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ENGRAVED ON THE COLLAR OF A DOG, WHICH I GAVE
TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS.
I AM bis Highness' dog at Kew;
OCCASIONED BY AN INVITATION TO COURT.
In the lines that you sent are the Muses and
Graces; You've the Nine in your wit, and the Three in
ON AN OLD GATE
ERECTED IN CHISWICK GARDENS.
O GATE, how camest thou here?
Sir Hans Sloane,
Let me alone :
A FRAGMENT...VERSES TO MR. C.
VERSES TO MR. C.
LONDON, OCTOBER 22.
Bethel, I'm told, will soon be here:
And evening friends, will end the year. If, in this interval, between
The falling leaf and coming frost, You please to see, on Twit’nam green,
Your friend, your poet, and your For three whole days you
may rest, From office, business, news, and strife; And (what most folks would think a jest)
Want nothing else, except your wife.
His saltem accumulem donis, et fungar inani
ON CHARLES EARL OF DORSET,
IN THE CHURCH OF WITHYAM, Sussex. DORSET, the grace of courts, the Muses' pride, Patron of arts, and judge of Nature, died ! The scourge of pride, though sanctified or great, Of fops in learning, and of knaves in state: Yet soft his nature, though severe his lay, His anger moral, and his wisdom gay. Bless'd satirist! who touch'd the mean so true, As show'd vice had his hate and pity too. [please, Bless'd courtier ! who could king and country Yet sacred keep his friendships and his ease. Bless'd peer! his great forefathers' every grace Reflecting, and reflected in his race; Where other Buckhursts, other Dorsets, shine, And patriots still, or poets, deck the line.
ON SIR WILLIAM TRUMBAL,
ONE OF THE PRINCIPAL SECRETARIES OF STATE TO
KING WILLIAM III.
Who, having resigned his Place, died in his Retirement at
Easthamsted, Berkshire, 1716. A PLEASING form, a firm, yet cautious, mind; Sincere, though prudent; constant, yet resign’d: Honour unchanged, a principle profess'd, Fix'd to one side, but moderate to the rest:
An honest courtier, yet a patriot too,
ON THE HON. SIMON HARCOURT,
ONLY SON OF THE LORD CHANCELLOR HARCOURT, At the Church of Stanton-Harcourt, Oxfordshire, 1720. To this sad shrine, whoe'er thou art, draw near; Here lies the friend most loved, the son most dear; Who ne'er knew joy but friendship might divide, Or
gave his father grief but when he died. How vain is reason, eloquence how weak ! If Pope must tell what Harcourt cannot speak. Oh! let thy once-loved friend inscribe thy stone, And with a father's sorrows mix his own!
ON JAMES CRAGGS, ESQ.
ET CONSILIIS SANCTIORIBUS, PRINCIPIS PARITER AC POPULI AMOR ET DELICIE: VIXIT TITULIS ET INVIDIA MAJOR ANNOS, HEU PAUCOS, XXXV.
OB, FEB. XVI. M.DCC.XX. STATESMAN, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere, In action faithful, and in honour clear!
Who broke no promise, served no private end,
INTENDED FOR MR. ROWE,
IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY.
Thy reliques, Rowe! to this fair urn we trust,
ON MRS. CORBET,
WHO DIED OF A CANCER IN HER BREAST.
HERE rests a woman, good without pretence,