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* Know, puppies, this man's easy life,
With wit enliven senseless rocks; Serene from cares, unvex'd with strife,
Draw repartee from wooden blocks ; Was oft employ'd in doing good;
Make buzzards senators of note, A science you de'er understood:
And rooks harangue, that geese may vote. And charity, ye sons of Pride,
These moral fictions, first design'd A multitude of faults will hide.
To mend and mortify mankind, 1, at his board, more sense have found,
Old Esop, as our children know, Than at a hundred dinners round.
Taught twice ten hundred years ago Taste, learning, mirth, my western eye
His fly, upon the chariot wheel, Could often, there, collected spy:
Could all a statesman's merit feel; And I have gone well pleas'd to bed,
And, to its own importance just, Resolving what was sung or said.
Exclaim, with Bufo, “ What a dust!" ** And he, who entertain'd them all
His horse-dung, when the food ran high, With much good liquor, strong and small;
In Colon's air and accent cry, With food in plenty, and a welcome,
While tumbling down the turbid stream, Which would become my lord of Melcombe', “ Lord love us, how we apples swim !” Whose soups and sauces duly season'd,
But further instances to cite, Whose wit well tim'd, and sense well reason'd,
Would tire the hearers' patience quite. Give Burgundy a brighter stain,
No: what their numbers and their worth, And add new flavour to Champagne
How these admire, while those hold forth Shall this man to the grave descend,
From Hyde-Park on to Clerkenwell, ['nown'd, unhonour'd as my friend ?
Let clubs, let coffee-houses tell; No: by my deity I swear,
Where England, through the world renown'd, Nor shall the vow be lost in air;
In all its wisdom may be found : While you, and millions such as you,
While I, for ornament and use, Are sunk for ever from my view,
An orator of wood produce. And lost in kindred-darkness lie,
Why should the gentle reader stare This good old man shall never die:
Are wooden orators so rare? No matter where I place his name,
Saint Stephen's Chapel, Rufus' Hall,
That hears them in the pleader bawl,
When good Romaine harangues his best,
And tells his staring congregation,
That Newton's guilt was worse than treason,
For using, what God gave him, reason.
“ A pox of all this prefacing !"
That sach there are we all agree:
What is this wood ?” Why-Tyburn-tree. The design of the Marine Society is in itself so Here then this reverend oak harangue;
Laudable, and has been pursued so successfully Who makes men do so, ere they hang.
Patibulum loquitur. the fatness of a direct compliment, I have “ Each thing whatever, when aggriev'd, through the whole poem loaded their institution of right complains, to be reliev'd. with such reproaches as will show, I hope, in When rogues so rais'd the price of wheat,
the most striking manner, its real utility. That few folks could afford to eat, By authentic accounts, it appears, that from the (Just as, when doctors' fees run high, first rise of this society to the present year 1762, Few patients can afford to die) they have collected, clothed, and fitted out for the poor durst into murmurs break; the sea-service, 5452 grown men, 4511 boys: For losers must have leave to speak : in all 9965 persons: whom they have thus not Then, from reproaching, fell to mawling only saved, in all probability, from perdition Each neighbour-rogue they found forestalling. and infamy, but rendered them useful members As these again, their knaves and setters, of the community ; at a time too when their Durst vent complaints against their betters country stood most in need of their assistance. Whose only crime was in defeating
Their scheme of growing rich by cheating e
An injur'd minister of state ?
The finisher of care and pain The privilege of every poet,
May, sure, with better grace complain, From ancient down through modern time,
For reasons no less strong and true, To bid dead matter live in rhyme;
Marine Society, of you !
Of you, as every carman knows, 1 This poem was certainly written in 1757; but My latest and most fatal foes. the reader has only to remember, that Apollo is “ My property you basely steal, the god of prophecy as well as of poetry. Mallet. Which ero a British oak can feels
Feel and resent! what wonder then
“ First, that there is much good in ill, It should be felt by Britisb men,
My great apostle Mandevile When France, insulting, durst invade
Has made most clear. Read, if you please, Their clearest property of trade?
