i A1r

Variety:


A
Poem,
In Two Cantos.

Humbly offer’d to the God of Change

To which is annex’d, An
Answer
to an
Ovid’s Epistle
.

By Louisa.

What need to treat of diſtant Climes remov’d, Far from the ſloping Journey of the Year: Beyond Petſora or Iſlandic Coaſt. Poem on Cyder.
Variety, Home kept’s a Theoric large, Wavelet expanſe, of a full rolling Verge.

Westminster:
Printed for T. Warner at the Black Boy in Pater-noſter-
row
, and B. Creake in Jermyn-ſtreet, St. James’s. 17271727.
Price 1s. 6d.

ii A1v omitted iii A2r

To The Right Honourable My Lord Seafort.

My Lord,

Variety begs leave to give your Lordship a Welcome to all the Honours of your noble Progenitors, as well as thoſe due to A2 your iv A2v your own matchleſs Merit; Welcome, Great Man, from a too tedious Exile; our Court and Cloſet long have wanted you, and now our State, and your own Countrymen, muſt bleſs the Juſtice of that Change that hath ſo kindly given you to their wiſhes.

The World knows My Lord Seafort’s Worth, and it is a Theme above a Woman, to tell a Peer he’s deſerving, when every Action of his Life aſſures us of it.

All v A3r

All I have to plead for an Intruſion of this Nature, is a certain Je-ne-ſcai-quoi in my Soul, That tells me, It is a Pleaſure to make a Patron of the Man, that truly knows himſelf, and the Viciſſitudes of Fortune.

Forgive, My Lord, my juvenile Faults, for which my Sex, and Youth, I hope, will plead; and, as a firſt unfiniſh’d Thing, accept of my raw Poem, from the zealous Ambition of her, that’s proud to be the firſt, to tell you, in ſo public a manner, with how much vi A3v much Joy, altho’ a Stranger, ſhe feels the approaching Sun-ſhine of a good Man’s Glory.

I am, My Lord, Your Lordship’s moſt Devoted Servant,

Louisa

.
vii A4r

Written on Sight of Variety, by a young Lady, and publiſh’d at Requeſt.

Dear, enchanting, lovely Change,

Thro’ Woods, thro’ Worlds for thee I’d range.

In mid-day Heats, and Affrick’s ſcorching Sun,

O’er ſandy Plains, thro’ liquid Fires I’d run;

O’er Rocks and Hills of never-melting Snow,

For thee, dear Change, for thee with Joy I’d go,

All this for dear Variety I’d do.

It is the darling Theme, on a Maid’s Word,

Of ev’ry fair falſe She, and ev’ry Courtier Lord,

’Tis often known, in this inconſtant World,

From old to new Variety we’re hurl’d.

Nay, I declare, believe me, it is true,

Rather than not know Change, and ſomething new,

From a fair Chriſtian I’d become black Jew.

Nay, faith, from gay Coquet I’d turn grave Nun;

Bleſs me! what have I ſaid! (but ’tis not done)

Yon pious Gownman ſhakes his holy Head,

And asks what Devil bred th’ inglorious Maid.

Harkee, young Canon, one Word in your Ear;

Draw cloſe ―― it muſt be whiſper’d, reverend Dear,

’Tis not ſo ſtrange, my Prelate, nor uncommon ――

D’ye fly me, Sir! ―― Octavia’s but a Woman.

I’m ſorry, truly, your black Cloak’s ſo zealous;

Forgive me, Love, I’m mad to make you jealous.

Make viii A4v 2

Make me, blind Cupid; ev’ry thing that’s ſoft:

See how thoſe Eyes my warm Deſires do waft!

But don’t miſtake, ’tis not for you alone,

Nor him, nor t’other, when the former’s gone,

Black, brown, or fair let my Adonis be,

’Tis Charming Change, tho’ Conſanguinity,

Brother, or Friend, ſo ’tis a vary’d thing:

We ever court what’s ever on the Wing.

Louisa, lovely Maid, is of my Mind:

Variety to ev’ry Wretch is kind:

The roving Fair loves Change as well as I,

And all her Theme is ſtill Variety:

She, young, thro’ Fortune’s various Windings trod,

And bows to Change her ever-pleaſing God.

On then, Louisa, hunt the endleſs Race,

And dear Variety for ever chace;

On, till Octavia lends thee conquering Arms,

And laſting Friendſhip gets thee glorious Palms;

Till then, my dear lov’d Friend, I bid farewel;

O! could I arm my Sex, we’d Men excel.

Sure, in Variety, when Youth and Woman

Agree to plague the Fellows, we out-do Man.

Octavia

.
1 B1r

Variety. A Poem, Humbly Inscrib’d To the God of Change.

Of all that heightens, or Formations

Mirth,

Variety’s the Source. Hail protean

Birth:

Hail never ſettled, ever changing Eaſe,

Got by Delight, and ever born to pleaſe:

Hail charming Godhead, Hail indearing Toy,

Off-ſpring of Love, Fullneſs of full-blown Joy.

B Aid 2 B1v 2

Aid me each juvenile Muſe, each finiſh’d Grace,

To paint the nimble many-headed Race;

Humour the fertil’ſt, of the wand’ring Brood,

Leads me to Seas, and bids me ſearch the Flood:

The circlet Wave glows with the Changive round,

And Water-wonders Vye with upper Ground;

Fowl, Fiſh, Brute, Reptile, Elemental’s War,

Who vary’s moſt, the ſtill continued Jar.

O Charm of Change! Man as his Maker Free,

Glory’s and prides in alt’ring Liberty;

Dear courted Liberty, what Pen can tell,

Barr’d o’thy Freedoms, our unfathom’d Hell;

But oh! embrisk’d by thee, how kind’s our Fate,

How charm’d we love, how unprovok’d we hate;

What lives but dreads Confinement (horrid Death)

And would buy off a Priſon with a Breath.

Our hotteſt Cupid drags no ſervile Chain,

Wild as our Will, th’inconſtant knows ’em Vain.

Cupid, we grant, commands the Great, the Free:

Yes, but h’inflames the Youth judiciouſly;

Makes 3 B2r 3

Makes ’em deſire, deſign, deceive, forſwear,

With ſo bewitching, ſo gallant an Air;

How can the Maid refuſe, reſiſt th’ Alarm?

When all ſhe wiſh’d was him alone to charm;

She yields, both tire, both change, and both forget,

A newer Face, ’tis like, inſpires new Heat:

You think this ſtrange, examine your own Mind,

Ask your own Breaſt, are you not thus inclin’d?

Blockheads and Fops look for a fix’d firm Station;

When could it be? it were a meer Vexation;

Ask any Husband, how he likes be’ng ty’d?

He anſwers you, Spouſe is no more a Bride;

The conſtant’ſt Lover acts as falſe as he,

That means us falſe, only the Fool can’t ſee;

He thinks he’s true, and who can think a-right,

Is not our very Minds an arrant Bite?

This Hour we like, the next ’tis odds, we hate,

(Inconſtancy’s the Virtue o’the Great)

Confinement; p’ſhaw, there’s no ſuch Thing on Earth,

There may be Fools, but ’tis a Wit’s beſt Mirth,

B2 Be 4 B2v 4

Be generous gay, diſcreet, love; but love ſo,

It neither make thy Purſe nor Spirits low:

Court-All’s a taking faſhionable Spark,

Alike the Alamode, of Lord, or Clerk;

A Tale well told, a Lye that looks a Truth;

The Maid excuſes, and improves the Youth;

The One’s initiated, the other taught,

And where, good lack, in our gay Town’s the Fault;

With the Genteel, the uglieſt, fouleſt Thing,

’S to be unread in Gallantry and Sin;

To be ſincere’s unbred, untrue’s a Mask,

So very kind to have, is but to ask;

Friend, Foe or Lover, promiſe what they may,

The Wife take not a Speech for current Pay;

Unjuſt, unmeaning, roving as a Wind,

Is the ſincereſt He or She we find;

Tales may be told, and old Romances read,

Dependance grows a meer Don Quixot’s Creed;

Is not our humour o’the Charmer’s Side?

Is not Variety our darling Pride?

The 5 B3r 5

The Stateſman’s Hopes the reigning Monarch wait

To be more wealthy, or, perhaps, more great,

Slow rolling years he’ll cant, cringe, lie and daub,

Whilſt him he bows to, he’ll deſign’dly robb.

So have I ſeen a pretty fellow mock’d,

Till from’s Conceit, he’s into Madneſs rock’d,

A Moorfields Air, Laver’s Sir Half-brain’s Wits,

Hyſterics change to melancholic Fits;

Variety’s the Source, the End of Motion,

Art, Wit, Skill, Folly, pay it true Devotion:

I’ve read when Curtius would his Country free,

His dangerous Leap found a new Deſtiny.

Variety of Bravery, ―― pungent Cauſe,

Self-Preſervation’s Self had then its Flaws.

When Roman Julius, early made his Fate,

By Novel Ways, he made a Novel State;

Domitian buſied time, with bodkin’d flyes,

Amuſement new, as Nero’s Stage-Play Prize,

Seneca, and Petronius, try’d new Deaths,

And own’d Variety, in lateſt Breaths.

Divine 6 B3v 6

Divine, or Atheiſt, Soldier, Trader, Scholar,

Variety, by many Methods follows

The truſted, honeſt, zealous, Court-Divan,

From Back-Stairs Page, to Rod, and Key, Great (Man,

The neutral out, blyth Minion, in King’s Favour,

Alike engroſs the willing Will, to waver;

No King, no Slaves, from the ſtrong tye Exempt,

A Crown’s its Firſt, its Laſt, its Beſt Attempt,

Rover Fantaſtick, Baſtard of Ambition,

Pleas’d and Unpleas’d, at once Mungrel Phyſician,

To Salve one Ake, how many doſt thou Probe,

For one poor Shield, what Magazines unrobe?

Differently different, in thy every way,

How indirect’s thy Meaning to thy Say,

Furniſh me Proteus, with a juſter Pen,

To ſing the many Minds, the many Men,

Lend thy young Brother Mercury lighter Wings

And Canvas ſwell’d Fames, many Mouth’d deep ſtings.

Tell how in Maſquerades, a noiſy Doubt,

Lampoon’d, the Fools within, by Fops without.

Tell 7 B4r 7

Tell how in a ſtrange Court, a pretty Thing

Fawn’d on, and bubbled made a Puppet King.

Tell what Court-Patriot Piqu’d againſt Hannover,

Quarrell’d with Holland, and made Friends with Dover.

Tell who, and who, were Wits, and who were Traytors,

Cag’d, till freed by Wiles, or private Letters;

Tell what late Fav’rite, tumbled from the Spire,

Grew downward faſt, ’cauſe he dar’d Climb no higher,

Till ſwell’d with Spleen, he burſted with Diſgrace,

And dy’d, as firſt he liv’d, obſcure and baſe.

Tell what fine Lady, Widow’d and bereft,

Of Lord and Livings, gave the Giver’s Gift;

Whilom late handſome Keeper, leaves the Realm

And in new Worlds, ſteer’d a more ſteady Helm,

No more with Bubbles, will his Honour Sport,

South-Sea, he baniſhed his pompous Court;

Chimera’s overcome, Grief drops her Weight,

Experienc’d Follies makes the Hero Great.

Tell what inconſtant, Noble, foil’d, and cheated.

By Change Apprentice, Change as quickly feated,

Tell 8 B4v 8

Tell what fond Couple, by meer juggle join’d,

A like under their Honours, mask their Mind:

Tell what Young Rover, gives Stage Madam Leave,

With’s Name, and Equipage, Worlds to deceive

Till ſleeping Maſter opens both his Eyes,

Sees his Miſtake, and in a jerk grows Wiſe,

Tell what falſe Briton, ſlyly aids ſly Spain,

At once a Monarch’s Pillar, and his Bane.

Tell what late witty Peer, of late turn’d Roman,

’S accountable to Fryer; for Lies, and Woman;

Tho’ a known Atheiſt, yet his graceleſs Grace,

Will for Religion, loſe Eſtate and Place;

Martyrdom, pretty fit for Popiſh Saint,

Who for the White, Black Angels oft depaint:

Tell what late rumour, made a certain King,

Wade here, and hence, by ſecret unſeen Spring:

Tell what far Prince, by’s knowing Envoy Great,

Grows more eſteem’d, Wonder of every State:

Tell what young Author, by a Hero made,

A late ill-natur’d Critic, would degrade.

