Yet spires and towers in dust shall lie, WRITTEN IN MONTAIGNE'S ESSAYS, GIVEN TO THE DUKE OF SHREWSBURY IN FRANCE, AFTER THE PEACE, MDCCXIII. DICTATE, O mighty judge, what thou hast seen Of cities, and of courts, of books, and men ; And deign to let thy servant hold the pen. Through ages thus I may presume to live, Thus shall fair Britain with a gracious smile Nor longer hence the Gallic style preferr'd, Wisdom in English idiom shall be heard, [err'd. While Talbot tells the world, where Montaigne AN EPISTLE, DESIRING THE QUEEN'S PICTURE. WRITTEN AT PARIS, MDCCXIV. BUT LEFT UNFINISHED, BY THE SUDDEN NEWS OF HER MAJESTY'S DEATH. THE train of equipage and pomp of state, My bright defender, and my dread delight, Will thy indulgent hand, fair saint, allow The mighty empress gave her high command, That he to hostile camps and kings should haste, Thee, gracious Anne, thee present I adore, Thee, queen of peace-If time and fate have power Higher to raise the glories of thy reign, In words sublimer, and a nobler strain, ALMA; OR, THE PROGRESS OF THE MIND. IN THREE CANTOS. Πάντα γέλως, καὶ πάντα κόνις, καὶ πάντα τὸ μηδὲν· Πάντα γὰρ ἱξ ἀλόγων εστὶ τὰ γιγνόμενα. Incert. ap. Stobæum. CANTO I. MATTHEW1 met Richard,2 when or where From story is not mighty clear; Of many knotty points they spoke, 1 The author himself. 2 Mr. Shelton. Rats half the manuscript have eat: It thus begins: * * * * Here Matthew said, Alma in verse, in prose the mind, By Aristotle's pen defin'd, Throughout the body squat or tall, Is, bona fide, all in all. And yet, slap-dash, is all again In every sinew, nerve, and vein: Runs here and there, like Hamlet's ghost; While everywhere she rules the roast. This system, Richard, we are told, They say (for in good truth they speak 1 Tonson. ; Two optic nerves, they say, she ties, By which the spirits bring her word, Without these aids, to be more serious, Her power, they hold, had been precarious: The eyes might have conspir'd her ruin; And she not known what they were doing. Foolish it had been, and unkind, That they should see, and she be blind. Wise nature likewise, they suppose, Has drawn two conduits down our nose: Could Alma else with judgment tell, When cabbage stinks, or roses smell? Or who would ask for her opinion Between an oyster and an onion? For from most bodies, Dick, you know, Some little bits ask leave to flow; And, as through these canals they roll, Bring up a sample of the whole ; Like footmen running before coaches, To tell the inn, what lord approaches. By nerves about our palate plac'd, She likewise judges of the taste: Else (dismal thought!) our warlike men Might drink thick port for fine champagne ; |