Next, in an amber box, is shown The nobleft jewel of the crown: "This, fir," faid he, "believe your flave, "Is the fine gem the sultan gave; "Around it darts its beams of light, "No comet e'er was half fo bright." The king with joy the gem admires, Well-pleas'd, and half-convinc'd, retires. "Ali," faid he, " with you I dine; "Your furniture, I'm told, is fine." Wife Ali, for this favour fhow'd, Humbly with loweft reverence bow'd. At Ali's houfe now every hand Is bufy at their lord's command; Where at th' appointed hour refort The king and all his fplendid court. Ali came forth his prince to meet, And, lowly bowing, kifs'd his feet. On all his compliments bestows, Civil alike to friends and foes. The king, impatient to behold His furniture of gems and gold, From room to room the chace purfu'd, With curious eyes each corner view'd, Ranfack'd th' apartments o'er and o'er, Each clofet fearch'd, unlock'd each door; But all he found was plain and coarse, The meanest Persian scarce had worse; Thefe Ali for convenience bought, Nor for expenfive trifles fought. One door a prying eunuch spy'd, With bars and locks well fortify'd, And now, fecure to find the prize, Shew'd it the king with joyful eyes. "Ali," faid he, "that citadel,

"Is ftrong, and baricadoed well?

"What have you there?" Ali reply'd,

Oh, fir, there's lodg'd my greatest pride;
"There are the geme value most,
"And all the treafures I can boast."
All now convinc'd of his difgrace,
Triumph appear'd in every face.
The monarch doubted now no more;
The keys are brought, unlock'd the door,
When, lo! upon the wall appear
His fhepherd's weeds hung up with care,
Nor crook nor fcrip was wanting there;
Nor pipe that tun'd his humble lays,
Sweet folace of his better days!
Then, bowing low, he touch'd his breast,
And thus the wondering king addreft:
"Great Prince! your Ali is your flave,
"To you belong whate'er I have;

"Goods, house, are yours, nay yours this head, "For fpeak the word, and I am dead :

"Thefe moveables, and thefe alone,

I may with juftice call my own. "Your royal fire, Abbas the Great, "Whom nations proftrate at his feet "On earth ador'd; whofe foul at rest, In paradife a welcome guest,

16

"Enjoys its full, and fragrant bowers, "Or wantons upon beds of flowers, "While the pure ftream, in living rills, "From rocks of adamant diftils,

Sub is the Paradife the Turks exped. VOL. V.

“And black-ey'd nymphs attend his nod, "Fair daughters of that bleft abode: "By his command, I left the plain, "An humble, but contented fwain. "Nor fought I wealth, nor power, nor place; "All these were owing to his grace; "'Twas his mere bounty made me great, "And fix'd me here, in this high seat, "The mark of envy. Much he gave, "But yet of nought depriv'd his flave: "He touch'd not thefe. Alas! whose spite, "Whose avarice, would these excite? "My old, hereditary right !

poor,

}

"Grant me but thefe, Great Prince, once more, "Grant me the pleasure to be "This fcrip, thefe homely weeds, I'll wear, "The bleating flocks fhall be my care; "Th' employ that did my youth engage, "Shall be the comfort of my age."

The king, amaz'd at fuch a fcorn
Of riches, in a fhepherd born;
"How foars that foul," faid he, " above
"The courtier's hate, or monarch's love!
"No power fuch virtue can effice,
"No jealous malice fhall disgrace.

"Wealth, grandeur, pomp, are a mere cheat,
"But this is to be truly great."
While tears ran trickling down his face,
He clafp'd him in a close embrace;
Then caus'd himself to be undrest,
And cloath'd him in his royal vest:
The greatest honour he could give,
Or Persian subjects can receive.

THE SWEET-SCENTED MISER.

ELL me, my noble generous-friend,
With what defign, and to what end,

TEL

Do greedy fools heap up with care

That pelf, which they want heart to fhare?
What other pleasure can they know,
But to enjoy, or to bestow?
Acts of benevolence and love
Give us a taste of heaven above;
We imitate th' immortal powers,

Whofe fun-fhine, and whofe kindly showers,
Refresh the poor and barren ground,
And plant a Paradife around:

But this mean, fneaking avarice,

Is a collection of all vice.

