THE

LAMENTATION OF GLUMDALCLITCH

SOON

as Glumdalclitch mifs'd her pleafing care, She wept, fhe blubber'd, and the tore her hair. No British mifs fincerer grief has known,

Her fquirrel milling, or her fparrow flown.

She furl' her fan pler, and haul'd-in her thread,
And fuck her needle into Grildrig's bed;
Then fpread her hands, and with a bounce let fall
Her baby, like the giant in Guildhall.

In peals of thunder now the roars, and now
She gently whimpers like a lowing cow:
Yet lovely in her forrow still appears,

Her locks disheveld, and her flood of tears,
Seem like the lofty barn of fo.ne rich fwain,
When from the thatch drips fast a shower of rain.
In vain the fearch'd each cranny of the houfe,
Each gaping chink impervious to a mouse.
"Was it for this (the cry'd) with daily care
"Within thy reach I fet the vinegar;
"And fill'd the cruet with the acid tide,
"While pepper-water worms thy bait fupply'd,

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"Where

"Where twin'd the filvr eel around thy hook, "And all the little monsters of the brook? "Sure in that lake he dropt: My Grilly 's drown'd.' She dragg'd the cruet, but no Grildrig found.

"Vain is thy courage, Grilly, vain thy boast: "But little creatures enterprize the most. "Trembling, I've feen thee dare the kitten's paw, "Nav, mix with children as they play'd at taw, "Nor fear'd the marbles, as they bounding flew : "Marbles to them, but rolling rocks to you.

“Why did I truft thee with that giddy youth I "Who from a page can ever learn the truth? "Vers'd in court-tricks. that money-loving boy "To fome lord's daughter fold the living toy; "Or rent him limb from limb, in cruel play, "As children tear the wings of flies away. "From place to place o'er Brobdingnag I'll roam, "And never will return, or bring thee home. “But who hath eves to trace the paffing wind? How then thy fairy footsteps can I find? "Doft thou bewilder'd wander all alone, "In the green thicket of a moffy stone;

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"Or, tumbled from the toadkool's flippery round,
Perhaps all maim'd, lie groveling on the ground?
"Doft thou imbofom'd in the lovely rofe,

"Or funk within the peach's down, repofe?
"Within the king-cup if thy limbs are fpread,

"Or in the golden cowflip's velvet head:

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"O fhew me, Flora, 'midft thofe fweets, the flower "Where fleeps my Grildrig in his fragrant bower! 50

"But ah! I fear thy little fancy roves "On little females, and on little loves; "Thy pigmy children, and thy tiny spouse, "The baby-playthings that adorn thy house, "Doors, windows, chimneys, and the fpacious rooms

"Equal in fize to cells of honeycombs.

"Haft thou for these now ventur'd from the fhore, "Thy bark a bean-shell, and a straw thy oar?

"Or in thy box now bounding on the main ?

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“Shall I ne'er bear thyself and house again?
"And fhall I fet thee on my hand no more,
"To fee thee leap the lines, and traverse o'er
"My spacious palm? of stature scarce a span,
"Mimic the actions of a real man?

"No more behold thee turn my watch's key,
As feamen at a capftern anchors weigh?
"How waft thou wont to walk with cautious tread,
"A dish of tea, like milk-pail, on thy head?
"How chace the mite that bore thy cheese away,
"And keep the rolling maggot at a bay ?”

She faid; but broken accents stopt her voice,
Soft as the speaking-trumpet's mellow noife.
She fobb'd a storm, and wip'd her flowing eyes,
Which feem'd like two broad funs in mifty skies !—
O! fquander not thy grief; those tears command
To weep upon our cod in Newfoundland :
The plenteous pickle fhall preserve the fish,
And Europe tafte thy forrows in a dish.

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ΤΟ

TO QUINBUS FLESTRIN,

THE MAN-MOUNTAIN.

A LILLIPUTIAN ODE.

VERSES

TO BE PLACED UNDER THE PICTURE

O F

SIR RICHARD BLACKMORE,
ENGLAND'S ARCH-POET;

CONTAINING

A COMPLEAT CATALOGUE OF HIS WORKS.

EE who ne'er was nor will be half read:

SEE

Who first fang (1) Arthur, then fang (2) Alfred; Prais'd great (3) Eliza in God's anger,

Till all true Englishmen cry'd, Hang her!
Made William's virtues wipe the bare a--
And hang'd-up Mariborough in (4) arras;
Then, hifs'd from earth, grew heavenly quite:
Made every reader curfe the (5) light:
Maul'd human wit in one thick (6) fatire,
Next in three books fpoil'd (7) human nature;
Undid (8) creation at a jirk,

And of (9) redemption made damn'd work.

(1) Two Heroic Poems, in folio, twenty books. (2) Heroic Poem, in twelve books.

(3) Heroic Poem, in folio, ten books.

(4) Inftructions to Vanderbank, a tapestry-weaver.

(5) Hymn to the light.

(6) Satire against wit.

(7) Of the nature of man.

(8) Creation, a Poem, in feven books.

(9) Redemption, another Heroic Poem in fix books.

Then