IV. Making of a GOOD PUDDING gets a GOOD HUSBAND.
YE Virgins, as thefe lines you kindly take,
So may you still fuch glorious Pudding make,
That crouds of Youth may ever be at strife,
To gain the fweet composer for his Wife!
V. SACK and SUGAR to QUAKING-PUDding,
"Oh, Delicious!"
BUT where muft our Confeffion first begin,
If Sack and Sugar once be thought a Sin?
In fiercer flames than those which roaft her meat.
No Pudding's loft, but may with fresh delight,
Be either fried next day, or broil'd at night.
BUT Mutton, thou moft nourishing of meat,
Whofe fingle joint y may constitute a treat;
When made a Pudding, you excel the rest
As much as That of other Food is beft!
To Mr. CARTER, Steward to the Lord CARTERET.
ACCEPT of health from one who, writing this,
Wishes in the fame that now he is;
you
Though to your perfon he may be unknown,
His wishes are as hearty as your own.
For CARTER's drink, when in his Master's hand,
Has pleasure and good-nature at command.
What though his Lordship's lands are in your truft,
'Tis greater to his BREWING to be just.
As to that matter, no one can find fault,
If you fupply him ftill with WELL-DRIED MALT.
Still be a fervant conftant to afford
A liquor fitting for your generous Lord;
Liquor, like him, from feeds of worth in light,
With fparkling atoms ftill afcending bright.
May your accompts fo with your Lord stand clear,
And have your reputation like your
Beer;
The main perfection of your life pursue,
In March, October, every month, still brew,
And get the character of "Who but You?"
A SATIR E.
E know how ruin once did reign,
When Rome was fir'd, and Senate flain;
The Prince, with Brother's gore imbrued,
His tender Mother's life pursued ;
How he the carcafe, as it lay,
Did without tear or blush furvey,
And cenfure each majestic grace
That ftill adorn'd that breathlefs face:
Yet he with fword could domineer
Where dawning-light does first appear
From rays of Phoebus; and command
Through his whole course, even to that strand
Where he, abhorring such a fight,
Sinks in the watery gloom of night:
Yet he could death and terror throw,
Where Thule ftarves in Northern fnow;
Where Southern heats do fiercely påfs
O'er burning fands that melt to glass.
Fond hopes! Could height of Power affuage
The mad excess of NERO's rage?
Hard is the fate, when fubjects find
The Sword unjust to Poifon join'd!
AMICU M.
RIMUS ab Angliacis, Carolina Tyntus z in oras,
Palladias artes fecum, cytharamque fonantem
Attulit; aft illi comites Parnaflido una
Adveniunt, autorque viæ confultus Apollo:
Ille idem fparfos longè latéque colonos
Legibus in cœtus æquis, atque oppida cogit ;
Hinc hominum molliri animos, hinc mercibus optis
Crefcere divitias et furgere tecta Deorum.
Talibus aufpiciis doctæ conduntur Athenæ,
Sic byrfa ingentem Didonis crevit in urbemn
Carthago regum domitrix; fic aurea Roma
Orbe triumphato nitidum caput intulit aftris.
Attempted in ENGLISH.
TYNTE was the man who first, from British shore,
Palladian arts to Carolina bore ;
His tuneful harp attending Mufes ftrung,
And Phœbus' fkill inspir'd the lays he fung.
Strong towers and palaces their rife began,
And listening ftones to facred fabricks ran.
Juft laws were taught, and curious arts of peace,
And trade's brifk current flow'd with wealth's increafc.
On fuch foundations learned Athens rofe;
So Dido's thong did Carthage first inclose :
So Rome was taught OLD Empires to fubdue,
As Tynte creates and governs, now, the NEW.
2 Major Tynte, Governor of Carolina,
ULY, TEftate when funk, and pocket low,
ELL me, old Prophet, tell me how,
What fubtle arts, what secret ways,
May the defponding fortune raise ?
You laugh: thus Mifery is fcorn'd!
Sure 'tis enough, you are return'd
Home by your Wit, and view again
Your Farm of Ithac, and Wife Pen,
ULY. Sage friend, whose word's a law to me,
My want and nakedness you see :
The fparks, who made my wife such offers,
Have left me nothing in my coffers ;
They've kill'd my oxen, fheep, and geese,
Eat up my bacor and my cheese.
Lineage and virtue, at this push,
Without the gelt, 's not worth a rush.
Why, not to mince the matter more,
You are averfe to being poor;
Therefore find out fome rich old cuff,
That never thinks he has enough:
Have you a Swan, a Turkey-pye,
With Woodcocks, thither let them fly,
The First-fruits of your early Spring,
Not to the Gods, but to Him bring.
Though he a foundling Bastard be,
Convict of frequent perjury;
His hands with brother's blood imbrued,
By juftice for that crime pursued.
Never the wall, when afk'd, refuse,
Nor lofe your friend, to fave your fhoes.
"Twixt Damas and the kennel go!
Which is the filthieft of the two?
Before Troy-town it was not fo.
There with the best I us'd to strive.
TIR. Why, by that means you'll never thrive.
It will be very hard, that's true :
Yet I'll my generous mind fubdue.
Tranflation from TASSO, Canto ii. St.
O when bold Mariners, whom hopes of ore
Have urg'd to feek fome unfrequented shore:
The fea grown high, and pole unknown, do find :
How false is every wave, and treacherous every wind!
If wifh'd-for land fome happier fight defcries,
- Distant huzzas, faluting clamours, rife :
Each strives to fhew his mate th' approaching bay,
Forgets past danger, and the tedious way.
WHEN Saturn reign'd in Heaven, his fubjects here
Array'd with godly virtues did appear;
Care, Pain, Old Age, and Grief, were banish'd far,
With all the dread of Laws and doubtful War:
But chearful Friendship, mix'd with Innocence,
Feasted their understanding and their sense;
Nature abounded with unenvied store,
Till their difcreeteft wits could afk no more;
And when, by fate, they came to breathe their last,
Diffolv'd in fleep their flitting vitals pass'd.
Then to much happier manfions they remov'd,
There prais'd their God, and were by him belov'd 2.
VERSES left in the King of FRANCE's Bedchamber, after the Death of the Duke DE MONT
ON ne fe jouvient que du Mal;
Ingratitude regne au monde :
L'Injure fe grave au metal,
Et le Bien-fait s'ecrit fur l'onde.
a That is, they were as happy as the day is long. KING.
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