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O how sudden the jessamine strove
In ringlets he dresses his hair, With the lilac to render it gay!
And his crook is bestudded around; Already it calls for my love,
And his pipe,-oh my Phillis, beware To prune the wild brauches away.
Of a magic there is in the sound. From the plains, from the woodlands and groves, 'Tis his with mock passion to glow, What strains of wild melody flow!
'Tis his in smooth tales to unfold, How the nightingales warble their loves
How her face is as bright as the snow, From thickets of roses tbat blow!
And her bosom, be sure, is as cild. And when her bright form shall appear,
How the nightingales labour the strain, Each bird shall harmoniously join
With the notes of his charmer to vie; In a concert so soft and so clear,
How they rary their accents in vain, As—she may not be fond to resign,
Repine at her triumphs, and die.
To the gruve or the garden he strays,
Then, suiting the wreath to his lays,
He throses it at Pbillis's feet. For he ne'er could be true, she averr'd,
“O Phillis," he whispers, “ more fair, Who would rob a poor bird of its young:
More sweet than the jessamine's flower! And I lov'd her the more when I heard
What are pinks in a morn to compare? Such tenderness fall from her tongue.
What is eglantine after a shower? I have heard her with sweetness unfold
“ Then the lily no longer is white; How that pity was due to a dove :
The rose is depriv'd of its bloom ; That it ever attended the bold;
Then the violets die with despite, And she call'd it the sister of love.
And the woodbines give up their perfume.” But her words such a pleasure convey,
Thus glide the soft numbers along, So much I her accents adore,
And he fancies no shepherd his peer; Let her speak, and whatever she say,
-Yet I never should envy the song, Methinks I should love her the more.
Were not Phillis to lend it an ear. Can a bosom so gentle remain
Let his crook be with hyacinths bound, Unmov'd, when her Corydon eighs ?
So Phillis the trophy despise : Will a nymph that is fond of the plain,
Let his forehead with laurels be crown'd, These plains and this valley despise ?
So they shine not in Phillis's eyes, Dear regions of silence and shade!
The language that flows from the heart, Soft scenes of contentment and ease ?
Is a stranger to Paridel's tongue; Where I could have pleasingly stray'd,
-Yet may she beware of his art, If aught, in her absence, could please.
Or sure I must envy the song.
And where are her grots and her bowers ?
Ye shepherds, give ear to my lay, And the face of the valleys as fine;
And take no more heed of my sheep: The swains may in manners compare,
They have nothing to do but to stray;
I have ing to do but to weep.
She was fair-and my passion begun ;
She smil'd-and I could not but love;
She is faithless--and I am undone. Way will you my passion reprove ?
Perhaps I was void of all thought : Why term it a folly to grieve ?
Perhaps it was plain to foresee, Ere I show you the charms of my love,
That a nymph so complete would be sought She's fairer than you can believe,
By a swain more engaging than me. With her mien she enamours the brave;
Ah! love every hope can inspire; With her wit she engages the free ;
It banishes wisdom the while ; With her modesty pleases the grave;
And the lip of the nymph we admire She is every way pleasing to me.
Seems for ever adorn’d with a smile. you that have been of her train,
She is faithless, and I am undone ; Come and join in my amorous lays;
Ye that witness the woes I endure, I could lay down my life for the swain,
Let reason instruct you to shun That will sing but a song in her praise.
What it cannot instruct you to cure. When he sings, may the nymphs of the town Beware how you loiter in vain Come trooping, and listen the while;
Amid nymphs of a higher degree : Nay on him let not Phyllida frown;
It is not for me to explain -But I cannot allow her to smile.
How fair, and how tickle, they be. For when Paridel tries in the dance
Alas! from the day that we met, Any favour with Phillis to find,
What hope of an end to my woes? how, with one trivial glance,
When I cannot endure to forget Might she ruin the peace of my mind !
The glance that undid my repose.
A CULINARY ECLOGUE.
Yet time may diminish the pain :
Our merchants Spain has near andone The flower, and the shrub, and the tree,
For lost ships not requiting : Which I rear'd for her pleasure in vain,
This bears our noble king to shun In time may have comfort for me.
The loss of blood-in fighting ! The sweets of a dew-sprinkled rose,
With numerous ills, in single life, The sound of a murmring stream,
The bachelor's attended : The peace which from solitude flows,
Such to avoid, he takes a wife Henceforth slrall be Corydon's theme.
And much the case is mended ! High transports are shown to the sight,
Poor Gratia in her twentieth year, But we're not to find them our own ;
Foreseeing future woe, Fate never bestow'd such delight,
Chose to attend a monkey here, As I with my Phillis bad known.
Before an ape below.
To your deepest recesses I fly;
Nec tantum Veneris, quantum studiosa culinæ.
And silence reign'd, and folks were gone to bed :
Pensive he lay, extended on the ground;
The little lares kept their vigils round;
And purr around, and gently lick his face.
To all his plaints the sleeping curs reply,
And with hoarse snorings imitate a sigh.
Such gloomy scenes with lovers' minds agree,
And solitude to them is best society.
“ Could I,” (he cried) “ express, how bright a A Wır, by learning well refin'd,
grace A beau, but of the rural kind,
Adorns thy morning hands, and well-wash'd face; To Sylvia made pretences;
Thou wouldst, Colemira, grant what I implore, They both profess'd an equal love ;
And yield me love, or wash thy face no more. Yet hop'd, by different means to move
“Ah! who can see, and seeing not admire, Her judgment, or her senses.
Whene'er she sets the pot upon the fire ! Young sprightly Flirt, of blooming mien,
Her bands outshine the fire, and redder things; Watch'd the best minutes to be seen;
Her eyes are blacker than the pots she brings. Went—when bis glass advis’d him :
“ But sure no chamber-damsel can compare, While meagre Phil of books inquir'd;
When in meridian lustre shines my fair, A wight, for wit and parts admir'd;
When warın'd with dinner's toil, in pearly rills And witty ladies priz'd him.
Adown her goodly cheek the sweat distills. Sylvia had wit, had spirits too ;
“ Oh ! how I long, how ardently desire, To hear the one, the other view,
To view those rosy fingers strike the lyre ! Suspended held the scales :
For late, when bees to change their climes began, Her wit, her youth tov, claim'd its share,
How did I see them thrum the frying-pan! Let none the preference declare,
“With her! I should not envy George bis queen, But turn up-heads or tails.
Though she in royal grandeur deck'd be seen :
In russet pomp and greasy pride hang down.
“Ah! how it does my drooping heart rejoice,
When in the hall I hear thy mellow voice ! TO THE MEMORY OF AN AGRECABLE LADY, BURIED IN
How would that voice exceed the village bell ! MARRIAGE TO A PERSON UNDESERVING HER.
Would that but sing, I like thee passing well !! 'Twas always held, and ever will,
“When from the hearth she bade the pointers go, By sage mankind, discreeter
How soft, how casy did her accents flow ! T'anticipate a lesser ill,
• Get out,' she cricd: 'when strangers come to sup, Than undergo a greater.
One ne'er can raise those sporing devils up.' When mortals dread diseases, pain,
“Then, full of wrath, she kick'd each lazy brute, And languishing conditions ;
Alas! I envied even that salute; Who don't the lesser ills sustain
'T was sure misplac'd-Shock said, or seem'd to say, Of physic arid-physicians ?
He had as lief I had the kick as they. Rather than lose his whole estate,
“ If she the mystic bellows take in hand, Ile that but little sise is,
Who like the fair can that machine command ? Full gladly pays four parts in eight
O mayst thou ne'er by Eolus be seen, To taxes and excises.
For he would sure demand thee for his queen.
" But should the flame this rougher aid refuse ; | But if some inawkish potion And only gentler med'cines be of use;
Might chance to over-dose him,
He took a page “Such arts as these, exalt the drooping fire;
Of logic--to compose him. But in my breast a fiercer fiame inspire:
A trap, in haste and anger, I burn! I burn! O! give thy puffing o'er ;
Was bought, you need not doubt on't : And swell thy cheeks, and pout thy lips, no more! And such was the gin, “With all her haughty looks, the time Pve seen,
Were a lion once got in,
He could not, I think, get out on't.
The fact I'll not belye it,
Since none-I'll tell you that, “Look, with what charming grace, what winning Whether scholar or rat, tricks,
Mind books, when he has other diet,
But more of trap and bait, sir,
Why should I sing, or either?
Since the rat, who knew the sleight, “But thou, my fair! who never wouldsi approve, Came in the dead of night, Or hear the tender story of my love ;
And dragg'd them away together.
Through a fracture in the flooring :
It now may seem,
Than many a scull among ye !
Were vermin of condition :
What rats alone concern'd,
Was the greater politician. 'Twas in a land of learning,
That England 's topsy-turvy, The Muses' favourite city,
Is clear from these mishaps, sir ; Such pranks of late
Since traps ; we may determine, Were play'd by a rat,
Will no longer take our vermin, As tempt one to be witty:
But vermin? take our traps, sir ! All in a college study,
Let sophs, by rats infested, Where books were in great plenty ;
Then trust in cats to catch 'em; This rat would devour
Lest they grow as learn'd as we, More sense in an hour,
In our studies; where, d' ye see, Than I could write in twenty.
No mortal sits to watch 'em. Corporeal food, 'tis granted,
Good luck betide our captains ! Serves vermin less refin'd, sir ;
Good luck betide our cats, sir! But this, a rát of taste,
And grant that the one
May quell the Spanish Don,
He constantly attended :
ON CERTAIN PASTORALS. For evening song,
So rude and tuneless are thy lays, His dinner scarce was ended.
The weary audience vow, He spard not e'en heroics,
'T is not th’ Arcadian swain that sings, On which we poets pride us ;
But 't is his herds that low.
ON MR. C OF KIDDERMINSTER'S
POETRY. A river or a sea
THY verses, friend, are Kidderminster 3 stuff, Was to him a dish of tea;
And I must own you ’ve measur'd out enough. And a kingdom, bread and butter.
? Written at the time of the Spanish depredations. By Blackmore,
3 Famous for a coarse woollen manufacture.
TO THE VIRTUOSOS.
THE PROGRESS OF ADVICE, Hair, curious wights ! to whom so fair
A COMMON CASE.
Suade, nam certum est,
Says Richard to Thomas (and seem'd half afraid), Whether o'er hill, morass, or mound,
I am thinking to marry thy mistress's maid:
Now, because Mrs. Lucy thee is well known, You make your sportsman sallies;
I will do't if thou bidst me, or let it alone.
Nay don't make a jest on't; 'tis no jest to me;
For 'faith I'm in earnest, so pr’ythee be free. Yet, in the fury of the chase,
I have no fault to find with the girl since I knew her, No slope could e'er retard you; Blest if one fly repay the race,
But I'd have thy advice, ere I tie myself to her.” Or painted wings reward you.
Said Thomas to Richard, “ To speak my opinion,
There is not such a bitch in king George's dominion, Fierce as Camilla o'er the plain
And I firmly believe, if thou knew'st her as I do, Pursued the glittering stranger ;
Thou wouldst choose out a whipping-post, first to be Still ey'd the purple's pleasing stain,
tied to. And knew not fear nor danger. Tis you dispense the favourite meat
“She's peevish, she's thjevish, she's ugly, she's old, To Nature's filmy people;
And a liar, and a fool, and a slut, and a scold.” Know what conserves they choose to eat,
Next day Richard hasten'd to church and was wed, And what liqueurs to tipple.
And ere night had inform'd her what Thomas had
said. And if her brood of insects dies,
You sage assistance lend her; Can stoop to pimp for amorous flies,
A BALLAD. And help them to engender.
Trahit sua quemque voluptas. Tis you protect their pregnant hour;
From Lincoln to London rode forth our young And when the birth 's at hand, Exerting your obstetric power,
squire, Prevent a mothless land.
To bring down a wife, wbom the swains might ad
mire : Yet oh ! howe'er your towering view
But, in spite of whatever the mortal could say, Above gross objects rises,
The goddess objected the length of the way! Whate'er refinements you pursue, Hear what a friend advises :
To give up the opera, the park, and the ball, A friend, who, weigh'd with yours, must prize
For to view the stag's horns in an old country-hall; Domitian's idle passion;
To have neither China nor India to see! That wrought the death of teasing flies,
Nor a laceman to plague in a morning—not she! But ne'er their propagation..
