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Amusement, and if that Defign be answer'd, my Ambition is fatisfied: and indeed to say Truth, I have fo thorough a Confidence in your good Nature, that I am perfuaded you will look with a favourable Eye upon the following Performance, though not in Juftice, yet in Pity to,

Your unknown humble Servant,

The AUTHOR.

THE

vii

THE

PREFACE.

Have always confider'd a Preface as the Apology, which an Author makes for his Performance; in which he has an undoubted Liberty of faying as much as he pleases in Favour of himself: As I cannot therefore but be apprehenfive of the Success of the following Piece, I must beg Leave to take this comfortable Privilege, as well as my Poetical Brethren. The principal Circumftance I have torge in Behalf of this Poem, is, that it is the first Production of a young and unex erienced Author (excepting a few trifling Pieces in the Magazines) and I am fo far from bidding Defiance to the Criticks, that I address myself to them in the modeft and fubmiffive Terms of, By your Leave, GENTLEMEN.

As to the Poem itself, I have endeavour'd in fome particular Paffages to imitate the Manner

of

of Mr. Pope's Rape of the Lock, upon a PreSumption, that the following of fo good a Pattern would be deem'd meritorious in fo young a Writer as myfelf. I ought likewife to acknowledge, that I had in View the Epifode of the Patten in Mr. Gay's Trivia. How far I have reach'd the Spirit required in this Kind of Poetry, must be left to the Reader, to whofe Candour and Judgment I fubmit the following Poem.

THE

THE

THIMBLE.

CANTO the FIRST.

W

HAT Art Divine the fhining Thimble found
To fhield the Finger militant around,

Now first my Verfe reveals: Ye Virgins, hear,

Attend, ye Matrons, and ye Belles, give Ear;
For the Infant Mufe effays to fing,

you

For you she flutters on her tender Wing;

To you the tributary Strains belong,

"Then

take at once the Poet and the Song."

When Woman's chief Concerns were Love and Play, And trifling was the Business of the Day;

When few could find one useless Hour to spare,

To mend an Apron, or to fay a Prayer;

Fannia, the fairest of the Female Train,
That shone at Court, or bleft the rural Plain,

In the nice Toils of Industry was skill'd,
And knew with Art the Needle Spear to wield;

*Pope's New Dunciad, Line 8.

B

Whether

Whether the work'd the gayly-blooming Flower,
Or drew in ductile Silk the verdant Bower;
Here glow'd the fpangled Firmament on high,
And all the Glories of the azure Sky:
Sometimes the copied from the Earth below,
The spotted Lap-Dog, or the flaming Beau ;
Or form'd the Bird, or fhap'd the flender Tree;
A whole Creation in Epitome!

Envy itself was Dumb, in Wonder loft,

And Ladies ftrove which should applaud her most.
Each Morn fhe work'd, but work'd with niceft Care,
To fave her Finger from the fatal Scar:

From ev'ry Blemish Virgins guard their Skin,
Dread the leaft Wound, and tremble at a Pin!
For yet no Armour cas'd the Flesh around,
But the thick Glove, or seven-fold Paper bound.
Unhappy Fannia, that waft wont to wield
The pointed Spear, without the boffy Shield!
Thrice happy Fannia, in the Gift bestow'd,
The Thimble Shield, the Labour of a God!

But now her Charms had fwell'd the Trump of Fame,
And spread to distant Tea-Tables her Name;

IMITATIONS.

Envy itself was dumb, in Wonder loft,

And Factions ftrove which should applaud you moft.

Mr. Addifon's Campaign.

Each

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