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manifests to him her works, i. 147, &c. Anoints him, ib. &c. Institutes games at his coronation, ii. 149. &c. The manner how she makes a wit, ii. 150. A great lover of a joke, 149.-And loves to repeat the same over again, 151. Her ways and means to procure the pathetic and terrible in tragedy, 155, &c. Encourages chattering and bawling, ib. &c. And is patroness of party-writing and railing, 156, &c. Makes use of the heads of critics as scales to weigh the heaviness of authors, 158. Promotes slumber with the works of the said authors, 159. The wonderful virtue of sleeping in her lap, iii. 160, &c. Her elysium, ib. &c. The souls of her sons dipped in Lethe, 161. How brought into the world, ib. Their transfiguration and metempsychosis, ib. The extent and glories of her empire, and her conquests throughout the world, iii. 162. A catalogue of her poetical forces in this nation, 163 to 165. Prophecy of her restoration, 167. Accomplishment of it, book iv. Her appearance on the throne, with the Sciences led in triumph, iv. 170. Tragedy and Comedy silenced, ib. General assembly of all her votaries, 171. Her patrons, ib. Her critics, 172. Her sway in the schools, 172, 173. And universities, 174, 175. How she educates gentlemen in their travels, 176. Constitutes virtuosi in science, 177. Free-thinkers in religion, 179. Slaves and dependents in government, ib. Finally turns them to beasts, but preserves the form of men, 180. What sort of comforters she sends them, ib. What orders and degrees she confers on them, ib. What performances she expects from them, according to their several ranks and degrees, 181. The powerful yawn she breathes on them, ib. Its progress and effects, ib. till the consummation of all, in the total extinction of the reasonable soul, and restoration of Night and Chaos, usq. ad fin. 182. Dispensary of Dr. Garth, ii. 153.

De Foe, Daniel, in what resembled to William Prynn, i.

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FALSEHOODS, told of our author in print,

-Of his taking verses from James Moore, Test. -And of his intending to abuse bishop Burnet, ib. By John Dennis, of his really poisoning Mr. Curl, i. 142. -And of contempt for the sacred writings, ii. 156. -By Edward Ward, of his being bribed by a duchess to satirize Ward of Hackney in the pillory, iii. 161. -By Mist the journalist, of unfair proceeding in the undertaking of the Odyssey and Shakspeare, Test. -Disproved by the testimony of the Lords Harcourt and Bathurst.

-By Mist, the journalist, concerning Mr. Addison and him, two or three lies, Test.

-By Pasquin, of his being in a plot, iii. 164. -By Sir Richard Blackmore, of his burlesquing Scripture, upon the authority of Curl, ii. 156. Fletcher, made Cibber's property, i. 143.

Mac Fleckno, not so decent and chaste in the diction as the Dunciad, ii. 151.

Friendship, understood by Mr. Dennis to be somewhat else in Nisus and Euryalus, &c, iii. 164, French cooks, iv. 180.

Furius, Mr. Dennis called so, by Mr. Theobald, i. 142. Fleet-ditch, ii. 156. Its nymphs, 158. Discoveries there, ib. Flies, not the ultimate object of human study, iv. 178. Falsehoods and flatteries permitted to be inscribed on churches, i. 140.

Good-nature of our author; instances of it in this work, i. 148; ii. 156.

Good sense, grammar, and verse, desired to give place for the sake of Mr. Bez. Morris and his works, iii. 164. GILDON (Charles) abused our Author in many things. Test. i. 147.

-Printed against Jesus Christ, i. 147.

GILDON and DENNIS, their unhappy difference lamented, iii. 164.

Gentleman, his Hymn to his Creator, by Welsted, ii. 155. Gazetteers, the monstrous price of their writings, ii. 157, the miserable fate of their works, ib.

HANDEL, an excellent musician, banished to Ireland by the English nobility, iv. 171.

Heydeggre, a strange bird from Switzerland, i. 147.
HORACE, censured by Mr. Welsted, Test.