Tell 9 C1r 9

Tell what big buſie Man, a grant deny’d,

Cauſe’t glutted not his too aſpiring Pride;

What’s he, or what his Aim, that would uncrown,

A Royal brave Deſerver’s young Renown?

When for a Sword, a Stateſman dares diſpute,

It Cert’s it would be ſomething abſolute:

Heaven guard our Monarch, guard the Good, the Brave,

Make even Ambition Juſt, and Treaſon ſave;

Tell what misſled brave youngling, long exiled,

Of late to giving David’s reconciled;

Tell what Sir Credulous’s, eaſie Spouſe,

Grows infamous, for breaking Nuptial Vows,

Make confident of Trader, late repents it,

But Change is Charming, and ſhe’ll ne’er recant it;

Tell what late celebrated Beauty grows

Aſſembly-keeper, and in Age, trap’s Beaus;

Tell what fond Wife, to Husband more than Chaſte

Sends him to Heaven in a Lover’s haſte,

Till known at Maſquerades, the News fame Writes,

And the blind, fond, State, buſied Husband ſlights.

C Whilom 10 C1v 10

Whilom the Fair, falſe Pride, the Fame ſtill Civil,

Bribes Reputation, tho’ caught with a Devil:

Tell what Court-Darling, dar’d refuſe his Prince,

A handſome Miſtreſs, and convey her hence;

Tell what Coquette, once thought in Royal Favour,

Marrys a Soldier, and reforms Behavior;

Tell what Court-Maiden, loſes Fee and Fame,

By Blots of Conduct, that make public Shame,

Refuſed by him, that help’d undoe her Credit,

More Rich, leſs Honourable, in haſt ſhe Wedded;

Tell What Gay Author, ever alternative,

Likes, gives, takes, knows, as Fancy’s Recreative,

Tell what Young Peer, fells Fathers dirty Acres,

To give more faſt to Girls, and Money-ſeekers,

What fearful Murmurs, and what public Plaints,

Againſt the beſt of Kings, by Pluto ’s Saints,

Pluto, the black Soul’d God, of neither Worlds,

’Gainſt whom Joves angry’ſt Bolt, Fire red he Furls

Proſerpine’s, Rapes, ſtill hiſſes in his Ear,

A black Reſerve, ſhall right the injur’d Fair,

Still 11 C2r 11

Still dear Variety’s our Sexes Friend,

To that our Hopes, our kindeſt Wiſhes bend;

If the dear Boy’s unkind, if he neglects,

Not long he leaves, not long he diſreſpects,

In the ſtill varyed Round, he ſtill returns,

Loves us a-new, whiles he for others Burns;

Does he requite us baſe, Revenge is nigh;

Revenge, head Agent, of Variety;

From Love to Hate, from Hate to Love we Wind

Till we Regain, or Rack the woo’d unkind,

To thee alone, dear Change, we unbiaſs’d bow,

Help’d by Variety, leſs anxious grow;

Viciſſitude’s the Harlequin of Fate,

God o’the Mean, Commander o’the Great:

Reſolver of our Doubts, Balm of Diſtreſs;

Thou makeſt our Sorrows light, our Feelings leſs,

Enhanceſt every Good, ſecure of Change:

Our every Chance, is Welcome, or not ſtrange,

Our Weal, our Woe, our hilly climb, low Fall,

A Dream, a Sun-ſmile Day, a broken Gail;

C2 The 12 C2v 12

The rattle Snake, and Water-Calf, agree,

T’ unthrone a King for pure Variety:

Hold private Correſpondence with a Foe,

And tell him all he dares at, the dare doe:

The common’ſt thing in a well order’d State,

’S a Complimental Lye to him we hate,

Some Blame, ſome Curſe, a Love to native Strand,

Others careſs the Power, they’re left in Hand,

If foreign Prince Delights, in foreign Furrows,

What Wonder, or what Cauſe of Public Sorrows;

Tho’ ſome impolitic, tho’ honeſt more,

Oftner reviſit, a home ſterrile Shore:

Whiles others not emvoid of Wit’s digreſs,

Forget their Off-ſpring, and firſt breathing Place,

A Son tho’ gay, gen’rous, and frank may try,

Who homage Sire, by hook baited with Fly;

The thoughtleſs Gudgeon, on the ſharp leaves Life,

And Groans in dying Pangs, a trecherous Strife,

Rook, Hawk, and Raven, Croak alike Craſs, Craſs,

When each to Morrow, proves a Treaſon was;

The 13 C3r 13

The Kite, the Buzzard, and the Moon ſhrowd Owl

Deceive by turns, the honeſt reigning Fowl;

The Cock crows Morning and the Bat ſings Night,

Juſt as young Sailors tells us a firſt right,

The Main-Maſt totters, Seas go Caſtle high,

And foam and threat the big-lookt Smoky-Sky,

The Cables cut, the Hold ſucks Water deep,

The Veſſel’s Leaky, and her Men faſt ſleep

The gay dreſt Stern, on ridgy Rocks is torn,

A drowning Wretch, on Planks to refuge born,

At firſt he thanks, begs, kneels, devout he grows,

Till weary Nature, lulls him to Repoſe,

He wakes; his godly qualm, with’s fear are flown,

His ſolemn Oaths, the late gone ſtorms have Drown,

He now the deſart Plain, unthankful Views,

Loud Exclamatory Wailings, Gods abuſe;

Why am I here alone, why only me?

What, not a Mariner? curſt Deſtiny,

The fighting Seas, had been a juſter Friend,

I there had made a comfortable End,

Had 14 C3v 14

Had dy’d, at leaſt Content, but now what Fate,

What God can Change, who aids my hopleſs State.

Thus the Blaſphemer, when a Sloop well dreſs’d

Scans the late Wreck, by Wind, and Weather, Streſs’d

Thither the Merchant, with a Caution ſteers,

Knowing their Pilot, and their Safe-guard Fears,

The lovely Boy, with a loud yaw Averts

Their Dangers, and himſelf aboard ’em Darts,

Gives them the Sequel of the late ſplit Ship,

And warns ’em where’s the ſafeſt Road, they ſcape

Bound homeward, by the Straits and narrow Flood

With a brisk Gale, the Surface, ſwift they ſcad,

Skim along Air, and dive ’em in the Wave,

Till Stav’d once more, all gripe the owzy Grave,

No Sailor lives, all gorge the finny fry,

Life, Death, all Haps hang on Variety:

Variety, our Good, our Bad, our All,

The Scholar’s Study, the big Stateſman’s Fall;

How many ſhudder, at the pointed Blow,

Viciſſitude they’d neither own nor know.

15 C4r 15

Is not Variety, miſtaken Men,

The Lure of every Tongue, of every Pen?

Curſe it, deny’t, Variety’s your Theme,

Spite o’ your Spite, Variety’s no Dream;

Hear a ſtrange Tale, Variety’s the Charm,

See a ſtrange Face, Variety can warm;

Track Novel Beauties, in a learned Man,

Mimic his Lines, Variety’s the Plan;

Obſerve the Humouriſt, ſee the buſie Rake,

See Nature in the Pulpit, at the Stake,

Examine the ſtrict Prude, the ſolemn Saint,

Variety’s their Prayer, their Text, their Paint;

Anatomize, diſſect, the Embrio Maſs,

Tell age what Youth, what Manhood ever was,

Bodies, or Minds, Souls, Humours, Conſtitutions,

Are all but unavoided Revolutions;

Our inclinations, are not more at Odds,

Than there are one or many ruling Gods;

What’s true, what falſe, juſt, poſitive, or not ſo,

To a Definition, moſt Men do or would know,

Or 16 C4v 16

Or Clown, or Courtier, is a Point aſſidual;

Yet we’re Non Compos, in this Individual:

Strange, uncouth Folly, deep myſterious Wrong,

Fraud o’the Soul, and mockinage o’the Tongue,

Diſputes there are, and contraries will be,

But what ſhould Puzzle, in Variety;

All Controverted Points, but prove this Truth,

Variety’s the God of Age, or Youth,

The Amorous Loves, But ’tis a varyed Face,

The Lawyer Pleads, but ’tis a varyed Caſe;

Litigious Clients jar, a varyed way,

The Man we hate to Morrow’s lov’d to Day,

The Scholar writes, but ’tis a varyed Theme,

The Hypochondriac’s Pains, a varyed Dream,

The Madman’s Frenzy, varys with his Pride,

The Pilot’s Compaſs, changes with his Guide,

The Soldier’s Mercy, with his Colonel’s Poſt,

The pious Chaplain’s in Right Reverend loſt,

My Lord and Maſter are no more the ſame

Then’s Grace, and the Imperial are a Name;

All 17 D1r 17

All change, all vary ſwift as Rainbow Sky,

Legibly writ in the Camelion’s Dye;

Juſt Hieroglyphic, ―― what Egyptian Pore,

Minutur’d in ſmall, compriz’d ſuch Store;

Conciſe and bright are Characters ſo rare,

Variety’s the Beauty of the Air:

Name me but one extatic Charm on Earth,

And ſay Variety got not the Birth,

Is, or is not, afford the God large Verge,

The Ungot, Unborn, are his intrinſic Charge,

It’s univerſal Rule no Rival knows,

No ſawcy Rebel dares its Strength oppoſe,

The whole Creation Non-Reſiſtance pay,

The Light, the Night, The Darkneſs and the Day;

Fame with her many Mouths, her many Wings,

Homage to gay Variety ſtill brings;

Faſe Reputation, nay, and eke the True,

To the ſame God, unwearied, ever bow:

O Reputation, every Nation’s Sport,

Shield o’the Maid, and Prudence o’the Court,

D Why 18 D1v 18

Why walk’ſt thus wary? why obſequious thus?

Thou Plague of Courtiers, thou Directors Curſe,

Thou half leaf’d Screen of a delirious State,

Thou Thing that mak’ſt the Poor, unmak’ſt the Great,

Thou Something, Nothing, Ærial would be fane,

Vain are thy Hold-faſts, thy big Projects Vain;

Who prizes Reputation more than Eaſe,

Who ſtudies more, well to deſerve than pleaſe;

Find me the Man thus prizes Reputation,

And, were I skill’d, he merits Adoration;

Next Envy treads its Round and varies ſtill,

Its every Purpoſe with its every Will;

Envy, the Brat of jealous Embers got,

When a Compound of Devils form’d a Plot,

Fears, Cares, and Doubts ſhape the ill-ſhapen Imp,

And every Foot the cloven Tread ſqueaks Limp:

What’s Jealouſy? a Wildfire ſulphur’d Black,

Of Thought the Venom, and of Soul the Rack;

What’s Jealouſy? a Scaramouch Debate,

Intricate Troubler o’the Fond and Great; What

19 D2r 19

What’s Jealouſy? a Madneſs o’the Brain,

Of Quiet and Repoſe th’ uglieſt Bane;

One while I fancy ’tis a pondr’ous Thing,

That wounds the Bearer with a poiſon’d Sting;

And then methinks I ſee it great with Fears,

Unloading all its Doubts in Sighs and Prayers;

Another Minute, ſee, ’tis puff’d with Wind,

Like a full Bladder, and is too, too kind,

Stufft with Combuſtibles, and lies too bold,

Its hot Proteſts are o’the ſudden cold;

At firſt its Fonds o’er ſwell a Spring-tide Flood,

Yet the Reflux in lieu of Milk is Blood,

Horror enſues, Horror firſt-born of Dread,

Burns up the Spirits and diſtracts the Head;

Had Courteſie or Conduct led the Van,

Thou’d’ſt acted juſter, poor miſled mad Man;

Courteſie, Stay of Planets, God of Crouds,

Courteſie peeps, and ſee red Malice ſhrouds,

Courteſie conquers all, both King and Slave,

Th’ unmeaning honeſt Man, and meaning Knave;

D2 20 D2v 20

By one ſoft Word the Subtil and the Wife,

Charm’d, lay aſide, their all-trapaning Guiſe,

Courteſie, join’d with Conduct, knows more Guile

Than all the Wiles of wicked cunning Toil;

Conduct, the hotteſt Soul of hotteſt War,

Conduct, the Model of the deep-ſoul’d Czar,

Conduct, the God of Peace, General of Fate,

Engroſs juſt Conduct, canſt thou be more Great?

Conduct is Prudence, Modeſty, Deſign,

The richeſt Virtue o’the burning Line;

No Chineſe Mandarin bred in skilled Art.