His moral fable of the bees. For which both nations, at the bar
Our reverend clergy next will own, Of that supreme tribunal, war,
Were all men good, their trade were gone; To show their reasons have agreed,
That were it not for useful vice, And lawyers, by ten thousands, fee'd;
Their learned pains would hear no price: Who now, for legal quirks and puns,
Nay, we should quickly bid defiance Plead with the rhetoric of great guns;
To their demonstrated alliance. And each his client's cause maintains,
“ Next, kingdoms are compos'd, we know, By knocking out th' opponent's brains :
Of individuals, Jack and Joe. While Europe all—but we adjourn
Now these, our sovereign lords, the rabble, This wise digression, and return.
For ever prone to growl and squabble, “ Your rules and statutes have undone me: The monstrous many-headed beast, My surest cards begin to shun me.
Whom we must not offend, but feast, My native subjects dare rebel,
Like Cerberus, should have their sop : Those who were born for me and Hell:
And what is that, but trussing up? And, but for you, the scoundrel-line
How happy were their hearts, and gay, Had, every mother's son, died mine.
At each return of hanging-day? A race unnumber'd as unknown,
To see Page 2 swinging they admire, Whom town or suburb calls her own;
Beyond ev'n Madox 2 on his wire! Of vagrant love the various spawn,
No baiting of a bull or bear, From rags and filth, from lace and lawn,
To Perry a dangling in the air!
And then, the being drunk a week,
But now that those good times are o'er,
How will they mutiny and roar! “ Nor let my cits be here forgot:
Your scheme absurd of sober rules They know to sin, as well as sot.
Will sink the race of men to mules; When Night demure walks forth, array'd
For ever drudging, sweating, broiling, In her thin negligée of shade,
For ever for the public toiling : Late risen from their long regale
Hard masters ! who, just when they need 'em, Of beef and beer, and bawdy tale,
With a few thistles deign to feed 'em. Abroad the common-council sally,
“ Yet more-for it is seldom known To poach for game in lane or alley;
That fault or folly stands aloneThis gets a son, whose first essay
You next debauch their infant-mind Will filch his father's till away;
With fumes of honourable wind; A daughter that, who may retire,
Which must beget, in heads untry'd, Some few years hence, with her own sire:
That worst of buman vices, pride. And, while his hand is in her placket,
All who my humble paths forsake, The filial virtue picks his pocket.
Will reckon, each, to be a Blake; Change-alley, too, is grown so nice,
There, on the deck, with arms a-kimbo, A broker dares refine on vice:
Already struts the future Bembow; With lord-like scorn of marriage-vows,
By you bred up to take delight in
No earthly things but oaths and fighting.
By making kicks and cuffs the fashion,
Will put all Europe in a passion. “ Now these, of each degree and sort,
The grand alliance, now quadruple, At Wapping dropp'd, perhaps at court,
Will pay us home, jusqu'au centuple:' Bred up for me, to swear and lie,
So the French king was beard to cry~ To laugh at Hell, and Heaven defy;
And can a king of Frenchmen lie? These, Tyburn's regimental train,
“ These, and more mischiefs I foresec Who risk their necks to spread my reign,
From fondling brats of base degree. From age to age, by right divine,
As mushrooms that on dunghills rise, Hereditary rogues, were mine:
The kindred-weeds bepeath despise; And each, by discipline severe,
So these their fellows will contemn, Improv'd beyond all shame and fear,
Who, in revenge, will rage at them : From guilt to guilt advancing daily,
For, through each rank, what more offends, My constant friend, the good Old-Bailey,
Than to behold the rise of friends ? To me made over, late or soon;
Still when our equals grow too great, I think, at latest, once a noon:
We may applaud, but we must hate. But, by your interloping care,
Then, will it be endur'd, when John Not one in ten shall be my share.
Has put my hempen ribbon on, “ Ere 'tis too late your errour see, You foes to Britain, and to me.
