THE LOOKING-GLASS.

ON MRS. PULTENEY.

WITH SCornful mien, and various toss of air, Fantastic, vain, and insolently fair, Grandeur intoxicates her giddy brain, She looks ambition, and she moves disdain. Far other carriage grac'd her virgin life, But charming G-y's lost, in P-y's wife. Not greater arrogance in him we find, And this conjunction swells at least her mind : O could the sire, renown'd in glass, produce One faithful mirror for his daughter's use! Wherein she might her haughty errors trace, And by reflection learn to mend her face : The wonted sweetness to her form restore, Be what she was, and charm mankind once more.

This

A FAREWELL TO LONDON

IN THE YEAR 1714.

DEAR, damn'd, distracting town, farewell!
Thy fools no more I'll tease:
year in peace, ye critics, dwell,
Ye harlots, sleep at ease!

Soft B-s and rough C- --, adieu !
Earl Warwick make your moan,
The lively H----k and
k and you

May knock up whores alone.

To drink and droll be Rowe allow'd
Till the third watchman's toll;
Let Jervase gratis paint, and Frowde
Save three-pence and his soul.

Farewell Arbuthnot's raillery
On every learned sot;
And Garth, the best good Christian he,
Altho' he knows it not.

Lintot, farewell! thy bard must go;
Farewell, unhappy Tonson!

Heaven gives thee for thy loss of Rowe,
Lean Philips, and fat Johnson.

Why should I stay? Both parties rage;
My vixen mistress squalls;

i

The wits in envious feuds engage;
And Homer (damn him!) calls.

The love of arts lies cold and dead
In Hallifax's urn;

And not one Muse of all he fed,
Has yet the grace to mourn.

My friends, by turns, my friends confound, Betray, and are betray'd:

Poor Yrs sold for fifty pounds,
And B-11 is a jade.

Why make I friendships with the great,
When I no favour seek?
Or follow girls seven hours in eight?-
I us'd but once a week.

Still idle, with a busy air,

Deep whimsies to contrive; The gayest valetudinaire,

Most thinking rake alive.

Solicitous for other ends,

Tho' fond of dear repose; Careless or drowsy with my friends, And frolic with my foes.

Luxurious lobster-nights, farewell
For sober, studious days!
And Burlington's delicious meal,
For sallads, tarts, and pease

!

Adieu to all but Gay alone,

Whose soul, sincere and free, Loves all mankind, but flatters none, And so may starve with me.

These lines were added by MR. POPE after the present Conclusion of his Address to MISS MARTHA BLOUNT, on her leaving Town, &c. "As some fond Virgin," &c.

In this strange town a different course we take, Refine ourselves to spirit, for your sake. For want of you, we spend our random wit on The first we find with Needham, Brooks, or Briton. Hackney'd in sin, we beat about the town, And like sure spaniels, at first scent lie down : Were Virtue's self in silks-faith keep away! Or virtue's virtue scarce would last a day.

Thus, Madam, most men talk, and some men do; The rest is told you in a line or two.

Some strangely wonder you're not fond to marry-
A double jest still pleases sweet Sir Harry-
Small-pox is rife, and Gay in dreadful fear-
The good priests whisper-Where's the chevalier?
Much in your absence B-'s heart endures,
And if poor Pope is, the fault is yours.

The following Lines were sung by DURASTANTI, when she took her leave of the English Stage. The Words were in Haste put together by MR. POPE, at the Request of the EARL of PETERBOROW.

GENEROUS, gay, and gallant nation,
Bold in arms, and bright in arts;
Land secure from all invasion,

All but Cupid's gentle darts!
From your charms, oh who would run?
Who would leave you for the sun?

Happy soil, adieu, adieu !

Let old charmers yield to new.

In arms, in arts, be still more shining;
All your joys be still increasing;

All your tastes be still refining;
All your jars for ever ceasing:

But let old charmers yield to new :-
Happy soil, adieu, adieu!