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IMPROMPTU.

Suggested by a view of the Seat and Ruins of a de

ceased nobleman, at Kingegate, Kent, in 1766. (The house was built as a correct imitation of Cicero's Formian Villa, at Baiæ.)

Old, and abandon'd by each venal friend,

Here Holland form'd the pious resolution To smuggle a few years, and strive to mend

A broken character and constitution.

On this congenial spot he fix'd his choice ;
Earl Goodwin trembled for his neighbouring

sand; Here seagulls scream, and cormorants rejoice, And mariners, though shipwreck’d, dread to

land.

Here reign the blustering North and blighting

East,
No tree is heard to whisper, bird sing;
Yet nature could not furnish out the feast,

Art he invokes new horrors still to bring. Here mouldering fanes and battlements arise,

Turrets and arches nodding to their fall, Unpeopled monasteries delude our eyes,

And mimic desolation covers all.

“Ah!” said the sighing peer, “had Bute been

true, Nor M_'s R_'s, B~'s friendship vain, Far better scenes than these had bless'd our

view, And realized the beauties which we feign :

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Purged by the sword, and purified by fire, Then had we seen proud London's bated

walls;

Owls would have hooted in St. Peter's choir,

And foxes stunk and litter'd in St. Paul's."

THE CANDIDATE:

OR, THE CAMBRIDGE COURTSHIP.

This tart lampoon was written a short time previous

to the election of a high steward of the University of Cambridge, for which office the noble lord

alluded to made an active canvass. When sly Jemmy Twitcher had smugg'd up his

face, With a lick of court white-wash, and pious

grimace, A wooing he went, where three sisters of old In harmless society guttle and scold. “ Lord ! sister," says Physic to Law, “I de

clare, Such a sheep-biting look, such a pick-pocket airl

NotI for the Indies:-You know I'am no prude, But his name is a shame, and his eyes are so

lewd! Then he shambles and straddles so oddly-I

fear No-at our time of life 'twould be silly, my

dear."

“I don't know,” says Law, “but methinks

for his look, 'Tis just like the picture in Rochester's book ; Then his character, Phizzy,--his morals,-his

lifeWhen she died, I can't tell, but he once had a

wife. They say he's no Christian, loves drinking and

-8, And all the town rings of his swearing and

roaring! His lying and filching, and Newgate-bird

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tricks ;

Not I-for a coronet, chariot and six."

Divinity heard, between waking and dozing, Her sisters denying, and Jemmy proposing : From table she rose, and with bumper in hand, She strok'd up her belly, and strok'd down her

band" What a pother is here about wenching and

roaring! Why, David loved catches, and Solomon

-g: Did not Israel filch from the' Egyptians of old Their jewels of silver and jewels of gold ?

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The prophet of Bethel, we read, told a lie':
He drinks-so did Noah ;- he swears-so do I:
To reject him for such peccadillos were odd ;
Besides, he repents-for he talks about G**-

[To Jemmy] Never hang down your head, you poor penitent

elf, Come buss me I'll be Mrs. Twitcher myself.”

TOPHET.

.

AN EPIGRAM.

Mr. Etough, of Cambridge University, the person

satirized, was as remarkable for the eccentricities of his character, as for his personal appearance. Mr. Tyson, of Beue't College, made an etching of his head, and presented it to Mr. Gray, who embellished it with the following lines. Mr. Etough was rector of Therlfield Herts, and of Colmworth, Bedfordshire.

Thus Tophet look'd; so grinn'd the brawling

fiend, Whilst frighted prelates bow'd and call'd him

friend. Our mother-church, with half-averted sight. Blush'd as she bless'd her grisly proselyte; Hosannas rung through hell's tremendous bor.

ders, 2d Satan's self had thought of taking orders.

AMATORY LINES.

This jeu d'esprit first appeared in Warton's Edition

of Pope.

With beauty, with pleasures surrounded, to

languishTo weep without knowing the cause of anguish : To start from short slumbers, and wish for the

morning— To close my dull eyes when I see it returning; Sighs sudden and frequent, looks ever dejected — Words that steal from my tongue, by no meaning

connected! Ah, say, fellow swains, how these symptoms

befel me? They smile, but reply not-Sure Delia will tell

me!

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