-Did not know what he was about when he wrote his
Art of Poetry, ib.

HENLEY (John the Orator) his Tub and Eucharist, ii. 149. His history, iii. 165. His opinion of ordination and christian priesthood, ib. His medals, ib.

HAYWOOD (Mrs.) What sort of game for her, ii. 153. Won by Curl, 154. Her great respect for him, 153. The offspring of her brain and body (according to Curl, ib. Not undervalued by being set against a jordan, 153. Hints, extraordinary ones, ii. 156. HORNECK and ROOME, two party-writers, iii. 163.

Index-learning, the use of it, i. 147.

Journals, how dear they cost the nation, il. 157. Jus Divinum, iv. 173.

Impudence, celebrated in Mr. Curl, ii. 153, 154. -in Mr. Norton de Foe, ii. 160.

in Mr. Henley, iii. 165.

in Mr. Cibber, jun. iii. 163. in Mr. Cibber, sen. passim.

Lord-Mayor's show, i. 141.
Library of Bays, i. 143.
Lud (King), ii. 158.

Log (King), i. 148.

Lintot (Bernard), ii. 150.

Laureate, his crown of what composed, i. 148.

Madmen, two related to Cibber, i. 140.
Molière, crucified, i. 143.

MOORE (James) his story of six verses, and of ridiculing Bishop Burnet in the Memoirs of a Parish-clerk, proved false, by the testimonies of

-The Lord Bolingbroke, Test.

- Hugh Bethel, Esq. ib.

Earl of Peterborough, ib.

- Dr. Arbuthnot, ib.

His plagiarisms, some few of them, ib. and ii. 150. What he was real author of (beside the story abovementioned.) Vide list of scurrilous papers.

Erasmus, his advice to him, ii. 150.

Profaneness, not to be endured in our author, but very allowable in Shakspeare, i. 141.

Party-writers, their three qualifications, ii. 156.

MILBOURN, a fair critic, and why, ii. 158. Madness, of what sort Mr. Dennis's was according to Plato, i. 142.

-According to himself, ii. 156.

Mercuries and Magazines, i. 140.

May-pole in the Strand, turned into a church, ii. 149.
MORRIS (Besaleel), ii. 151; iii. 164.

Monuments of poets, with inscriptions to other men, iv. 172.

Medals, how swallowed and recovered, iv. 177.

Nodding, described, ii. 159.

Needham's, i. 148.

Νοῦς, iv. 174.

OLDMIXON (John) abused Mr. Addison and Mr. Pope, ii. 156. Falsified Daniel's History, then accused others of falsifying Lord Clarendon's; proved a slanderer in it, ib.

- abused Mr. Eusden and my Lord Chamberlain, i. 142. Odyssey, falsehoods concerning Mr. P.'s proposals for that work, Test.

Disproved by those very proposals, ib.

Owls and opium, i. 147.

Oranges and their use, i. 146.

Opera, her advancement, iii. 167. iv. 170.

Opiates, two very considerable ones, ii. 159. Their efficacy,

159.

Owls, desired to answer Mr. Ralph, iii. 163.

POPE (Mr.) his life] Educated by Jesuits-by a parson-by a monk at St. Omer's-at Oxford-at home-no where at all, Test, init. His father, a merchant, a husbandman, a farmer, a hatter, the devil, ib.

-His death threatened by Dr, Smedley, ib. but afterwards advised to hang himself, or cut his throat, ib. To be hunted down like a wild beast, by Mr. Theobald, ib. unless hanged for treason, on information of Pasquin, Mr. Dennis, Mr. Curl, and Concanen, ib. Poverty, never to be mentioned in Satire, in the opinion of the journalists and hackney-writers-The poverty of Codrus, not touched upon by Juvenal, ii. 153. When, and how far poverty may be satirised, letter, p. 125. Whenever mentioned by our author, it is only as an extenuation and excuse for bad writers, ii. 156. Personal abuses not to be endured, in the opinion of Mr Dennis, Theobald, Curl, &c. ii. 152.

