תמונות בעמוד


Hard chance had plac'd me near a noisy throat,
That in rough quavers bellow'd every notc.

“ Pray, sir," says I,“ suspend awhile your song ;
The opera's drown'd; your lungs are wondrous


Trat 'tis encouragement makes science spread, I wish to hear your Roland's ranting strain, Is rarely practis'd, though ’tis often said. While he with rooted forests strows the plain." When Learning droops and sickens in the land, Sudden he shrugs surprise, and answers quick, What patron's found, to lend a saving hand ? " Monsieur apparement n'aime pas la musique !" True generous spirits prosperous Vice detest, Then turning round, he join'd th' ungrateful noise : And love to cherish Virtue when distrest : And the loud chorus thunder'd with his voice. But, ere our mighty lords this scheme pursue, O soothe me with some soft Italian air,

Our mighty lords must think and act like you. Ixt harmony compose my tortur'd ear!

Why must we climb the Alpine mountain's sides, When Anastasia's voice commands the strain, To find the seat where Harmony resides? The melting warble thrills through every vein; Why touch we not so soft the silver lute, Thought stands suspense, and Silence pleas'd at The cheerful hautboy, and the mellow Aute? tends,

"Tis not th’ Italian clime improves the sound; While in lier notes the heavenly choir descends. But there the patrons of her sons are found.

But you'll imagine I'm a Frenchman grown, Why lourish'd verse in great Augustus' reign? Pleas'd and content with nothing but my own, He and Macenas lov'd the Muse's strain. So strongly with this prejudice possest,

But now that wight in poverty must mourn He thinks French music and French painting best. Who was (O cruel stars !) a poet born. Mention the force of learn'd Corelli's notes, Yet there are ways for authors to be great ; Some scraping fi:idler of their ball he quotes; Write rancorous libels to reform the state : Talk of the spirit Raphael's pencil gives,

Or, if you choose more sure and ready ways, Yet warın with life whose speaking picture lives; Spatter a minister with fulsome praise : L" Yes, sir," says he, “in colour and design, Launch out with freedom, flatter him enough; 1. Rigaut and Raphach are extremely fine !"

Fear not-all men are dedication proof. 'Tis true his country's love transports his breast

Be bolder yet, you must go farther still, With warmer zeal than your old Greeks profest. Dip deep in gall thy mercenary quill. Ulysses lor'd his Ithaca of yore,

He, who his pen in party-quarrels draws, Yet that sage traveller left his native shore. Lists an hir'd bravo to support the cause ; What stronger virtus in the Frenchman shines !

He must indulge his patron's hate and spleen, He to dear Paris all his life contines.

And stab the faine of those he ne'er had seen. - I'm not so fond. There are, I must confess, Why then should authors inourn their desperate + Things which might inake me love my country less. Be brave, do this, and then demand'a place. (caso? - I should not think my Britain had such charins, Why art thou poor? Exert the gifts to rise. - If lost to learninr, if ensiav'ad by arms.

And banish timorous virtue froin thy eyes. France has her Richlieus and her Colberts known; All this seems modern preface, where we're told And then, I grant it, France in science shone. That it is prais'd, but hungry lives and cold :

We too, I own, without such aids may chance Against th' ungrateful age these authors roar, - In ignorance and pride to rival France.

And fancy learning starves because they're poor. But let me not forget Corneille, Racine,

Yet why should learning hope success at court? - Boileau's strong sense, and Moliere's humorvus Why should our patriots virtue's cause support?

