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Let Yttle Orange stay and fight,
For danger 's his diversion;
Not to expose your person :
The ruins of your glory ;
To those who pen your story.
For panegyric writing?
Without the help of fighting.
"Tis beft to leave them fairly : Put fix good horses to your coach,
And carry me to Marly. Let Bouflers, to secure your fame, - Go take some town or buy it ; Whilft you, great Sir, at Nôtre Dame,
Te Deum fing in quiet.
A thousand different ways,
The censure of the grave,
Nor can it e'er submit,
Who daily counsel me
To fools who thus advise,
Most miserably wise!
S O N G DO ,
ORINDA's Sparkling wit and eyes, Which blazes high, but quickly dies,
Pains not the heart, but hurts the sight. Love is a calmer gentler joy,
Smooth are his looks, and soft his pace ; Her Cupid is a black-guard boy,
That runs his link full in your face.
His arm reclin'd, the lover's pillow, Thus address'd the charming maid.
How could Nature take delight
Half the tortures that I bear,
O! behold a burning man !
Cry'd, with an insulting look,
She spoke, and pointed to the brook
TO KING JAMES II.
Upon his Accesfion to the Throne, 1684-5.
in greater trophies which the triumphs gain ;
May then no flight of a blafpheming Muse,
Confusedly crowd on the fophs and the doctors,
AN EPIST LE
AFTERWARDS EARL OF HALIFAX.
On his Majesly's Voyage to Holland,
The URL of Mox MOU TH'S PICTURE, 1685 SA
On the UNIVERSITY of CAMBRIDGE's burning
INCE you oft invite me to renew
An Art I've either loft, or never knew, who was formerly their Chancellor In Answer Pleas'd my past follies kindly to commend, to this Question,
And fondly lose the critick in the friend ;
Though my warm youth untimely be decay'd,
I'll contradict the humour of the times,
And, to obey the man I love, in spite
Of the world's genius and my own, I'll write.
But think not that I vainly do aspire
To rival what I only would admire, The original in limbo lay secure,
The heat and beauty of your manly thought, As greaty as himself he sends a lictor
And force like that with which your hero fought; To vent his loyal malice on the picture.
Like Samson's riddle is that powerful song, The be adle's wife endeavours all the can
Sweet as the honey, as the lion strong ; To save the image of the tall young man,
The colours there fo artfully are laid, Which she so oft when pregnant did embrace,
They fear no lustre, and they want no shade ; That with strong thoughts,she might improve her race;
But shall of writing a just model give, But all in vain, since the wise house conspire
While Boyne shall flow, and Willian's glory live. To damn the canvas traitor to the fire,
Yet since his every act may well infuse Left it, like bones of Scanderbeg, incite
Some happy rapture in the humbles Mure, Scythe-men next harvest to renew the fight.
Though mine despairs to reach the wondrous height, Then in comes inayo: Eagle, and does gravely alledge, The King's the theme, and I've a subject's right.
She prunes her pinions, eager of the flight ;
When William's deeds, and rescued Europe's joys Snigs, he'll be beholden to none but the Muses;
Do every tongue and every pen employ,
'Tis to think treason sure, to thew no zeal,
Would fing the picus King's divided care ;
How eagerly he few, when Europe's fare
Thus joining their stocks for a bonfire toge: her, How joyful Belgia gratefully prepar'd