But Conduct Guides, O proſperous ſure juſt Dart!

Conduct’s a Mine, is there a Fire below?

But Conduct knows to kindle, ſound or blow.

See Admiration in a Wonder ſteep’d,

To think how the Herculean Mounds ſhe ſcap’d,

Surprize’d in Agitation, yelps aloud,

And ſwears ſhe never paſs’d her joſtling Croud;

Th’ Infinity of Atoms ſwift advance,

Vain they ſearch Conduct in th’ ill order’d Dance;

Our 21 D3r 21

Our differing Stages, different Methods try,

All Eager to enſure Variety,

By ſtill new Ways, and ſtill new Arts, they charm,

And Harlequin’s for all Diſaſters Balm,

Fauſtus, or Proſerpine, or fair Europa,

With Dance, and Songs, a welcome Interloper;

Let but an Author, form a Pageant Play,

He’s almoſt ſure, of making his Third-Day;

So much Variety, tho’ Nonſenſe takes,

The faulty make aggreeable Miſtakes,

Let a falſe Player, make Extempore Phraſes,

He’s ſure enough, of Claps, loud Grins and Praiſes,

Deſerve or not Deſerve, is not the Matter,

Who vary’s moſt his Geſture, gets the Better;

What makes, a certain Actreſs ſo Diverting,

When pointed Epilogue, wrapt clean, gives Smarting,

Her Voice, her Life, her Look, her Air bewitches,

Makes you the Cully, and herſelf enriches:

Dear Affectation, who alike art Loving,

To Wits, and Boobees, ſcented Fop and Sloven,

O 22 D3v 22

O! Rhapſody? When Dear Cutzoni Sings,

How many mad Enthuſiaſts, borrow Wings,

What Shoals of bleeding Fools ſigh unregarded,

And oh! what Undeſervers are rewarded,

They’ve no diſtinguiſh; Pooh, what Matters Taſte,

She’s a fine Creature, by the public Grac’d,

She ſo amaz’d me Tom, Gad ſhe ſo charmed,

Her quavering Throat, unparalell’d performed,

Then ſhe ſhook every Note, ſo Sweet, ſo Strong,

She made Variety, of an old Song,

By Dear Variety, ſhe grows ſo bright,

She’s, o’my Soul, the Court and Town’s Delight:

What can outvie Variety, what charm,

So feelingly the Soul, and Senſe alarm,

Look on the Verdure, o’ the beauteous Fields,

Look on the Fructuous Crop, rich Harveſt yields,

Look on the Azure of the bluſhing Skye,

Obſerve the Clouds, how various are their Dye;

Look on the laughing Lambs, and udder’d Kine,

Look on the Wadling-Duck, and gruntling Swine.

Look 23 D4r 23

Look on the gayly feather’d Bird of Jove,

Look on the Queen of Beauty, God of Love;

What varyed Kinds, Variety contains,

See Nature, Skyes, Seas, Earth, it bears and Veins,

Search out the Embrio, whiles ſcatter’d Seed,

What curious Ways, Variety makes Breed;

Obſerve the Maſs, whiles yet a Chaoſs’d Ball,

See the nice Texture of the fluid Caul;

See how the lumpous Matter, Subſtance gets,

See how the purplous Life each Minute knits;

See how the Limbs, are faſhion’d, how the Heart,

See how meer Nature treads on curious Art;

See how the growing Feature aims to Charm,

See how the Lungs, the Vocal Organ’s Arm,

Ask the brisk Eye, Why ’twill ſuch Glances give,

Ask the young Minuture why it will live;

See Active Spirits, how they Reinſtate;

See the Lip cherryed, ſee the Pulſes beat,

The Brain, the Pore, the Ligament, the Nerve,

How firſt concentred, ſtrenuouſly obſerve;

Look 24 D4v 24

Look, how the Sinew ties the ſupple Joint,

How Intellects are Bodied, next depaint;

Tell how the Soul receives the firſt Impreſs,

Tell how it feels a Joy, how a Diſtreſs;

Examine every Faculty apart,

And ask the Senſiv’ſt Senſe, how ſoon ’twill ſmart?

Bid Conſcience deviate from ſevereſt Truth,

And Choak its Urgings, in our forward’ſt Youth;

Conſcience, the Thorn of Baſeneſs, Bliſs of Good,

Conſcience, the Young Man’s Guide, the Old Man’s Goad

Conſcience, the uncivil Evil, of the Great,

Conſcience, Perplexity of woely State;

I’ve known a Mother fond, an only Boy,

Till that’s her Torment, would ha’ been her Joy,

The Young, Ingrate, Reprobate, Bold, and Wild,

Forgets alike he’s Favourite, or Child:

Spurns her Advice, and tramples on her Threats,

In ſtreaming Tears, the Matron vents her Frets;

The Boy, ungracious, up-hill Deathwards climbs,

The poor Conſcientious Mother feels his Crimes;

Now 25 E1r 25

Now Conſcience tell her, what before was told,

And what till now, ſhe ſtifled with her Gold:

Variety, to Conſcience ever true;

Now bids Command, now bends to beg, and ſue,

The Grate confin’d, dull Man, by turns diverts,

His varyed Circumſtance, by varyed Arts,

Philoſophically, his Hour improves,

Thinks o’er his Follies, and refines his Loves,

Now blames his Youth, now his more perfect Age,

Unprejudic’d Scans Life’s ill-buſied Stage,

Now wiſhes Freedom, with an arduous Heat,

Oh! how his Eye-balls glow, his Spirits beat;

In humid Torrents, now his Optic’s Roul,

Now he reflects, oh! horror of a Soul,

Now he unlearns his impious ſtrong Reſolves,

T’ avoid thoſe Errors, Sadneſs now revolves,

Would Liberty the Libertine inveſt,

How much reform’d he’d be, oh! how much bleſt,

Obſtructions over got, he gets the Race,

Now good he grows, fills Church, comem’rates Grace,

E Till’s 26 E1v 26

Till’s Antagoniſt, ſtrong Deſpair encroaches,

And for’s paſt Life, taunts him with black Reproaches,

Has God deny’d h’ enſlaves him t’a Devil,

And wheels the readieſt Road, to blackeſt Evil,

State Life in every Form, in every Station,

Variety its firſt its laſt Gradation,

God unavoidable, what bars thy Rule,

Nor the Illiterate, nor the learned School;

The wand’ring Tranſport, in his Exile finds

Variety, in all his various kinds,

The Good-devout, Wild-Debonaire, Stern-grave,

Variety deſtroys, or know to ſave,

The Man of Trade, Crown, Office, or Poſeſſion,

Own a Variety, Maugre Profeſſion;

Nay our Religious Movers of Opinions,

Our Baptiſts, Sixth-Day Men, Arians, Socinians,

Wife Muggletonians, Kirk Predeſtinators,

Deep read Italic Tranſubſtantiators,

The Pro’s and Con’s, or Fathers, Councils, Bible,

Prove old Variety was never idle,

’Twas 27 E2r 27

’Twas by a Novelty, the World was loſt,

And a dear, Novelty the loſing coſt;

A lower for an upper Garden given,

Was but a varyed Bounty of juſt Heaven:

O! Ancient, Rev’rend, Sacred, Hallow’d, Thing,

Firſt Gift of Jove, of every Good the Spring,

Thy ingenious Friendſhip, a juſt Artiſt makes,

From thee, the Statuariſt new Models takes,

Deſigns, Invents, Begins, Corrects the Plan,

Till the fair Idea, makes a figur’d Man,

So have I ſeen and Architecture found,

Fix’d in Salubrious Air, on well choſe Ground,

Leſs Glory, in the Cauſes of its Birth,

Than the rich Carvings, and well cover’d Lath,

The ſtrenuous Beams, fix’d by a skilful Hand,

Firm the Foundation, deep the Columns ſtand,

The Maſon, Marbler, Builder, Plumbers Pride,

Make Beauties, Wind and Weather dare deride,

The Painter blythly brights the poliſh’d Glaſs.

Vyes with the Goldſmith’s Plate, and Founder’s Braſs,

E2 Variety 28 E2v 28

Variety, the All, that makes Delight,

The Owners Bravery, and the Maſter’s White;

Variety’s the God of every Clime,

All Beings own Variety ſublime;

The ſwift-foot Hare, and eke th’ gen’rous Steed,

In different Countries, make a different Breed;

The ſpotted Lynx, and beauty colour’d Snake,

Variety, in all its different Countries make,

The big-mouth’d Hound, and Fox’s cunning Wile,

In changing Sports, our charming’ſt Minutes Guile,

What makes the Student, call his Proctor Tool,

And loath at once, his Learning and his School?

Want of Varierty. What is it makes,

So very charming, our bewitching Rakes:

Variety’s the Enchanter’s dear Defence,

That faſhionable Fault, of Men of Senſe,

Æolus ſports with Changes very much,

The wanton Godeſs, can’t her Favours grudge,

Neptune, to pleaſe, her, wears in conſtant Brow,

Still for Variety, his Waters flow,

Jove 29 E3r 29

Jove, ever known, a celebrated Ranger,

To Great Variety was never Stranger;

To various Forms, he turns his Godlike Shape,

And’s Complaiſant to Change, in ev’ry Rape:

The Planetary Orbits of the Pole,

With what amazing Changes do they roll,

The Moon now New, now Full, now quarter hid

Borrows its Beauties, of the varyed Breed:

The glorious God of Day, the radiant Sun,

Faſt follows the ſtill, changing, moving Moon,

Now dark, now bright, now gay, now melancholly,

The gleaming glooming Glory, blinks more jolly;

Th’ unnumbr’d Myriads, of the ſtarry Sky,

Trim their fond peepings, with Variety;

Now heare they’re ſcatter’d, now in ſhoals they come,

Variety, of Atoms, ſtill the Drum;

So Footmen on ſome Garter’d Baron wait,

Whoſe varyed Faces make the great Man’s State.

O! Muſic, Charm of Angels, Charm of Gods;

Baniſh’d Variety, how harſh thy Odds,

What’s 30 E3v 30

What’s Cadence, Number, Harmony, what’s all,

We good, delightſome, or deſerving call;

Nay, what is all the Symmetry of Parts,

Were’t, not a Compound, of Harmonious Arts,

Medley Surprizing; ―― Hallelujah fine,

When a skill’d Conſort, makes the ſound Divine;

When ſhrill, and ſoft, when rough and ſmooth agree,

Trumpet and Flute ―― harmonious Melody,

Bewitching Lov’lineſs, Beauty paſt Tongue,

Conceptions poorly dreſt, rich Ideas wrong;

Some laviſh, buſie God, ſtrung the nerv’d Lyre,

Gods to enflame, and Mortals to inſpire;

Jove, the gay charm indulg’d, Phœbus grew Proud,

Pallas and Juno, to the Magic bow’d;

Young ſubtle Orpheus, cheated ſleeping Day,

And knaviſh Mercury paid a knaviſh Way:

Pleas’d with the Cunning, the bright God can ſmile,

And gave the Boy, the Play-thing for the Wile;

Generous Apollo, O! inſtruct thy Slaves,

Teach ſtill, ſtill tell, thy cunning artful Knaves,

Quick 31 E4r 31

Quick let ’em know the tender Stroke! nice Touch,

Till Joc’lar Gods, their Demi-brothers reach,

And oh! when charming Voices aid the Sound,

May the ſweet Concord, Jove’s juſt Vengeance Bound,

O! Change, thou firſt, beſt Bounty of Juſt Heaven

Beauty of Truth, to Art for Beauty given

How ſhall I ſpeak thee, how thy Fame define,

In my too lame, too rugged, harſhly Line;

Forgive me this, too thoughtleſsly I writ,

So younglings Marry, e’er they’ve Coin or Wit;

Juſt thus, a new made General courts a Name,

Yet backward treads, the Steps to public Fame,

Raſhly beſieges, and raſhly takes,

His Monarch’s Honours, with his own he breaks:

Yet this great Man, hurls Fireballs faſt and far,

Unſheaths a bright Blade Sword, threats a big War,

But where’s the Conduct, of the vaſt deſigns,

Few, cloſe-ſoul’d Foes, the Warriour undermines,

By’s Loſs made deſperate, deſperate means he’ll uſe,

At once, his Maſter, and himſelf abuſe,

Baſely 32 E4v 32

Baſely outgoes, the Liberty he’s given,

And by a baſe-got Conqueſt, forfeits Heaven,

Home th’ inglorious Conqueror Returns,

Drinks out of Gold, and makes him ſilver Urns,

Whilom, ſome haſty, begger’d Poet writes;

The Coward Soldiers infamous Exploits;

Makes him a God, each Action magnifies

Till Lucifer’s great Self, the Bard outlies,

Racks all his Wits, to find what never was,

Tho’ at the bottom, ther’s a puſhing Cauſe;

Yet Sir Fluxbrains, ſo much erroneous grows,

His inſide Senſe, won’t find his outſide Cloaths

Tho’ writing be his Ruin, ſtill he’ll Write,

As irritated skilleſs Blockheads Fight,

When wou’d the Fool, to what he knows Pretend,

Meer common Senſe, perhaps might ſtand his Friend,

Heroick Actions are ſublimely done,

When thoſe attempt ’em, who can ſcarcely Pun,

Still wilful ones with’s Scribble writes by Rote,

Till the enamour’d Fool, gets a drub’d Coat,

So 33 F1r 33

So I my Sex’s Vanity purſue,

Plague me Variety, Tis but my due,

I own my Fault, my Folly, my dull Crime,

You have been troublous, I but rail in Rhyme,

Now I expect your Rage, forgive it too;

But you, like Sparks, forget us when we ſue:

So have I heard a Calm, too Calm, croſs Sea;

Port-binds a Merchant, bids his Ventures ſtay,

With a ſmooth Gale, and laughing gentle Wave;

Mocks the poor Ship, to unkind Harbour drave,

Ungrateful Wind, Storms we more eaſie bear,

To dye on happy Seas, is to deſpair.