Why to true merit should they have regard ? Let Cambray's name be sung above the rest, They know that virtue is its own reward. Whose maxims, Pulteney, warm thy patriot breast ; | Yet let not me of grievances complain, In Mentor's precepts wisdom strong and clear Who (though the meanest of the Muses' train) Dictates sublime, and distant nations hcar. Can boast subscriptions to my humble lays, Hear, all ye princes, who the world control, Aud mingle protit with my little praise. What cares, what terrours, haunt the tyrant's soul; Ask Painting, why she loves Hesperian air? His constant train are, Anger, Fear, Distrust. Go view," she cries,“ my glorious labours there; To be a king, is to be good and just;

There in rich palaces I reign in state, His people he protects, their rights he saves, And on the temples lofty domes create. And scorns to rule a wretched race of slaves. The nobles view iny works with knowing eyes,

Happy, thrice happy, shall the monarch reign, They love the science, and the painter prize." Where guardian laws despotic power restrain ! Why didst thou, Kent, forego thy native land, There shall the ploughshare break the stubborn To emulate in picture Raphael's hand ? land,

Think'st thou for this to raise thy name at home? And bending harvest tire the peasant's hand : Go back, adorn the palaces of Rome; There Liberty her settled mansion boasts,

There on the walls let thy just labours shine, There Commerce plenty brings from foreign coasts. And Raphael live again in thy design. O Britain ? guard thy laws, thy rights defend : Yet stay awhile ; call all thy genius forth, So shall these blessings to thy sons descend ! For Burlington ur biiss'd knows thy worth;

You'll think 'tis tiine some other theme to choose, His judgment in thy inaster-strok's can trace And not with beaux and tops fatigue the Muse : Titian's strong fire, and Guido's softer grace. Should I let satire loose on English ground, But, oh! consider, cre thy works appear, There fools of various character ahoond;

Canst thou unhurt the tongue of Envy hear? But here my verse is to one race conlind, All Frenchmen are of petii-maitre kind.

Afurwards sir Paul, E. B.


Censure will blame; her breath was ever spent Think on the rescue of th' imperial throne,
To blast the laurels of the eminent.

Then think of Marlborough's death without a
While Burlington's proportion'd columns rise, Apollo kindly whispers me: “ Be wise: (groan?
Does not he stand the gaze of envious eyes ? How to his glory shall thy numbers rise?
Doors, windows, are condemn'd bv passing fools, The force of verse another theme might raise,
Who know not that they damn Palladio's rules. But here the merit must transcend the praise.
If Chandos with a liberal hand bestow,

Hast thou, presumptuous hard ! that gorlike flame, Censure imputes it all to pomp and show ;

Which with the Sun shall last, and Marlborough's When, if the motive right were understood,

fame? His daily pleasure is in doing good.

Then sing the man. But who can boast this fire? Had Pope with groveling numbers fillid his page, Resign the task, and silently admire.” Dennis had never kindled into rage,

Yet shall he not in worthy lays be read? 'Tis the sublime that hurts the critic's ease ; Raise Homer, call up Virgil from the dead. Write nonsense, and he reads and sleeps in peace. But he requires not the strong glare of verse : Were Prior, Congreve, Swift, and Pope, unknown, Let punctual history his deeds rehearse; Poor slander-selling Curll would be undo e. Let truth in native purity appear, He, who would free from malice pass his days, You'll find Achilles and Eneas there. Must live obscure, and never merit praise,

Is this the comfort which the Muse bestors? But let this tale to valiant Virtue tell

I but indulge and aggravate your woes. The daily perils of deserving well.

A prudent friend, who seeks to give relief, A Crow was strutting o'er the stubbled plain, Ne'er touches on the spring that mov'd the grief. Just as a Lark, descending, clos'd his strain. Is it not barbarous, to the sighing maid The Crow bespoke vim thus, with solemn grace: To mention broken vows and nymphs betraydi! " Thou most accomplishid of the feather'd race! Would you the ruin'd merchant's soul appease, What force of lungs! how clear! how sweet you With talk of sands, and rocks, and stormy seas? And no bird soars upon a stronger wing," (sing! Ev'n while I strive on Marlborough's fame to rise The Lark, who scorn'd soft flattery, thus replies: I call up sorrow in a daughter's eyes. ** True I sing sweet, and on strong pinion rise; Think on the laurels that his temples shade, Yet let me pass my life from envy free,

Laurels that (spite of Time) shall never fade For what advantage are these gifts to me?