Where this foul weed but taints the place,
Nor virtue grows, nor worth, nor grace;
The foul a defert wafte remains,
And ghaftly defolation reigns.

But where will these grave morals tend?
Pardon my zeal, dear courteous friend;
The province of my humbler vein,
Is not to preach, but entertain.

Gripe, from the cradle to the grave,
Was good for nothing, but to fave;
Mammon his God, to him alone

He bow'd, and his fhort creed was known: On his thumb-nail it might be wrote,

A penny fav'd's a penny got."

Dd

This rich poor man was jogging down, Once on a time, from London town; With him his fon, a handy lad: To drefs his daddy-or his pad : Among his dealers he had been, And all their ready cafh fwept clean. Gripe, to fave charges on the road, At each good house cramm'd in a load; With boil'd and roaft his belly fill'd, And greedily each tankard fwill'd: How favoury, how sweet the meat! How good the drink when others treat! Now on the road Gripe trots behind, For weighty reafons (as you 'll find): The boy foon long'd to take a whet, His horfe at each fign made a fet, And he fpurr'd on with great regret. This the old man obferv'd with pain, "Ah! fon," said he, "the way to gain "Wealth (our chief good) is to abstain; "Check each expensive appetite, "And make the most of every mite: "Confider well, my child, O think "What numbers are undone by drink! Hopeful young men! who might be great, "Dic well, and leave a large estate; "But, by lewd comrades led aftray,

"Or an indenture tripartite;

"Can measure land, pasture, or wood, "Yet never purchas'd half a rood. "Whom all these liberal arts adorn, "Is he not rich! as fheep new fhorn! "The reason need not far be fought, "For three pence gain'd, he spends a groat. "There's Billy Blowfe, that merry fellow, "So wondrous witty when he's mellow; "Ale and mundungus, in despite "Of nature, make the clown polite. "When those rich steams chafe his dull head, "What flowers fhoot up in that hot-bed! "His jefts, when fogs his temples fhrowd, "Like the fun bursting through a cloud, "Blaze out, and dazzle all the crowd:

They laugh, each wag's exceeding gay, "While he, poor ninny! jokes away "By night, whate'er he gets by day. "To thefe examples I might add "A fquire or two, troth full as bad; "Who, doom'd by heaven for their fins, "Mind nothing but their nipperkins: "But thefe, at this time, fhall fuffice; "Be faving, boy, that is, be wife,"

Now, Mufe, come hold thy nofe, and tell What doleful accident befel,

His horfe fet hard, an antient hack,
That twice ten years carry'd a pack,
But fuch a cargo ne'er before;

He had him cheap, and kept him poor;

His bowels ftuft with too much meat,
He fat uneafy in his feat,
And riggled often to and fro,
With painful gripings gnaw'd below.
His distance yet in hope to gain,
For the next inn he spurs amain;
In hafte alights, and fcuds away,
But tide and time for no man stay.
No means can fave whom heaven has curst,
For out th' impetuous torrent burst.
Struck dumb, aghaft at first he stood,
And fcratch'd his head in penfive mood:
But, wifely judging 'twas in vain
To make an outcry, and complain,
Of a bad bargain made the beft,
And lull'd his troubled foul to rest.
Back he return'd with rueful face,
And shuffled through the house apace;
My landlady fcreams out in hafte,
"Old gentleman, ho!-where so fast?
"Before you go, pray pay your shot,
"This young man here has drunk a pot.'

"A pot!" faid Gripe; "oh, the young rogue! "Ah, ruinous, expenfive dog!" And, muttering curfes in his ear, Look'd like a witch with hellish leer; But, finding 'twas in vain to fret, Pull'd out his catfkin, paid the debt.