Once more Variety, a long Farewell,

If I’ve done ill, commending Fops rebell,

If well, let but the ſolid Few, Applaud

The impartial Man’s Eſteem’s a big Reward.

Postscript. N.B. Setting my Advertiſement in ſo improper a Place, I think fit to tell you, is purely a Compliment, to the God of Change; To whom, as you’ll obſerve, I’ve ſacrific’d the Poem That for That, &c. Farewell.

F To 34 F1v 34

To the Reader.

As Variety’s my Subject; I am almoſt obliged to Preface my Poem. I do not think it Worth many Words; But, if the hurry of a few Days Writing, can make ſome Amends for its Faults; with the thinking Part of Mankind, I have my Ends. This laſt Canto, the town will eaſily conceive, I did not at firſt intend; but I know not how, Fancy forced, the Birth forwarded, and I e’en turn’d Midwife.

The Liberty I have taken with the Brothers of the Pen, I beg may be excuſed, I meant it inofenſive; which is all the ſerious Talk I think Variety merits.

But I’ve a Word to come: To talk of Variety, and not ſay ſomething that hath been ſaid, is, I think, Morally Impractiable: As an Example, you’ll obſerve where I thought my own Senſe not pertinent enough, I’ve borrow,d of my Neighbours, for Variety’s Sake, which, I conceive, a Judge will diſtinguiſh, without a Marginal-Note. As for thoſe more nice, than juſt Gentlemen, are good-natur’d enough, to call the whole Piece a Robbery, I ſhall only beg leave to ſay, genteely, they Lye ―― under a Miſtake ――

The Loyal part I ſhall not Diſpute, with the many- minded Populace; But to write upon Variety, and not find Room, for the Crown, is Like ―― as Witwoud has it ―― Egad, tis like nothing at all.

And So, Reader, I Am, To Conclude, Yours ――

Variety
35 F2r

Variety. The Second Canto.

Satire’s th’ Effect of Poetry’s Diſeaſe, Which, ſick of a lewd Age, ſhe vents, for Eaſe, But here her only Strife, ſhall be to pleaſe. Prologue to the Orphan.

When ſome young Limner, draws a

charming Face,

Curious, Exact, he’ll every Feature

trace:

What varyed Shadows, Lovely Lucia Shape;

Till Art gives Nature Warmth, and makes a Rape’

F2 With 36 F2v 36

With varyed Pencils, varyed Paints unite,

Buſineſs is now the Painter’s chief Delight,

She’s now in Miniature, now in full Length;

Now in her Bloom, now in her Pride of Strength,

By different Ways, He’ll the Indifferent warm;

Tho’, ſure to loſe, dares dare the dreaded Storm,

Strong he endeavours, kind, Endears to pleaſe;

Senſe grows to Rapture, now he cannot ceaſe:

Well he reflects, well knows his poor Deſert,

How wide he errs, from a skill’d Maſter’s Art:

Yet like damn’d Poets, ſues the ſterrile Clime,

And’s fondly ruin’d by his Loſs of Time;

So I to Dear Variety, enchanted;

Emblem, a Solitary Caſtle haunted:

Nought will Inhabit, but the merry ſpright,

The Drummer’s Bent, all others to affright,

Indulgence is ſo very kind an Evil,

’Tis like a too, too much good natur’d Devil,

Forgetful of its Circumſtance, or Place,

Conſiders little, till the Scourge ſays Grace,

And 37 F3r 37

And I’ve Indulg’d, ſo very much the Folly,

It makes me, when I think, faith Melancholy,

But Dear Variety will have its Charms,

And to be play’d with beats up brisk Alarms,

I’ve known even Indolence, ſo much biggotted;

It varyed moſt, when moſt you’ve thought it ſotted;

Know then, the indolenteſt Thing that breathes,

Hoards Worlds of Action, whil’ſt it Worlds Deceive’s

Variety’s of every Dream the Source;

Variety’s of every Thought, the Courſe;

Variety’s of every Word the Round,

Of all we do deſign, or hunt the Sound,

Look on Confuſion, what is various more,

Look on the Flower, the Plant, the Fruit, the Core,

How various, yet how juſt’s the Gardener’s Care,

Here blows a Roſe, a rich Carnation There,

See how the Poplar, ſhades the gay Alcove,

Look how the bending Ivy figures Love;

Obſerve the Elder, ſee the loaded Vine,

How both agree, to make us different Wine.

How 38 F3v 38

How various look the Cedars and the Shrub,

How much unlike, the Eaglet and the Cub.

Next view the Herbage, ſee that Colewort Springs,

Look what a Product the Potatoe brings:

From thence proceed, ſee how that Turnip grows;

The bloſſom’d Beans, ſweet as the Air it blows;

The Onion and the Apple, different Pleaſe,

The Grazier and the Cook live different Ways.

Confuſion, oh! how different, are thy Wiles;

Teach me, Deceiver, thy tormenting Smiles;

Oh! Share with me thy cloſe, full guileſome Breaſt,

Oh! tell me why Variety’s Unreſt:

Teach me Confuſion, Tell me where’s the Smart,

Of knowing Novelties, of knowing Art?

Confuſion, tell me why thou’rt ſo approv’d,

By Men of Senſe, why Honour’d, why Belov’d?

I.

Confuſion, prithee tell me, what thou art?

Thou prime Enſlaver of my Wild’red Heart;

That mazes every Thought, confounding ev’ry Part

II. 39 F4r 39

II.

Thou wond’rous Ranger, known but every where,

To every People and in every Sphere;

Or Jew, or Gentile, Civil, or Severe;

III.

Truſty Uneaſineſs, be kind, and tell,

Why Stateſmen hugg thee, in their privat’ſt Cell,

And in thee blend, their inmoſt Thoughts of Hell;

IV.

How dar’d our South-Sea Plotters harbour Thee,

In their projecting, dangerous Companie?

Wert thou in League, when Bubbles were ſo free?

V.

Strange Myſtery, of unſtated, active Motion,

Ready, as Directors hot Devotion,

To Doctor the craz’d Town, to a Stark-mad Notion

VI.

So when the Unſeaſon’d Boy:

Courts, grim Death, in Fame’s gay Dye,

Thy deluſive Pangs decoy,

VII. 40 F4v 40

VII.

O! Mercy Rev’rend Ancient, of our brazen World

Thy burniſh’d Engines, ſee are all new Furl’d;

All, all, on thy Slaves, Impertinences Hurl’d;

VIII.

Unfit for Buſineſs, for Delights unarm’d;

By wild jarring, Furies Charm’d;

For Pity in thy Favours, be I warm’d;

IX.

See the modeſt Cyprian, Swears,

’Tis by thee alone, he dares

Swell with hope, or taunt with Fears,

X.

Even when the Darling Man;

Charms the Fair to all he can;

All their Joys, thy Minute Span.

XI.

Or Ever the neglected Maid;

Sighs, the Ungrateful, that betray’d,

Thy obliging Troops, invade;

XII. Sawcy 41 G1r 41

XII.

Sawcy Law, when falſly bold;

Trader’s Riches falſly told:

’S by thy daring Truth inroll’d.

XIII.

See, Great Confuſion, all that vend,

Love, Life, Law, War, neglect Command;

In thee their Source, united, end.

Confuſion, tell me then, why thus unwell?

Why thus at Enmity with all things, tell

Why ever Changing, never truly pleas’d?

Why by Diſtraction, ever, trueſt pleas’d?

Why ſtill, Variety’s moſt fav’red Darling?

Yet ever ſurly, ever mad, or ſnarling?

Why homag’d by the Courteous and the Brave,

Why Thou doſt All, and every one enſlave?

I’ve known a Counſellor abuſe his King,

Yet dread thy Frown, and bear about thy Sting;

A wealthy, unjuſt Man, grown Great by Fraud,

Deny his Patron, and make thee his God:

G A 42 G1v 42

A Fop of Buſineſs, Sketch by thee his Schemes,

And own thy influentic Force, in Reams;

Have ſeen a Lover with his Miſtreſs bold,

Shudder at thee, and loſe the Tale he told,

Boys court thy Oracle, Girls fear thy Fame,

Some court thee for a Coach, and ſome a Name;

As in the Noble Science of Defence,

Two Craven Spirits, take and give Offence;

Both brawl, both curſe, angred alike both grow,

Yet lay aſide no Foils, give no home Blow,

The half-ſoul’d cowards fly a naked Sharp,

And Narure urg’d alike, deſign’dly warp;

Sudden they Slubber, like a wet-ſapp’d Wedge,

Supple, as falling Boughs, kind as ſoft Sedge,

Reclin’d on one another’s Boſoms, claſp,

Guzzle, grow Friends, and humbly Pardons ask;

Late Animoſities, believ’d, forgot;

Confuſion! how thou mak’ſt the Blockheads Plot,

Each either way-lay, in an untrod Path,

Baſe Treach’ry gluts th’ungenerous ſpleenful Wrath,

One 43 G2r 43

One mean-ſoul’d Wretch, the other’s Offering falls;

Him that remains, the bleeding Body galls;

Flying from Juſtice, Juſtice overtakes,

And now the Fool a ſhameful Exit makes;

Sung in Street-Ballads, lamentable Ditty,

His Farewel neither moves Delight, nor Pity;

Confuſion, how with Taunts, thou fret’ſt the Oaff,

Faint he repents, faint prays, to hang right loath,

A Halter mads him, ſtern Confuſion mocks;

He dyes, juſt like a Drunkard i’the Stocks:

Confuſion, Son of Change, unworthy Boy,

Why baffleſt thus, our Woe, our Toil, our Joy;

Why thus at Odds, Confuſion’s ſtill the ſame,

That is Confuſion ever, ever Flame,

Confuſion’s a Lord’s Page, a Madman’s Prince,

A Trader’s Conſcience, and a States Defence,

A buſie Harbinger, of ſwift-pac’d Motion,

Change bids, Confuſion’s preſent Execution:

Variety’s Confuſion, unconnected,

Confuſion’s but Variety diſſected.

G2 Anarchy’s 44 G2v 44

Anarchy’s Sons are many, paſt being told,

Unregularity, his firſt-born’s old,

Unregularity, God of Diſorder,

On whom unnumber’d Chaoſs’d Armies border,

Unregularity, Matter’s firſt Foe,

Cauſe and Occaſion, of our earlyesſt Woe,

Time’s firſt ſubſervient, Error’s firſt Begetter,

To whom all Beings are undoubted Debtor,

Error many-maw’d Wolf, thy bliſsfull’ſt Prize,

Error ſwarth’s many, a ſweet gum’d Sacrifice,

Read big-bulk’d Volumes where’s one unerronious?

Peruſe the Biſhop, O how ceremonious,

Sacred or Civil, ſerious Talk, or Flaſh,

Error’s the middle, firſt, and finiſh’d Daſh.