Immortal Honour has enroll'd his name; My song confines me to the wiry cage,

Detraction's dumb, and Envy put to shame. My flight provokes the falcon's fatal rage.

Say, who can soar beyond his eagle flight; But, as you pass, I hear the fowlers say,

Has he not reach'd to glory's utmost height? • To shoot at crows is powder flung away."

What could he more, had Heav'n prolong d his
All human power is limited by fate. (date 1

Forbear. "Iis cruel further to commend;

I wake your sorrow, and again offend. TO HER GRACE HENRIETTA, DUTCHESS

Yet sare your goodness must forgive a crime, OF MARLBOROUGH.

Which will be spread through every age and cline; 1722.

Though in vour life ten thousand summers roll, Excuse me, madam, if, amidst your tears, And though you compass Earth from pole to pels, A Muse intrudes, a Muse who feels your cares;

Where'er men talk of war and martial fame, Numbers, like music, can ev'n grief control, They'll mention Marlborough's and Cæsar's name. And lull to peace the tumults of the soul.

But vain are all the counsels of the Muse; If partners in our woes the mind relieve,

A soul like yours could not a tear refuse: Cinsider for your loss ten thousan.is grieve; Could you your birth and filiai love forego, Th'affiction burthens not your heart alone;

Still sighs must rise, and generous sorme flor; When Marlborough died, a nation gave a groan.

For, when from Earth such matchless worth reCould I recite the dangerous toils he chose, A great mind suffers. Virtue virtue loves. [mos, To bless his country with a fixt repose; Could I recount the labours he o'ercame, *To raise his country to the pitch of fame;

His councils, sieges, his victorious fights,

To save his country's laws and native rights;
No father (every generous heart must own)

Oy IIIS HAVING FINISHED HIS TRASLATIOS 01 Has stronger fondness to his darling shown.

HOMER'S ILIAD. Britannia's sighs a double loss deplore,

A WELCOME FROM GREECE. Her father and her hero is no more.

Long hast thou, friend! been absent from my sal, Does Britain only pay her debt of tears?

Like patient Ithacus at siege of Troy;
Yes. Holland sighs, and for her freedom fears.

I have been witness of thy six years toil,
When Gallia's monarch pour'd his wasteful bands,
Like a wide deluge, o'er her level lands,

Thy daily labours, and thy night's annoy,

Lost to thy native land, with great turmoil, She saw her frontier towers in ruin lie,

On the wide sea, oft threatening to destroy: Ev'n Liberty had prun'd her wings to fy: Then Marlborough came, defeated Gallia fied; "A close imitation of the beginning of the sou And shatter'd Belgia rais'd her languid head; canto of the Orlando Furioso. Mr. Gay bas eren In him secure, as in her strongest mound

adopted the measure of his original, and has cse. That keeps the raging sea within its bound. prised his design in almost the same number of line

O Germany! remember Hockstet's plain, viz. in twenty-one octave stanzas, instead of disa Where prostrate Gallia bled at erery vein :




Methinks with thee I've trod Sigæan ground, I see two lovely sisters, hand in hand,
And heard the shores of Hellespont resound. The fair-hair'd Martha, and Teresa brown;

Madge Bellenden, the tallest of the land;
Did I not see thee when thou first sett'st sail

And smiling Mary, soft and fair as down. To seek adventures fair in Homer's land ?

Yonder I see the cheerful dutchess stand, [known: Did I not see thy sinking spirits fail,

For friendship, zeal, and blithsome humours And wish thy bark had never left the strand ?

Whence that loud shout in such a hearty strain? Ev'n in mid ocean often didst thou quail,

Why, all the Hamiltons are in her train.
And oft lift up thy holy eye and hand,
Praying the Virgin dear, and saintly chuir,

See next the decent Scudamore advance,
Back to the port to bring thy bark entire.

