« הקודםהמשך »
TO THE REV. MR. POWELL,
ON THE NON-PERFORMANCE OF A PROMISE nt
MADE THE AUTHOR OF A BANL.
Friend, with regard to this same hare,
Am I to hope, or to despair?
With P***ll's hand, and P***ll's name;
Yet there appear'd, for love or money,
Nor hare, nor leveret, nor coney.
Say, my dear Morgan, has my lord,
Like other great ones kept his word?
Or have you been deceiv'd by 'squire?
Or has your poacher lost his wire?
Or in some unpropitious hole,
Instead of puss, trepann'd a mole?
Thou valiant son of great Cadwallader,
Hast thou a hare, or hast thou swallow'd her?
But, now, metbinks, Thear you say,
(And shake your head) “Ah, well-a-day!
Painful pre-em'nence to be wise,
We wits have such short memories,
Oh, that the act was not in force!
A horse!--my kingdom for a horse !
Oh! for a friend or two at court!
God knows, there's scarce a man of quality
In all our peerless principality"
But hold for on his country joking,
To a warm Welchman's most provoking.
As for poor puss, upon my honour,
I never set my heart upon her.
But any gift from friend to friend,
Is pleasing in it's aim and end.
I, like the cock, wou'd spurn a jewel,
Sent by th’unkind, th' unjust, and cruel.
But honest P***ll! Sure from him
A barley-corn wou'd be a gem.
Pleas'd therefore had 1 been, and proud,
And prais'd thy generous heart aloud,
If'stead of hare (but do not blab it)
You'd send me only a Welch-rabbit.
THE SICK MONKEY,
A Lady sent lately for one doctor Drug,
As the fair one commanded he came at the word,
The affair being ended, so sweet and so nice!
He held out his hand with “You-know, ma'am, Acknowledgment in order comes;
[your brother, Por wine, for ale, for fowl, for fish-for
“ Your price,” says the lady~" Why, Sir, he's Evin all one's appetite can wish for :
And doctors must never take fees of each other.”
APOLLO AND DAPHNE.
When Phoebus was am'rous, and long'd to be
[wood, Wit's fruit and pleasure's genial bowl,
Miss Daphne cry'd pish! and ran swift to the
And rather than do such a naughty affair,
She became a fine laurel to deck the god's hair.
EPITAPH ON THE
The nymph was be sure of a cold constitution, From grief to bliss, from Earth to Hear'a reTo be turn'd to a tree was a strange resolution ;
mov'd, But in this she resembled a true mudern spouse, His mem'ry honour'd, as bis life belov'd: For she fled from his arms to distinguish his That heart o'er which no evil e'er had pow'r; broxs.
That disposition sickness could not sour;
His painful race updauntedly he ran, (pride. THE MISER AND THE MOUSE. And in the eleventh winter died a man.
(FROM THE GREEK.)
REV. MR. REYNOLDS.
[house?” Pray what may you please for to want in my AT ST. PETER'S IN THE ISLE OP THANET. Says the Mouse, « Mr. Miser, pray keep yourself quiet,
Was rhetoric on the lips of sorrow burg, You are safe in your person, your purse, and your Or cou'd affliction lend the heart a tongue, A lodging I want, which er'n you may afford,
Then should my soul, in noble anguish free, But none wou'd come here to beg, borrow, or
Do glorious justice to herself and thee.
But ah! when loaded with a weight of woe,
When we should praise, we sympathetic groan,
For sad mortality is all our own.
Yet but a word : as lowly as he lies, ON A WOMAN WHO WAS SINGING BALLADS FOR
He spurns all empires and asserts the skies. MONEY TO BURY HER HUSBAND.
Blush, power! he had no interest here below; For her husband deceas'd, Sally chants the sweet Blush, malice! that he dy'd without a foe; lay,
The universal friend, so form'd to engage, Why, faith, this is singular sorrow; [day, Was far too precious for this world and age. But (I doubt) since she sings for a dead man to Years were deny'd, for (such his worth and truth) She'll cry for a live one to norrow.
