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TO A FRIEND.
What is this wreath, so green ! so fair ! Have you ne'er seen, my gentle squire,
Which many wish, and few must wear?
Which some men's indolence can gain, The humours of your kitchen fire
And some men's vigils Be'er obtain ? Says Ned to Sal, “ I lead a spade,,
For what must Sal or poet sue, Why don't ye play ?--the girl's afraid
Ere they engage with Ned or you? Play something—any thing—but play
For luck in verse--for luck at loo? "Tis but to pass the time away
Ah no! 't is genius gives you fame,
And Ned, through skill, secures the game.
THE POET AND THE DUN. 1741. Sal thought and thought, and miss'd her aim,
These are messengers And Ned, ne'er studying, won the game.
That feelingly persuade me what I am. Suakes Methinks, old friend, 't is wondrous true, Comes a dun in the morning and raps at my doorThat verse is but a game at loo.
“I made bold to call—'tisa twelvemonth and more While many a bard, that shows so clearly I'm sorry, believe ine, to trouble you thus, sir,He writes for his amusement merely,
But Job would be paid, sir, had Job been a mercer. Is known to study, fret, and toil;
“My friend, bave but patience”—“ Aye, these are And play for nothing all the while:
your ways.” Or praise at most ; for wreaths of yore
“ I've got but one shilling to serve me two days Ne'er signified a farthing more:
But, sir-pry'thee take it, and tell your attorney, Till, having vainly toil'd to gain it,
If I ha’n't paid your bill, I have paid for your jourHe sees your flying pen obtain it.
ney." Through fragrant scenes the trifler roves,
Well, now thou art gone, let me govern my pasAnd hallow'd haunts that Phæbus loves ;
sion, Where with strange heats his bosom glows,
And calmly consider--consider? vexation ! And mystic flames the god bestows.
What whore that must paint, and must put on false You now none other flame require,
locks, Than a good blazing parlour fire ;
And counterfeit joy in the pangs of the pox! Write verses to defy the scorners,
What beggar's wife's nephew, now starv'd, and now In shit-houses and chimney-corners.
Who, wanting to eat, fears himself shall be eaten! Sal found her deep-laid schemes were vain
What porter, what turnspit, can deem his case The cards are cut-" Come deal again
hard! No good comes on it when one lingers
Or what dun boast of patience that thinks of a bard! I'll play the card comes next my fingers" Fortune could never let Ned loo her,
Well, I'll leave this poor trade, for no trade can be
poorer, When she had left it wholly to her.
Turn shoe-boy, or courtier, or pimp, or procurer ; Well, now who wins ?-why, still the same- Get love, and respect, and good living, and pelf, For Sal has lost another game.
And don some poor dog of a poet myself. “ I've done ;” (she mutter'd) “ I was saying, One's credit, however, of course will grow better; It did not argufy my playing.
Here enters the footman, and brings me a letter. Some folks will win, they cannot choose,
“Dear sir ! I receiv'd your obliging epistle, But think or not think-some must lose.
Your fame is secure—bid the critics go whistle. I may have won a game or som
I read over with wonder the poem you sent me; But then it was an age ago
And I must speak your praises, no soul shall preIt ne'er will be my lot again
vent me. I won it of a baby tben
The audience, believe me, cried out every line Give me an ace of trumps and see,
Was strong, was affecting, was just, was divine ; Our Ned will beat me with a three.
All pregnant, as gold is, with worth, weight, and "T is all by luck that things are carried
beauty, He'll suffer for it, when he's married."
And to hide such a genius was—far from your duty, Thus Sal, with tears in either eye;
I foresee that the court will be hugely delighted : While victor Ned sat tittering by.
Sir Richard, for much a less genius, was knighted.
Adieu, my good friend, and for high life prepare ye; Thus I, long envying your success,
I could say much more, but you're modest, I spare And bent to write and study less,
ye.” Sate down, and scribbled in a trice,
Quite fir'd with the flattery, I call for my paper, Just what you see and you despise.
And waste that, and health, and my time, and my You, who can frame a tuneful song,
taper: And hum it as you ride along;
Iscribble till morn, when, with wrath no small store, And, trotting on the king's bigh-way,
Comes my old friend the mercer, and raps at my Snatch from the hedge a sprig of bay;
door. Accept this verse, howe'er it flows,
“ Ab! friend, 't is hut idle to make such a pother, From one that is your friend in prose.