With Winchelsea, still meditating song:

With her perhaps Miss Howe came there by chance, Cheer up, my friend ! thy dangers now are o'er, Nor knows with whom, or why she comes along.

Methinks-nay, sure the rising coasts appear; Far off from these see Santlow, fam'd for dance'; Hark! how the guns salute from either share, And frolic Bicknell’, and her sister young; As thy trim vessel cuts the Thames so fair:

With other names, by me not to be nam’d,
Shouts answering shouts from Kent and Essex roar, Much lov'd in private, not in public fain'd!

And bells break loud through every gust of air:
Bonfires do blaze, and bones and cleavers ring, But now behold the female band retire,
As at the coming of some mighty king.

And the shrill music of their voice is still'd!

Methinks I see fam'd Buckingham admire, Now pass we Gravesend with a friendly wind,

That in Troy's ruin thou hadst not been kill'd; And Tilbury's white fort, and long Blackwall; Greenwich, where dwells the friend of human kind, Sheffield, who knows to strike the living lyre

With hand judicious, like thy Homer skill'd, More visited than or her park or hall,

Bathurst impetuous hastens to the coast, Withers the good, and (with him ever join'd)

Whom you and I strive who shall love the most. Facetious Disney, greet thee first of all : I see his chimney smoke, and hear him say, See generous Burlington, with goodly Bruce “Duke!! that's the room for Pope, and that for (But Bruce comes wafted in a soft sedan); Gay.

Dan Prior next, belov'd by every Muse ;

And friendly Congreve, unreproachful man! “ Come in, my friends! bere shall ye dine and lie, |(Oxford by Cunningham hath sent excuse ;) And here shall breakfast, and here dine again;

See hearty Watkins comes with cup and can; And sup and breakfast on, (if ye comply)

And Lewis, who has never friend forsaken; For I have still some dozens of champaign.”

And Laughton, whispering, asks—" Is Troy town His voice still lessens as the ship sails by ;

taken ?" He waves his hand to bring us back in vain; For now I see, I see proud London's spires ;

Earl Warwick comes, of free and honest mind; Greenwich is lost, and Deptford-dock retires.

Bold, generous Craggs, whose heart was ne'er

disguis'd : Oh, what a concourse swarms on yonder qnay! Ah, why, sweet St. John, cannot I thee find ? The sky re-echoes with new shouts of joy:

St, John, for every social virtue priz'd.
By all this show, I ween, 'tis Lord-mayor's day; Alas! to foreign climates he's confin'd,

I hear the voice of trumpet and hantboy.- Or else to see thee here I well surmis'd:
No, now I see them near.-Oh, these are they, Thou too, iny Swift, dost breathe Bæotian ajr;

. Who come in crowds, to welcome thee from Troy. When wilt thou bring back wit and humour here?
Hail to the bard, whom long as lost we mourn's;
From siege, from battle, and from storm, return'd! Harcourt I see, for eloquence renown'd,

The mouth of justice, oracle of law! Of goodly dames, and courteous knights, 1 view

Another Simon is beside him found, The silken petticoat, and broider'd vest;

Another Simon, like as straw to straw. Yea, peers and mighty dukes, with ribbands blue

How Lansdown smiles, with lasting laurel crown'd! (True blue, fair emblem of unstained breast).

What mitred prelate there commands our awe? Others I see, as noble, and more true,

See Rochester approving nods his head”, By no court-badge distinguish'd from the rest :

And ranks one modern with the mighty dead. First see I Methuen, of sincerest mind, As Arthur - grave, as soft as woman-kind.

Carleton and Chandos thy arrival grace;

Hanmer, whose eloquence th' unbiass'd sways; What lady's that, to whom he gently bends? · Who knows not her? ah! those are Wortley's Harley, whose goodness opens in his face,

And shows his heart the seat where virtue stays. eyes:

Ned Blount advances next, with busy pace, How art thou honour'd, number'd with her friends!

