Believe me, 'tis by far the wifer couffe,
Superior art fhould meet fuperior force:
Hear, but be faithful to your intereft ftill:
Secure your hearts-then fool with whom

you

XX

will.

A RECEIPT to Cure the VAPOUR S.

Written to Lady J

By the Same.

I.

WHY will Delia thus retire,

And idly languish life away?

While the fighing crowd admire,
'Tis too foon for hartfhorn tea.

II.

All thofe difmal looks and fretting
Cannot Damon's life reftore;

Long ago the worms have eat him,
You can never fee him more.

III.

Once again confult your toilette,
In the glass your face review:
So much weeping foon will spoil it,
And no fpring your charms renew.

XXXXX

*

The S P L E E N.

An EPISTLE to Mr. Cuthbert Jackson.

no dan

By Mr. MATTHEW GREEN of the Cuftom Houfe 2.

THIS motley piece to you I fend,

Who always were a faithful friend;
Who, if difputes fhould happen hence,
Can best explain the author's fense;
And, anxious for the public weal,
Do, what I fing, so often feel.

The want of method pray excufe,
Allowing for a vapour'd Mufe;

a Mr Matthew Green was of a family in good repute amongst the Dif fenters, and had his education in the Sect. He was a man of approved probity and sweetness of temper and manners. His wit abounded in converfation, and was never known to give the leaft offence. He had a poft in the Cuftom Houfe, and difcharged the duty there, with the utmost diligence and ability. He died at the age of 41 years, at a lodging in Nag's Head Court, Gracechurch Street.

In this Poem, Mr. Melmoth fays, there are more original thoughts thrown together than he had ever read in the fame compafs of lines. Fitzofborne's Letters, p. 114.

Nor

Nor to a narrow path confin'd,
Hedge in by rules a roving mind.

The child is genuine, you may trace
Throughout the fire's tranfmitted face.
Nothing is stol'n: my Mufe, though mean,
Draws from the spring she finds within ;
Nor vainly buys what Gildon fells,
Poetic buckets for dry wells.

b

School-helps I want, to climb on high, Where all the ancient treasures lie,

And there unfeen commit a theft

On wealth in Greek exchequers left.

Then where? from whom? what can I steal,

Who only with the moderns deal ?
This were attempting to put on -
Raiment from naked bodies won :
They fafely fing before a thief,
They cannot give who want relief;
Some few excepted, names well known,
And justly laurel'd with renown,

Whofe ftamp of genius marks their ware,
And theft detects: of theft beware;

Gildon's Art of Poetry.

A painted veft Prince Vortiger had on,
Which from a naked Pict his grandfire won.

Howard's British Printes.

From

d

From More a fo lafh'd, example fit,

Shun petty larceny in wit.

First know, my friend, I do not mean
To write a treatife on the Spleen ;
Nor to prescribe when nerves convulse;
Nor mend th' alarum watch, your pulse:
If I am right, your question lay,
What course I take to drive away

The day-mare Spleen, by whofe falfe pleas
Men prove mere suicides in ease ;
And how I do myself demean

In ftormy world to live ferene.

When by its magic lantern Spleen
With frightful figures spreads life's scene,
And threat'ning profpects urg'd my fears,
A ftranger to the luck of heirs ;

Reafon, fome quiet to restore,

Shew'd part was fubstance, shadow more ;
With Spleen's dead weight though heavy grown,
In life's rough tide I funk not down,
But fwam, 'till Fortune threw a rope,
Buoyant on bladders fill'd with hope.

I always choose the plaineft food
To mend vifcidity of blood.

James More Smith, Efq; See Dunciad, B. ii. 1. 50. and the notes, where the circumstances of the tranfaction her alluded to are

very fully explained,

VOL. I.

I

Hail!