Volume I Part 8 (1/2)

POPE, _Imitations of Horace_, ii, Sat. 1.

Lord Peterborough seems to have been equally famous for his skill in cookery. See note to above Satire, Pope's Works, edit. Elwin and Courthope, iii, 298.--_W. E. B._]

[Footnote 2: See Voltaire's ”History of Charles the Twelfth of Sweden.”

”He left the name at which the world grew pale, To point a moral or adorn a tale.”

JOHNSON, _Vanity of Human Wishes_.]

ON THE UNION

The queen has lately lost a part Of her ENTIRELY-ENGLISH[1] heart, For want of which, by way of botch, She pieced it up again with SCOTCH.

Blest revolution! which creates Divided hearts, united states!

See how the double nation lies, Like a rich coat with skirts of frize: As if a man, in making posies, Should bundle thistles up with roses.

Who ever yet a union saw Of kingdoms without faith or law?[2]

Henceforward let no statesman dare A kingdom to a s.h.i.+p compare; Lest he should call our commonweal A vessel with a double keel: Which, just like ours, new rigg'd and mann'd, And got about a league from land, By change of wind to leeward side, The pilot knew not how to guide.

So tossing faction will o'erwhelm Our crazy double-bottom'd realm.

[Footnote 1: The motto on Queen Anne's coronation medal.--_N_.]

[Footnote 2: _I.e._, Differing in religion and law.]

ON MRS. BIDDY FLOYD;

OR, THE RECEIPT TO FORM A BEAUTY. 1707

When Cupid did his grandsire Jove entreat To form some Beauty by a new receipt, Jove sent, and found, far in a country scene, Truth, innocence, good nature, look serene: From which ingredients first the dext'rous boy Pick'd the demure, the awkward, and the coy.

The Graces from the court did next provide Breeding, and wit, and air, and decent pride: These Venus cleans'd from ev'ry spurious grain Of nice coquet, affected, pert, and vain.

Jove mix'd up all, and the best clay employ'd; Then call'd the happy composition FLOYD.

THE REVERSE

(TO SWIFT'S VERSES ON BIDDY FLOYD); OR, MRS. CLUDD

Venus one day, as story goes, But for what reason no man knows, In sullen mood and grave deport, Trudged it away to Jove's high court; And there his G.o.ds.h.i.+p did entreat To look out for his best receipt: And make a monster strange and odd, Abhorr'd by man and every G.o.d.

Jove, ever kind to all the fair, Nor e'er refused a lady's prayer, Straight oped 'scrutoire, and forth he took A neatly bound and well-gilt book; Sure sign that nothing enter'd there, But what was very choice and rare.

Scarce had he turn'd a page or two,-- It might be more, for aught I knew; But, be the matter more or less, 'Mong friends 'twill break no squares, I guess.

Then, smiling, to the dame quoth he, Here's one will fit you to a T.

But, as the writing doth prescribe, 'Tis fit the ingredients we provide.