In haste, but sauntering, hearty in his ways: For she distinguishes the good and wise.

I see the friendly Carylls come by dozens, The sweet-tongu'd Murray near her side attends; Their wives, their uncles, daughters, sons, and Now to my heart the glance of Howard flies;

cousins. Now Harvey, fair of face, I mark full well, With thee, youth's youngest daughter, sweet Lepell. · She afterwards married Booth the player. S. 'He was usually called Duke Disney. N.

2 Mrs. Bicknell, the actress, is mentioned in This person is mentioned in Pope's Epistle to

the Spectator, Tatler, and Guardian, with apArbuthnot, ver. 23.

plause. S. Arthur, whose giddy son neglects the laws,

: So in the Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Imputes to and my damn'd works, the cause. Ev'n mitred Rochester would nod the head. S.




Arbuthnot there I soe, in physic's art,

How lop'd! how bonour'd thou! yet be not rain : As Galen learn'd, or famed Hippocrate ;

And sure thou art not, for I hear thee say, Whose company drives sorrow from the heart, “ All this, my friends, I owe to Homer's strain, As all disease his med'cines dissipate:

On whose strong pinions 1 exalt my lay.
Kneller amid the triumph bears his part',

What from contending cities did he gain!
Who could (were mankind lost) anew create : And what rewards his grateful country pay?
What can th' extent of his vast soul confine? None, none were paid—why then all this for me!
A painter, critic, engineer, divine !

These honours, Homer, had been just to thee."
Thee Jervas hails, robust and debonair,
“ Now have (we) conquerid Homer, friends !"

he cries: Darteneuf, grave joker, joyous Ford is there ?,

And wondering Maine, so fat with laughing eyes, (Gay, Maine, and Cheney, boon companions dear,

Gay fat, Maine fatter, Cheney huge of size)
Yea Dennis, Gildon, (hearing thou hast riches)

And honest, hatless Cromwell, with red breeches.

A PANEGYRIC, O Wanley! whence com’st thou with shorten'd hair,

OCCASIONED BY HIS BUYING AND SELLING OF THE THIRD And visage from thy shelves with dust besprent'; SOUTH-SEA SUBSCRIPTIONS, TAKEN IN BY THE DI “Forsooth," quoth he, "from placing Horner there,

For ancients to compyle is myne entente :
Of ancients only hath lord Harley care ;

DISDAIN not, Snow, my humble verse to hear:
But hither me hath my meeke lady sent:-

Stick thy black pen awhile behind thy ear. In manuscript of Greeke rede we thilke same, Whether thy compter shine with sums untold, But book yprint best plesyth myn gude dame.” And thy wide-grasping hand grow black with gold;

Whether thy mien erect, and sable locks, Yonder I see, among th’ expecting crowd, In crowds of brokers over-awe the stocks ;

Evans with laugh jocose, and tragic Young; Suspend the worldly business of the day, High-buskin'd Booth, grare Mawbert, wandering And, to enrich thy miod, attend my lay. Frowde,

O thou, whose penetrative wisdom found And Titcomb's belly waddles slow along.

The South-sea rocks and shelves, where thousands See Digby faints at Southern talking loud,

Yea, Steele and Tickell mingle iu the throng: When credit sunk, and commerce gasping lay,
Tickell, whose skiff (in partnership, they say ') Thou stood’st ; nor sent'st one bill unpaid atas.
Set forth for Greece, but founder'd in the way. When not a guinca chink'd on Martin's buards,
Lo, the two Doncastles in Berkshire knowo!

And Atwell's self was draia'd of all his hoards,
Lo, Bickford, Forte scue, of Devon land !

Thou stood'st, (an Indian king in size and huet lo, Tooker, Eckershall, Sykes, Rawlinson !