2 As these are all persons of note, and well To me: agreed-But to the nation;
known to our readers, we think any more particuI prove it thus by demonstration.
lar mention of them unnecessary, Mallet.
To see his ancient messmate Cloud,
" O search this sinful town with care: By you made turbulent and proud,
What numbers, duly mine, are there! And early taught my tree to bilk,
The full-fed herd of money jobbers, Pass in anotber all of silk?
Jews, Christians, rogues alike and robbers ! “Yet, one more mournful case to put;
Who riot on the poor man's toils, A hundred mouths at once you shut!
And fatten by a nation's spoils ! Half Grub-street, silenc'd in an hour,
The crowd of little knaves in place, Must curse your interposing power!
Our age's envy and disgrace. If my lost sons no longer steal,
Secret and snug, by daily stealth, What son of hers can earn a meal?
The busy vermin pick up wealth; You ruin many a gentle bard,
Then, withont birth, control the great! Who lir'd by heroes that die hard !
Then, withont talents, rule the state ! Their brother-hawkers too! that sung
“ Some ladies too-for some there are, How great from world to world they swung; With shame and decency at war; And by sad sonnets, quaver'd loud,
Who, on a ground of pale threescore,
Still spread the rose of twenty-four,
Who into vice intrepid rush;
Put modest whoring to the blush; They find that travelling now abroad,
And with more front engage a trooper To ease rich rascals on the road,
Than Jenny Jones, or Lucy Cooper. Is grown a calling much unsafe;
Send me each mischief-making nibbler ; That there are surer ways by half,
'Tis equal, senator or scribbler; To which they have their equal claim,
Who, on the self-same spot of groand, Of eaming daily food and fame:
The self-same hearers staring round, So down, at home, they sit, and think
Abjure and join with, praise and blame, How best to rob, with pen and ink.
Both men and measures, still the same. “ Hence, red-hot letters and essays,
Or serve our foes with all their might, By the John Lilburo of these days;
By proving Britons dare not fight: Who guards his want of shame and sense,
Slim, flimsy, fiddling, futile elves, With shield of sevenfold impudence.
They paint the nation from themselves; Hegre cards on Pelham, cards on Pitt,
Less aiming to be wise than witty, With much abuse and little wit.
And mighty pert, and mighty pretty. Hence libels against Hardwicke penn'd,
“ Send me each string--save green and blue That only hurt when they commend :
These, brother Tower-hill, wait for you. Hence oft ascrib'd to Fox, at least
But, Lollius, be not in the spleen ; All that defames his name-sake beast.
'Tis only Arthur's knights I mean Hence Cloacina hourly views
Not those of old renown'd in fable, Unnumber'd labours of the Muse,
Nor of the round, but gaming-table; That sink, where myriads went before,
Who, every night, the waiters say, And sleep within the chaos hoar:
Break every law they make by day; While her brown daughters, under ground, Plunge deep our youth in all the vice Are fed with politics profound.
Attendant upon drink and dice, Fach eager hand a fragment snaps,
And, mixing in nocturnal battles, More excrement than what it wraps.
Devour each other's goods and chattels; " These, singly, contributions raise,
While from the mouth of magic box, Of casual pudding and of praise.
With curses dire and dreadful knocks, Others again, who form a gang,
They Aling whole tenements away, Yet take due measures not to hang,
Fling time, health, fame- yet call it play! In magazines their forces join,
Till, by advice of special friends, By legal methods to púrloin :
The titled dupe a sharper ends : Whose weekly, or whose monthly, feat is
Or, if some drop of noble blood First to decry, then steal, your treatise.
Remains, not quite defil'd to mud, So rogues in France perform their job;
The wretch, umpity'd and alone,
Leaps headlong to the world unknown !"
OR, THE STRATAGEM.
Egregiam vero laudem et spolia ampla refertis, The task is next, all statesmen know it, To find another where to throw it,
Una dola Divûm si Foemina victa duorum est.
Virg. That, rising there in due degree, The public may no loser be.