Kind Heaven has calld him to eternal youth.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
TO MY WORTHY FRIEND MR, T, B. EARL OF DARLINGTON,
ONE OF THE PEOPLE CALLED QUAKERS.
Written in his Garden, July, 1752.
Free from the proud, the pompous, and the The royal hand, my lord, shall raise
How simply neat, and elegantly plaid (vain, To nooler heights thy name ;
Thy rural villa lifts its modest head, Who praises thee shall meet with praise,
Where fair convenience reigns in fashion's stead ; Ennobled in thy fame,
Where sober plenty does its bliss impart,
And glads thine hospitable, honest heart.
Mirth without vice, and rapture without noise,
And all the decent, all the manly joys!
Beneath a shadowy bow'r, the summer's pride, And Virtue's temple leads to Honour's fane;
Thy darling Tullia ' sitting by thy side ; But not alone to thee this grant extends,
Where light and shade in varied scenes display Nor in thy rise great Brunswick's goodness ends :
A contrast sweet, like friendly yea and nay. Whoe'er has known thy hospitable dome,
My hand, the secretary of my mind,
DRAWN BY MR. VARELST, OF THREADNEEDLE
ON SEEING THE PICTURE OF
And shall no just, impartial bard be found, Then take the blessed blissful hour,
To try love's sweet infectious pow'r;
And let your sister souls conspire
So may the youth, whom you prefer,
AN INVITATION TO MRS. TYLER,
OF DECKS ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE AU Quot sunt, quotque fuêre, Marce Tuin,
Et quot pòst aliis erunt in annis,
Gratias tibi maximas Catallus, Had I the pen of sir Jobn Suckling,
Agit pessimus omnium Poeta ; And could find out a rhyme for duckling,
Tanto pessimus omnium Poeta,
Quanto tu optimus omnium patronus.
AFTER DINING WIT. MR. MURRAY. Upon the bus'ness of the nation.
O Industrious Mollo, with many a pluck,
THOU, of British orators the chief Unwings the plumage of each duck ;
That were, or are in being, or belief;
All eminence and goodness as thou art,
Accept the gratitude of Poet Smart,
The meanest of the tuneful train as far, Shall we then roast them on a string ?
As thou transcend'st the brightest at the bar. Or shall we make our dirty jilt run, To beg a roast of Mrs. Bilton 3? But to delight you more with these, We shall provide a dish of pease : On ducks alone we'll not regale you,
On one End.
Partem aliquam, o venti, divům referatis ad
INSCRIPTIONS ON AN ÆOLIAN
TO MISS SPE.
* As every good parson is the shepherd of bis flock, his wife is a shepherdess of course,
. The maid.
On one side.
Salve, Memnoniam vox imitata lyram !
Dives naturæ simplicis, artis inops !
On the other Side.
On the other End.
AN EPIGRAM BY SIR THOMAS
Basiat, en! voluit Tyndarus esse dicax,
IN THE MANNER OF MR.
Ten thousand loves appear;
There Cupid basking lies, Protinus erubuit, tacitaque excandluit irá,
llis shafts are hcarded there, Nempe parum salso taçta puella saie.
Her blooming cheeks are dy'd
With colour all her own,
Of roses newly blown.
Her well turn'd limbs confess
The lucky hand of Jove; Whose nose was too distinguish'd to be miss'd ;
Her features all express *My dear,” says 1,“ I fain would kiss you closer, The beauteous queen of love, But tho' your lips say aye-your nose says, no, What flames my nerves invade sir."
When I behold the breast The maid was equally to fun inclin'd,
Of that too charming maid And plac'd her lovely lily-hand behind;
[kiss, Rise suing to be prest!
Has her own cestus bound,
And dance the circle round,
How happy may be be,
Who shall her zone unloose !
That bliss to all but me,
May Heav'n and she refuse.
Non temere attonitos Fannia pulchra stetit,
HORACE. ODE IV.