Search ſtrict the Actions, of the Braveſt He,

Unbiaſs’d look on modeſt Honeſty;

View the rude Ruſtick, the grave humble Cit,

Error’s the Farmer’s Goſpel, Mercer’s Wit,

How oft a Guardian-Aunt, to make Relation,

Wed her young Charge, againſt mature Diſcretion,

How 45 G3r 45

How oft a Boy’s apprentic’d to his Hate;

Whoſe Genii, ten to one, inclines too great,

Made a meer Drudge, t’a Sawyer, Pedlar, Threſher,

Dough-Moulder, Tapſter, or perhaps Ox-Dreſſer;

When bonny Billy, would have better ſuited

A Stage, a College, or in Courts diſputed;

Had made a graceful Dancer, well read Doctor,

A ſwift penn’d Clerk, or buſier Commons Proctor;

Unwilling dragg’d from School falſe Learning hunts

By Error made, a moſt accompliſh’d Dunce:

Another will by Force, make’s, Son a Preacher,

And we’ve a Boobee, Swine-herd for a Teacher;

I’ve ſeen a Beauty ſmile, a Look ſo kind,

One would have ſwore, nought had diſturb’d her MMind,

Around her, all of varyed Art;

Could pleaſe the Eye, or pride the Heart:

Liverys and Flambeaus, Cupids, Gods, and Pages,

Blacks, Monkeys, Lap-Dogs, Squirrel’s, Polls in Cages;

O! curſt Ambition, white of a foul Kind,

Ambition, Error o’the faireſt Mind,

Ty’d 46 G3v 46

Ty’d to ſome Jealous Honourable for Life,

Ambition’s Hell, ſhe loaths the Name of Wife:

Whilom ſome Lovely Youth, the Charmer knows,

Belov’d, as Heaven, and for him inward glows.

Confuſion, oh! how thou uprip’ſt her Heart,

What would ſhe not, thy Wild-fires t’avert;

The Youth ſhe ſees ―― Unutterable Confuſion

Burns, Bluſhes, Dyes, with a too fond Profuſion;

The Playſome Cupid, ſparkles in her Eye,

Tells its fond Errand, in a half-ſtole Sigh,

Gay Opportunity, the Fav’rite takes,

Obliges the kind Hind, and all forſakes;

Whiſpers the Charmer, charm’d, he’s all her own,

Long hath he lov’d, lov’d her, and her alone;

The Declaration fires the Fair one’s Cheek,

Spite of her Pride, ſhe ſcarce can Silence break,

Reproaches him, but ’tis in Terms ſo kind,

He eaſily may gueſs how ſhe’s inclin’d;

He courts her ſtrong, how ſhall ſhe, can ſhe act;

She loves, he ſues, now with new Pangs ſhe’s Rackt,

She 47 G4r 47

She Argues, Dreads, Doubts, hates Conubial Vows,

Can ſhe be falſe? What, falſe to Married Spouſe!

But oh! when Honour grows a fond Debate,

How little we reſiſt, our Love how great;

Once gain’d ſhe feels, the Error of Miſtake;

A ſlighted Woman! God’s is Senſe awake,

How many Spears, the fond forſaken forms,

How many Racks! and oh, how many Charms?

Revenge, Reflection, ſofts by turns annoy;

For ſtill ſhe loves, the too ungrateful Boy,

Vain Dreſs, Voice, Wit, the Wand’rer comes not back,

Innocence loſt, ſhe’s to a husband black:

Confuſion glories in the bluſhful Dye,

Ill-natur’d God thy Dealings juſtify:

Great Being; is it rational, is it well?

Variety diſdains thus to rebell,

Gay Revolutions Unſatiety

And what’s Confuſion, but Variety,

Erring Ambition, too aſpiring Fiend;

What weighty Woes, th’ ambitious Darer rend

Blended 48 G4v 48

Blended with Avarice, oh! the pointed Dart,

How flys the Feather to the aim’d-at Mart,

Profuſion follows faſt, unwelcome Gueſt;

Bold, blyth Profuſion, tells them Great Men feaſt,

Charming Extravagance, torment the Fools:

Foot-balls of May-be’s, Senates under Tools,

Loud laugh of Faction, friendleſs, and unfriending

Extravagance their Rock, Avarice their Rending:

How have I ſeen, a Man of great Deſign,

Freight Ships, Kill Armies, Monarchs undermine,

Juſt as a Boy, with Scizers, makes a Fleet,

Paper his Timber, and his Fire-balls Wheat,

Anon ’tis Mann’d, Rigg’d, Cordag’d, Cannon plac’d,

With Anchors, Maſts, Colours, and long-Boats grac’d,

Full Sail for Holland, in ſome Pail ’tis launch’d,

Wreckt in ſtill Water, and to Pieces Wrench’d:

Juſt thus are loſt, the Great Projector’s Schemes,

So buſie Men forget fallacious Dreams;

Variety of Nonſenſe, fooliſh Study,

How many Ways, Fops make their Wits more muddy

O! 49 H1r 49

O! Ignorance, vaſt are thy Voluntiers,

Thou own’ſt more Free-men, than whole Empires Ears.

Haſt more uncourted, ready, fond, Admirers,

Than fav’rite Lords Petitioners, and Tirers;

Unmatch’d Variety, in all thou’rt taking;

Variety’s of every Fool, the Making;

I’ve ſeen a Thing, ſo void of common Senſe,

It ſcarce could count It’s daily Change of Pence;

Unpoliſh’d ignorant, almoſt as a Brute,

Meant by the God that form’d him, for a Mute:

For every End of Life alike unfit,

Made Great, Proud, Rich, purely for’s Want of Wit,

’Twas a fair Proverb, Fools are Fortune’s Lure;

Be undeſerving, Youth, of Luck be ſure,

How many Fav’rites of Jove’s upper Sky,

Deſerve, and for deſerving baſely dye:

Others live long, but live ſo poor, ſo bare,

Death were a Welcome, kinder, than their Care,

Oh; killing Miſery, merit unreſpected,

Unvalu’d, ſpurn’d, ſhun’d, ſlighted, or neglected:

H To 50 H1v 50

To ſee a ſneering Upſtart, new in Power,

Cry ’S Blood, I know you not, ’tis my Ball-Hour!

Hey, Will, is the Coach ready? drive away,

Your Servant, Maſter, I’m engag’d to Day.

Another cries, like Timon’s Friend of Athens,

I well remember, you and I bought Play-things;

But Jack, I’m down in Pocket, I’m no Winner,

Stay, if you pleaſe, my Servants are at Dinner.

A Third, perhaps, more complaiſant than either,

Bids him but Wait, he’ll do him a ſlight Favour,

After’s attending hourly and daily,

Denys his Promiſe, Court-Like, ſo genteely;

I, by my Soul, Sir, did my beſt endeavour

To make your Fortune, was put off ſo never,

But I’ll think o’thee, I’ve a Clerk on moving,

Remind me but, for there are others ſhoving,

The Clerk’s diſmiſs’d, by this Friends out of Favour

Loſt by ſome Indecorum in Behaviour

O! Man, O! Vanity; of nothing proud,

Who ever knew a Coffin taunt a Shroud,

Variety 51 H2r 51

Vareiiety of Vanity ―― Creator

Of every Ill, of every Good Tranſlator;

Now if it Chance, this honeſt, worthy Man,

By ſome Variety, hap riſe Again;

How humble, how obſequious are the Rakes,

All they then Acted, Certes was Miſtakes;

Why really, Jack, my Circumſtance was Low,

The Government’s uncertain Pay or ſo,

The Rogues had vex’d me, and I could not hide it,

Forgive my Humour, Diſappointment try’d it:

The Equipage, you know, of gaudy State,

Little ſupports, when we talk Big, look Great,

Now demme Jack, if not a Groat’s in Purſe,

Uſe thy Slave ill, he’ll uſe thee ne’er the worſe,

I’ve known a certain Duke, the Crown Importune,

For Penſion; yet live up to ſplendid Fortune;

Spark in the Side-Box, at a Play commanded,

Port propp’d, the Lord knows how! faith underhanded

’Twixt you and I, it is a ſecret Failing,

Some ſay he lives, by wenching, ſome by railing;

H2 You 52 H2v 52

You know he’s handſome, hath a taking Wit,

And is alike, for Couch, or Cloſet fit;

Some tell us, he writes Letters, no unmeaning,

And gets from little Lewis, a large gleaning,

You know the Reſt, he’s a cute Secretary,

And doubtleſs will not ſhrink at Ave-Mary:

Jack hears the Coxcomb, with a meaning Smile,

And thanks him complaiſantly, for his Wile;

Crys, Sir, no more, ’tis now my buſie Hour;

Here, Ned, you Dog, drive quickly to the Tower;

I’ve Buſineſs, haſty Buſineſs to diſpatch;

There’s Roaſt-meat in my Kitchen, Sir, crys fetch,

What gone, crys courteous, kind mannerly ſhallow

Ouns I muſt after, how he frets my Tallow:

I’ll to the Britiſh, there he meets Fop Charles,

O my Soulvaſhoin, Joy, what think’ſt of Sharles,

I ſee him, ’Gad, this Morning, moſt amazing,

His Livery’s new reviv’d, wants only lacing,

He look’d ſo ſparkiſhly, ſo Beau, ſo Pretty,

One would ha’ thought, he had not been leſs witty;

But 53 H3r 53

But he receiv’d me ſo, it ſo provok’d me,

Told me my own, Egad, he almoſt choak’d me,

An arrant Lapſus Linguæ, Charles cry’s ſtrait,

Let’s to the Thatcht-houſe, order a Large treat:

I’ll ſend t’m; Jack’s a Friend to brisk Champaigne,

Thou’rt, like young Surgeons, ſtill in the wrong Vein,

Too rude, too ſupple, talkative, or ſhallow,

Of late thou’rt ſullen, ſleepy or too mellow:

In vain the Puppies wait, in vain they ſend,

Jack’s now reſolv’d, Jack’s Morals to amend;

Whilom to’s Rural Seat, the Hero’s gone,

Where trueſt Pleaſures celebrate the Don,

Quiet, content, and ſocial, now he lives,

No Wrong he takes, nor no Affront he gives,

Around him all’s a Spring ſerene and gay,

The Meads his Lambkins fill, the Barns his Hay,

Before him Milchy Goats, enriching Steers,

Behind him coupled Hounds, and ſwift-foot Deers

His Yards, his Courts, full fatten’d Poultry grace,

Amid his Parks, Birds play, and Harts embrace;

The 54 H3v 54

The well fill’d Orchard, makes the Seaſons rich,

In the ſharp Quince, and beauty blooming Peach

The Amarinth and Eglantine make Shades,

Our Sight the Bower, our Scent the Sweet invades,

The balmy Orange, blows a balmy Breath;

The charming Rasberry’s Charms out-baffle Death,

The Box, and Filagreen, give laſting Bloom;

And even out-ſtrive, Winter’s unlovely Gloom,

The Trout, the Carp, his Art made Fiſhpools Guard

Nought the neat Vaſſals, blythly Duty marr’d,

No idle hind abroad, at home makes Woe,

All pleaſe the Pleaſer, all their Duty know,

O! Solitude, kind Father of Content,

To thee, the Wife, their knowing’ſt, Studies bent;

Great, Solitude, Variety’s Cheif Minion;

What Foes thou mak’ſt, are Rebels of Opinion:

Opinion, falſe Formationer of Faction;

Opinion, never ceaſing Scourge of Action;

Opinion, who for Indolence haſt Charms;

Opinion, who for Anger bearſt fell Arms;

Opinion 55 H4r 55

Opinion, twin-born with Variety,

Lop but Opinion, Change for Grief muſt dye;

Opinion’s all the honeſt Man’s Content,

Opinion’s all the guiltieſt ever rent;

Opinion’s all can Motion juſtifie;

And all that dares Religion vilifie:

Faſhion’s Opinion’s Son (a Revolution)

Old as ’tis new, yet various as Intruſion;

Intruſion, a Superior’s modeſt State,

Intruſion, from Inferiors moſt Ingrate,

Impudence of the Low, of Riches Wit,

For all things and for nothing mainly fit,

Sworn Enemy, to ever bright Content:

For why? Intruſion’s ſtill to Diſcord bent,

Diſcord ill-fated Dæmon, Gloom of Hell,

Give me Content, thy ever limpid Well;

Content in vain, the Search of States and Courts;

Content, the blythſome Angel of Diſports.