Thy unexhausted shop was our Peru.
See hearty Morley takes thee by the hand ! Why did 'Changc-alley waste thy precious hours
Ayrs, Graham, Buckridge, joy thy voyage done ;

Among the fools, who gap'd for golden showers!
But who can count the leaves, the stars, the

No wonder if we found some poets there, sand?

Who live on fancy, and can feed on air ; Lo, Stonor, Fenton, Caldwell, Ward, and Broome! No wonder they were caught by South-sea schemes, Lo, thousands more; but I want rhyme and room !

Who ne'er enjoy'd a guinea, but in dreams;

No wonder they their third subscriptions sold, This is no more than a compliment to the For millions of iinaginary gold; vanity of sir Godfrey, which Pope and other wits

No wonder, that their fancies wild can frame were always putting to the strongest trials. S.

Strange reasons, that a thing is still the same,

Tho' chang'd throughout in substance and in name. * Charles Ford, esq. writer of the Gazette. S.

But you (whose judgment scorns poetic flights) So in the Dunciad, b. iii. 185.

With contracts furnich boys with paper-kites. But who is he in closet close ypent,

Let Vulture Hopkins stretch his rusty throat, Of sober face, with learned dust besprent. Who'd ruin thousands for a single groat. Huinphrey Wanley was librarian to lord Ox- I know thou spurn'st his mean, his sordid mind; ford. Š.

Nor with ideal debts would'st plague mankind. * The names of the majority of persons here Why strive his grcedy hands to grasp at more? enumerated are in want of no illustration ; and the wretch was born to want, whose soul is poor.

Madinen alone their eniply dreamos pursue, concerning a few of them, it would be difficult to supply any. Titcomb, however, is mentioned in And still believe the fleeting vision true; a letter froin Pope to Congreve. "'There is a grand They sell the treasure which their

slumbers get, revolution at Will's. Morrice has quitted for a

Then wake, and fancy all the world in debt. coffee-house in the city; and Titcomb is restored,

If to instruct thee all my reasons fail,

Yet be diverled by this moral tale. to the great joy of Cromwell, who was at a loss

Thro' fam'd Moortirlds extends a spacious scat, for a persou to converse with the fathers and church history." S.

Where mortals of exulted wit retreat;

Where, wrapp'd in contemplation and in straw, See the first book of the fliar among the poeins 'The wiser few from the mad world withdraw. of Mr. Tickell. N.

There, in full opulence, a banker dwelt, • See Prior's ballad of Duwn Hall. X.

Who all the joys and pangs of riches felt :




Mis side-board glitter'd with imagin'd plate; There's captain Pannel', absent half his life,
And his proud fancy held a vast estate.

Comes back, and is the kinder to his wife;
As on a time he pass'd the vacant hours,

Yet Pannel's wife is brown, coinpar'd to mo,
In raising piles of straw and twisted bowers; And mistress Biddel sure is fifty-three !
A poet enter'd, of the neighbouring cell,

Not touch me! never neighbour call'd me slut:
Aud with fix'd eyes observ'd the structure well ; Was Flimnap's name more sweet in Lilliput?
A sharpen'd skewer cross his barc shoulders bound I've no red hair, to breathe an odious fume;
A tatter'd rag, which dragg'd upon the ground. At least, thy consort's cleaner than thy groom
The banker cry'd, “ Behold my castle-walls, Why then that dirty stable-boy thy care?

What mean those visits to the sorrel mare?
My statues, gardens, fountains, and canals ;
With land of twenty thousand acres round ! Say, by what witchcraft, or what demon led,
All these I sell thee for ten thousand poun.l.”

Pri ferr'st thou litter to the marriage-bed!
The bard with wonder the cheap purchase saw,

Some say the Devil himself is in that mare: So sign'd the contract (as ordains the law).

