I

From ANACREON.

F Gold could lengthen Life, I swear,
It then should be my chiefest Care;
To get a heap, that I may say,

When Death came to Demand his Pay,
Thou Slave, take this, and go thy way.

But since Life is not to be bought,
Why should I plague my self for nought,
Or foolishly disturb the Skies,

With vain Complaints, or fruitless Cries,
For if the fatal Destinies

Have all decreed it shall be so,
What good will Gold or Crying do.

Give me to ease my thirsty Soul,
The Joys and Comforts of the Bowl;
Freedom and Health, and whilst I live,
Let me not want what Love can give :
Then shall I die in Peace, and have
This Consolation in the Grave,
That once I had the World my Slave.

The

The Old Fumbler.

A SONG: Set by Mr. Hen. Purcell.

a

was known,

That Wedded a Juicy brisk Girl of the Town;
Her Face like an Angel, Fair, Plump, and a Maid,
Her Lute well in Tune too, cou'd he but have plaid :
But lost was his Skill, let him do what he can,
She finds him in Bed a weak silly old Man;
He coughs in her Ear, 'tis in vain to come on,
Forgive me, my Dear, I'm a silly old Man.

She laid his dry Hand on her snowy soft Breast,
And from those white Hills gave a glimpse of the Best ;
But ah! what is Age when our Youth's but a Span,
She found him an Infant instead of a Man,
Ah! Pardon, he'd cry, that I'm weary so soon,
You have let down my Base, I'm no longer in Tune;
Lay by the dear Instrument, prithee lie still,

I can play but one Lesson, and that I play Ill.

An

Orations, Poems, Prologues, and Epilogues on several Occasions.

An ORATION,

Address'd to the PRINCE and PRINCESS; and spoken to divert the Nobility and my Friends, by me; upon the Publick Stage at the Theatre, May 27, 1717.

A

S some stout Warriour Valour to advance, From fate has long had glorious Circumstance, Finding another Cause, tho' Years enlarge, By Honour fir'd, resolves again to charge: So I, that late niy happy Verse did raise, And with your generous Favour made Essays; Oblig'd by your indulgent Grace before,

And blest by Time, Address to speak once more.

+ Sovereign Remarks then my first Theam shall be, A Monarch's Instance must take Place with me: All kingly Mysterys are nicely shewn,

Yet still I hope they will my Candor own,
Who keep State Places, or who lay 'em down.
Shine then my Muse, with Radiance like the Sun,
That I may blaze some Acts by Cæsar done:
First, The dear Clemency to that bad Race,
Who durst deserve his God-like Act of Grace:
Then let the Triple-league be understood,
So greatly signal for the Kingdom's Good;
As if he meant, surmounting humane Praise,
T'o'ermatch the Zenith of Great William's Days.

Yet

*The Poet's Remarks on himself. † Remarks on the King, and those that have left their Places.

* Yet tho' his Royal Absence gave us Pain, We must admire the Prince's happy Reign; Whose awful Sway prov'd so divinely well, The want of Cæsar we could scarcely tell: And prov'd, tho' warm'd in Youth's propitious Prime, The Sence of fifty Years, in half the Time.

Yet Fate, alas! that points not always fair, Had nearly finish'd his indulgent Care;

The charming Princess, Soul of Beauty's Grace, Joy of his Heart, and all our loyal Race,

Near Death was drawn

But oh, no more of that,

Apollo sacred o'er the Palace sate,

The Muses a rejoycing Consort give,

And Esculapius brought the grand Reprieve:

Then from the dark Abyss succeeding Light came on, And from her black Eclipse again divinely Cynthia shon; For her the dreadful Winter fiercely binds;

For her came Frosts and bleak tempestuous Winds: But when she heal'd, Earth did new Order bring, And by her Graces form'd came in the Spring.

Albion shall now no more Pretenders try, Transported with her heavenly Progeny ; For as some Desart Land, whose wild Distress Seem'd wanting Providential Care to bless ; Where the coy Sun ne'er darts a genial Ray, But stormy Snows blast each returning Day: Prayers of some favour'd Objects, shipwreck'd there, Having with pious Toyl exacted heavenly Care : Great Goddess, Nature, proving kindly Force, Turns to proliffick Heat their steril Course. So Frederick, with his Sisters, heavenly fair, Where'er they move perfume the Ambient Air.

Oh

*On the Prince. † On the Princess. || On her Royal Family.

* Oh Beauty! lend my Autumn thy Support, How shall I else do Right to yon bright Court? Exalt th' Inspirers that direct my Tongue,

And give me all the Flame that charms my Song;
Exert your Grace, each bright Angelick Power,
Disperse your Beams, Oh spread your sacred Store,
For if you cease to smile, I am no more.

† Each Goddess thus I leave in her Degree,
And now descend to you the Beaus Esprits,
A bold Invasion threatned your Estates,
Fierce Bug-bears bound, to fright our Candidates
Resolv'd in Jerkins buff, and black Cravats.

This fruitful Land strange foreign Foes will haunt,
Some lanch to fight for Fame, and some for Want;
Wild, Crack-brain'd Hotspurs too fierce Quarrels breed,
Like the mad Pagod of the North, the Swede;
From whose Excursions, tho' he toil with Pains
And fights, and flys, his Head small Plaud it gains,
The Russian got Dominion of his Brains;
Besides, our Ladies here have Scorn design'd,
For he's so barb'rous, he hates Woman-kind :
Thus Angel Amazons to War will go,
The very Devil to them is not so great a Foe.

+}

To vary Subjects, News is next design'd,
News, that into a Sweat puts half Mankind;
The Whig and Tory must be here enroll'd,
Two Names that fright the Town with being told,
Worse than the Guelphs, and Gibellins of old.
The City Tribe with State Effects are stor'd,
And every Coffee-Room's a Councel-board:
The Taylor with grub Beard and Crimson Nose,
The King and Parliament together sows;

The

* On the Court Ladys. † The Pit on the Invasion, and the Swedes. || On News, and the Town Whig and

Tory.