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From her red Locks her Mouth with Venom fills ;
And thence into the Royal Ear instils.
The Quincens'd, his Services forgot,
Leaves him a Victim to the vengeful Scot :
Now, through the Realm a * Proclamation spread,
To fix a Price on his devoted Head.
While innocent, he scorns ignoble Flight;
His watchful Friends preserve him by a Sleight.

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By Harley's Favour once again he shines ;
Is now caress'd by Candidate Divines;
Who change Opinions with the changing Scene :
Lord! how were they mistaken in the Dean!
Now, || Delawere again familiar grows;
And, in sa-t's Ear thrusts half his powder'd

$ The Scottish Nation, whom he durst offend,
Again apply, that would be their Friend.


* The Proclamation was against the Author of a Pamphlet, called, The Publick Spirit of the Whigs, against which the Scotcb Lords complained.

| Lord DELAWERE, then Treasurer of the Houshold, always caressing the Author at Court: But during the Tryal of the Printers before the House of Lords, and while the Proclamation hung over the Author, his Lordship would not seem to know him, tiii the Danger was past.

$ The Scotch Lords treated and visited the Author more after the Proclamation than before, except the D. of Ar-E, who would never be reconciled.

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By Faction tird, with Grief he waits a while,
His great contending Friends to reconcile.
Performs what Friendship, Justice, Truth require:
* What could he more, but decently retire?

* The Author retired to a friend in Berkshire, ten Weeks before the Qu- died; and never saw the Ministry after.


Written foon after the Author's coming to live

in IRELAND, upon the Queen's Death, Octe

ber, 1714

IS true,


then why should I repine,
To see my Life so fast decline ?
But, why obscurely here alone?
Where I am neither lov'd nor known.
My State of Health none care to learn ;
My Life is here no Soul's Concern:
And, those with whom I now converse,
Without a Tear will tend


Remov'd from kind Arbuthnot's Aid,
Who knows his Art, but not his Trade;
Preferring his Regard for me
Before his Credit or his Fee.


Some formal Visits, Looks, and Words,
What meer Humanity affords,
I meet perhaps from three or four,
From whom I once expected more ;
Which those who tend the Sick for Pay,
Can act as decently as they.
But, no obliging, tender Friend
To help at my approaching End;
My Life is now a Burthen grown
To others e're it be my own.

Ye formal Weepers for the Sick,
In your last Offices be quick:
And spare my absent Friends the Grief
To hear, yet give me no Relief;
Expir'd To-day, entomb'd To-morrow,
When known, will save a double Sorrow.


To the Earl of OXFORD, late

Lord Treasurer. Sent to him when he was in the Tower, before his Tryal.

Out of HORACE.

Written in the Year 1716.

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OW blest is he, who for his Country dies ;

Since Death pursues the Coward as he flies. The Youth, in vain, would fly from Fate's Attack, With trembling Knees, and Terror at his Back; Tho' Fear should lend him Pinions like the Wind, Yet swifter Fate will seize him from behind,

Virtue repuls'd, yet knows not to repine ; But shall with unattainted Honour shine; Nor stoops to take the Staff, nor lays it down, Just as the Rabble please to smile or frown,

VIRTUE, to crown her Fav'rites, loves to th
Some new unbeaten Paffage to the Sky:
Where Jove a Seat among the Gods will give
To those who die, for meriting to live.

Next, faithful Silence hath a sure Reward: Within our Breast be ev'ry Secret bærr'd : He who betrays his Friend, shall never be Under one Roof, or in one Ship with me ; For, who with Traytors would his Safety trust, Lest, with the Wicked, Heaven involve the Just? And, tho' the Villain 'scape a while, he feels Slow Vengeance, like a Blood-hound at his Heels:

Upon the South-Sea PROJECT,

Written in the Year 1721.


E wise Philosophers, explain,

What Magick makes our Money rise, When dropt into the Southern Main ;

Or do these Jugglers cheat our Eyes?

Put in your Money fairly told ;

Presto be gone-'Tis here agen: Ladies and Gentlemen, behold,

Here's ev'ry Piece as big as Ten,


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