ARGUMENT. Thus having heard how you invade,
A certain young lady was surprised, on borseback, And, in one way, destroy my trade;
by a violent storm of wind and rain from the That we at last may part good friends,
south-west ; which made her dismount, someHear how you still may make amends.
Dread his approach, distrust your power
For oh! there is one shepherd's hour:
And though he long, his aim to cover,
May, with the friend, disguise the lover,
The sense, or nonsense, of his wooing
Will but adore you into ruin. The god, in whose gay train appear
But, for those butterflies, the beaux,
Who buz around in tinsel-rows,
Where insects settle, they will stain.
Thus, Zephyr oft the nymph assail'd: Had seen this brightest of her kind:
As oft his little arts had fail'd : Had seen her oft with fresh surprise!
The folds of silk, the ribs of whale, And ever with desiring eyes!
Resisted still his feeble gale. Much, by her shape, her look, her air,
With these repulses vex'd at heart, Distinguish'd from the vulgar fair;
Pour Zephyr has recourse to art: More, by the meaning soul that shines
And his own weakness to supply, Through all her charms, and all refines.
Calls in a brother of the sky, Born to command, yet turn’d to please,
The rude South-west; whose mildest play Her form is dignity, with ease ;
Is war, mere war, the Russian way: Then-such a band, and such an arm,
A tempest-maker by bis trade, As age or impotence might warm !
Who knows to ravish, not persuade. Just such a leg too, Zephyr knows,
The terms of their aërial leagnie, The Medicéan Venus shows!
How first to harass and fatigue, So far he sees; so far admires.
Then, found on some remoter plain, Each charm is fuel to his fires :
To ply her close with wind and rain; But other charms, and those of price,
These terms, writ fair, and seald and sign'd, That form the bounds of Paradise,
Should Webbe or Stukely wish to find, Can those an equal praise command ;
Wise antiquaries, who explore All turn'd by Nature's finest hand ?
All that has ever pass'd- and more; Is all the consecrated ground
Though here too tedious to be told, With plumpness, firm, with smoothness, round? Are yonder in some cloud enrolld, The world, but once, one Zeuxis saw,
Those floating registers in air: A faultless form who dar'd to draw:
So let them mount, and lead them there. And then, that all might perfect be,
The grand alliance thus agreed, All rounded off in due degree,
To instant action they proceed ; To furnish out the matchless piece,
For 'tis in war a maxim known, Were rifled half the toasts of Greece.
As Prussia's monarch well has shown, 'Twas Pitt's white neck; 'twas Delia's thigh ; To break, at once, upon your foe, 'Twas Waldegrave's sweetly-brilliant eye;
And strike the first preventive blow, 'Twas gentle Pembroke's ease and grace,
With Toro's lungs, in Toro's form, And Hervey lent her maiden-face.
Whose very how d' ye is a storm, But dares he hope, on British ground,
The dread South-West his part begun, That these may all, in one, be found?
Thick clouds, extinguishing the Sun, These chiefly that still shun his eye?
At his command, from pole to pole He knows not; but he means to try.
Dark spreading, o'er the fair-one roll; Aurora rising, fresh and gay,
Who, pressing now her favourite steed, Gave promise of a golden day.
Adorn'd the pomp she deigns to lead. Up, with her sister, Mira rose,
O Mira! to the future blind, Four hours before our London beaux;
Th' insidious foe is close behind : For these are still asleep and dead,
Guard, guard your treasure, while you can; Save Arthur's sons-not yet in bed.
Unless this god should be the man. A rose, impearld with orient dew,
For lo! the clouds, at his known call, Had caught the passing fair-one's view;
Are closing round-they burst ! they fall! To pluck the bud he saw her stoop,
While at the charmer all aghast, And try'd, behind, to heave her hoop:
He pours whole winter in a blast: Then, while across the daisy'd lawn
Nor cares, in his impetuous mood, She turn'd, to feed her milk-white fawn,
If natives founder on the flood; Due westward as her steps she bore,
If Britain's coast be left as bare! Would swell her petticoat, before;
As he resolves to leave the fair. Would subtly steal his face between,
Here, gods resemble human breed; To see—what never yet was seen!