This point adjusted, on they fare, Ambrofial sweets perfume the air: The younker, by the fragrant fcent, Perceiving now how matters went, Laugh'd inwardly, could fcarce contain, And kept his countenance with pain. At laft he cries, "Now, fir, an't please, "I hope you're better, and at eafe." "Better, you booby!-'tis all out"— "What's out?" faid he. "You drunken lout! "All in my trowfers-well-no matter"Not great-th' expence of soap and water; "This charge—if times are not too hard, "By management may be repair'd: "But, oh! that damn'd confounded pot! Extravagant, audacious fot;

"This, this indeed, my foul does grieve,
"There's two-pence loft without retrieve!"

THE INCURIOUS BENCHER.

T Jenny Mann's, where heroes meet, The modern Pallas, at whose shrine They bow, and by whofe aid they dine: Colonel Brocade among the reft Was every day a welcome guest. One night as carelessly he stood, Chearing his reins before the fire, (So every true-born Briton fhould)

Like that, he chaf'd, and fum'd, with ire. Jenny," faid he, "'tis very hard, "That no man's honour can be spar'd; If I but fup with Lady Dutchefs, Or play a game at ombre, fuck is

The malice of the world, 'tis said, "Although his Grace lay drunk in bed, "'Twas I that caus'd his aching head. "If Madam Doodle would be witty, "And I am fummon'd to the city, "To play at blind-man's-buff, or so, "What won't fuch hellifh malice do? "If I but catch her in a corner,

"

}

Humph-'tis, Your fervant, Colonel Horner: "But rot the fneering fops, if e'er "I prove it, it fhall coft them dear; "Ifwear by this dead-doing blade, "Dreadful examples fhall be made: "What-can't they drink bohea and cream, "But (d-n them) I must be their theme? "Other mens bufinefs let alone, "Why should not coxcombs mind their own?" As thus he rav'd with all his might (How infecure from Fortune's fpight, Alas! is every mortal wight!) To fhew his antient fpleen to Mars, Fierce Vulcan caught him by the aStuck to his skirts, infatiate varlet! And fed with pleasure on the fcarlet. Hard by, and in the corner, fate A Bencher grave, with look fedate, Smoking his pipe, warm as a toast, And reading over last week's poft; He faw the foe the fort invade,

And foon fmelt out the breach he made :
But not a word—a little fly

He look'd, 'tis true, and from each eye
A fide-long glance fometimes he fent,

To bring him news, and watch th' event.
At length, upon that tender part
Where honour lodges (as of old
Authentic Hudibras has told)
The bluftering colonel felt a fmart.
Sore griev'd for his affronted bum,

}

Frifk'd, fkip'd, and bounc'd about the room; Then turning fhort, "Zounds, fir!" he cries"Por on him, had the fool no eyes? "What! let a man be burnt alive!" "I am not, fir, inquifitive" (Rep'd Sir Gravity) to know "Whate'er your honour's pleas'd to do; "If you will burn your tail to tinder, "Pray what have I to do to hinder? "Other mens bufinefs let alone, "Why should not coxcombs mind their own?"

Then, knocking out his pipe with care,

Laid down his penny at the bar;
And, wrapping round his frieze furtout,
Took up his crab-tree, and walk'd out.

At no levees the suppliant bow'd;

Nor courted for their votes the crowd:
Nor riches nor preferment fought,

Did what he pleas'd, spoke what he thought.
Content within due bounds to live,

And what he could not spend, to give:
Would whiff his pipe o'er nappy ale,
And joke, and pun, and tell his tale;
Reform the state, lay down the law,
And talk of lords he never faw;
Fight Marlborough's battles o'er again,
And push the French on Blenheim's plain;
Difcourfe of Paris, Naples, Rome,
Though he had never stirr'd from home:
'Tis true he travel'd with great care,
The tour of Europe-in his chair.
Was loth to part without his load,
Or move till morning peep'd abroad.
One day this honest, idle rake,
Nor quite afleep, nor well awake,
Was lolling in his elbow-chair,
And building castles in the air,
His nipperkin (the port was good)
Half empty at his elbow flood,
When a strange noife offends his ear,
The din increas'd as it came near,
And in his yard at last he view'd
Of farmers a great multitude;
Who that day, walking of their rounds,
Had difagreed about their bounds;
And fure the difference must be wide,
Where each does for himself decide.
Vollies of oaths in vain they fwear,

Whigh burst like guiltlefs bombs in air;

And," Thou 'rt a knave!" and, "Thou'rt an oaf!"
Is banded round with truth enough.

