WAS FOND OF FORTUNE TELLING.
YOU, Madam, may with fafety go,
Decrees of deftiny to know;
For at your birth kind planets reign'd,
And certain happiness ordain'd :
Such charms as your's are only given
To chofen favourites of Heaven.
But, fuch is my uncertain ftate,
'Tis dangerous to try my fate;
For I would only know from art,
The future motions of your heart,
And what predeftinated doom
Attends my love for years to come;
No fecrets elfe, that mortals learn,
My cares deserve, or life concern:
But this will fo important be,
I dread to fearch the dark decree;
For, while the smallest hope remains,
Faint joys are mingled with my pains;
Vain diftant views my fancy please,
And give some intermitting eafe:
But fhould the ftars too plainly show
That you have doom'd my endless woe,
No human force, or art, could bear
The torment of my wild defpair.
This fecret then I dare not know,
And other truths are ufelefs now.
What matters, if unbleft in love,
How long or short my life will prove?
To gratify what low defire,
Should I with needlefs hafte enquire,
How great, how wealthy, I fhall be
Oh! what is wealth or power to me!
If I am happy, or undone,
It muft proceed from you alone.
IMITATED.
WHEN hungry wolves had trefpafs'd on the fold,
And the robb'd fhepherd his fad story told;
"Call in Alcides," faid a crafty priest;
"Give him one half, and he 'll fecure the reft."
No! faid the shepherd, if the Fates decree,
By ravaging my flock, to ruin me;
To their commands I willingly refign,
Power is their character, and patience mine; Though, troth! to me there seems but little odds, Who prove the greatest robbers, wolves or gods!
NUPTIALS.
WHEN Jove lay bleft in his Alcmæna's charms,
Three nights, in one, he preft her in his arms;
The fun lay fet, and conscious nature ftrove
To fhade her God, and to prolong his love.
From that aufpicious night Alcides came,
What lefs could rife from Jove, and such a dame ?
May this aufpicious night with that compare,
Nor lefs the joys, nor less the rising heir;
He ftrong as Jove, fhe like Alcmæna fair!
WILL Piggot* muft to Coxwould † go,
To live, alas! in want,
Unless Sir Thomas fay, No, no;
Th' allowance is too fcant.
The gracious knight full well does weet,
Ten farthings ne'er will do
To keep a man each day in meat,
Some bread to meat is due.
A Rechabite poor Will muft live,
And drink of Adam's ale,
Pure element no life can give,
Or mortal foul regale.
* This merry petition was written to obtain the porter's place for Will Piggot.
† Twelve miles north, beyond the city of York.
Spare diet, and spring-water clear,
Phoficians hold are good;
Who diets thus, need never fear
A fever in the blood,
But pafs-the Efculapian crew,
Who eat and quaff the beft,
They feldom mifs to bake and brew,
Or lin to break their faft.
Could Yorkshire-tyke but do the fame,
Then he like them might thrive;
But Fortune, Fortune, cruel dame!
To ftarve thou doft him drive.
In Will's old Mafter's plenteous days,
His memory e'er be bleft!
What need of speaking in his praise ?
His goodness ftands confeft.
At his fam'd gate ftood Charity,
In lovely sweet array ;
Ceres and Hofpitality,
Dwelt there both night and day,
But, to conclude, and be concife,
Truth muft Will's voucher be,
Truth never yet went in difguife,
For naked ftill is fhe.
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