As those who long have stood the Storms of State,
Retire, yet still bemoan their Country's Fate.
Beware, and when you hear the Surges roar,
Avoid the Rocks on Britain's angry Shore :
They lye, alas ! too easy to be found,
For thee alone they lye the Island round.

Clever Tom Clinch going to be hanged.

Written in the Year 1726.


S clever Tom Clinch, while the Rabble was

bawling, Rode stately through Holbourn, to die in his Calling; He stopt at the George for a Bottle of Sack, And promis’d to pay for it when he'd come back. His Waistcoat and Stockings, and Breeches were

white, His Cap had a new Cherry Ribbon to ty’t, The Maids to the Doors and the Balconies ran, And said, lack-a-day! he's a proper young Man. But, as from the Windows the Ladies he spy'd, Like a Beau in the Box, he bow'd low on each side; And when his last Speech the loud Hawkers did cry, He swore from his Cart, it was all a dainn'd Lye. The Hangman for Pardon fell down on his Knee ; Tom gave him a Kick in the Guts for his Fee.


Then said, I must speak to the People a little,
But I'll see you all damn'd before I will * Wbittle.
My honest Friend + Wild, may he long hold his Place,
He lengthen'd my a whole Year of Grace.


Take Courage, dear Comrades, and be not afraid,
Nor Nip this Occasion to follow your Trade.
My Conscience is clear, and my Spirits are calm,
And thus I go off without Pray’r-Book or Psalm.
Then follow the Practice of clever Tom Clinch,
Who hung like a Hero, and never would flinch.

* A Cant Word for confefling at the Gallows.
+ The noted Thief-Catcher.

On reading Dr. Young's Satyrs, called

the Universal Passion, by which be means Pride,

Written in the Year 1726.

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F there be Truth in what you fing;

Such God-like Virtues in the King;
A $ Minister fo fill'd with Zeal
And Wisdom for the Common-weal;
If he who in the || Chair presides,
So steadily the Senate guides,

If s WALPOLE, who was made Earl of OR FORD in the Year 1741.

|| Compton, the Speaker, created Lord WILMINGTON, Baron of WILMINGTON in the Year 1727, and made Viscoart PEVENSEY and Earl of WILMINGTON in 1730.

If others whom you make your Theme;
Arc Seconds in this glorious Scheme:
If ev'ry Peer whom you commend,
To Worth and Learning be a Friend.
If this be Truth, as you attest,
What Land was ever half so blest!
No Fallhood now among the Great,
And Tradesmen now no longer cheat ;
Now on the Bench fair Justice shines,
Her Scale to neither Side inclines,
Now Pride and Cruelty are flown,
And Mercy here exalts her Throne,
For such is good Example's Pow'r,
It doth its Office ev'ry Hour,
Where Governors are good and wise,
Or, else the truest Maxim lies;
For so we find, all antient Sages
Decree, that ad exemplum Regis.
Through all the Realm his Virtues run,
Rip’ning and kindling like the Sun.
If this be true, then how much more,
When you have namid at least a Score
Of Courtiers, each in their Degree,
If possible, as good as he.

Or, take it in a diffrent View :
I ask, if what you say be true,

affirm the present Age Deserves your Satyr's keenef Rage:


If that same Universal Passion,
With ev'ry Vice hath fillid the Nation :
If Virtue dares not venture down
A single Step below the Crown :
If Clergymen, to fhew their Wit,
Praise Classicks more than Holy Writ:
If Bankrupts, when they are undone,
Into the Senate-houfe can run ;
And sell their Votes at fuch a Rate
As will retrieve a loft Eftate :
If Law be such a partial Whore,
To spare the Rich, and plague the Poor,
If these be of all Crimes the worst ;
What Land was ever half so curft?

On seeing Verses written upon Windows

in Inns.

Written in the Year 1726.


HE Sage, who said he should be proud

Of Windows in his Breast;
Because he ne'er one Thought allow'd

That might not be confeft:
His Window scrawld by ev'ry Rake,

His Breast again would cover,
And fairly bid the D take
The Di'mond and the Lover,


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Y Satan taught, all Conj'rers know
Your Mistress in a Glass to show,

And, you can do as much :
In this the Dev'l and you agree ;
None e'er made Verses worse than he,

And thine I swear are such.



HAT Love is the Devil, I'll prove when

requir'd; These Rhimers abundantly shew it ; They swear that they all by Love are inspirid,

And, the Devil's a damnable Poet.



HE Church and Clergy here, no doubt,

Are very near a-kin;
Both, Weather-beaten are without ;

And empty both within.


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