With simile to illustrate it; We have our similes cut short, That Matthew's numbers run with ease " Matthew," says Fame, "with endless pains Smoothed and refined the meanest strains, Nor suffered one ill-chosen rhyme To escape him at the idlest time; That while the language lives shall last." Theirs be the laurel-wreath decreed Who both write well and write full speed; Who throw their Helicon about As freely as a conduit spout! Friend Robert thus, like chien sçavant, Lets fall a poem en passant, Nor needs his genuine ore refine; 'Tis ready polished from the mine." TO JOSEPH HILL IF I write not to you To a Man of your Mettle and Sense, For which I'll attone When I take my Departure from hence. To tell you the Truth I'm a queer kind of Youth, And I care not if all the world knows it; In Square, Alley, or Row, At Whitehall, in the Court or the Closet. Having written thus much I must now take a nobler stile up: My Invention a Flick, And my genius a pretty smart Fillip. For the Bus'ness in Hand Is indeed neither trifling nor small : As well as the best of them all. And so may your Dear Wife Be the Joy of your Life, And of all our brave Troops the Commandress, What herein I say To the very fair Lady, my Laundress. That to Town I shall Trot (No I Lie, I shall not, For to Town I shall Jog in the stage) So bid her prepare And warm well my Bed by the Fire, I shall break her Back bone As sure as I ever come nigh her. I am Jovial and Merry, Have writ till I'm weary, Am become, with a great deal of Talking, hoarse; Except So farewell-sweet Lad! Is all I shall add, your obedient stalking Horse. G. BERK, Octb 10th, 1755. W. COWPER. OF HIMSELF WILLIAM was once a bashful youth; That one might say (to say the truth) Some said that it was want of sense, But some a different notion had, Howe'er, it happened, by degrees, In company was more at ease, Nay, now and then would look quite gay, And sometimes said, or tried to say, He eyed the women, and made free So that there was, or seemed to be, The women said, who thought him rough But now no longer foolish, "The creature may do well enough, But wants a deal of polish." At length, improved from head to heel, No dancing bear was so genteel, Now that a miracle so strange May not in vain be shown, Let the dear maid who wrought the change E'en claim him for her own. TO DELIA AN APOLOGY FOR NOT SHOWING HER WHAT I HAD WROTE DID not my Muse (what can she less?) Could she by some well-chosen theme At the same place DELIA, the unkindest girl on earth, Refused that instant to comply Trust me, my dear, however odd I sought it merely to defraud Yet when its sister locks shall fade, Ah then! if haply to my share When you behold it still as sleek, As when it left thy snowy neck,- Then shall my Delia's self declare At Catfield THIS evening, Delia, you and I Yet, well as each performed their part, We might perceive it was but art; And that we both intended To sacrifice a little ease; For all such petty flaws as these Are made but to be mended. You knew, dissembler! all the while, That we should gain by this allay When next we met, and laugh away The care we never felt. Happy! when we but seek to endure A little pain, then find a cure By double joy requited; For friendship, like a severed bone, |