Fate, Fate has ordain'd us to plague one another."
WRITTEN AT AN INN AT HENLEY | Life squares not, friends, with your proceeding; To thee, fair Freedom! I retire
It flies, while you display your breeding ; From flattery, cards, and dice, and din ;
Such breeding as one's granam preaches, Nor art thou found in mansions higher
Or some old dancing-master teaches. Than the low cot, or humble inn.
O for some rude tumultuous fellow, 'Tis here with boundless power I reign;
Halfcrazy, or, at least, half mellow,
To come behind you unawares, And every health which I begin,
And fairly push you both down stairs ! Converts dull port to bright champaigne;
But Death's at handlet me advise ye, Such freedom crowns it, at an inn.
Go forward, friends! or he'll surprise ye. I fly from pomp, I fly from plate !
- Besides, how insincere you are! } I fly from Falsehood's specious grin;
Do ye not flatter, lie, forswear, Freedom I love, and form I hate,
And daily cheat, and weekly pray, And choose my lodgings at an inn.
And all for this to lead the way? Here, waiter! take my sordid ore,
Such is my theme, which means to prove, Which lacqueys else might hope to win;
That though we drink, or game, or love, It buys, what courts have not in store;
As that or this is most in fashion, It buys me freedom at an inn.
Precedence is our ruling passion. Whoe'er has travell'd life's dull round,
When college-students take degrees, Where'er his stages may have been,
And pay the beadle's endless fees, May sigh to think he still has found
What moves that scientific body,
But the first cutting at a gaudy?
Content to trudge the streets, and stare at
The fat apothecary's chariot,
But that, in Charlotte's chamber (see The clumsy shape, the frightful mien,
Moliere's “ Medicin inalgré lui') Tremendous claws, and shagged hair,
The leech, howe'er his fortunes vary, Of that grim brute yclept a bear? ,
Still walks before th' apothecary? He from his dam, the learn'd agree,
Flavia in vain has wit and charms. Receiv'd the curious form you see ;
And all that shines, and all that warms; Who, with her plastic tongue alone,
In vain all human race adore her, Produc'd a visage-like her own
For-Lady Mary ranks before her. And thus they hint, in mystic fashion,
O Celia, gentle Celia ! tell us, The powerful force of education
You who are neither vain nor jealous; Perhaps von crowd of swains is viewing
The softest breast, the mildest mien ! E'en now, the strange exploits of Bruin;
Would you not feel some little spleen, Who plays his antics, roars aloud;
Nor bite your lip, nor furl your brow, The wonder of a gaping crowd! :
If Florimel, your equal now, So have I known an awkward lad,
Should, one day, gain precedence of ye? Whose birth has made a parish glad,
First serv'd--though in a dish of coffee?' Forbid, for fear of sense, to roam,
Plac'd first, although, where you are found, And taught by kind mamma at home;
You gain the eyes of all around? Who gives him many a well-tried rule,
Nam'd first, though not with half the fame With ways and means—to play the fool.
That waits my charming Celia's name? In sense the same, in stature higher,
Hard fortune! barely to inspire He shines, ere long, a rural squire,
Our fixt esteem, and fond desire ! Pours forth unwitty jokes, and swears,
Barely, where'er you go, to prove And bawls, and drinks, but chiefly stares :
The source of universal love! His tenants of superior sense
Yet be content, observing this, Carouse, and laugh, at his expense;
Honour's the offspring of Caprice: And deem the pastime I'm relating
And Worth, howe'er you have pursued it,
Has now no power-but to exclude it.
A kind of supplemental station.
Poor Swift, with all his worth, could ne'er,
He tells us, hope to rise a peer;
So, to supply it, wrote for fame: “Sir, will you please to walk before?”
And well the wit secur'd bis aim. -“ No, pray, sir-you are next the door."
A common patriot has a drift "Upon mine honour, I'll not stir"
Not quite so innocent as Swift : “ Sir, I'm at home, consider, sir "
In Britain's cause he rants, he labours; “ Excuse me, sir, I'll not go first.”
“ He's honest, 'faith”_ have patience, neigh“ Well, if I must be rude, I must
bours ! in But yet I wish I could evade it
For patriots may sometimes deceive, "T is strangely clownish, be persuaded
May beg their friends' reluctant leave Go forward, cits ! go forward, squires !
To serve them in a higher sphere, Nor scruple each what each admires.
