HA ODE on the CHOLERIC CHARACTER. PINDAR. APPY the man whose heart of fuch a fort is, As holds more butter-milk than aqua-fortis! But, lord! how paffionate are certain folk! How like the fea, reflecting ev'ry form, So placid! the next inftant in a storm, Dafhing against the inoffenfive rock; Mounting towards the fkies with fuch a thunder, As though it wish'd (the lev❜ler!) to bring it under Sun, moon, and stars, and tear them into tattersSuch paffions verily are serious matters. Men in morality should ne'er be idle, But for their paffions make a strong curb bridle. Not in the brass, by which his finger's fpitted; For a fmall philosophy we find, That, as a pin is not endow'd with mind, Of malice, call'd prepenfe, Pin stands acquitted: Thus then his awkwardness muft bear the blame, Suffer for others' fooleries and fins. How oft a drunken blockhead blames a post, That overturns him, breaks his fhins, or head; A little Welchman, Welchman like indeed, A Bachelor-and therefore ev'ry need Was, for fubfiftence, forc'd to him to pray: This Bachelor, to fatisfy withal His gullet, Put into a fmall pot-indeed too small, The pullet's legs were not to be confin'd, So out they pok'd themfelves, fo fleek and white; The Welchman curs'd her legs, with wicked mind, And pufh'd them in again, with monftrous fpite. The pullet liking not the pot's embrace, Pok'd forth her fhrinking legs again, fo fair; And wifhing much to take a little air. The Cambro-Briton, waxing red and hot, Which put the Welchman's paffions in a roar. What will not mortals, urg'd by rage and fin, do? And, full of vengeance, whirls her out at window. THE BRITISH POETICAL MISCELLANY. SHEPHERD LUBIN and his DOG TRAY. YOUNG YOUNG Lubin was a fhepherd boy, And many a night was heard to figh, For not a lambkin e'er was loft, Yet not a trustier lad was known An orphan lad poor Lubin was, It chanc'd that o'er the boundless heath, One winter's day, his flocks had fpread, By hunger urg'd, to feek the blade, That lurk'd beneath its fnowy bed. And hous'd, at eve, his fleecy charge, With heavy heart he fhap'd his way, Poor Lubin own'd his flocks had flray'd, And had he, to their pinching wants, The whiftling winds did fiercely blow; With arrowy keenness, came the fnow: The fmall thick fnow, that Eurus drives Yet thus he left his master's house, And fhap'd his fad uncertain way; By man unnotic'd and forfook, And follow'd but by—trusty Tray—— Poor trufty Tray! a faithful dog; Lubin and he were young together: Sull would they grace each other's fide, Unlike to worldly friends were they, When Lubin's random ftep involv'd Thus, 'midft the horrors of the night, No little cheering star they faw, Nay, e'en that most officious guide Of those who roam and those who mope, Retiring Will o'th' Wifp, refus'd To trim the lamp of treach'rous hope. Nor parish bell was heard to ftrike The hour of "tardy-gaited night;" Benumb'd at length his fliff'ning joints, His hair hung clatt'ring 'gainst his cheek. As thus he felt his falt'ring limbs Rufh'd forth, and ftaid his fleeting breath, And fhow'd to his imperfect fight The harmlefs caufe of all his woe; His little lambkin, cold and stiff, Stretch'd on its bed of glist'ning fnow. |