If so, our dean shall drive him forth by prayer. The banker's brain was cool'd, the mist grew Some think you mad; some think you are possest; The visionary scene was lost in air. (clear; That Bedlam and clean straw will suit you best. He now the vanish'd prospect understood,

Vain means, alas! this phrenzy to appease! And fear'd the fancied bargain was not good : That straw, that straw, would heighten the disease. Yet, loath the sum entire should be destroy'd, My bed (the scene of all our former joys, Give me a penny, and thy contract's void." Wituess two lovely girls, two lovely boys)

The startled bard with eve insignant frown'd. Alone I press; in dreams I call my dear, “ Shall I, ye gols,” he cries, “ my debts com I stretch iny hand; no Gulliver is there! pound!"

I wake, I rise, and, shivering with the frost, So saying, from his rug the skewer takes,

Search all the bouse : my Gulliver is lost ! And on the stick ten equal notches makes ;

Forth in the streets I rush with frantic cries, With just resentment dinys it on the ground;

The windows open; all the neighbours rise: “ There, take my tally of ten thousand pound!”

“ Where sleeps my Gulliver ? O tell me where !" The neighbours answer, “ With the sorrel mare!"

At early morn, I to the market haste (Studious in every thing to please thy taste); A curious fowl and 'sparagus I chose (For I remember'd you were fond of those):

Three shillings cost the first, the last seven groats; MARY GULLIVER

Sullen you turn from both, and call for oats.

Others bring goods and treasure to their houses,

Soinething to deck their pretty babes and spouses;

My only token was a cup like horn,
That's made of nothing but a lady's corn.
"lis not for that I grieve; no, 'tis to see

The groom and sorrel mare preferr'd to me!
The captain, some time after his return, being re These for some moments when you deign to quit,

tirer to Mr. Syrnpson's in the country; Mrs. And (at due distance) sweet discourse admit, Gulliver, apprehending froin his late behaviour 'Tis all my pleasure thy past toil to know, some estrangement of his affections, writes him For pleas'u remembrance builds delight on woe. the following expostulating, soothing, and ten At every danger pants thy consort's breast, derly-complaining epistle.

And gaping infants squall to hear the rest.
How did I tremble when, by thousands bound,

I saw thee stretch'd on Lilliputian ground !
WELCOME, thrice welcome, to thy native place! When scaling armies clinbid up every part,
-What, touch me not? What, shun a wife's em. Fach step they trod I felt upon my heart.

But, when thy torrent quench'd the dreadful Have 1 for this thy tedious absence borne,

blaze. And wak'd and wish'd whole nights for thy return? King, queen, and nation, staring with amaze, In five long years I took no second spouse; Fall in uw view how all iny husband canie! What Redriff wite so long hath kept her vows? And what extinguish d theirs, increas'd my tame. Your eyes, your nose, inconstancy betray, Those spectacles, ordain'd thine eyes to save, Your nose you stop, your eyes you turn away. Were or.ce my present; Love that armour gave. "Tis said, that thon should'st cleave unto thy :cife; How did I mourn at Bolgolam's decree! Once thou didst cleave, and I could cleave for life. For, when he sign'd thy death, he sentenc'd me. Hear, and relent! hark, how thy children moan! When folks might see thee all the country round Be kind at least to these--they are thy own! For sixpence, I'd have given a thousand pound. Be bold, and connt them all; Secure to find Lord! when that giant babe that head of thine The honest number that you left behind.

Got in his month, my heart was up in mine! See how they pat thce with their pretty paws; When in the marrow-bune I see thee ramın'd, Why start you? are they snakes? or have they Or on the house-top by the monkey cramma, claus?

The pite-ons images renew my pain, Thy Christian seed, our mutual flesh and hone: And all thy dangers I weep u'er again. Be kind at least to these they are thy own!

Biddel', like thee, might farthest India rove; Names of the sea-captains meutioned in the He chang d his country, but retains his love: Travels.




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