Extemporaneous Lines

ON A PORTRAIT OF LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGUE, PAINTED BY KNELLER.

The playful smiles around the dimpled mouth, That happy air of majesty and truth, So would I draw: but, oh! 'tis vain to try, My narrow genius does the power deny; The equal lustre of the heavenly mind, Where every grace with every virtue's join'd: Learning not vain, and wisdom not severe, With greatness easy, and with wit sincere; With just description show the soul divine, And the whole princess in my work should shine.

LINES SUNG BY DURASTANTI,

WHEN SHE TOOK LEAVE OF THE ENGLISH STAGE.

1 Generous, gay, and gallant nation, Bold in arms, and bright in arts; Land secure from all invasion, All but Cupid's gentle darts! From your charms, oh! who would run? Who would leave you for the sun? Happy soil, adieu, adieu!

2 Let old charmers yield to new; In arms, in arts, be still more shining: All your joys be still increasing; All your tastes be still refining; All your jars for ever ceasing; But let old charmers yield to new: Happy soil, adieu, adieu!

UPON THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH'S HOUSE AT WOODSTOCK.

'See, sir, here's the grand approach, This way is for his Grace's coach: There lies the bridge, and here's the clock, Observe the lion and the cock, The spacious court, the colonnade, And mark how wide the hall is made! The chimneys are so well design'd, They never smoke in any wind. This gallery's contrived for walking, The windows to retire and talk in; The council chamber for debate, And all the rest are rooms of state.'

'Thanks, sir,' cried I, ''tis very fine, But where d'ye sleep, or where d'ye dine? I find by all you have been telling That 'tis a house, but not a dwelling.'

VERSES LEFT BY MR POPE.

ON HIS LYING IN THE SAME BED WHICH WILMOT, THE CELEBRATED EARL OF ROCHESTER, SLEPT IN AT ADDERBURY, THEN BELONGING TO THE DUKE OF ARGYLL, JULY 9, 1739.

1 With no poetic ardour fired, I press the bed where Wilmot lay; That here he loved, or here expired, Begets no numbers, grave or gay.

2 Beneath thy roof, Argyll, are bred Such thoughts as prompt the brave to lie Stretch'd out in honour's nobler bed, Beneath a nobler roof--the sky.

3 Such flames as high in patriots burn, Yet stoop to bless a child or wife; And such as wicked kings may mourn, When freedom is more dear than life.

THE CHALLENGE, A COURT BALLAD.