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Now he begs Verfe, and what he gets commends,
Not of the Wits his foes, but Fools his friends.

So fome coarse Country Wench, almost decay'd, 15
Trudges to Town, and firft turns Chambermaid;
Awkward and fupple, each devoir to pay ;
She flatters her good Lady twice a day;

Thought wondrous honeft, tho' of mean degree,
And strangely lik'd for her Simplicity :

In a tranflated Suit, then tries the Town,
With borrow'd Pins, and Patches not her own:
But juft endur'd the Winter she began,

And in four Months a batter'd Harridan,


Now nothing left, but wither'd, pale, and shrunk, 25 To bawd for others, and go share with Punk.


ow much, egregious Moore, are we Deceiv'd by fhews and forms! Whate'er we think, whate'er we fee, All Humankind are Worms.

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AUTHOR of the celebrated WORM


Man is a very Worm by birth,

Vile, reptile, weak, and vain! A while he crawls upon the earth, Then shrinks to earth again. That Woman is a Worm, we find

E'er fince our Grandame's evil; She first convers'd with her own kind, That ancient Worm, the Devil.


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The Learn'd themselves we Book-worms name,
The Blockhead is a Slow-worm ;
The Nymph whofe tail is all on flame,

Is aptly term'd a Glow-worm :

The Fops are painted Butterflies,
That flutter for a day;

First from a Worm they take their rise,
And in a Worm decay.

The Flatterer an Earwig grows;

Thus Worms fuit all conditions;
Mifers are Muck-worms, Silk-worms Beaus,
And Death-watches Phyficians. ~

That Statesmen have the Worm, is seen
By all their winding play;

Their Confcience is a Worm within,
That gnaws them night and day.

Ah Moore! thy fkill were well employ'd,
And greater gain would rise,

If thou could't make the Courtier void
The Worm that never dies!

O learned Friend of Abchurch-Lane,
Who fett'ft our entrails free;
Vain is thy Art, thy Powder vain,

Since Worms fhall eat ev'n thee.

Our Fate thou only can'ft adjourn
Some few short years, no more!
Ev'n Button's Wits to Worms fhall turn,
Who Maggots were before.

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SONG, by a Perfon of Quality.

Written in the Year 1733.


FLUTT'RING fpread thy purple Pinions,
Gentle Cupid, o'er my Heart;
I a Slave in thy Dominions;
Nature must give Way to Art.
Mild Arcadians, ever blooming,
Nightly nodding o'er your Flocks,
See my weary Days confuming,
All beneath yon flow'ry Rocks.

Thus the Cyprian Goddess weeping,

Mourn'd Adonis, darling Youth:
Him the Boar, in Silence creeping,
Gor'd with unrelenting Tooth.


Cynthia, tune harmonious Numbers;
Fair Difcretion, string the Lyre;
Sooth my ever-waking Slumbers :
Bright Apollo, lend thy Choir.


Gloomy Pluto, King of Terrors,

Arm'd in adamantine Chains, Lead me to the Crystal Mirrors, Wat'ring foft Elyfian Plains.


Mournful Cypress, verdant Willow,
Gilding my Aurelia's Brows,
Morpheus hov'ring o'er my Pillow,
Hear me pay my dying Vows.

Melancholy smooth Maander,
Swiftly purling in a Round,
On thy Margin Lovers wander,
With thy flow'ry Chaplets crown'd.

VIII. Thus when Philomela, drooping, Softly feeks her filent Mate, See the Bird of Juno stooping; Melody refigns to Fate.

On a certain LADY at COURT..

I KNOW the thing that's most uncommon;
(Envy be filent, and attend!)

I know a reasonable Woman,
Handfome and witty, yet a Friend.

Not warp'd by Paffion, aw'd by Rumour,
Not grave thro' Pride, nor gay thro' Folly,
An equal Mixture of good Humour,
And fenfible foft Melancholy.

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"Has she no faults then (Envy fays) Sir?"
Yes, fhe has one, I muft aver:›
When all the World confpires to praise her,
The Woman's deaf, and does not hear,

On his GROTTO at Twickenham,




THOU who fhalt stop, where Thames' translucent


Shines a broad Mirror thro' the shadowy Cave;
Where ling'ring drops from min'ral Roofs distil,
And pointed Crystals break the sparkling Rill,
Unpolish'd Gems no Ray on Pride bestow,
And latent Metals innocently glow:
Approach. Great NATURE ftudiously behold!
And eye the Mine without a wifh for Gold.-
Approach but awful! Lo! th' Agerian Grott,
Where, nobly penfive, St. JoнN fat and thought; 10


After ver. 6. in the MS.

You fee that Ifland's wealth, where, only free,
Earth to her entrails feels not Tyranny.


i. e. Britain is the only place on the globe which feels not Tyranny even to its very entrails. Alluding to the condemnation of Criminals to the Mines, one of the inflictions of civil justice in most Countries. The thought was exceeding natural and proper in this place, where the Poet was defcribing a Grotto incrufted and adorned with all forts of Minerals, collected, by the means of commerce, from the four quarters of the Globe.

VER. 11. Where British fighs from dying Wyndham ftole,] In his MS. it was thus,

To Wyndham's breaft the patriot paffions stole,

which made the whole allude to a certain Anecdote of not much confequence to any but the parties concerned.


On bis Grotto.] The improving and finishing his Grotto was the favourite amusement of his declining Years; and the beauty of his poetic genius, in the difpofition and ornaments of this romantic recefs, appears to as much advantage as in his best contrived Poems.

VER. 9. Egerian Grott,] Alluding to Numa's projecting his fyftem of Politics in this Grott, affifted, as he gave out, by the Goddefs geria.

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