And drop their virtue to get there.
As Lucian tells us, in his fashion, 1 Of a fond matron's education. I low souls put off each carthly passion, VOL. XIII.
Ere on Elysium's fowery strand
The Devil's works are plain and evil, Old Charon suffer'd them to land;
But few or none have seen the Devil.
Old Noll, indeed, if we may credit
Contriv'd with Satan how to fool us,
And bargain'd face to face to rule us; If then 't is rank which all men covet,
But then old Noll was one in ten, And saints alike and simpers love it :
And sought him more than other men. If place, for which our courtiers throng
Our shepherd too, with like attention, So thick, that few can get along;
May meet the female fiends we mention, For which such servile toils are seen,
He rose one morn at break of day, Who's happier than a king?—a queen.
And near the field in ambush lay: Howe'er men aim at elevation,
When lo ! a brace of girls appears, 'Tis properly a female passion :
The third, a matron much in years. Women, and beaux, beyond all measure
Smiling, amidst the pease, the sinners Are charm'd with rank's ecstatic pleasure.
Sate down to cull their future dinners; Sir, if your drift I rightly scan,
And, caring little who might own them, You'd bint a beau was not a man :
Made free as though themselves had sown them. Say, women then are fond of places;
'Tis worth a sage's observation I wave all disputable cases.
How Love can make a jest of Passion. A man perhaps would soinething linger,
Anger had forc'd the swain from bed, Were his lov'd rank to cost-a finger;
His early dues to Love unpaid ! Or were an ear or toe the price on 't,
And Love, a god that keeps a potber, He might deliberate once or twice on 't;
And will be paid one time or other, Perhaps ask Gataker's advice on 't,
Now banish'd Anger out of door, And many, as their frame grows old,
And claim'd the debt withheld before. Would hardly purchase it with gold.
If Anger bid our youth revile, But women rish precedence ever :
Love form’d his features to a smile: "T is their whole life's supreme endeavour ;
And knowing well’t was ali grimace, It fires their youth with jealous rage,
To threaten 1. ith a smiling face, And strongly animates their age.
He in few words express'd his mindPerhaps they would not sell out-right,
And none would dem them much unkind.
The amorous youth, for their orience,
That recompence from each, which shame
Forbids a bashful Muse to name. All fierce and pregnant with reply.
Yet, more this sentence to discover, But lend your patience and your car,
'Twas what Bet * * grants her luver, · An argument shall make it clear.
When he, to make the strumpet willing, But bold, an argument may fail,
Has spent his fortune-to a shilling. Beside, my title: says a tale.
Each stood a while, as 't were suspended, Where Avon rolls her winding stream,
And loth to do, w bat-each intended. Avon, the Muses' favourite theme!
At length, with soft pathetic sighs, Avon, that fills the farmers' purses,
The matron, bent with age, replies-And decks with flowers both farms and verses,
" 'Tis vain tu strive-Justice, I know, She visits many a fertile vale
And our ill stars will have it som Such was the scene of this my tale.
But let my tears your wrath assuage, For 't is in Evesham's vale, or near it,
And show some deference for age! That folks with laughter tell and hear it.
I from a distant village came, The soil with annual plenty blest
Am old, God kuows, and something lame; Was by young Corydon possest.
And if we yield, as yield we must, His youth alone I lay before ye,
Dispatch my crazy body first.” As most material to my story:
Our shepherd, like the Phrygian swain, For strength and vigour too, he had them,
When circled round on Ida's plain And 't were not much amiss to add them.
With goddesses he stood suspended, Thrice happy lout! whose wide domain
And Pallas's grave speech was ended, Now green with grass, now gilt with grain,
Own'd what she ask'd might be his duty;
But paid the compliment to Beauty.
TO BE PERFORMED BY DR. BRETTLE, AND A CHORUS The stripling own'd a field of pease ;
OF HALES-OWEN CITIZENS.
The Instrumental Part, a Viol d' Amour. Each morn discover'd to his sight
AIR BY THE DOCTOR.
Awake' I say, awake, guod people !
And be for once alive and gay ;
Come let's be merry; stir the tipple;
EPILOGUE TO THE TRAGEDY OF CLEONE. How can you sleep, Wbilst I do play? how can you sleep, &c.
WELL, ladies—so much for the tragic style
And now the custoin is to make you smile.
To make us smile!-methinks I hear you say
Why, who can help it, at so strange a play?
The captain gone three years !--and then to blame For wondrous hard is our condition,
The faultless conduct of his virtuous dame!
My stars! -what gentle belle would think it treason,
When thus prorok'd, to give the brute some reason? To drink,
Out of my house !-this night, forsooth, depart ! To hear,
A modern wife had said " With all my heart-
But think not, haughty sir, I'l} go alone!
Order your coach—conduct me safe to town-
A wight of skill and judgment deep! And pray take care my pin-money be paid.”
Yet memoirs, not of modern growth, declare
The time has been when modesty and truth
Were deem'd additions to the charms of youth; Whilst I do play?
When women bid their necks, and veil'd their faces, Sal.—How could they go ! Warlike music.
Nor romp'd, nor rak’d, nor star'd at public places,
Nor took the airs of Amazons for graces :
But with the joys of wedlock mix'd the cares.
Those times are past-yet sure they merit praise, When Cela, love's eternal foe,
For marriage triumph'd in those golden days:. To rich old Gomez first was married,
By chaste decorum they affection gain'd; And angry Cupid came to know
By faith and fondness what they won, inaintain'd. His shafts had err'd, his bow miscarried;
'Tis yours, ye fair, to bring those days again,
And form anew the hearts of thoughtless men; He sigh’d, he wept, he hung his head,
Make Beauty's lustre amiable as bright, On the cold ground, full sad, he laid him;
And give the soul, as weil as sense, delight; When Plutus, there by Fortune led,
Reclaim from folly a fantastic age, In this desponding plight survey'd him.
That scorns the press, the pulpit, and the stage. “And sure,” he cried, “ you'll own at last
Let truth and tenderness your breasts adorn, Your boasted power by mine exceeded :
The marriage chain with transport shall be worn; Say, wretched boy, now all is past,
Each blooming virgin rais'd into a bride, How little she your efforts heeded.
Shall double all their joys, their cares divide;
Alleviate grief, compose the jars of strife, “ If with success you would assail,
And pour the balm that sweetens human life. Gild, youngster, doubly gild your arrows : Little the feather'd shafts avail, Though wing'd from Mamma's doves and spar
MORAL PIECES. " What though each reed, each arrow grew
Where Venus bath'd herself; depend on't, "Twere more for use, for beauty too, A diamond sparkled at the end on't.”
THE JUDGMENT OF HERCULES. “ Peace, Plutus, peace !"—the boy replied ; While blooming Spring descends from genial skies, “ Were not my arts by yours infested,
By whose mild influence instant wonders rise ; I could each other power deride,
From whose soft breath Elysian beauties flow, And rule this circle unmolested.
The sweets of Hagley, or the pride of Stowe;
Will Lyttelton the rural landscape range, “ See yonder pair! no worldly views
Leave noisy Fame, and not regret the change? In Chloe's generous breast resided :
Pleas'd will he tread the garden's early scenes, Love bade her the spruce valet choose,
And learn a moral from the rising greens ? And she by potent love was guided.
There, warm'd alike by Sol's enlivening power, “ For this she quits her golden dreams,
The weed, aspiring, emulates the flower : In her gilt coach no more she ranges :
The drooping flower, its fairer charms display'd, And her rich crimson, bright with gems,
Invites, from grateful hands, their generous aid : For cheeks impearl'd with tears, she changes.
Soon, if none check th' invasive foe's designs,
The lively lustre of these scenes declines. “ Though sordid Celia own'd your power,
'Tis thus the spring of youth, the morn of life, Think not so monstrous my disgrace is :
Rears in our minds the rival seeds of strife, You gain'd this nymph—that very hour
Then passion riots, reason then contends ; I gain'd a score in different places."
And on the conquest every bliss depends :
Life, from the nice decision, takes its hue: | And while she chose in natire charms to shine,
There are, who, blind to Thought's fatiguing ray, Sublime her height, majestic was her pace,
And match'd the awful honours of her face. Nor Virtue's foes, though they her paths decline, The shrubs, the flowers, that deck'd the verdant And scarce her friends, though with her friends they
ground, In hers, or Vice's casual roads advance [jo:n, Seem'd, where she trod, with rising lustre crown'd. Thoughtless, the sinners or the saints of Chance! Still her approach with stronger influence warm'd; Yet some more nobly scorn the vulgar voice; She pleas'd, while distant; but, when near, she With judgment fix, with zeal pursue their choice,
charm'd. When ripen'd Thought, when Reason, born to reign, So strikes the gazer's eye, the silver gleam Check the wild tumults of the yonthful vein; That glittering quivers o'er a distant stream: While Passion's lawless tides, at their command, But from its banks we see new beauties rise, Glide through more useful tracts, and bless the land. | And in its crystal bosom trace the skies.
Happiest of these is he whose matchless miud, With other charms the rival vision glow'd;
Its form, contriv'd her faulty size to grace;
Her plaited hair disguis'd with brilliants glar'd;
And every gein that strikes less curious eyes; In all that wins, in all that merits fame :
Expos'd her breast with foreign sweets perfum'd; as youth's perplexing stage his doubts inspir'd, | And round her brow a roseate garland bloom'd. When great Alcides to a grove retir'd.
Soft smiling, blushing lips conceal'd her wiles; Through the lone windings of a devions glade, Yet, ab! the blushes artful as the smiles. Resign'd to thought, with lingering steps he stray'd; Oft gazing on her shade, th' enraptur'd fair Blest with a mind to taste sincerer joy's,
Decreed the substance well deserv'd her care : Arm'd with a heart each false one to despise, Her thoughts, to others' charms malignly blind, Dubious he stray'd, with wavering thoughts possest, Centred in that, and were to that confin'd: Alternate passions, struggling, shar'd his breast; And if on others' eyes a glance were thrown, The various arts which human cares divide,
"T was but to watch the influence of her own, In deep attention all his mind employ'd :
Much like her guardian, fair Cythera's queen, Anxious, if Fame an equal bliss secur'd,
When for her warrior she refines her mien; Or silent Ease with softer charms allur'd.
Or when, to bless her Delian favourite's arms, The sylvan choir, whose numbers sweetly flow'd, | The radiant fair invigorates her charms : The fount that murmur'd, and the flowers that Much like her pupil, Egypt's sportive dame, The silver flood that in meanders led blow'd ; Her dress expressive, and her air the same, His glittering streams along th’enliven'd mead; | When her gay bark o'er silver Cydnos roll'd, The soothing breeze, and all those beauties join'd, And all th' emblazon'd streamers war'd in gold. Which, whilst they please, efieminate the mind, Such shone the vision; nor forbore to move In vain! while distant, on a summit rais'd,
The fond contagious airs of lawless love, Th’imperial towers of Fame attractive blaz'd. Each wanton eye deluding glances fir’d, While thus he trac'd through Fancy's puzzling And amorous dimples on cacb cheek conspir'd. maze
Lifeless her gait, and slow, with sceming pain The separate sweets of pleasure and of praise; She dragg'd her loitering limbs along the plain; Sudden the wind a fragrant gale convey'd,
Yet made some faint efforts, and first approach'd And a new lustre gain'd upon the shade.
the swain. At once, before his wondering eyes were seen So glaring draughts, wjih tawdry lustre bright, Two female forms of more than mortal mien. Spring to the view, and rush upon the sight: Various their charms; and in their dress and face More slowly charms a Raphael's chaster air, Each seem'd to vie with some peculiar grace. Waits the calm search, and pays the searcher's care. This, whose attire less clogg'd with art appear'd, Wrapp'd in a pleas'd suspense, the youth survey'd The simple sweets of junocence endear'd.
The various charms of each attractive maid; Her sprightly bloom, her quick sagacious eye, Alternate each be view'd, and each admir'd, Show'd natire merit, mix'd with modesty.
And found, alternate, varying flames inspir'd. Her air diffus'd a mild but awful ray,
Quick o'er their forms his eyes with pleasure ran, Severely sweet, and innocently gay.
When she who first approach'd him, first began : Such the chaste image of the martial maid,
“ Hither, dear boy, direct thy wandering eyes In artless folds of virgin white array'd !
'Tis here the lovely vale of pleasure lies. She let no borrow'd rose ler cheeks adorn,
Debate no more, to me thy life resign; Her blushing cheeks that sham'd the purple morn. Each sweet which Nature can diffuse is mine: Her charms nor had, nor wanted artful foils, For me the nymph diversifies her power, Or studied gestures, or well-practis'd smiles. Springs in a tree, or blossoms in a flower; She scorn'd the toys which render beauty less : To please my ear, she tunes the linnet's strains ; She provid th' engaging chastity of dress;
To please my eye, with lịlies paints the plains;