Hold fast the words of peace, and never part
The healing comfort from thy faithful heart;
Thy consolation in the hour of pain;
Thine amulet against th' infectious train
Of follies, warping on the sultry wind,

When Fortune's treacherous gales relax the mind;
Thy polar star, when crouds are led astray,
Thy rest, by night, thy counsellor, by day.

THE TOBACCONIST.

EPISTLE THE THIRD.

Supposed to be written from a Poet to his Friend.

ARGUMENT OF THE POEM.

Exordium-Dissuasives of the Author's Friend from writing Verfe -unavailing-The Author determines to write-possest at first with high notions of the dignity of the poetical character and desire of future fame-Changes his way of thinking-wishes to render the profession of a Poet profitable-various projects for that purpose-Dedication and flattery of unworthy rich men→→ fails-and why-He determines then, to cultivate and praise the Jews-in vain-Fruitless attempts in the horrible stile of the German-Resolves to write satire-Two popular models, at present-Peter Pindar, and the Author of Pursuits of LiteratureDiscouragements to satirical writings-the cause-Proceeds to write for the Stage-Many rival candidates for public favourPerversion of public taste-Tries Tragedy and Comedy-succeeds in neither-Contemptuous spirit of the Managers-Ma

"

nagers compared to giants in romance-ugly tricks of Managers --Disappointed in his hopes of encouragement from the Booksellers reflections on the occasion-Authors of birth and fashion -The practice of antient Poets who declaimed their own verses commended-Author wishes to imitate it-The Author reprobates the idea of becoming a minor Poet, as an introduction into the circles of soi disant wits-and readers-The Difficulty of writing well under the pressure of poverty-and petty distresses. -Some reflections on the character of Alexander Pope-Friendly invitation of a Tobacconist to reside with him-and become his Shopman-Author gladly accepts it—and renounces Poetry.

WHILE my green years pursued, with idle aim,
The fleeting phantoms of poetic fame,
Replete with many a charm, and many a wile,
To siren rocks, and the Circaan Isle;
Oft have I heard thy monitory vein,

Full oft thy voice recall'd me from the train.
Lost was the warning voice on witless youth;
But added years and pains have felt it's truth.
Thy lessons now recur to sting the soul,
Strong for remorse, tho' feeble for controul.

The cares and sorrows printed on my brow,
My head declining with a weight of snow,
My hopes and projects running all to waste,
Have taught me rhyme is foolishness at last;
That deadly blights attend Aonia's dew;
More baneful far the laurel than the yew,
For pain and scorn, and penury invade
Th' incautious man that slumbers in it's shade.
Why was I tempted with Icarian flight,
To rise advent'rous to the source of light?
My treacherous pinions scattered wide in air,
Deep am I plung'd in oceans of despair,
No more the forms of GOOD and FAIR to see,
Or catch the sound of seraph minstrelsy.

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Why have I swell'd the trump of epic song?
Why call'd in sable weeds the gliding throng,
Whose fates ennobled by the Grecian stage,
In tuneful bosoms wake poetic rage?—
What are the fruits of all my life's proud aim ?—
To toil for Glory, and to find it shame ;—
To feel the scorn that in these gothic times,

Looks down contemptuous on the man of rhymes.-
Wise was my mother:—when I was a boy,
And scribbled verses with an idle joy,
She chid me daily as a thriftless fool;
And daily urg'd to learn the golden rule.

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Then, earliest friend *, tho' proud and rash and young,
With reverential awe to thee I clung;

My kindling bosom chose thee from the croud,
My conscious spirit to thy talents bow'd.
The firm Cornutus of my thoughtless age,
The lov'd companion and the guiding sage,
When life before me lay a doubtful maze,
Thy sense mature diffus'd the temperate rays:
But envious Demons thine ascendant crost,
And wisest aims, and fairest hopes were lost.
Oft I recall, in bitterness of heart,
Thy grave invective 'gainst the tuneful art.

"Go, pile thy hearth with faggots, let it blaze
"The fun'ral structure of thy darling lays;
"Or deep entomb thy labours in a chest,
"Retreat of spiders, worms and moths to feast.-
"Who deals in verses, drives with idle hand,
"Th' unthrifty plough along the barren sand.
"Who feeds on laurel, finds it bitter food,
"Infusing poison thro' the vital blood.-

* Me tibi supposui, &c. PERSIUS.

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"Would'st thou in age and poverty repent,
"The mighty lavish of thy years mispent?
"No rather try, while vigour swells thy veins,
"The manual arts that lead to honest gains.
"A waggon drive, or delve the stubborn field,
"Or (still more general task) a musket wield.—
"No more, my friend, the hopeless victim pine,
"Of exil'd Phabus, and the exploded Nine,

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Despis'd adherent of a ruin'd cause,

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"The Quixote champion of subverted laws; "An emigrant from Wisdom's fair domain, "As mad and hopeless as the Gallic train, "Go, seek in death a remedy for pain. "Scorn the vain echos of poetic fame; "And learn to thrive on profitable shame. "The Muse's livery, on the modern plan, "Is the sole livery that degrades the man. "No-hadst thou sprung, by dextrous crime or luck, "Obscène, and reeking from the dunghill's muck; "Unblushing pandar, senatorian crimp, "In form a porter, and in soul a pimp; "Had Fortune's worst caprice thy lot ordain'd, "The wealth and state that Enobarbus gain'd; "Had "LOTTERY OFFICE," blazon'd at thy door, "Mark'd thee, the licens'd plunderer of the poor; 81 "Whose starry lamps wide on the darkness flame, "And wretches lure to shipwreck and to shame; "Wert thou the meanest of the human race, "A cheat, like Sempill, as Aquarius base; "Yet mayst thou clamber on thy bags of gold, "And mount where honours can be bought and sold. "Tell me, abode of all that's mean and great, "Prolific parent of the sage and cheat,

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"Tell me, proud Britain, can the globe display, 90 "A spot where gold usurps an equal sway

"Ere general apathy on genius frown'd,

"The poet's praise a ready market found.

y?

"Then, stocks and stones had ears for polish'd song; "And dedications charm'd the titled throng. "The dews of flattery could a meal afford, "And lent existence to some nameless Lord. "While favour'd verse a twofold hunger fed"With praise the patron's, and the bard's with bread. "But such the spirit of our golden times, "Ev'n lordly littleness is proof to rhymes; "And splendid poverty will scarce allow "The barren tribute of a courtly bow.

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"I've read "how things inanimate have mov'd”—
"Arion's lyre ev'n oddest fishes lov'd;
"Hope not applause from senators and peers,
"For tuneful song no modern Log has Ears;
"In vain the Muse essays her softest mood,
"For untam'd beasts of city, field, or wood.
"To them no music like the charming strain,
"Of" Hear him-hear him"-or of "Seven's the
Main."-

"Ye famish, Bards, attend to hunger's call;
"And stain no paper-but to hang a wall.
"Let Fancy there her wildest freaks display,
"Her forms luxuriant, and her colours gay;
"Bid airy pinions fan the buxom skies,
"Where Grecian fanes on hills aerial rise,
"In myriads pour the plastic forms around,
"That Darwin's new philosophy has found.
"Let Fawns and Oreads croud in silent rings,
"And Silphs and Cupids spread the purple wings.

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