Now ’tis the Man, join’d to a lovely Bride,

Fathers a Son, Nature’s firſt Darling Pride;

Deep 56 H4v 56

Deep Thought, and perſonable Graces, ſpeak,

The Youth beyond his Years, Fate’s kind Miſtake;

A Boy deſerving of ſo great a Sire,

Born for the Wiſe to love, and Gods inſpire;

Heaven bleſt Connubials, when the pregnant She;

Teems with a Generous, Lovely, Progeny;

Now ’tis indeed he lives the ſprightly Boy,

’S at once a Father’s Glory, Mother’s, Joy,

O! may the Gods, their Darling ſtill embright,

Till’s knowing Intellects are all of White:

I’ve ſeen a Boy, even in his Boyiſh Days,

Unbid, forget his Childiſh Toys and Plays,

To ſolid Learning bend his ſcarce-form’d Soul,

Beat for that Good his idle Minutes ſtole;

Perhaps the Boy in pictur’d Arts delights;

Perhaps in Books, in Carvings, Navies-Fights;

In ſomething more ſublime, than Common-Men;

For which he’s bar’d the Compaſs, Pencil, Pen:

But oh! ſo ſtrong’s diverted Inclination,

They vainly bar, h’improves by Inſpiration:

His 57 I1r 57

His Night’s a Study, and his Day a Guile;

He’ll be a Scholar, ſpite of all the Coil:

Whilom, his dear Induſtry makes a Flame,

The coming Minute, Samuel dares the ſame,

Lockt up his Books, Inks, Paints, his Engines hid,

A-down by Cheſt, or Preſs, Buroe, or Bed,

Methinks I ſee him, wake, at Noon of Night,

Spurr’d on by Fancy, ſteal to’s ſtrong Delight;

I ſee him here, Intrenching, Fortifying,

There Carving, Drawing, Studying, Beautifying,

The Dear aſpiring Boy, ambitious grows,

Nought he’ll neglect, no flying Minute loſe,

A happy Genius, welly purg’d by Year’s:

A pays his Hopes and exiles far his Fears,

Applauſe he courts, and by applauſe is crown’d

Dares, and deſerves, bold leaps each threatful mound

At once made happy, and at once made Great,

What varyed Virtues the Deſerver waits,

Ambition is a Cauſe ſo Brave, ſo Juſt:

As it Commands our Wonder, wins our Truſt;

I Unwearyed 58 I1v 58

Unwearyed Diligence, Strong Inclination;

What will not Will, when Croſt, by Croſs Vexation;

Had thoſe forbid Amuſements been deſign’d him,

Gods! how the very Gods had uninclined him,

When Uncle, would have Philip, Learned, and Witty,

How rude looks Study, oh! how much unpretty,

Variety’s, the Axis of Delight,

Variety, ſtill charming’ſt in a Flight;

What makes ſtill fluttering Fancy ſo perſuading:

Voice, Wit, Air, Feature, ſo inſinuating?

What but Variety is ſo bewitching,

What but Variety, ſo much enriching:

What but Variety, intoxicates us,

What but Variety, ſtill reinſtates us;

Firſt look on Faſhion’s influentic Power,

Faſhion, Variety can never ſour,

Faſhion, the Artificer’s, conſtant’ſt Plague,

Faſhion, the Needle-Woman’s ſtill Fatigue,

Faſhion, the Milliner’s, for ever Thought,

Faſhion, the Jeweller’s commending’ſt Fault,

Faſhion 59 I2r 59

Faſhion, perplexive Torment of the Fool,

Faſhion, Diviſion of the Church and School,

Faſhion, Directior’s Wit, Subſcriber’s Folly,

Faſhion, the Mimic of admired Colley,

Faſhion, the Chamber-Maid’s too dear Enchanter,

Faſhion, the Footman’s Oath, Dreſs Lye and Saunter

Faſhion, the forward Country Girl’s Undoing,

Faſhion, the Farmer’s Mock, the Trader’s Ruin,

Faſhion, the dear, inconſtant’ſs beſt Defence,

Faſhion, erroneous Blot of Men of Senſe,

Faſhion the Lady’s Pride, the Spark’s-top Joy;

The Country’s Strife, and the boon Seaman’s Hoy

Oh! how our pious Friends have daily mockt her

Foible alike, of Judge, Divine or Doctor,

Faſhion’s the modern Medley of our Writing,

The taking’ſt Model of genteel Inditing;

The Raviſhment of a deluding Voice,

Conduct, and Converſation’s Faſhion’s Choice:

Be Air, Dreſs, Carriage, Jaunty, or Deforming,

Be it but faſhionable, oh! ’tis charming.

I2 I’ve 60 I2v 60

I’ve known ſome Fops lampoon a toaſted Beauty;

And ſwear, Odſlids, a Face ſhould know its Duty;

Follow the Faſhion, alter with the Times;

Or loſe their Heads, as Great Men do for Crimes:

But wherefore, Sirs, Beauty’s a vary’d Glory;

A Structure brave, a modeſt, well-told Story;

Beauty’s a faſt-made Ring, without an Out-goe,

By all deſired, a Book but few a-right know;

Beauty’s a Lab’rinth, with an artful Door;

We Beg the Gift, and when we have it ſnore;

Unknow our Riches, dull ungrateful Men;

We would be bleſs’d, more vig’rouſly to ſin;

The Beauties of the Eye, the Ear, the Lip;

Too much unworth; permit me, Queen, to skip;

Minerva’s Beauties bear right ſtrenuous Force;

That prudent Godeſs may I ever courſe;

Aſſiſt me, Pallas, hide me with thy Shield,

Leſt trayt’rous Venus ſtorm by Force the Field;

There’s Witchcraft in a Perſon; we’re inclind

Too much, too very much to wrong the Mind:

But 61 I3r 61

But, oh! the Beauties of a Soul ſo pure,

They’ll a ſtrict Search, unſhrinkingly endure;

Lend me, juſt Goddeſs, thy conductive Skill,

To ſing the Charms of a well-order’d Quill:

The few deſerving Moderns to depaint,

Sketch their white Good, as Seraph’s cloiſter’d Saint,

What is’t will ſtand the ſureſt, firmeſt Teſt;

A Man of Learning, whoſe Conception’s juſt;

Solid his Morals, his nerv’d Diction true;

Modeſt, yet bold, his fructuous Meanings flow;

Sublime his Senſe, ingenous, ſound and ſtrong;

Such, Mottley’s, thy unmatch’d, angelic Song;

Thy Antiochus, how his Madneſs Charms!

Eudoſia’s Thraſimond, how brave he warms!

SyrianSeleucus a true Hero ſhines;

Stratonice bid’s Tears in Mottley’s Lines;

Th’ Imperial Captives are no more enſlav’d;

By Mottley conquer’d, and by Mottley ſav’d.

Romans or Syrians, in ſuch vary’d ways,

You give us Meltings, we want Words to praiſe,

Pardon, 62 I3v 62

Pardon, Deſerver, I thus bold offend;

Freedom’s Variety ſtill faſteſt Friend:

And oh! when Merit ſhuns by Choice applauſe:

How much we pride to break the Monarch’s Laws.

Sweet, Haywood, and immortal are thy Lines:

Smooth as the God, that in thy Novels ſhines;

What modern She hath graſp’d ſuch true Deſert,

Who does not envy thee thy charming Art?

But take this Truth, and take it from a Friend,

To your own Sex a kinder Envoy ſend;

Let not a Woman’s Writings blur her Sex,

Whiles too, too charming ſhe their Faults diſſects;

O Haywood! ever fear the Coxcomb Croud;

Of Woman’s Errors critically proud;

Excuſe me this, unprejudic’d I rove;

My Veſſel’s fickle, but my Venture’s Love;

Beckingham’s ſtrenuous Language, all muſt pleaſe;

The Rover writes with Pleaſure and with Eaſe;

The downy Boy deals us a manly Fire;

His Harry’s various Loves far World’s admire;

His 63 I4r 63

His Youth reach’d Age, e’ere yet its earlyeſt Bloom;

His Rapine’s Reſurrection’s Wit full-blown.

Forgive me, Dons of Wit: that thus I ſpeak;

Youngling’s have Beauties, tho’ to your’s ’tis weak.

No Gods, no celebrated finiſh’d Men;

Bluſh from the Efforts of my Infant Pen;

I ſing no ill-natur’d, lofty, big-puft Strain,

My Meaning’s honeſt, and my Verſion’s plain;

But whilom I’m forgetting, I digreſs:

And loſe a Hero Writer for a leſs;

I muſt for this Incurſion ask your leave,

As guilty Men beg a ſhort Hour’s Reprieve;

The Conſcious Lovers, of a certain Knight,

Will ever give us Wonder and Delight:

Great Steele, to speak thee juſtly, I want Skill,

For my poor Power, accept a richer Will;

Our Sex, your Indiana, ſo careſs’d,

Had I been ſilent, I had not been juſt.

Centlivre, oh! how witty were thy Wiles;

Meaning thy Anger, meaninger thy Smiles;

Deep 64 I4v 64

Deep thy rich Plots, nor wanted Humours new;

For thee the twiſted Siſters ſweeter grew;

Spite of the cruelleſt God Centlivre’s Name,

In varied ways ſhall make Centlivre’s Fame:

Suſanna ſtill Variety embleſs’d,

Change in Return bore her to change of Reſt;

In Protean Lays, we’ll give the laſting Life,

Variety’s dear Minion, Maid or Wife:

Centlivre to thy Shade I owe theſe Lines,

My youngling Muſe, a Product of thy Mines;

For which in dear Variety I pay

This Tribute to thy never-dying Day.

Fenton in Mariamne hurl’d ſuch Darts,

He conquer’d Worlds, thick as ſhe conquer’d Hearts:

In him the Fair ſhall unempoiſon’d live,

Aud pity’d Herod ſtill Compaſſion give:

Go on, Great Man, illuſtriouſly proceed,

And when you’d make us knowing, make us bleed;

See Roman Belliſarius next appears,

Full of its Author’s ſublimated Cares:

Hail, 65 K1r 65

Hail wond’rous Poet, hail deſerving Man,

Great’s thy good Language, greater ſtill thy Plan

If there is Beauty in Dramic Piece,

Thou caught’ſt the Sweets of Athens, Force of Greece.

Thy Belliſarius’ ſelf is truly proud;

Uprear’d by thee, he ever was ſubdu’d.

Mitchell’s Extravagance bears fatal Arms,

His Indolence will never want its Charms!

Such varied ways the charming Man contends:

His Foes are many, but how juſt his Friends!

Variety’s undoubtedly the ſame;

On every Subject, and in every Clime,

In various Methods charm thoſe various Men!

As now Variety directs my Pen!

Dear Manley, how thy Britiſh Lucius warms!

Thy Atalantic Satire, how it charms!

Heav’n! what a Stile! how ſoft, conciſe and great!

Where ſweet, ſtrong juſt, correctly either greet:

Sure ſhe that pen’d the lov’ly ill-us’d Moor

Dropt thee her well-writ Oroonoko’s Power:

K Farewel 66 K1v 66

Farewel, thou beſt accompliſh’d of the Fair,

Snatch’d hence in haſte to grace a nobler Sphere.

Varierry’s my Circuit, my Defence,

Variety of Years may give ripe Senſe.

Variety’s a Pilot never ſtill;

Firſt guides us to, then pulls us from our Will.

Variety begs Pity from the Brave,

Variety commands, my Courſe I wave:

Variety, the public, now muſt hail;

Still ever ſure, where we commend, to rail.

I’ve read the above-nam’d Moderns many ways,

Their Works, not faultleſs, know the Art to pleaſe;

Old Chaucer, Cowley, Spencer, Shakeſpear, Ben,

Writ moſt unfaſhionably, who know’s when;

Southern and Congreve, Sons of finiſh’d Art,

Dryden and Prior well perform’d their Part:

Theſe Men were Poets, Poets worth the Name,

With Etherege, Son of Favour, Son of Fame;

Yet could my poor Attempts but equal thoſe,

I’ve dar’d commend, methinks I’d dare my Foes.

Tate 67 K2r 67

Tate, Farquhar, Otway, I unenvy’d ſee,

Mottley alone would think and write like thee.

It wo’not be, Variety I court,

And mere Variety makes me her Sport:

The Tennis Bauble of an idle Day;

Yet clings ſo cloſe, I cannot get away;

Ty’d to the Oar, inclin’d or not inclin’d;

Variety’s the Dæmon of my Mind;

Gay, Swift, Pope, Euſden, move on ſmoothly Springs,

Gorge honey’d Hives, and borrow yellow’d Wings.

