Poetical recreations consisting of original poems, songs, odes, &c. with several new translations : in two parts / part I, occasionally written by Mrs. Jane Barker, part II, by several gentlemen of the universities, and others.

THE POET's Answer to One, Complaining of their NEGLIGENCE, In not Writing the DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM's ELEGY.

NOR needs he slender Verse, his Mighty Fame, Rais'd above us, do's all our Praise disclaim; Poets have liv'd by him, he cannot live by them. So great his Bounty, we as well might show The secret Head, whence fertile Nile do's flow. Like Nilus he, for with a willing Hand He gave to all, his stream o'er-flow'd the Land.

But still the Muse was his peculiar Care; Now could I ought in Verse! A subject's here

Might—But the Mind's ill serv'd by Faculties, And something still we know, we can't express. The Trojan Shield, which Maro once did frame, With an intent to raise Augustus Name, Should not do more, if (as my Theme's as great) I could assume his Majesty and State. But nothing ••an rehearse his wond'rous Praise, Unless kind Heaven from his dust should raise Another matchless mighty Buckingham, Who, like himself, could gloss the glorious Theme. Two great effects we had from's noble Mind, The State and Theatre at once refin'd.

When e'er he pleas'd to lash the nauseous Times, And with just Rules corre••t the Poet's Crimes: Nonsence, and Bays, and Bombast took their flight, Like frighted Phantoms from the hated Light. As by the order of this World we guess, A God, not Chance, first mov'd the mighty Mass: So whilst we saw, when we made War, Success, Advantage, when we pleas'd to grant a Peace: We, by the Beauty, knew, Villers was there, And God-like Charles was eas'd of half his care:

So in the Realms above 'tis Iove's to will, Whilst lesser Powers his Commands fulfill.

Nor was his Body inferiour to his Mind; For when he was created, Fate design'd That he should be the wonder of Mankind. Goodness and Grace did always with him move; From Men he Honour claim'd, from Women Love Some slighted Swain, whom Celia's scorn opprest, May raise a Flame in some less guarded Breast: But there the Curse do's not intirely fall, He form'd the Race of Women to enthrall, Reveng'd upon their Sex the quarrels of us all. Ten thousand ways soft thoughts he cou'd inspire, And kindled in all hearts a gen'rous fire, His Bounty wealth, his Beauty gave desire. His Iudgment gave us Laws, a Play his Wit; By him we liv'd, we lov'd, we rul'd, we writ.