Such as in silence of the night

Come (sweep) along some winding entry, (Tyacke has often seen the sight)

Or at the chapel-door stand sentry :

In peaked hoods and mantles tarnish'd,
Sour visages, enough to scare ye,
High dames of honour once, that garnish'd
The drawing-room of fierce Queen Mary.
The peeress comes. The audience stare,

And doff their hats with due submission :
She curtsies, as she takes her chair,
To all the people of condition.

The bard, with many an artful fib,
Had in imagination fenced him,
Disproved the arguments of Squib,

And all that Groom could urge against him.

But soon his rhetoric forsook him,
When he the solemn hall had seen;

A sudden fit of ague shook him,

He stood as mute as poor Macleane.

Yet something he was heard to mutter,
"How in the park beneath an old tree,
(Without design to hurt the butter,

Or any malice to the poultry,)

F

"He once or twice had penn'd a sonnet ;

66

Yet hoped, that he might save his bacon : Numbers would give their oaths upon it,

He ne'er was for a conj'rer taken.”

The ghostly prudes with hagged face
Already had condemn'd the sinner.

My lady rose, and with a grace

She smiled, and bid him come to dinner.

'Jesu-Maria! Madam Bridget,

Why, what can the Viscountess mean?" (Cried the square-hoods in woful fidget) "The times are alter'd quite and clean!

"Decorum's turn'd to mere civility;

Her air and all her manners show it. Commend me to her affability!

Speak to a commoner and a poet!"

[llere five hundred stanzas are lost.]

And so God save our noble king,

And guard us from long-winded lubbers,

That to eternity would sing,

And keep my lady from her rubbers.

POSTHUMOUS

POEMS AND FRAGMENTS.

ODE ON THE PLEASURE ARISING FROM VICISSITUDE.

NOW the golden morn aloft

Waves her dew-bespangled wing,
With vermeil cheek and whisper soft
She woos the tardy spring:
Till April starts, and calls around

The sleeping fragrance from the ground;

And lightly o'er the living scene

Scatters his freshest, tenderest green.

New-born flocks, in rustic dance,

Frisking ply their feeble feet;
Forgetful of their wintry trance,

The birds his presence greet: