And gath'ring crowds with eager eyes,
And shouts, pursue him as he flies.
Triumphant to the goal'return'd,
With nobler thirft his bofom burn'd
And now along th' indented plain,
The felf-fame track he marks again,
Pursues with care the nice defign,
Nor ever deviates from the line.
Amazement feiz'd the circling crowd;
The youths with emulation glow'd;
Ev'n bearded fages hail'd the boy,
And all, but Plato, gaz'd with joy;
For he, deep-judging fage, beheld
With pain the triumphs of the field:
And when the charioteer drew nigh,
And, flush'd with hope, had caught his eye,
Alas! unhappy youth, he cry'd,
Expect no praise from me, (and figh’d)
With indignation I furvey
Such skill and judgment thrown a way,
The time profufely fquander'd there,
On vulgar arts beneath thy care,
If well employ'd, at less expence,
Had taught thee honour, virtue, sense,
·And rais'd thee from a coachman's fate,
To govern men and guide the state.
SIR BA LA A M.
WHERE London's column, pointing at the skies
Like a tall bully, lifts the head, and lies;
There dwelt a Citizen of fober fame,
A plain good man, and Balaam was his name ;
Religious, punctual, frugal, and fo forth;
His word would pass for more than he was worth,
One folid dish his weekly meal affords,
An added pudding folemniz'd the Lord's:
Constant at Church, and 'Change; his gains were fure, His givings rare, fave farthings to the poor.
The Devil was piqu'd fuch faintfhip to bebold,
And long'd to tempt him, like good Job of old :
But Satan now is wifer than of yore,
And tempts by making rich, not making poor.
Rous'd by the Prince of Air, the whirlwinds sweep
The furge, and plunge his Father in the deep;
Then full against his Cornish lands they roar,
And two rich shipwrecks bless the lucky fhore.
Sir Balaam now, he lives like other folks,
He takes his chirping pint, and cracks his jokes:
"Live like yourself," was foon my Lady's word;
And lo! two puddings fmoak'd upon the board.
Asleep and naked as an Indian lay,
An honeft factor ftole a gem away:
He pledg'd it to the knight; the knight had wit,
So kept the Di'mond, and the rogue was bit.
Some fcruple rofe, but thus he eas'd his thought,
"I'll now give fix-pence where I gave a groat;
"Where once I went to church, I'll
"And am fo clear too of all other vice."
The Tempter faw his time; the work he ply'd ;
Stocks and Subscriptions pour on ev'ry fide,
"Till all the Dæmon makes his full descent
In one abundant fhow'r of Cent. per
Cent.
Sinks deep within him, and poffeffes whole,
Then dubs Director, and fecures his foul.
Behold Sir Balaam now a man of spirit,
Afcribes his gettings to his parts and merit ;
What late he call'd a Bleffing, now was Wit,
And God's good Providence, a lucky Hit.
Things change their titles, as our manzers turn :
His Compting-house employ'd the Sunday morn :
Seldom at Church ('twas fuch a bufy life)
But duly fent his family and wife,
There (fo the Devil ordain'd ) one Christmas-tide
My good old Lady catch'd a cold and dy'd.
A Nymph of Quality admires our Knight,
He marries, bows at Court, and grows polite :
Leaves the dull Cits, and joins (to please the Fair)
'The well-bred cuckolds in St. James's air :
In Britain's Senate he a fent obtains,
And one more Penfioner St. Stephen gains.
My Lady falls to play; fo bad her chance,
He must repair it; takes a bribe from France:
The House impeach him; Coningsby harangues;
The Court forfake him, and Sir Balaam hangs,
Wife, fon, and daughter, Satan! are thy own,
His wealth, yet dearer, forfeit to the Crown;
The Devil and the King divide the prize,
And faid Sir Balaam curfes God and dies.
EDWIN AND EMMA.
FAR in the windings of a vale,
Faft by a sheltering wood,
The fafe retreat of health and peace,
A humble cottage stood.
There beauteous EMMA flourish'd fair
Beneath a mother's eye,
Whofe only wish on earth was now
To fee her bleft, and die.
The fofteft blush that nature spreads,
Gave colour to her cheek;
Such orient colour smiles thro' heav'n
When May's fweet mornings break,
Nor let the pride of great ones fcorn
The charmer of the plains;
That fun which bids their diamond blaze,
To deck our lily deigns.
Long had fhe fir'd each youth with love,
Each maiden with despair;
And tho' by all a wonder ow'd,
Yet knew not she was fair.
Till EDWIN came, the pride of fwains,
A foul that knew no art,
And from whofe eyes ferenely mild,
Shone forth the feeling heart.
A mutual flame was quickly caught,
Was quickly too reveal'd;
For neither bofom lodg'd a wish
Which virtue keeps conceal'd.
What happy hours of heart-felt blifs
Did love on both bestow!
But blifs too mighty long to last,
Where fortune proves a foc.
His fifter, who like envy form'd,
Like her in mifchief joy'd,
To work them harm, with wicked fkill
Each darker art employ'd.
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