Personal abuses on our author, by Mr. Dennis, Gildon, &c. ib.-by Mr. Theobald, Test.-By Mr. Ralph, iii. 163. -By Mr. Welsted, ii. 164.-By Mr. Cooke, ii. 152.-By Mr. Concanen, ii. 157.-By Sir Richard Blackmore, ii. 156.-By Edward Ward, iii. 161.-and their brethren. passim.

Personal abuses of others. Mr. Theobald of Mr. Dennis for his poverty, i. 142. Mr. Dennis of Mr. Theobald for his livelihood by the stage, and the law, i. 147. Mr. Dennis of Sir Richard Blackmore for impiety, ii. 156. Dr. Smedley of Mr. Concanen, ii. 157. Mr. Oldmixon's of Mr. Eusden, i. 142. Of Mr. Addison, ii. 156. Mr. Cook's of Mr. Eusden, i. 142.

Politics, very useful in criticism, Mr. Dennis's, i. 142; ii. 159.

Pillory, a post of respect, in the opinion of Mr. Curl, iii, 161 and of Mr. Ward, ib.

Plagiary, described, ii. 150, &c.

Priori, Argument a priori not the best to prove a God, iv. 178.

Poverty and poetry, their cave, i. 140.

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His praises of himself above Mr. Addison, 164. Swiss of heaven, who they are, ii. 158. Silenus described, iv. 179. Scholiasts, iii. 165. iv. 174. Supperless, a mistake concerning this word set right with respect to poets and other temperate students, i. 143. Sevenfold Face, who master of it, i. 146. Soul (the vulgar soul) its office, iv. 178. Schools, their homage paid to dulness, and in what, iv. 172.

TIEBALD, not hero of this poem, i. init. Published an edition of Shakspeare, i. 143. Author secretly, and abettor of scurrilities against Mr. P. Vide Test. and List of Books.

Thule, a very Northern Poem, puts out a fire, i. 147. Tailors, a good word for them, against poets and ill paymasters, ii. 151.

Thunder, how to make it by Mr. Dennis's receipt, ii. 155. Traveling described, and its advantages, iv. 175.

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WARD (Edw.) a poet and alehouse-keeper in Moorfields, i. 146. What became of his works, ib.

His high opinion of his namesake, and his respect for the pillory, iii. 161.

WELSTED (Leonard) one of the authors of the weekly journals, abused our author, &c. many years since, ii. 155. Taken by Dennis for a Didapper, ib. The character of his poetry, iii. 164.

Weekly journals, by whom written, ii. 156.
Whirligigs, iii. 162.

Wizard, his cup, and the strange effects of it, iv. 179.

IMITATIONS OF HORACE.

EPISTLE VII.

IMITATED IN THE MANNER OF DR. SWIFT.

'Tis true, my lord, I gave my word,
I would be with you, June the third;
Changed it to August, and in short,
Have kept it as you do at court.
You humour me when I am sick,
Why not when I am splenetick?
In town, what objects could I meet?
The shops shut up in every street,
And funerals blackening all the doors,
And yet more melancholy whores :
And what a dust in every place!
And a thin court that wants your face,
And fevers raging up and down,
And W* and H** both in town!

"The dog-days are no more the case." "Tis true, but winter comes apace: Then southward let your bard retire, Hold out some months 'twixt sun and fire, And you shall see, the first warm weather, Me and the butterflies together.

My lord, your favours well I know; "Tis with distinction you bestow; And not to every one that comes, Just as a Scotsman does his plums : "Pray take them, sir.-Enough's a feast : Eat some, and pocket up the rest."

What, rob your boys? those pretty rogues !
"No, sir, you'll leave them to the hogs.'
Thus fools, with compliments besiege ye,
Contriving never to oblige ye.
Scatter your favours on a fop,
Ingratitude's the certain crop ;
And 'tis but just, I'll tell ye wherefore,
You give the things you never care for.
A wise man always is, or shou'd
Be mighty ready to do good:
But makes a difference in his thought
Betwixt a guinea and a groat.

