With every smile of nature grac'd,
With every art compleat.
But now, sweet bard, thy heavenly song
Enchants us here no more; 10 Their darling glory lost too long
Thy once-lov'd shades deplore.
Yet still, for beauteous G-----lle's sake,
The Muses here remain;
G-----lle, whose eyes have power to make 15 A Pope of every swain.
MAN'S a poor deluded bubble,
Wand'ring in a mist of lies,
Seeing false, or seeing double,
Who wou'd trust to such weak eyes?
Yet presuming on his senses, 5 On he goes most wond'rous wise:
Doubts of truth, believes pretences;
Lost in error, lives and dies.
____________________The Kings of Europe A Jest2
WHY pray, of late, do Europe's kings
No jester in their courts admit?
They're grown such stately solemn things.
To bear a joke they think not fit.
But tho' each court a jester lacks, 5 To laugh at monarchs to their face;
All mankind behind their backs
Supply the honest jester's place.