Ad Xanthiam Phoceum
Ne sit ancillæ tibi amor pudori,
Xanthia Phoceu ; prius insulentem Idalii pueri, Venerisque exercitus omnis
Serva Briseis niveo colore
Movit Ajacem Telamone natum
Arsit Atrides medio in triumpho Non tantas jactat veneres suavissimus horti
Virgine rapta : Incola, quando novis spirat amoina comis,
Barbaræ postquam cecidêre turmæ Concinnis membris patet immortalis origo, Thessalo victore, & ademptus Hector Ia Jovis inonstrant quid potuêre manus ;
Tradidit fessis leviora tolli Reginamque Cnidi, formosam Cyprida, reddit,
Pergama Graiis. Quicunque egregio ludit in ore decor !
Nescias an te generum beati Quanta mihi nervos, heu, quanta est flamma me
Phyllidis flavæ decorent parentes. Pectoris ut video luxuriantis ebur- [dullas, Regium certe genus & penates Pectoris eximix nympha-jam dulcè tumcntis
Mæret iniquos. Jam subsideutis-sex cupit ante premi.
Crede non illam tibi de scelestå Circumdat mediain cestus (mihi credite) nymp. Plebe dilectam; neque sic fidelem,
Insignis cesius, quem dedit ipsa Venus : [ham Sic lucro aversam potuisse nasci Dulce satellitium circa illam ludit amorum,
Brachia, & vultum, teretesque suras.
Cujus octavun trepidayit atas
Claudere lustrum. Gaudia, vosque Dii, tuque pueila ueges.
THE PRETTY CHAMBERMAID.
Hex Fanny, blooming fair,
First caught my savinti’ed sight, Pleay'd with her shape and air,
I felt a strange delight: Whilst eagerly I gazd,
Admirinz eiry port, And ev'ry feature prais'el,
She Hole in my heart.
In Imitation of the abore ode of Horace.
Who pobler, prouder far than he is,
Georgium expecto, Salis architectum Ador'd his chambermaid Briseis.
Duplicis vafrum satis, emulosque
Spero vos inter fore nunc, ut olim, The thond'ring Ajax Venus lays
Nobile bellum. lo love's inextricable maze.
Dumque lucubrata per omne lungi
Frigoris sæclum pueros tenellos
Alma nox pictas videt otiosos
Volvere chartas. Who always shar'd the bed she made.
Proh pudor! devota lucro juventus 'Twas at the ten years siege, when all
(Ut puellarum numerus senumque) The Trojans fell in Hector's fall,
Pallet insomnis repetita duri
Sperne (nam multæ cerebruin Miner væ
Est tibi) nugas age quæstuusas,
Arduas, vanas, & amara curæ Who knots ? Polly perhaps may be
Elue mecum. A piece of ruin'd royalty.
Jam riget tellus hyemantque menses, She has (I cannot doubt it) been
Vestra sed lakrus vireat, tuisque The daughter of some mighty queens
In genis dulcis rosa sanitatis But fate's irremeable doom
Sera moretur. Has chang'd her sceptre for a broom.
Aul. Pemb. Cantab, Cal. Jan. Ah ! cease to think it-how can she, So generous, charming, fond, and free,
THE FAMOUS GENERAL EPITAPH So lib'ral of her little store, So beedless of amassing more, Have one drop of plebeian blood
Tuese for their country's cause were sheath'd in In all the circulating flood ?
And all base imputations dare despise; (arms Bat you, by carping at my fire,
And nobly struck with glory's dreadful charins Do bat betray your own desire
Made death their aim, eternity their prize. Howe'er proceed-made tame by years,
For never could their inighty spirits yield, You'll raise in me no jealous fears.
To see tbemselves and country-men in chains; You're not one spark of love alive,
And Eartli's kind bosom bides them in the field For, thanks to Heav'n, you're forty-five.
Of battle, so the Will Supreme ordaius; To conquer chance and errour's not reveald,
For mortals sure mortality remains.