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Help me, O help me, fhining crowd,
Who now ftand round in royal form :
Sing, fing your wishes, clear aud loud;
And, ah! be grateful, and be warm.


The reign of CAESAR let his health supply 'Till faction fhall be pleas'd to die;

Or they who love him, wish him down : "Till happier folks than we,

In fome far country, fee

A king, fo prais'd, in fo be-mus'd a town.

N. B. To the laft line, I fhall prefume, beyond the

sphere of a TRANSLATOR, to add an humble praife; in reverence of an excellence, which my great author is well known to be too modeft to affert his claim to.

With fuch a LAUREAT to insure renown.

Grubftreet Journal, N° 107.

On the Reverend Mr. ARTHUR COLLIER'S

ONG have I rang'd through ev'ry fchool, with pain,
Try'd various fchemes, yet found the projects vain:

Like NOAH's dove, ftill anxious was my mind,

And could no reft to fatisfy her find:

'Till, by fome gentle spirit advis'd, fhe flew;
And, joyful, a fure footing found in you.
LUCRETIUS, tho' from heav'n he ftole his fire,
To drefs his thoughts in fancy's gay attire;
I fcorn his doctrine, but his mufe admire,

In ACADEMUS' fhady groves I've walk'd,
And with the ancient fages hourly talk'd :
Nor they, nor yet CARTESIUS could refolve
The doubts that did my unfettled foul involve.
But now inform'd, the views each object right;
Free from the impediments of vulgar light:
By your new scheme, corrects her erring fence,
And gives her reafon up to evidence.

The fages' doctrines, which for ages ftood,
By powerful wit and reafon unfubdu'd ;
By you attack'd can no refiftance make :
Your arguments its very bafis fhake.

For whilft their occult qualities you disown,
With cafe you pull the tottering fabrick down.
The unfeen atoms too, the modern's boast,
By you rejected, are entirely loft;

Who make all things exifting in his mind,
Who firft the beings of each feed affign'd:
So that, in folid body, nothing lies
Too nice to be perceiv'd by humane eyes ;
Which may uphold its feveral properties:
But he that made the world, fupports the whole;
And next to him, each vaft inferior foul.
For all that's feen depends upon fome eye.
Which what it lifts, can inftantly destroy ;
As well as the ideas that we feign,.
Chimera's only of a fickly brain,

In this each man his maker's image wears,
And, great in power, a demi-god appears;
That when he will, he's able to create,
What the next hour he can annihilate.
For if around the objects that we fee,
Trees, purling ftreams, and fields, ideas be;
The mind, being free, may its ideas chufe,
Inform new objects, and the old refufe.
Thus, e'er he fell, once happy ADAM thought,
By holy converse with the angels taught:
And thus, by you instructed, once again.
Our fouls their ancient privilege attain.



Oh, that the mufes would fome bard infpire, To fing your fyftem with the ROMAN fire! For, if this verfe preserves fo weak a scheme, And gains its author fuch a lafting fame; Yours, ably fung, would hardly ever die, 'Till age, compar'd to his, a vaft eternity. But tho' in profe, lefs gay is its attire; Yet evidence gives profe poetic fire: Which from grofs ignorance our foul refines, And like the pearl, a gem, tho' not fo gaully shines. Needs muft we all your wondrous scheme That does philofophy's dark mift remove, And with new sense of things our brighten'd minds im



So when the sky night's darksome face o'erhales,
And from our eyes each beauteous object vails;
The day's great ruler with thrice welcome light,
Shows, as a-new, the world, and banishes the night.


H. P


Aving lately feen fome very mean pieces popt into publick Papers, I thought it a proper time to get my poor performance published. You will eafily difcern the lowness of my accompishments, but perhaps not the loftinefs of my expectations, without my unbofoming a little to you. And to tell you the truth, tho' I have had but ill fuccefs in the former part of my life, yet I expect to live to be a great man; that is, fir, I am in hopes you will admit me into your fociety: and then, as what I here fend you tends greatly to the improving of natural knowledge, I don't doubt but I fhall be admitted fellow of the RL SOCIETY. Now with thefe honours, without doubt, I fhall pass for un bel efprit: and who knows what I may come to be? For, tho I was brought up behind the counter, aud have kept a fhop in the country, 'till the hawkers and pedlers came in fuch fwarms amongst us, that I had nothing left to do, but to trot up to town and try for a place; and tho' I have, as yet, got nothing but promifes; yet I am refolved not to defpair. Who


can tell, but after all, I come to be laureat; to qualify me for which honourable poft, I am glad to find it is not ne ceffary to be a poet. But, dear fir, if you should undervalue this my firft performance, and not afford it a place in your paper, all my tow'ring hopes will vanifh. Tis neceffary that I inform you, that a neighbour of mine, who has ftretch'd his abdomen by much toping to a remarkable fize, has obtain'd the appellation of BACCHUS: and he, being one night very flatuous, went into the street and made a very loud discharge, which occafion'd the following lines, by,


Sir, your most obedient, humble fervant,

fages, who the causes know

Of things above, and things below;
Your mighty wifdoms fometimes blunder,
As I fhall prove, in case of thunder.
Your vapours, and your exhalations,
Your flames produc'd by agitations,
Your heat and cold, your wet and dry,
And min'ral juices in the sky,
Are all a philofophic lie.

Think not, by fubtil difputation,
To overthrow a true relation.

Know then, that BACCHUS late one night,
When all, he thought, were out of fight,
Replete with wine, and fwoln with wind,
Retir'd to vent it from behind:

Th' explofions were like claps of thunder;
You'd fworn his b---ch was burst asunder.
From which this inference does arise,
Attefted by my ears and eyes;

From fact most plain: there's no more art in
Making of thunder, than in f-- -ting.

Mighty difcov'ry, mighty fame,

On this account I fure might claim;
Since I, the first of all mankind,
Did this important fecret find.

W. H.



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Tis true, that ancient poets fing,
That Jove alone his bolts did fling's
That he discharg'd his 'vengeful ire
In flashing, loud, fulphureous fire.
But that's all fable all mistake:
For all the gods can thunder make,
Whene'er their bellies chance to ake.

This tale, when once I was a drinking
With fparks that boafted of free-thinking,
I told,they fwore 'twas wond'rous pretty,
Extremely arch, feverely witty:
That well it ridicul'd the noise,
Which frighted women, girls and boys.

At this was heard a fudden rumbling,
As if the house at once was tumbling:
The caufe unknown, the more they wonder'd;
And all concluded that it thunder'd.
At which our sparks, of late so pert,
So loud, profane, and so alert,

Dumb-founder'd now, look'd plaguy filly:
And feem'd for once, to think not freely.
Their thoughts, which, with their vifage alter'd,
With trembling lips, and tongue that faulter'd,
In words they plainly could not tell,

They more than told, by looks, and smell.

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An EPITAPH on THEOPHILUS CAVE, Efq; in the Chancel at BARROW upon



́ERE in this grave

There lies a CAVE.

We call a CAVE a grave:

If CAVE be grave, and grave be CAVE,

Then reader judge, I crave, Whether does CAVE here lye in Or grave hear lye in CAVE?


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