The world be damn'd-so they succeed. “ And sure, to fan it with his wing,
Pale, trembling, from her steed she fled, No nine-month symptom e'er can bring :
With silk, lawn, linen, round her head; His aim is but the nymph to please,
And, to the fawns who fed above,
Unveil'd the last recess of love.
· The very day on which the feet under admiral of practis'd passion in his face,
Hawke was blown into Torbay. Mallet.
Each wondering fawn was seen to bound?,
Each heightening stroke, each happy line, Each branchy deer o'erleap'd bis mound,
Awakes to life the form divine; At sight of that sequester'd glade,
Till, rais'd and rounded every charm, In all its light, in all its shade,
And all with youth immortal warm, Whieh rises there for wisest ends,
He sees, scarce crediting his eyes, To deck the temple it defends.
He sees a brighter Venus rise ! Lo! gentle tenants of the grove,
But, to the gentle reader's cost, For what a thousand heroes strove,
His pencil, with his life, was lost ; When Europe, Asia, both in arms,
And Mira must contented be,
To live by Ramsay and by me.
EDWIN AND EMMA.
Mark it, Cesario, it is true and plain.
The spinsters and the knitters in the Sun, [bones, Yet she, for honour guides her lays,
And the free maids that weave their thread with Enjoying yet, disdains to praise.
Do use to cbant it. It is silly sooth, If Frenchmen always fight with odds,
And dallies with the innocence of love, Are they a pattern for the gods?
Like the old age. Shaksp. Twelfth Night. Can Russia, can th' Hungarian 'vampire 4, With whom cast in the Swedes and empire, Far in the windings of a vale, Can four such powers, who one assail,
Fast by a sheltering wood, Deserve our praise, should they prevail ?
The safe retreat of Health and Peace, O mighty triumph! high renown!
An humble cottage stood. *T*0 gods have brought one mortal down; Have clubb'd their forces in a storm,
There beauteous Emma flourish'd fair, To strip one helpless female form!
Beneath a mother's eye ; Strip her stark naked ; yet confess,
Whose only wish on Earth was now Such charms are Beauty's fairest dress!
To see her blest, and die. But, all-insensible to blame,
The softest blush that Nature spreads The sky-born ravishers on flame
Gave colour to her cheek :
Such orient colour smiles through Heaven,
When vernal mornings break.
Nor let the pride of great ones scorn Nay, one brisk peer, yet all-alive,
This charmer of the plains : Would do the same, at eighty-fives.
That Sun, who bids their diamonds blaze,
To paint our lily deigns.
Long had she fillid each youth with love,
Each maiden with despair; To paint the rose, that, through its shade,
And though by all a wonder own'd,
Yet knew not she was fair.
Till Edwin came, the pride of swains,
A soul devoid of art; To Fame might consecrate her pen!
And from whose eye, serenely mild,
Shone forth the feeling heart.
A mutual flame was quickly caught:
Was quickly too reveal'd: Then bade his emulating art
Por neither bosom lodg'd a wish, 'Those wonders to the world impart.
That Virtue keeps conceal'd. Around the ready Graces stand,
What happy hours of home-felt bliss “ With each a pencil in her hand 6;"
Did love on both bestow !
But bliss too mighty long to last, • Immemor herbarum quos est mirata juvenca.
Where Fortune proves a foe.
Virg. 3 Et fuit ante Helanam, &c. Hor.
His sister, who, like Envy form’d, * A certain mischievous demon that delights Like her in mischief joy'd, much in human blood; of whom there are many to work them harm, with wicked skill, stories told in Hungary. Mallet.
Each darker art employ'd. 5 We believe there is a mistake in this reading ; for the person best informed and most concerned The father too, a sordid man, assares, that it should be only seventy-five. Mallet. Who love nor pity kuew,
This line is supplied to perfect the sense and was all-unfeeling as the clod, rbyrne
From whence his riches grew.