Now this I'll say, you'll find in me
A safe companion, and a free ;
But if you'd have me always near-
A word, pray, in your honour's ear.
I hope it is your resolution
To give me back my constitution!
The sprightly wit, the lively eye,
The engaging smile, the gaiety,
That laugh'd down many a summer sun,
And kept you up so oft till one :
And all that voluntary vein,
As when Belinda raised my strain.

A weasel once made shift to slink
In at a corn-loft through a chink;
But having amply stuff"d his skin,
Could not get out as he got in:
Which one belonging to the house
('Twas not a man, it was a mouse)
Observing, cried, "You 'scape not so!
Lean as you came, sir, you must go."
Sir, you may spare your application,
I'm no such beast, nor his relation;

Nor one that temperance advance,
Cramm'd to the throat with ortolans:
Extremely ready to resign

All that may make me none of mine.
South-sea subscriptions take who please,
Leave me but liberty and ease.
"Twas what I said to Craggs and Child,
Who praised my modesty and smiled.
Give me, I cried, (enough for me)
My bread, and independency!
So bought an annual rent or two,
And lived-just as you see I do ;
Near fifty, and without a wife,
I trust that sinking fund, my life.
Can I retrench? Yes, mighty well,
Shrink back to my paternal cell,
A little house, with trees a-row,
And, like its master, very low.
There died my father, no man's debtor,
And there I'll die, nor worse nor better.
To set this matter full before ye,
Our old friend Swift will tell his story.
"Harley, the nation's great support,”-
But you may read it, I stop short.

SATIRE VI.

THE FIRST PART IMITATED IN THE YEAR 1714, BY DR. SWIFT, THE LATTER PART ADDED AFTERWARDS.

I'VE often wish'd that I had clear
For life, six hundred pounds a year,
A handsome house to lodge a friend,
A river at my garden's end,
A terrace-walk, and half a rood
Of land, set out to plant a wood.

Well, now I have all this and more,
I ask not to increase my store;
"But here a grievance seems to lie,
All this is mine but till I die ;

I can't but think 'twould sound more clever,
To me and to my heirs for ever.

"If I ne'er got or lost a groat,
By any trick, or any fault;
And if I pray by Reason's rules,
And not like forty other fools :

As thus, 'Vouchsafe, O gracious Maker!
To grant me this and t' other acre:
Or, if it be thy will and pleasure,
Direct my plough to find a treasure :'
But only what my station fits,
And to be kept in my right wits,
Preserve, Almighty Providence!
Just what you gave me, competence :
And let me in these shades compose
Something in verse as true as prose ;
Removed from all the ambitious scene,
Nor puff'd by pride, nor sunk by spleen."
In short, I'm perfectly content,
Let me but live on this side Trent ;
Nor cross the channel twice a year,
To spend six months with statesmen here.

I must, by all means come to town, "Tis for the service of the crown. "Lewis, the dean will be of use, Send for him up, take no excuse." The toil, the danger of the seas, Great ministers ne'er think of these ; Or let it cost five hundred pound, No matter where the money's found. It is but so much more in debt, And that they ne'er consider'd yet." "Good Mr. Dean, go change your gown, Let my lord know you're come to town." I hurry me in haste away, Not thinking it is levee-day; And find his honour in a pound, Hemm'd by a triple circle round, Chequer'd with ribbons blue and green : How should I thrust myself between ? Some wag observes me thus perplext, And smiling, whispers to the next,

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thought the dean had been too proud,
To justle here among a crowd."
Another, in a surly fit,

Tells me I have more zeal than wit:
"So eager to express your love,
You ne'er consider whom you shove,
But rudely press before a duke."
I own, I'm pleased with this rebuke,
And take it kindly meant to show
What I desire the world should know.

