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Nay, e'en the parts of shame by name would call, Whene'er she passed by or lane or nook,

Would greet the man who turn'd him to the wall, And by his hand obscene the porter took, Nor ever did askance like modest virgin look.

VI.

Such place hath Deptford, navy-building town;
Woolwich and Wapping, smellin

pitch:

strong of

Such Lambeth, envy of each band and gown;
And Twick'nam such, which fairer scenes en-

rich,

Grots, statues, urns, and Jon's dog and bitch;

Ne village is without, on either side,

All up the silver Thames, or all adown; Ne Richmond's self, from whose tall front are ey'd Vales, spires, meand'ring streams, and Windsor's tow'ry pride.

III. EARL OF DORSET.

ARTEMISIA.

THOUGH Artemisia talks, by fits,
Of councils, classics, fathers, wits;

Reads Malbranche, Boyle, and Locke:

* By Artemisia, Pope has been thought to have meant queen Caroline. It certainly bears in many points a resemblance, but coloured by spleen. She became corpulent; and Mr Coxe ob

Yet in some things, methinks, she fails; 'Twere well, if she would pare her nails, And wear a cleaner smock.

Haughty and huge as High-Dutch bride
Such nastiness, and so much pride,
Are oddly join'd by fate:

On her large squab you find her spread,
Like a fat corpse upon a bed,

That lies and stinks in state.

She wears no colours (sign of grace)
On any part except her face;
All white and black beside:
Dauntless her look, her gesture proud,
Her voice theatrically loud,

And masculine her stride.

So have, I seen, in black and white,
A prating thing, a magpie hight,
Majestically stalk;

A stately, worthless animal,

That plies the tongue, and wags the tail,
All flutter, pride, and talk.*

motley cha.

serves, "Her levees were a strange mixture of the racter and manners of a queen and learned woman. She received company while at her toilette-Learned men and divines were intermixed with courtiers and ladies of the household. The conversation turned upon metaphysical subjects, blended with the tittle-tattle of the drawing-room."-Coxe's Memoirs.

* Let the curious reader compare Fenton's imitation of Dor. set's manner with this of Pope.-Dr WARTON.

PHRYNE.

PHRYNE had talents for mankind;
Open she was, and unconfin'd,
Like some free port of trade!
Merchants unloaded here their freight,
And agents from each foreign state
Here first their entry made.

Her learning and good breeding such,
Whether th' Italian or the Dutch,
Spaniards or French came to her,
To all obliging she'd appear;
'Twas Si signior, 'twas Yaw mynheer,
'Twas S'il vous plait, monsieur.

Obscure by birth, renown'd by crimes,
Still changing names, religions, climes,
At length she turns a bride:

In diamonds, pearls, and rich brocades,
She shines the first of batter'd jades,
And flutters in her pride.

So have I known those insects fair,
Which curious Germans hold so rare,
Still vary shapes and dies;

Still gain new titles with new forms;
First grubs obscene, then wriggling worms,
Then painted butterflies.

IV. SWIFT.

THE HAPPY LIFE OF A COUNTRY PARSON.

PARSON, these things in thy possessing
Are better than the bishop's blessing
A wife that makes conserves; a steed
That carries double when there's need;
October store, and best Virginia,
Tithe pig, and mortuary guinea;
Gazettes sent gratis down, and frank'd,
For which thy patron's weekly thank'd;
A large Concordance, bound long since;
Sermons to Charles the First, when prince;
A chronicle of ancient standing;

A Chrysostom, to smooth thy band in;
The Polyglott-three parts,-my text:
Howbeit-likewise-now to my next-
Lo here the Septuagint,—and Paul,
To sum the whole, the close of all.
He that has these, may pass his life,
Drink with the 'squire, and kiss his wife;*
On Sundays preach, and eat his fill;
And fast on Fridays-if he will;

Toast Church and Queen, explain the news,

Talk with churchwardens about pews;

Pray heartily for some new gift,

And shake his head at Doctor SWIFT.

* I. E., his (the parson's) own wife, and not the squire's; at least we must presume so, though the text is ambiguous.

THE CAPON'S TALE:

TO A LADY, WHO FATHERED HER LAMPOONS
UPON HER ACQUAINTANCE.

[The friendship between Pope and Lady Mary Wortley Montague, having degenerated into rivalry, the bard, upon the present and several other occasions, expressed his indignation in a manner which admitted of no retort, by addressing unmanly ribaldry to a female of rank and genius.]

IN Yorkshire dwelt a sober yeoman,
Whose wife, a clean, pains-taking woman,
Fed num'rous poultry in her pens,

And saw her cocks well serve her hens.
A hen she had whose tuneful clocks
Drew after her a train of cocks ;

With eyes so piercing, yet so pleasant,
You would have sworn this hen a pheasant.
All the plum'd beau monde round her gathers;
Lord! what a brustling up of feathers!
Morning from noon there was no knowing,
There was such flutt'ring, chuckling, crowing;
Each forward bird must thrust his head in,
And not a cock but would be treading.

Yet tender was this hen so fair,

And hatch'd more chicks than she could rear.
Our prudent dame bethought her then
Of some dry-nurse to save her hen:
She made a capon drunk; in fine
He eats the sops, she sipp'd the wine;

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