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VII.

A race of tyrants then fucceeds,
Who frown with brow fevere;

Yet though we fhudder at their deeds,
Ev'n Nero charms us here.

VIII.

Thus did the blooming Titus look,

Delight of human kind:

Great Hadrian thus, whose death bespoke

His firm yet gentle mind.

IX.

Aurelius too! thy ftoic face

Indignant we compare

With young Fauftina's wanton grace,

And meretricious air.

X.

Each paffion here and virtue shines

In livelieft emblems drefs'd:
Lefs ftrong in Tully's ethic lines,
Or Plato's flights express'd.
XI.

With heighten'd grace in verdant rust,

Each work of ancient art,

The temple, column, arch or bust

Their wonted charms impart.

XII. All

XII.

All-glorious Rome, through martial toil,
Beneath each zone obey'd,

Shew'd every province, trophy, fpoil,
On current gold display'd.
XIII.

Hence prodigals, that vainly spend,
Promote the great defign;

And misers aid ambition's end,

Who treasure up the coin.

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The fcientific ore;

Whilft on the rich remains of time,

The learn'd with rapture pore.
XV.

Each fading ftroke they now retrace,

Each legend dark unfold:

Then in hiftoric order place

And copper vies with gold.

XVI.

Happy the fage! like you, my friend,

The evening of whose days

Heav'n grants in that fair vale to spend

Where Thames delighted strays.

XVII. To

XVII.

To medals there and books of tafte
Those moments you consign,

Which barren minds ignobly waste
On dogs, or cards, or wine.
XVIII.

Whilst I 'mid rocks and savage woods
Enjoy these golden dreams;

Where Avon winds to mix her floods
With Bladud's healing ftreams.

PANA СЕ А:

Or, The Grand RESTORATIVE.

By the Same.

WELCOME to Baia's ftreams, ye fons of spleen,

Who rove from fpa to fpato fhift the scene.

While round the streaming fount you idly throng,
Come, learn a wholfome fecret from my fong.

Ye fair, whose roses feel th' approaching frost,
And drops fupply the place of fpirits loft:

Claverton near Bath, 1750.

Ye

Ye 'fquires, who rack'd with gouts, at heav'n repine, Condemn'd to water for excess in wine:

Ye portly cits, fo corpulent and full,

Who eat and drink 'till appetite grows dull:

For whets and bitters then unftring the purse,
Whilft nature more oppreft grows worse and worse:
Dupes to the craft of pill-prescribing leaches:
You nod or laugh at what the parfon preaches:
Hear then a rhyming quack,-who spurns your wealth,
And gratis gives a fure receipt for health.

No more thus vainly roam o'er fea and land,
When lo! a fovereign remedy at hand :

'Tis Temperance-ftale cant!-'Tis Fafting then;
Heav'n's antidote against the fins of men.
Foul luxury's the cause of all your pain:
To scour th' obftructed glands, abstain! abstain!
Fast and take reft, ye candidates for fleep,
Who from high food tormenting vigils keep:
Faft and be fat-thou ftarveling in a gown:
Ye bloated, fast-'twill furely bring you down.
Ye nymphs that piné o'er chocolate and rolls,
Hence take fresh bloom, fresh vigour to your fouls.
Faft and fear not-you'll need no drop nor pill:
Hunger may starve, excefs is fure to kill.

The

The HEROINES, or Modern Memoirs.

By the Same.

'N ancient times, fome hundred winters past,

IN

When British dames, for confcience fake, were chaste,

If fome frail nymph, by youthful paffion fway'd,

From Virtue's paths unhappily had stray'd:
When banish'd reafon re-affum'd her place,

The conscious wretch bewail'd her foul disgrace;
Fled from the world, and pass'd her joyless years
In decent folitude and pious tears;

Veil'd in fome convent made her

peace with heaven,

And almost hop'd-by Prudes to be forgiven.
Not fo of modern wh-res th' illuftrious train,
Renown'd Conftantia, P-ton and V-ne;
Grown old in fin, and dead to amorous joy,
No acts of penance their great fouls employ.
Without a blush behold each nymph advance,
The luscious Heroine of her own romance.
Each harlot triumphs in her lofs of fame,
And boldly prints and publishes her shame.

1751.

The

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