Nor bite your lip, nor furl your brow, Shou'd, one day, gain precedence of ye? Nam'd first, tho' not with half the fame, A kind of fupplemental station, Poor SWIFT, with all his worth, cou'd neʼer, He tells us, hope to rise a peer; So, to fupply it, wrote for fame: And well the wit fecur'd his aim. Not quite fo innocent as SWIFT: In BRITAIN'S cause he rants, he labours; "He's honeft, faith"--have patience, neighbours! For patriots may fometimes deceive, May beg their friend's reluctant leave, Τα To serve them in a higher sphere; So ere we meet a court's careffes, No doubt our fouls must change their dreffes: If then 'tis rank which all men covet, 'Tis properly a female paffion: You'd hint a beau were not a man : A man perhaps would fomething linger, } And And many, as their frame grows old, But women with precedence ever; All fierce and pregnant with reply. But hold, an argument may fail, Befide my title fays, a tale. Where Avon rolls her winding ftream, AVON, the Mufe's fav'rite theme! Avon, that fills the farmer's purses, And decks with flow'rs both farms, and verses, She visits many a fertile vale Such was the scene of this my tale. For 'tis in Ev'ṢHAM's vale, or near it, That folks with laughter tell, and hear it. Was by young CORYDON poffeft. For d 'twere not much amifs, to add 'em. Thrice happy lout! whofe wide domain w green with grafs, now gilt with grain, ruffet robes of clover deep, thinly veil'd, and white with sheep; ow fragrant with the bean's perfume, ow purpled with the pulse's bloom, fight well with bright allufion store me; But happier bards have been before me! Amongst the various year's increase, he stripling own'd a field of pease; hich, when at night he ceas'd his labours, ere haunted by fome female neighbours. ach morn discover'd to his fight he fhameful havoc of the night; races of this they left behind 'em, ut no inftructions where to find 'em. The devil's works are plain and evil, -ut few or none have seen the devil. Old NOLL, indeed, if we may credit The words of ECHARD, who has faid it, Contriv'd with SATAN how to fool us; And bargain'd face to face to rule us; But then old NOLL was one in ten, And fought him more then other men. Our fhepherd too, with like attention, May meet the female fiends we mention. 3 He He rose one morn at break of day, How love can make a jest of passion. And claim'd the debt withheld before. Love form'd his features to a smile : And knowing well 'twas all grimace, He in few words exprefs'd his mind And none would deem them much unkind. That recompence from each, which shame Yet, more this fentence to discover, 'Tis what BETT * * grants her lover, When |