To the Right Honourable the Lord VILLIERS, on his taking his Mafter of Arts Degree at Cambridge, in the Year 1700.
By Mr. William Worts of Cambridge.
A Midft the Joy that flows ufe's buz
Accept, my Lord, the Mufe's humble Song: Now you all Arts and Sciences defend; The Sons of Phoebus will your Train attend, Who on the Smiles of Greatness must depend; It is the Portion of their glorious Fate, To praise the Good, and eternize the Great : Their Fame muft die without the Poet's Aid: And Poets cannot live without their Bread: Your noble Birth and Virtues both can give, To make the Poet, and the Poem live. Happy that Pen! whose darling Wit can trace, The manly Vigour of your lovely Face, Adorn'd with ev'ry Charm, and ev'ry Grace; That can diftinguish both the Great and Good, From the coarse Figure of the vulgar Crowd: So look'd the feign'd lülus, fo he charm'd, When ev'ry Feature was by Cupid form'd; And all the God Eliza's Bofom warm'd. But O!
What Pen can write the Beauties of your Mind, Which Heav'n, with all its niceft Care, refin'd; 'Tis from thofe Wonders in your dawning Bloom; We all expect the glorious Man to come: The sprightly Youth, and early Wit, will end In the wife Patriot, his Country's Friend: In the fucceeding William's Reign you'll ftand, The Jersey and Macenas of our Land,
To a Witty and Genteel Lady.
ET gawdy Phyllis charm the cringing Fools,
Rules;
With a Complexion, like the Lillies Fair,
Whofe Red may with the blushing Rofe compare:
Those dying Charms were with the Body born,
And when that Moulders, they will prove our Scorn;
Old Age or Sickness will her Bloom deface,
Soil her Complexion, and difarm each Grace.
If there be One, ye Gods! whom you ordain
I must obey, and the Superior reign;
Let her, like brave Camilla, be design'd,
The nobleft Pattern of a Godlike Mind;
Let her bright Soul fubdue me from within,
Shine in her Sense, and sparkle in her Mien:
Those Heav'nly Charms they never can decay,
Age may improve 'em, and confirm their Sway,
Prefenting A Father's Advice to his Daughter.
Go, happy Book! and let Mirtilla fee
Her own bright Character defcrib'd in thee: No Feature's wanting; for in her you'll meet The Daughter's Beauty, with the Father's Wit: Thy Precepts drawn thro' ev'ry Part of Life, The modeft Virgin, and the prudent Wife: O! may her Virtues equal Fortune find! And Goodness be with happy Greatness join'd; May the want nothing that the Gods can give, But ftill as Charming, and much Happier live..
Written in the Blank Leaf of a Lady's PRIOR.
Ou'd but my Words my real Paffion show,
Cou'd I, fo fortunately point my Sense,
To wound like Dorfet, yet not give Offence;
Then, in this Page, fhou'd Galatea read
My faithful Love, and how I daily bleed:
Each fawcy Rival should with Blushes fee,
His fond Impertinence expos'd by me:
But Rough and Heavy must my Verse appear,
When Prior's noble Genius fhines fo near;
So droop the Nymphs, when Galatea's Eyes,
In the fair Ring, with brighter Glory rife.
On Her MAJESTY's Grant of Woodftock Park, &c. to his Grace the Duke of MARLBOROUGH, 1704.
In a Letter to Signior Antonio Verrio at Hamp
Renown'd in Arms, when mighty Heroes rifie
Th' Immortal Mufe in lafting Numbers tries,
To future Ages to transmit their Fame,
And give 'em after Death a living Name.
The Fields of Blifs below, the shady Grove,
Were the Reward of all their Toils above;
The Mantuan Swain has fill'd the folemn Place,
With the wreath'd Worthies of his Roman Race.
While greater Marlborough difdains to wait,
Mature for Fame, the flow approach of Fate &
But Reaps that glorious Harveft whilft he lives,
Which Time to all his ancient Heroes gives.
Elyfian Shades fhall now no more be fought,
The Gay Creation of the Poets Thought;
The Royal Gift difplays a nobler View,
No feign'd Elyfium can exceed the true.
Woodstock her lov'd Plantagenet no more
Laments, when Marlb'rough fhall her State restore;
She for whom Chaucer's tuneful Lyre was ftrung,
And Wilmot's Mufe in fofter Transport fung,
From lonely Bowers her lofty Head fhall rear,
And chearful, like her conqu'ring Lord, appear
Thro' her cool Glades on ev'ry verdant Plain,
Eternal Plenty, Peace, and Pleasure Reign:
High on her Walls, Imperial Eagles tell,
By bolder Hands how fierce Bavarians fell;
Here we behold, by Verrio's Pencil wrought,
The num'rousSpoils fromSwabian Conqueftsbrought;
How o'er th' oppofing Schellenberg he run,
Which none before but Great Gustavus won.
Here, Camps affaulted, and a City storm'd;
There, on expanded Plains the Battel form'd;
Thro' Seas of Blood the fiery Courfers fly,
And rapid Streams, and thund'ring Brafs defie;
While ecchoing Cliffs and Sylvan Heights around,
With Groans and Shouts alternately refound.
Surrend'ring Squadrons with their Lillies torn,
And haughty Chiefs before his Prowels born;
In Exile One, and One beneath his Chain,
Strive for a Crown, and Liberty in vain.
Gild his Victorious Carr, bold Artift, draw
Albion Rejoicing, and the World in awe;
Paint in full Splendor, all his Acts that claim
Triumphant Laurels and immortal Fame.
Make him Gaul's glitt'ring Flowers in Homage yield,
To fix 'em fafter in Britannia's Shield;
Let Auftria's facred Branch in State defcend,
To view the Victor and applaud the Friend;
Let your great Genius on the Canvass show,
How the fwift Rhine, and how the Danube flow,
How Eastward This, in ftreaming Purple strays,
How That, his Captives to our Coast conveys;
How Thus the Trophies he at once has won,
Hafte to the Rifing and the Setting Sun.
EPILOGUE, Spoken by Mrs. Barry, at her Playing in Love for Love with Mrs. Bracegirdle, for the Benefit of Mr. Betterton.
S fome brave Knight, who once with Spear and
A Had fought Renown in many a well fought
But now no more with facred Fame inspir'd, [Field,
Was to a Peaceful Hermitage retir'd;
There, if by Chance difaft'rous Tales he hears,
Of Matrons Wrongs and Captive Virgins Tears,
He feels foft Pity urge his gen'rous Breaft,
And Vows once more to fuccour the Diftrefs'd.
Buckled in Mail he fallies on the Plain,
And turns him to the Feats of Arms again.
So we, to former Leagues of Friendship true,
Have bid once more our peaceful Homes adieu,
To aid old Thomas, and to pleasure you.
Like errant Damfels boldly we engage,
Arm❜d, as you fee, for the defenceless Stage.
Time was, when this good Man no help did lack,
And scorn'd that any She fhould hold his Back.
But now, so Age and Frailty have ordain'd,
By two at once he's forc'd to be fuftain'd.
You fee, what failing Nature brings Man to,
And yet let none Infult, for ought we know
She may not wear fo well with fome of you:
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