Some write for Humour, ſome for ſilver-penny,

Some out o’ Spleen, but for mere Sound the many.

Only the Man of merit makes us feel,

As knowing Gameſters conquer when they deal:

But now Variety bids me no more,

Leſt the ſome pleaſing Scent make other’s ſore;

And now I fear my Zeal hath dar’d too far

In the too crude, commendatory War.

Pardon, judicious Friends, my juvenile Faults,

Youth’s a raſh Monſter, nor conſiders Halts:

K2 Excuſe 68 K2v 68

Excuſe me, as a thing that’s newly thrown

Amid the better-fed, the better-grown,

Who daring at a Power beyond its ſtrength,

Sees a full Flood, yet ſwims the River’s Length,

Born on pair’d Bladders, and reclin’d on Cork,

Half-ſpent ſtrives thro’ the unadvis’d great Work;

Such my Variety, ſo frail, ſo giddy,

Thoughtleſs to leap a Writer’s dangerous Eddy;

A Gulph unfathomable! ſo confounding,

The Learned are puzzl’d at its ever Rounding:

But Variety, no more to teaze you:

I’ll now lay by Variety to pleaſe you:

But, hark! ―― I’m held with a rude ſtrenuous Force,

Mere Loyalty will not allow Divorce.

What, leave me deſperate, cries the Politician,

To think on Poet’s empty-purs’d Condition:

’Faith; Madam, Politic’s are more deſerving;

Than full-brain’d Fools, who purely lye for ſtarving.

Why Politic’s, we know’s a Fool of Faſhion,

But, o’ my Conſcience, merits flights Compaſſion,

A 69 K3r 69

A thing ſo ſour, awkward, and ſo ſilly;

So very much a Villain, let me tell ye;

I’ve ſeen a murdering, unskill’d, fam’d Phyſician

Act, juſt for all the World, the Politician,

Look ſo demure, and carry’t ſo profoundly,

As Politic’s had taught him, to ſpeak roundly.

A Politician’s a deſigning Raſcal,

That cleanly lyes, and knows compleat to mask all,

Variety defend us from the Foe,

The Bulk-got Brat, on far wild Worlds beſtow.

Oh! guard Great George from ſuch contagious Evils,

Secure him, Proteus, from that worſt of Devils;

From the inhuman Fox, keep Brunſwick’s Line,

Guard ’em, ye Gods, guard ’em, ye Powers divine.

O, may we ever Lewis-George ſurvey,

Great, as he’s good, till he mounts whiteſt Day.

May blith Auguſtus, make as juſt a King;

And Carolina’s Blood ſtill bleſs our Spring;

Oh, lovely Anna, everlaſting Glory!

Where Bloom, Wit, Beauty, make a learned Story.

Methinks 70 K3v 70

Methinks, but hold! ―― Variety make way:

What am I doing ―― What is’t I wou’d ſay;

Variety aſſiſt me ―― Pardon Fair;

I ſee my Crime, too bold was my raſh Dare,

Anna to ſpeak, requires a moiſter Wet,

A wonton Quill, pay Anna’s large ſwell’d Debt,

Wanton in conflux’d, odorferous Charms,

A Mottley’s Fire, or Mitchell’s muſic Balms;

Variety, Oh, timely make Excuſe!

For my light pinion’d, too unthinking Muſe,

Reſpite me, Proteus, in return I’ll ſay

Variety deſerv’d a Wit like Gay:

’S Life I ask pardon, I’ve ſo long neglected;

But I forgot how much Change, Gay reſpected,

Peruſe his Trivia, ſee his What d’ ye call it,

Variety’s Bound, welly to extol it:

His Captives, Nay’s, Dione’s, ſo alluring;

The well wrought Flame’s a Charm ever enduring,

Honour, he homages in all Extremes;

Honour, he writes in Words, in Bows, in Reams,

Honour 71 K4r 71

Honour, a titular Nothing, all would have;

Search of Deſert, and Glory of the Brave;

Honour th’ Aſpirer’s Pomp, the public’s Aim;

The Court’s Preſervative, the Kingdom’s Game:

Honour, our Sex’s Goddeſs, Man’s proteſt;

The City’s Bubble, and the Country’s Jeſt;

To Honour then, we’ll leave the charming Fellow;

The Staff of Honourable’s ſtill tip’d with yellow:

Variety, to him I have reſign’d you:

Doubtleſs, improv’d by Gay, I may unwind you,

Variety’s the Genii of his Day:

Blith, looks the Loon, and ever is, bright Gay;

You’ll pardon, Friend, thus tediouſly I’ve teaz’d you,

Sure, with Variety, I han’t unpleas’d you,

To ſoothly Indolence I’ll now retire,

Till Lazineſs, it ſelf, to Action fire:

Variety embrisk’d, I’ll then obey:

As Parſon ſtrips black Gown, and ſlips to play;

Makes, of ſound Moral, holy Converſation,

Next, Text the Plot, and cloſe th’ Application:

The 72 K4v 72

The Congregation charm’d with new and pretty,

Profeſs devoutly, ’S Fleſh, the Doctor’s witty:

He told us ſuch a feeling, moving Story,

Whilom the World, not College, makes his Glory:

So I ―― you underſtand me, but good by t’ye,

A Sequel, better, if I can, I’ll write you.

Two winged women holding a book open. Filigree details with a sunburst at the center.
To
73 L1r
To Proteus, The Indiſputable God of Change, A Dedication of the foregoing Poem,

To Thee, great, puiſſant, moſt illuſtrious Proteus, I, thy humbleſt Servant, humbly addreſs, forgive my daring, moſt invincible Divinity, Variety is truly thine, who ſtill inverts our Semper Eadem, and never art the ſame! As no common vulgar Dedication can, in Propriety, fit thy ſublime Heir, Viciſſitude; give me leave, O agreeably inconſtant Mercury, to pay my obſequiouſly ſincere Homage, in a well-meaning, uncommon Manner, and juſltly compliment the moſt high and mighty God of Change, with a revolutory Epiſtle, that ſhall ſtill more accompliſh’dly beautify never-indolent Variety, with an afterward Preface, excuſatory and commendatory, as an Hibernian Prologue ſpoke after before the backſide of a Drama: But in what Words, O indefatigable, uncertain; O charming, changing, never- known Proteus, with what unaccountable Jingle of never-ſtanding-ſtill Thought and Brain Conceptions, muſt I tell thy coming, going, never-ſleeping Deſervings, I Am.

L
74 L1v

To the Town.

There are ſome Faults in the Poem, of which you are deſired to acquit the Poeteſs, it being occaſion’d thro’ my Abſence from the Preſs, I being then in the Country. Thoſe obvious Rudeneſſes being contradictory to common Senſe, and conſequently too diſcernible to evade Criticiſm: Theſe Lines beg may excuſe her Bluſh, and the good-natur’d Obligement, will ever command, your

Friend,

Louisa.

75 L2r

Macareus to Æolus.
An
Epistle
.

Soft, charming Numbers do our Souls inthrall. The rigid melt, and we turn Lovers all. Higgons on Dryden’s Perſius .
O foul Deſcent ―― That to the height of Deity aſpir’d Their Eſſence, to incarnate, and imbrue: What will not not lawleſs Love and low Revenge, Seek not Temptation then, Trial will come. O fleeting Joys ―― Dear bought with laſting Woes. Milton’s Paradiſe Lost.
76 L2v

To the Reader.

Canace and Macareus I oft have read, and have as often wondred Canace’s Letter never found return, I own I thought the Story moving, and why our Wits have left it thus unfiniſh’d, am at a loſs to judge: What Crime loſt us Canace’s funeral Dirge, What God made Macareus love to ſuch a Guilt, ſuch an Exceſs, yet feel a Woe, like dying Canace, without an Exclamation, a Surprize. I argued thus, thus ſplit the Controverſy, urg’d on by Nature to defend my Sex.

’Twas not the Want of Feeling, Art, or Wit;

Nor could Great Ovid careleſly forget;

Something he pen’d, ſo ſoft, ſo much indulg’d it,

To the rude Vulgar never he divulg’d it:

Some friended Scholar loſt it in a Fright;

Dreaded to own it, dreaded more to write.

Yours, &c.
Macareus
77 L3r
Two cherubs on either side of a crest of some kind.

Macareus to Æolus. Done in Imitation of Dryden’s Canace to Macareus.

The Argument.

Macareus writes to Æolus on the unhappy cauſe of his Siſter Canace’s Death, who kills her ſelf with a Sword her Father Æolus ſends her, on a Diſcovery of the inceſtuous Birth, the ſelf-betraying Infant having, by its Cries, involv’d the Twins (viz. Macareus and Canace) in irrecoverable Deſpairs, occaſioned by the boiſterous Raſhneſs of their Father Æolus, God of the Winds: Herein Macareus in Deſperation pleads for his dead Siſter; accuſes himself; defends their Crime; and reſolves on Death, which he ſoon after accompliſhes by violently ruſhing on the ſame ill- fated Weapon that deſtroy’d his Siſter; altho’ at that time a Refugee in Apollo’s Temple, His then Aſylium, from his Father’s Rage.

Canace murther’d, ―― Ha! What is’t I

hear?

Why, cruel Sire, why thus, thus

wrong ſevere?

A Fault there was: Macareus’ Guilt, his Sin:

Believe me, Sir, my Siſter’d guiltleſs been;

Canace, 78 L3v 78

Canace had not err’d, had not been ill,

Had not Macareus us’d a Villain’s Skill,

What did I not, what was’t I dar’d not frame,

To make ſucceſsful my all-guilty Flame:

I ſwore, I knelt, nay flatter’d, begg’d and whin’d,

Artful as Merit, when for Need it coin’d,

Pity’d I was; careſs’d as Virtue ſhou’d:

But Oh! I wrong’d the fair, the dear, the good,

I urg’d, nay forc’d th’ unwilling, trembling Maid;

Bluſhing with Anger, and with Doubts afraid:

As ſwift-ſhot Thunders, whilſt I ſmiling gaz’d,

Sudden I graſp’d, and reſolute I ſeiz’d:

Oh! had I firſt, to all now felt, been forc’d,

Canace, Oh! ſeverely is divorc’d;

The ruin’d She, ſpoil’d of her Pride, her Fame,

In Tears, and deep-fetch’d Groans, laments her Shame.

In piercing Accents forces thus her Tongue,

Why Macareus, my Brother, why this Wrong?

Your Kiſſes I return’d, your Tenders heard,

And kindly anſwer’d what I little fear’d:

You 79 L4r 79

You claſp me cloſe, I yeild without Reſerve:

Hug you as frank, and ſay what you deſerve;

All this a Siſter might, Canace thought

A Brother like Macareus, had no Fault:

But now ―― and here ſhe ſtopt,

Cold as a Dew-drop, to ſurprize a Prey;

She falls like Death, the Horror reaches me:

’Twas then this Villain Brother, Macareus bled,

’Twas then I fear’d, my lovely Siſter fled:

Thought ſcarce can recollect the wild Extreme,

Then ſwell’d m’anarchal Soul with horrid Phlegm, ,

Palid my Looks, and ſtupid ev’ry Senſe,

Guilt, Dread, Love, Death, chaos’d th’ ſoft Offence.

All Arts Invention could, I quick deviſe,

Till by Degrees Life Sparkles glad her Eyes;

Charm’d as a God, with grateful Nectar glad,

I ſtrait receive the dear Confus’d betray’d:

With gentle, calm Embrace, my Crime I ſooth,

Tell her ’twas Love, one Womb cou’d ne’er hold both.

Tell 80 L4v 80

Tell her, were’t ſo, mere Inſtinct would repel:

Her Macareus would die, e’er thus rebel:

Canace ſhould be mine, my Love, my Wife;

She liſtens, argues, doubts, taxes my Faith:

All innocent, Canvaſſes Proofs I feign;

Tells me they’re weak, Inceſt a black foul Stain:

Could I but prove no Nearneſs in our Blood;

That ſhe could love, too well I underſtood;

But ’twould not be, ſome conſcious Secret told:

Then blames my daring, more her own ſoft Mold,

That wanted Power, t’unerve my ſtronger Will:

Tells me, were’t not a Brother, yet ſhe’s ill,

Could we prove ev’n that, the All was paſt:

I had engroſs’d, her Shames’s a laſting Gueſt,

Tells me her Pride would be Macareus’ Wife,

But the Word thrill’d her, like a pointed Knife.

