Laura, the rural circle's conftant boaft,
Sighs for the Mall, and longs to be a toast.
The priestling, proud of doctrine not his own,
Ufurps a scarf, and longs to preach in town.
Ev'n Wesley's faints, whofe cant has fill'd the nation,
Toil more for fame, I trow, than reformation.
B, though bleft with learning, fense and wit,
Yet prides himself in never fhewing it.
Safe in his cell, he fhuns the staring crowd,
And inward shines, like Sol behind a cloud.
For fame let fops to diftant régions roam,
Lo! here's the man-who never firs from home!
That unfeen wight, whom all men with to fee,
Illustrious grown-by mere obfcurity.
The PEPPER-BOX and SALT-SELLER. A FABLE.
To ** * * *, Efq. By the Same.
HE 'fquire had din'd alone one day,
And Tom was call'd to take away.
Tom clear'd the board with dextrous art;
But, willing to fecure a tart,
The liquorish youth had made an halt
And left the pepper-box and falt
Alone, upon the marble table,
Who thus, like men, were heard to fquabble.
Pepper began," Pray, Sir, fays he, What business have you here with me?
Is't fit that spices of my birth
Should rank with thee, thou feum of earth?
I'd have you know, Sir, I've a fpirit
Suited to my superior merit.-
Though now, confin'd within this caftre,
I ferve a northern Gothic mafter ;
Yet, born in Java's fragrant wood,
To warm an eastern monarch's blood,
The fun thofe rich perfections gave me,
Which tempted Dutchmen to enflave me.
Nor are my virtues Here unknown,
Though old and wrinkled now I'm grown.
Black as I am, the fairest maid
Invokes my stimulating aid,
To give her food the poignant flavour
And to each fauce its proper favour.
Pafties, ragouts, and fricaffees,
Without my seasoning, fail to please:
"Tis I, like wit, must give a zeft,
And sprightliness, to every feast.
Physicians too my use confefs;
My influence fagest matrons blefs :
When drams prove vain, and colics teaze,
To me they fly for certain ease.
Nay, I fresh vigour can dispense,
And cure ev'n age and impotence:
And, when of dulnefs wits complain,
I brace the nerves, and clear the brain.
But, to the 'fqnire here, I appeal→→→
He knows my real value well :
Who, with one pepper-corn content,
Remits the vaffal's annual rent-
Hence then, Sir Brine, and keep your distance 3
Go lend the fcullion your affistance;
For culinary uses fit;
To falt the meat upon the spit ;
Or just to keep our meat from stinking→→
And then-a fpecial friend to drinking !??
"Your folly moves me with furprize,
(The filver tripod thus replies)
Pray, mafter Pepper, why so hot?
First coufin to the mustard-pot!
What boots it how our life began?
'Tis breeding makes the gentleman.
Yet would you fearch my pedigree,
I rofe like Venus from the fea :
The fun, whose influence you boast,
Nurs'd me upon the British coast.
The chymifts know my rank and place,
When nature's principles they trace:
And wifeft moderns yield to me
The elemental monarchy.
By me all nature is fupplied
With all her beauty, all her pride!
In vegetation, I afcend;
To animals, their vigour lend;
Corruption's foe, I life preserve,
And ftimulate each flacken'd nerve.
I give jonquils their high perfume;
The peach its flavour, rofe its bloom:
Nay, I'm the cause, when rightly trac❜d,
Of Pepper's aromatic taste.
Such claims you teach me to produce:
But need I plead my obvious ufe
In seasoning all terrestrial food?
When heaven declares, that falt is good.
Grant then, fome few thy virtues find;
Yet falt gives health to all mankind:
Physicians fure will fide with me,
While cooks alone fhall plead for thee.
In short, with all thine airs about thee,
The world were happier far without thee.'
The 'fquire, who all this time fat mute,
Now put an end to their difpute :
rung the bell-bade Tom convey
The doughty difputants away.-
The falt, refresh'd by shaking up,
At night did with his master fup:
The pepper, Tom affign'd his lot
With vinegar, and mustard-pot;
A fop with bites and sharpers join'd,
And to the fide-board well confin'd!
Thus real genius is refpected!
Conceit and folly thus neglected!
And, O my SHENSTONE! let the vain,
With misbecoming pride, explain
Their fplendor, influence, wealth or birth;
-'Tis men of sense are men of worth.
HE faunt'ring cit, who strolls from town,
Twith fcorn furveys my gothic cell,
Or wond'ring asks, what homely clown
In this drear folitude can dwell.
These mould'ring walls, with ivy crown'd,
That charm me with their folemn scene,
These flow'rs that bloom fpontaneous round,
Provoke his mirth, or give the spleen.
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