get a whisper, and withdraw :
When twenty fools I never saw
Come with petitions fairly penn'd,
Desiring I would stand their friend.
This, humbly offers me his case—
That, begs my interest for a place—
A hundred other men's affairs,
Like bees, are humming in my ears.
"To-morrow my appeal comes on,
Without your help the cause is gone ".
The duke expects my lord and you,
About some great affair, at two-
"Put my Lord Bolingbroke in mind,
To get my warrant quickly sign'd :
Consider 'tis my first request."
Be satisfied, I'll do my best :-
Then presently he falls to tease,
"You may for certain if you please;
I doubt not, if his lordship knew-
And Mr. Dean, one word from you

"Tis (let me see) three years and more,
(October next it will be four)
Since HARLEY bid me first attend,

And chose me for an humble friend ;
Would take me in his coach to chat,

And question me of this and that;

As, "What's-o'clock?" And, "How's the wind?" "Whose chariot's that we left behind?"

Or gravely try to read the lines

Writ underneath the country signs;

Or, "Have you nothing new to-day

From Pope, from Parnell, or from Gay?"
Such tattle often entertains

My lord and me as far as Staines,

As once a week we travel down
To Windsor, and again to town;
Where all that passes, inter nos,
Might be proclaim'd at Charing-cross.
Yet some, I know, with envy swell,
Because they see me used so well:

"How think you of our friend the dean?
I wonder what some people mean;
My lord and he are grown so great,
Always together, tête-à-tête.

What, they admire him for his jokes--
See but the fortune of some folks!"
There flies about a strange report
Of some express arrived at court;
I'm stopp'd by all the fools I meet,
And catechised in every street.
"You, Mr. Dean, frequent the great;
Inform us, will the emperor treat?
Or do the prints and papers lie?"
Faith, sir, you know as much as I.
'Ah, Doctor, how you love to jest!
"Tis now no secret"-I protest
"Tis one to me-" Then tell us, pray,
When are the troops to have their pay?"
And though I solemnly declare

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I know no more than my Lord Mayor, They stand amazed, and think me grown The closest mortal ever known.

Thus in a sea of folly toss'd,
My choicest hours of life are lost;
Yet always wishing to retreat,
Oh, could I see my country seat!
There leaning near a gentle brook,
Sleep, or peruse some ancient book,
And there in sweet oblivion drown
Those cares that haunt the court and town.
O charming noons! and nights divine!
Or when I sup, or when I dine,
My friends above, my folks below,
Chatting and laughing, all-a-row,
The beans and bacon set before 'em,
The grace-cup served with all decorum :
Each willing to be pleased, and please,
And even the very dogs at ease!
Here no man prates of idle things;
How this or that Italian sings,

A neighbour's madness or his spouse's,
Or what's in either of the Houses :
But something much more our concern,
And quite a scandal not to learn:
Which is the happier, or the wiser,

A man of merit or a miser?

Whether we ought to choose our friends,
For their own worth, or our own ends?
What good, or better, we may call,
And what, the very best of all?

Our friend Dan Prior told, you know,

A tale extremely à propos :
Name a town life, and in a trice,
He had a story of two mice.
Once on a time (so runs the fable)
A country mouse, right hospitable,
Received a town mouse at his board,
Just as a farmer might a lord.
A frugal mouse upon the whole,
Yet loved his friend, and had a soul;
Knew what was handsome, and would do't,
On just occasion, coute qui coute.
He brought him bacon, (nothing lean)
Pudding, that might have pleased a dean ;
Cheese, such as men in Suffolk make,
But wish'd it Stilton for his sake;
Yet, to his guest though no way sparing,
He eat himself the rind and paring.
Our courtier scarce could touch a bit,
But show'd his breeding and his wit;

He did his best to seem to eat,

And cried," I vow you're mighty neat.
But Lord, my friend, this savage scene!
For God's sake, come, and live with men :
Consider, mice, like men, must die,
Both small and great, both you and I :
Then spend your life in joy and sport.
(This doctrine, friend, I learnt at court.)"
The veriest hermit in the nation

May yield, God knows, to strong temptation.
Away they come, through thick and thin,
To a tall house near Lincoln's Inn;
('Twas on the night of a debate,
When all their lordships had sate late.)

