A Prelate for wit and for eloquence famed

APOLLO SOON missed; and he needs not be named!
Since (amidst a whole Bench, of which some are so bright)
No one of them shines so learned and polite!

TO SHIPPEN, APOLLO was cold with respect;
Since he, for the State could the Muses neglect:
But said, In a greater Assembly he shined,
And Places were things he had ever declined!

TR-P, Y—G, and VANBRUGH expected reward
For some things writ well: but APOLLO declared,
That one was too flat, the other too rough;
And the third, sure, already had Places enough!

Pert BUDGELL came next, and demanding the Bays, Said, 'Those Works must be good, which had ADDISON'S praise!'

But APOLLO replied, 'Child EUSTACE! 'tis known Most Authors will praise whatsoever 's their own!'

Then PHILIPS came forth, as starch as a Quaker, Whose simple profession 's a Pastoral-maker. APOLLO advised him, From Playhouse to keep; And pipe to nought else but his dog and his sheep!

HUGHES, FENTON, and GAY came last in the Train; Too modest to ask for the Crown they would gain. PHOEBUS thought them too bashful, and said, 'They would need

More boldness, if ever they hoped to succeed!'

APOLLO, now driv'n to a cursèd quandary,

Was wishing for SWIFT, or the famed Lady Mary. Nay! had honest TOM SOUTHERNE but been within call

But, at last, he grew wanton; and laughed at them all!

And so, 'spying one who came only to gaze,
A hater of Verse and despiser of Plays,
To him, in great form, without any delay,
(Though a zealous Fanatic!) presented the Bay.

All the Wits stood astonished, at hearing the God
So gravely pronounce an election so odd;
And though PRIOR and POPE only laughed in his face,
Most others were ready to sink in the place.

Yet some thought the vacancy open was kept,
Concluding the bigot would never accept:

But the hypocrite told them, 'He well understood,
Though the function was wicked, the stipend was good!'

At last, in rushed EUSDEN, and cried, 'Who shall have it

But I, the true Laureate! to whom the King gave it!'
APOLLO begged pardon, and granted his claim;
But vowed though, till then, he ne'er heard of his name!

TO MR.

You ask, my friend! How I can DELIA prize;
When MYRA's shape I view, or CYNTHIA's eyes?
No tedious answer shall create you pain;
For beauty, if but beauty, I disdain!

'Tis not a mien, that can my will control;
A speaking body with a silent soul!
The loveliest face to me not lovely shows,
From the sweet lips if melting nonsense flows!
Nor must the tuneful CHLORIS be my choice!
An earthly mind ill suits a heavenly voice!

What though my DELIA not decayed appears, 'She wants,' you cry, 'the gaudy bloom of years! True! But good sense perpetual joys will bring! Her wit is ever youthful as the Spring!

Not so my DELIA shall consume her charms; But rise, each morn, more beauteous from my arms! With envious swiftness, rolling years may move, Impair her glories; not impair my love!

Time's wasteful rage, the Husband shall despise ; And view the Wife still with the Bridegroom's eyes!...

A TALE.

A BAND of CUPIDS, th' other day,
Together met to laugh and play.
When, on a sudden, 'Come, who flies?'
Says one. 'But whither?' t' other cries.
'Why, whither, but to CLOE's eyes!'
Replied a third. The wanton crew
(Like swarms of bees to roses) flew
Around the beauteous CLOE's face,
And crowded hard to get a place.

This on her nether lip does fix;
Whilst on her cheek another sticks.
This swings upon her flowing hair.
In her fair eyes, a lovely pair

Of Youths stand, with their torches lit.
Two others on her eyebrows sit,
Each with his bow. Amongst the rest,
One missed her chin; and on her breast
Fell headlong but soon, looking up, did cry,
'None of you've got so good a place as I!'

THE PICTURE OF

A FINE APRIL MORNING.

'THE Snows are melted, and the frosts are past; Nor do we longer dread the wintry blast! What garland shall AMINTOR now design? What wreath, ZELINDA! round thy temples twine? 'The dawning year revives the Poet's fire; Soft strains of love returning suns inspire! In every wood, behold, in every glade, Th' unsullied verdure, and the growing shade! All Nature, like a Bride, emerges bright;

And her lap teems, luxuriant with delight.

grass

O'er tepid plains the tempering zephyrs pass, Call forth the bursting leaves, and spring the Afresh the painted pansy rears its head. The whitened meadow starry daisies spread. The birds sweet warble from the sappy boughs; And Swains in tuneful sighs renew their vows.

'Inspire, O, blooming Maid! my artless Lay; While I recall our first auspicious day.

The dawn, my Fair! when early I addressed
My tender suit; and sighed upon thy breast!

'ZELINDA blushed; a blush the morning wore! ZELINDA smiled; nor was it day before!

!