, much whim, and all a contradiction.
The Gentleman. Addressed to John Jolliffe, Esq. A decent mien, an elegance of dress, Words, which, at ease, each winning grace express ; A life, where love, by wisdom polish'd shines, Where Wisdom's self again, by love, refines ; Where we to chance for friendship never trust, Nor ever dread from sudden whim disgust; To social manners, and the heart humane, A nature ever great, and never vain; . A wit, that no licentious pertness knows ; The sense, that unassuming candour shows; Reason, by narrow principles uncheck’d, Slave to no party, bigot to no sect; Knowledge of various life, of learning too ; Thence taste, thence truth, which will from taste
Unwilling censure, though a judgment clear;
A smile indulgent, and that smile sincere ;
An humble, though an elevated mind;
A pride, its pleasure but to serve mankind :
If these esteem and admiration raise ;
Give true delight, and gain unflattering praise,
In one wish'd view, th' accomplish'd man we see ;
These graces all are thine, and thou art he.
The Poet's Dependance on a Statesman.
Some seem to hint, and others proof will bring, That, from neglect, my numerous hardships spring. Seek the great man ! they cry—'tis then decreed, In him, if I court fortune, I succeed.
What friends to second? who for me should
sue, Have interests, partial to themselves, in view. They own my matchless fate compassion draws ; They all wish well, lanient, but drop my cause.
There are who ask no pension, want no place, No title wish, and would accept no grace. Can I intreat, they should for me obtain The least, who greatest for themselves disdain ?
A statesman, knowing this, unkind, will cry,
Those love him: let those serve him !--why
should I ?
Say, shall I turn where lucre points my views ;
At first desert my friends, at length abuse?
But, on less terins, in promise he complies :
Years bury years, and hopes on hopes arise ;
I trust, am trusted on my fairy gain ;
And woes on woes attend, an endless train.
Be posts disposed at will !—I have, for these,
No gold to plead, no impudence to teaze.
All secret service from my soul I hate ;
All dark intrigues of pleasure, or of state.
I have no power, election votes to gain ;
No will to hackney out polemick strain ;
To shape, as time shall serve my verse or prose,
To flatter thence, nor slur, a courtier's foes;
Nor him to daub with praise, if I prevail ;
Nor shock'd by him with libels to assail.
Where these are not, what claim to me belongs ?
Though mine the muse and virtue, birth and wrongs.
Where lives the Statesman, so in honour chear, To give where he has nought to hope, or fear ? No!-there to seek, is but to find fresh pain : The promise broke, renewed and broke again ;
To be, as humour deigns, received, refus'd;
By turns affronted, and by turns amus'd;
To lose that time, which worthier thoughts requiri
To lose the health, which should those though
To starve and hope ; or like camelions fare
On ministerial faith, which means but air.
But still, undrooping, I the crew disdain,
Who, or by jobs, or libels wealth obtain.
Ne'er let me be, through those, from want exem
In one man's favour, in the world's contempt:
Worse in my own!-through those to posts wi
Themselves, in secret, must themselves despise;
Vile, and more vile, till they, at length, disclaim
Not sense alone of glory, but of shame.
What though I hourly see the servile herd,
For meanness honoured, and for guilt prefer'd ;
See selfish passion, public virtue seem ;
And public virtue an enthusiast dream;
See favoured falsehood innocence belie’d,
Meekness depreess'd and power-elated pride;
A scene will show, all-righteous vision haste;
The meek exalted, and the proud debas'd!