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A Letter from the same to the Rev. Mr. Birt
A Letter from the same to the Right Hon. Henry
A Letter from Sir C. H. Williams to the Rev. Mr.
Ditto........ ditto to the same..
Ditto........ ditto to the same....
Ditto........ ditto to the same.....
To Chloe, a Persuasive to love-" Since Nature ne'er acted in vain
The Fair Moralist-" As late by Thames's verdant side"
On Pope's having just published his Dunciad-“ At
An Account of the Kings and Government of Poland i to the end in Letters to the Right hon. Henry Fox
EPISTLE TO EUMENES.
Of nauseous verses offer'd once a week,
I would not scrawl one hundred idle lines-
Yet once a moon, perhaps, I steal a night; And, if our Sire Apollo pleases, write. You smile; but all the train the Muse that
Christians and dunces, still we quote Apollo. Unhappy still our Poets will rehearse
To Goths, that stare astonish'd at their verse;
I to sound judges from the mob appeal, And write to those who most my subject feel. Eumenes, these dry moral lines I trust With you, whom nought that's moral can disgust. With you I venture, in plain home-spun sense, What I imagine of Benevolence.
Of all the monsters of the human kind, What strikes you most is the low selfish mind.
You wonder how, without one liberal joy,
'Tis chiefly taste, or blunt, or gross, or fine, Makes life insipid, bestial, or divine. Better be born, with Taste, to little rent, Than the dull monarch of a continent.
Without this bounty which the gods bestow,
Tempè's soft charms, the raging watry waste, Each greatly-wild, each sweet romantic scene Unheeded rises, and almost unseen.
Yet these are joys, with some of better clay, To soothe the toils of life's embarrass'd way. These the fine frame with charming horrors chill,
And give the nerves delightfully to thrill.