True ſhe divin’d; our Kindred blends too cloſe;

Our Loves arm cluſt’ring Shoals of new-known Woes

Still Love I urge, ſtill faintly ſhe denies,

Still either loves, Love never wants Replies;

Still cloſer I purſue, Canace flies;

Flies 81 M1r 81

Flies her Macareus, Gods! with ſuch a Look,

At once Grief, Love, Deſpair, and Pity ſpoke;

I kneel, I cringe, a weeping, humble Slave;

My lovely Siſter melts, forgives, and ſaves;

Indearing as a God, grateful I glow;

A ſilent Ecſtaſy unrobes my Woe;

Too big for Words, ―― my Heav’n I impart,

By a ſincerer, and more ſolid Dart,

The mighty Beatings of a love-ſick Heart:

She loves, what will not Love? ſhe condeſcends;

Happy we grow as well concurring Friends:

Gods! how the happy Hours ſlid along,

Blith as our Joys, undreaded as our Wrong

But, oh! too ſoon, a heavy Woe invades,

And our warm Heats with blackeſt Guilt upbraids,

By long Acquaintance, and dear Fondneſs bred,

A youngling Embrio ſwift uprears its Head;

Canace, long, the growing Illneſs bears,

And fears to ſay what cauſes all her Fears:

M Sadden’d 82 M1v 82

Sadden’d and palid’s ev’ry blooming Grace;

A deep, quick Sorrow chang’d her lov’ly Face:

The riſing Weight, ―― made penſive ev’ry Look,

And new-known Woes with new-known Horror ſtrook;

Whilom, the ſtriving Babe forces its way,

And with new Heavings burſts to open Day.

But, Oh! the Pangs we each and either feel,

From Æolus, Æolus Offspring to conceal;

Careful we ſhun a Father’s ſeeing Eye:

And each inſtruct each in a needful Lye.

But nought avails; the paining Hour comes,

Not to be brib’d with Gold of richeſt Gums:

Th’ ill-fated Infant, born to be our Shame;

Swift, as deſcending Gods in Whirlwinds came;

Th’ unartful Babe, no ſtudied Art foreknows:

Pungent’s Birth-pains, more feeling After-throws:

No Lye, no Cunning, now our Sire deceives:

Æolus find, ―― Æolus ſcarce beleives;

Accurſed thing, what has thy Squall betray’d;

Some God ſhould, then, have lent us Juno’s Aid:

What 83 M2r 83

What is’t I dare? whom is it I would ſave?

Canace’s dead ―― what is it I would rave:

Oh the unmated Woes our Paſſion brings;

Brother, and Siſter, how th’ Accent ſtings:

So deep it rives, my All of Senſe is fled;

It rives to Madneſs, poor Canace’s dead:

By Vi’lence dead, does Macareus live to tell:

A Siſter, for a Brother, lov’d too well;

Oh, too much lov’d! too much lamented Shade!

Had Macareus known thus much, he had obey’d;

Obey’d and dy’d, and left lov’d Canace chaſt;

But, Oh! it could not be, I vow’d in Haſt.

For thoſe paſt Minutes, ſtill admired Fair,

What have I done, and what would I not dare?

Were they to come, I ſurely ſhould betray,

And boaſt the Rape, ſpite of the Bluſh of Day;

What’s Kin, a Tie, if any Ties moſt kind:

We’re then moſt Friends, when moſt as Friends we’re join’d

What’s Cuſtom, the the trifling Mode of Place?

A very Nothing: We Jove’s Actions trace:

M2 His 84 M2v 84

His great-ſoul’d Juno bids us nothing dread,

A Siſter-Wife becomes a Brother’s Bed:

Hiſt ―― Macareus raves; Canace’s dead, ſhe’s gone;

To Æolus ſacrific’d by Æolus’ Son:

Æolus, moſt unjuſt, what Fury fir’d

Thy more than Whirlwind Rage, that ſhe’s expir’d?

Could not the’ unſinning Infant make amends;

A Life ſo inoccent might ſate revenge,

Is’t manlike to be cruel to the Fair?

Is’t Godlike, to be thus unweigh’d ſevere;

Had you, as Father, or as King, been brave,

The fatal Gift were mine, her’s the Repreive:

Gladly this Macareus had obey’d your Will;

My Siſter, then, had liv’d to’ve purg’d the Ill;

Think, think, raſh Æolus, ’twas your Daughter dy’d,

In all her Sex’s Woes, in all their Pride;

Think how much Weakneſs unprepar’d her Mind,

Too much unfit, and you too much unkind:

Was not a Mother’s Pangs, a Mother’s Grief,

Enough, but ſhe muſt die? Oh barbarous Chief!

Th’ un- 85 M3r 85

Th’ unhappy, unoffending Babe, ’tis true,

Brought others Guilt, and ’twere but Guilt to view

That guilty, guiltleſs Thing, remov’d and torn

By Brutes leſs ſalvage, were enough of Scorn,

Th’ inceſtuous Sacrifice might, ſure, have bought,

Canace’s dearer Life; what was her Fault?

She knew no Guilt but what I forc’d, muſt ſhe

Suffer in Life and Fame for perjur’d me?

Rather let Macareus die in ev’ry Pore;

Thrice double, ev’ry Agony, ſhe bore,

Feel ev’ry vary’d Torture of th’ accurſt,

And let dark Pluto know I dare his worſt;

Amid’em all, dear, charming, much moan’d Shade,

Think of Canace, and their Plagues degrade;

I come, Canace, to thy dear Embrace,

Spite of all Hell, we’ll meet in yon gloom’d Maze,

No parting Tears would thy ſwift Fate admit,

Unhappy Æolus Power, forc’d thee to ſubmit,

Well ―― it is paſt ―― let Æolus ſate his Spleen,

I meet thee, Siſter, ―― on the’ Elyſian Green:

Not 86 M3v 86

Not ev’n this Temple, to Apollo vow’d,

Shall make thy Brother long lament thy Shroud.

See, dear Deſerver, ſee how ſwift I come,

Look, lovely Siſter, Macareus ſhares thy Doom;

May our ſtern Father, late, but feeling know

Our fatal Exit, our unmated Woe;

Whilſt thee and I amaze the wond’ring Gods;

And love ſo true, ſet all their Heav’n at odds;

Æolus, then perhaps, will vainly Rage,

With filial Piety we’ll prop his Age;

Thy Macareus will, then, be for ever bleſt:

But now no more ―― I fall ―― I die ―― I reſt.

Æolus
87 M4r

Æolus and Pluto, Occaſioned by the foregoing: A Poem.

―― Revenge at firſt, tho’ ſweet, ―― Bitter, e’re long, back on it ſelf recoils. Milton’s Paradiſe Loſt.

Æolus, having heard his Childrens Fate,

Æolus, of all the bluſtring Gods moſt great,

In raging fury leaves his hollow Throne,

And with a loud and melahncholy Groan,

Surveys his Palace. ――

There Canace lies:

The childleſs Mother for a Brother dies;

Afreſh ſhe bleeds, the horrid Coarſe he views;

Big, ſtill-ſtern Griefs force Nature’s humid Dews;

Thence 88 M4v 88

Thence, the ſad Monarch to the Temple faſt;

Where hapleſs Macareus breath’d his laſt;

Long fix’d he ſtands, forſook of all the God;

Supine as Death, and ſtupid ――

―― when, to ſcare

The Godleſs God, his Children ſtraight appear,

Guarded by Pluto, ―― who to this Effect.

God of the Winds, ―― Theſe loſt by yonur Neglect,

Theſe, once a God’s, a King’s, a Father’s Pride,

Wanting a Father’s Care, a Mother’s Guide,

Theſe now are mine, command thy bluſtring Air,

Free thy unhappy Offspring from Deſpair;

Command this Son, whom thou ſo oft didſt crown

With Hurricanes and Whirlwinds of thy own,

Command him now upon thy Throne to ſit,

Bid thy fair Daughter charm thee with her Wit.

This Boy, hadſt thou been careful to inure

To hardy Blaſts, made him ſharp Blites endure:

Hadſt thou, betimes, the darling youngling bred,

To’ve rul’d thy Boreas ―― not to’ve nicely fed:

Hadſt 89 N1r 89

Hadſt taught him how thy Secrets he might know,

When Winds ſhould whiſtle, and when Storms ſhould blow:

Hadſt thou inſtructed him how Gods ſhould reign,

He had not now, been thus thy Grief and Stain:

This Daughter too, when young hadſt Prudence taught,

She had not now known this infamous Fault:

Take this Advice, take it from Pluto’s Truth,

Parents ſhould early part their growing Youth:

From differing Sexes, differing Thoughts will riſe

And Friendſhip’s often Love in warm Diſguiſe;

Brother’s and Siſters, have a thouſand ways;

When bred together, Nature’s Heat to raiſe,

Youth, Humour, Converſation, Likeneſs, Charm,

And Love, fond Love, unlawful Love’s the Balm;

A dangerous Commerce, when we Girls immure,

And make a Brother guard the Fair obſcure:

Who can inſtruct? in whom can they delight?

Who’s juſt enough to ſhew ’em black who white.

Unthinking Man, whoſe Hounds and Horſes feed;

Yet never cultivates immortal Seed;

N Relation’s 90 N1v 90

Relation’s, now, a very Term of Art;

Where Lover’s oftner written in the Heart:

Art thou a God? can thy Foreknowledge tell;

Theſe in one Womb jointly at once did dwell,

Humour’d and featur’d ſo, that, bating Sex,

Which was the other, would God perplex:

And canſt thou find no Sympathy of Soul

Run thro’ the Texture of the curious Whole?

All are not fond, yet all to Love incline,

The earthy part, ſtill clogging the divine,

But thoſe, who at one Birth, one Bleſſing share;

Are not leſs am’rous than they’re kind and fair;

Your Care had been to’ve parted the young Elves:

E’re yet they knew, or Nature, or themſelves:

Know, ſince your part, ſo careleſs, you’ve perform’d,

Your Kingdoms vanquiſh’d, and your Godhead ſtorm’d

Look now, who whirls your Earth, who ſtills your Sea

Unprudent Monarch, theſe muſt hence with me.

So ſaid, grim Pluto, o’ the Inſtant ſinks;

His Ghoſts groan ſhrill; and puff contagious Stinks;

Caught 91 N2r 91

Caught by the’ Infection, ſullen Æolus moves, ――

But had you ſeen a high-hung Meteor glare;

That long had choak’d its Beams in ſmoky Air,

Hid in a Cloud, one vengeful Minute burſt;

So rag’d, long-ſilent Æolus, ſo he curſt;

Are there no Gods! then ſtamp’d, and tore his Robe;

By Jove’s great ſelf, I’ll overturn his Globe,

Nature be mad; may Seas be never ſtill,

Gods, Gods, what Gods, bid Æolus, Æolus kill;

Muſt I, becauſe my Children was unpure,

This Rack, this Hell, this Agony endure;

I will not bear it, by th’ Ætherial Sky,

I’ll mar your Malice, Gods, and mortal die;

Neptune, receive me to thy wat’ry Steep;

Boreas my Empire guard; I ſleep, ―― I ſleep. ――

From high Olympus, then, the Monarch fell

To Pluto’s Regions, and the Dark of Hell,

There, for a while, the angry howling God

Felt Jove’s indignant Rage in Pluto’s Rod;

Thence 92 N2v 92

Thence he’s releas’d for Pangs more pungent found,

And to a hollow Cavern Gloom he’s bound;

Continu’d Madneſs, ſtill, his Reaſon turns;

Continued Fires his knowing Soul ſtill burns.

So is a Caitiff to a Priſon ty’d,

When the poor Mortal had been eas’d to’ve dy’d

But knowing Gods, engroſs Grief’s largeſt Store,

Reflecting Wiſdom makes them feel the Sore.

Then what is Knowledge, Vanity well dreſs’d,

Since to be knowing is to be unbleſs’d;

Grant me, Supreme, a Knowledge of my ſelf;

I ask no Honours, no inconſtant Pelf;

In what I’ve dar’d, I wou’d have Juſtice fair;

Would not be flatter’d, nor be us’d ſevere;

Impartial few to Ovid I ―― pretend;

Not as a Critic, but an honeſt Friend:

What’s done, as from a Woman’s Weakneſs take;

I writ to pleaſe, for yours, and my own ſake.

Finis