To forsake the dear play-house, Quin, Garrick, and Let Flavia's eyes more deeply warm,
Clive, Nor thus yonr hearts determine,
Who by dint of mere humour had kept her alive; To slight dame Nature's fairest form,
To forgo the full box for his lonesome abode,
O Heavens ! she should faint, she should die on And sigh for Nature's vermiin.
the road : And speak with some respect of beaux, Nor more as triflers treat 'em:
To forgo the gay fashions and gestures of France, T is better learn to save one's clothes,
And leave dear Auguste in the midst of the dance, Than cherish moths, that eat 'em.
And Harlequin too !—'t was in vain to require it;
She might yield to resign the sweet singers of
Where the citizen-matron seduces her cuckold ; Aliusque et idem.
But Ranelagh soon would her footsteps recall, [hall. WHEN Tom to Cambridge first was sent,
And the music, the lamps, and the glare of VauxA plain brown bob he wore;
To be sure she could breathe no where else but in Read much, and look'd as though he meant
(clown; To be a fop no more.
Thus she talk'd like a wit, and he look'd like a See him to Lincoln's Inn repair,
But the while honest Harry despair'd to succeed, His resolution flag;
A coach with a coronet trail'd her to Tweed.
And tucks it in a bag.
(Vide Shakespear.) And soon a judge's rank rewards His pliant votes and bows.
Beneath a church-yard yew, Adie'ı, ye bol's ! ye bags, give place!
Decay'd and worn with age, Full bottoms co.ne instead !
At dusk of eve methought I spied Good Lord ! to see the various ways
Poor Slender's ghost, that whimpering cried, Of dressing--a calf's head.
O sweet, ( sweet Anne Page!
Can Damon's revenue maintain,
Thus does false Ambition rule us, Thus Pomp delude, and Folly fool us ; To keep a race of Aickering knaves, He grows himself the worst of slaves.
Ye gentle bards, give ear!
Who talk of amorous rage,
O sweet, O sweet Anne Page !
Your formal Muse engage ? I never dream'd of flame or dart, That fir'd my breast or pierc'd my heart,
But sigh'd, O sweet Anne Page ! And you, whose love-sick minds
No med'cine can assuage ! Accuse the leech's art no more, But learn of Slender to deplore;
O sweet, O sweet Anne Page !
Like linnets in a cage !
O sweet, O sweet Anne Page!
What horrid wars we wage! Of wounds receiv'd from many an eye; Yet mean as I do, when I sigh,
O sweet, O sweet Anne Page ! Hence every fond conceit
Of shepherd or of sage; "T is Slender's voice, 'tis Slender's way Expresses all you have to say,
sweet, O sweet Anne Page!
HINT FROM VOITURE. Let Sol his annual journeys run, And, when the radiant task is done, Confess, through all the globe, 't would pose him, To match the charms that Celia shows him. And should he boast he once had seen As just a form, as bright a mien, Yet must it still for ever pose him, To match-what Celia never shows him.
MART. O FORTUNE ! if my prayer of old Was ne'er solicitous for gold, With better grace thou mayst allow My suppliant wish, that asks it now. Yet think not, goddess, I require it For the same end your clowns desire it. In a well-made effectual string, Fajn would I see Lividio swing! Hear him, from Tyburn's height haranguing, But such a cur 's not worth one's hanging. Give me, O goddess ! store of pelf, And he will tie the knot himself.
To the memory
Of A. L. Esquire,
Through a trifling ridiculous world,
Maintaining his proper dignity, Notwithstanding the scoffs of ill-disposed persons,
And wits of the age,
Or censured his breeding ;
Desiring to ease the afflicted,
Without having for his end
in the world,
Of the party in distress;
Himself resting easy,
To hoard up superfluities;
But charitably diffusing it
To all around about him :
In his presence;
Not proceeding in this manner
Upon every trivial suggestion,
Dared let a ft.
THE PRICE OF AN EQUIPAGE.
Et regem potes, Ole, non habere.
“O sir !” says he,“ what ! ha'n't you seen it? 'T is Damon's coach, and Damon in it. "T is odd, methinks, you have forgot Your friend, your neighbour, and what not ! Your old acquaintance Damon !"_“ True; But 'faith his equipage is new.
, "Bless me,” said i, “ where can it end? What madness has possess'd my friend ? Fonr powder'd slaves, and those the tallest, Their stomachs doubtless not the smallest !