Behold the place, where if a poet
Shined in description, he might show it ;
Tell how the moon-beam trembling falls,
And tips with silver all the walls;
Palladian walls, Venetian doors,
Grotesco roofs, and stucco floors;
But let it, in a word, be said,
The moon was up, and men a-bed,
The napkins white, the carpet red;
The guests withdrawn had left the treat,
And down the mice sate, tête-à-tête.

Our courtier walks from dish to dish,
Tastes for his friend of fowl and fish;
Tells all their names, lays down the law,
"Que ça est bon ! Ah goutez ça!
That jelly's rich, this malmsey healing,
Pray, dip your whiskers and your tail in."
Was ever such a happy swain?
He stuffs and swills, and stuffs again.
"I'm quite ashamed-'tis mighty rude
To eat so much-but all's so good.
I have a thousand thanks to give-
My lord alone knows how to live."
No sooner said, but from the hall
Rush chaplain, butler, dogs, and all :
"A rat! a rat! clap to the door"-
The cat comes bouncing on the floor.
O for the heart of Homer's mice,
Or gods to save them in a trice!
(It was by Providence they think,
For your damn'd stucco has no chink.)

"An't please your honour," quoth the peasant,
"This same dessert is not so pleasant:
Give me again my hollow tree,

A crust of bread, and liberty !"

BOOK IV.-ODE I.

TO VENUS.

AGAIN! new tumults in my breast?
Ah spare me, Venus! let me, let me rest!
I am not now, alas! the man

As in the gentle reign of my queen Anne.
Ah sound no more thy soft alarms,

Nor circle sober Fifty with thy charms. Mother too fierce of dear desires!

Turn, turn to willing hearts your wanton fires. To number five direct your doves, There spread round MURRAY all your blooming loves ;

Noble and young, who strikes the heart
With every sprightly, every decent part;
Equal, the injured to defend,

To charm the mistress, or to fix the friend.
He with a hundred arts refined,

Shall stretch thy conquests over half the kind : To him each rival shall submit,

Make but his riches equal to his wit. Then shall thy form the marble grace,

(Thy Grecian form) and Chloë lend the face: His house embosom'd in the grove,

Sacred to social life and social love, Shall glitter o'er the pendent green,

Where Thames reflects the visionary scene: Thither, the silver-sounding lyres

Shall call the smiling Loves, and young Desires;
There every Grace and Muse shall throng,
Exalt the dance, or animate the song;
There youths and nymphs, in consort gay,
Shall hail the rising, close the parting day.
With me, alas! those joys are o'er;
For me,

the vernal garlands bloom no more.
Adieu! fond hope of mutual fire,
The still-believing, still-renew'd desire;
Adieu! the heart-expanding bowl,

And all the kind deceivers of the soul!
But why? ah tell me, ah too dear!

Steals down my cheek, the involuntary tear? Why words so flowing, thoughts so free,

Stop, or turn nonsense, at one glance of thee? Thee, drest in fancy's airy beam,

Absent I follow through the extended dream; Now, now I seize, I clasp thy charms,

And now you burst (ah cruel!) from my arms; And swiftly shoot along the Mall,

Or softly glide by the canal,

Now shown by Cynthia's silver ray,

And now, on rolling waters snatch'd away.

PART OF THE NINTH ODE

OF THE FOURTH BOOK.

A FRAGMENT.

LEST you should think that verse shall die,
Which sounds the silver Thames along,
Taught on the wings of truth to fly

Above the reach of vulgar song;

Though daring Milton sits sublime,
In Spenser native muses play;
Nor yet shall Waller yield to time,
Nor pensive Cowley's moral lay-

Sages and chiefs long since had birth

Ere Cæsar was, or Newton named; Those raised new empires o'er the earth, And these, new heavens and systems framed. Vain was the chief's, the sage's pride! They had no poet, and they died. They had no poet, and are dead. In vain they schemed, in vain they bled!

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