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 Y -- rs sold for fifty pounds,

And B---- ll 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 pre

sent 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 marryA double jest still pleases sweet Sir HarrySmall-pox is rife, and Gay in dreadful fearThe 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 !

Upon the Duke of MARLBOROUGH's House at

Woodstock.

Atria longe patent; sed nec cænantibus usquam,
Nec somno, locus est: quam bene non habites!

Mart. Epig.

SEE, Sir, here's the grand approach, This way is for his Grace's coach ; There lies the bridge, and here's the clock, Observe the lion and the cock, The spacious court, the colonnade, And mark how wide the hall is made ! The chimneys are so well design'd, They never smoke in any wind. This gallery's contriv'd for walking, The windows to retire and talk in ; The council-chamber for debate, And all the rest are rooms of state.

Thanks, Sir, cry'd I, 'tis very fine,
But where d’ye sleep, or where d’ye dine ?
I find by all you have been telling,
That 'tis a house, but not a dwelling.

The Fourth Epistle of the First Book of HORACE'S

Epistles.

Say, St. John, who alone peruse
With candid eye, the mimic muse,
What schemes of politics, or laws,
In Gallic lands the patriot draws !
Is then a greater work in hand,
Than all the tones of Haines's band?
“Or shoots he folly as it flies?
Or catches manners as they rise ?"
Or urg'd by unquench'd native heat,
Does St. John Greenwich sports repeat?
Where (emulous of Chartres' fame)
Ev’n Chartres' self is scarce a name

Cd

NOTES.

The Fourth Epistle] This satire on Lord Bolingbroke, and the praise bestowed on him in a letter to Mr. Richardson, where Mr. Pope says,

“Their sons shall blush their fathers were his foes ;"

being so contradictory, probably occasioned the former to be sup.
pressed.
Ver. 1. Say, &c.]

AD ALBIUM TIBULLUM.
“ Albi, nostrorum sermonum candide judex,
Quid nunc te dicam facere in regione Pedana?

Scribere, quod Cassi Parmensis opuscula vincat ?"
Ver. 10. Does St. John Greenwich, &c.]

“ An tacitum silvas inter reptare salubres ?"