At length they mutually agree,
His worship fhould be referee,

Which courteous (Jack confents to be:
Though for himfelf he would not budge,)
Yet for his friends an arrant drudge;
A confcience of this point he made
With pleasure readily obey'd,
And fhot like lightning to their aid.
The farmers, fummon'd to his room,
Bowing with aukward reverence come.
In his great chair his worship fate,
A grave and able magiftrate:
Silence proclaim'd, each clack was laid,
And flippant tongues with pain obey'd.
In a fhort speech, he first computes
The vast expence of law-difputes,
And everlasting chancery-fuits.
With zeal and warmth he railly'd then
Pack'd juries, fheriffs, tales-men;
And recommended in the close,
Good-neighbourhood, peace, and repose.
Next weigh'd with care each man's pretence,
Perus'd records, heard evidence,

Obferv'd, reply'd, hit every biot;
Unravel d every Gordian knot;
With great activity and parts,

Inform'd their judgments, won their hearts
And, without fees, or time mifpent,
By ftrength of ale and argument,
Difpatch'd them home, friends and content.
Truly, who at his elbow fate,
And with surprise heard the debate,

Aftonish'd, could not but admire
His ftrange dexterity and fire;

His wife difcernment and good sense,
His quick nefs, eafe, and eloquence.
"Lord! fir," faid he, "I can't but chide:
"What useful talents do you hide!
"In half an hour you have done more
"Than Puzzle can in half a score,
"With all the practice of the courts,
"His cafes, precedents, reports."

Jack with a fmile reply'd, " "Tis true, "This may seem odd, my friend, to you, "But give me not more than my due. "No hungry judge nods o'er the laws, "But haftens to decide the caufe: "Who hands the oar, and drags the chain, "Will ftruggle to be free again. "So lazy men and indolent, "With cares oppress'd, and business spent, "Exert their utmost powers and skill, "Work hard; for what? Why, to fit ftill. They toil, they fweat, they want no fee, "For ev'n floth prompts to industry. "Therefore, my friend, I freely own "All this addrefs I now have shown, "Is mere impatience, and no more, "To lounge and loiter as before: "Life is a fpan, the world an inn"Here, firrah, t' other nipperkin."

THE YEOMAN OF KENT:

A

A TAL E.

YEOMAN bold (suppose of Kent)
Liv'd on his own, and paid no rent;
Manur'd his own paternal land,
Had always money at command,
To purchase bargains, or to lend,
T improve his flock, or help a friend.
At Creffy and Poitiers, of old,
His ancestors were bow-men bold;
Whofe good yew-bows, and finews ftrong,
Drew arrows of a cloth-yard long;
For England's glory, ftrew'd the plain
With barons, counts, and princes flain.
Belov'd by all the neighbourhood,
For his delight was doing good:
At every mart his word a law,
Kept all the fhuffling knaves in awe.
How juft is heaven, and how true,
To give to fuch defert its due!
"Tis in authentic legends faid,

Two twins at once had blefs'd his bed:
Frank was the eldest, but the other
Was honeft Numps, his younger brother;
That, with a face effeminate,
And fhape too fine and delicate,
Took after his fond mother Kate,

A Franklin's daughter. Numps was rough,
No heart of oak was half fo tough,
And true as steel, to cuff, or kick,
Or play a bout at double tick,

Who but friend Numps? While Frank's delight
Was more (they say) to dance, than fight;
At Whitfon-ales king of the May
Among the maids, brifk, frolic, gay,
He tript it on each holyday.

Their genius different, Frank would roam
To town; but Numps, he staid at home.
The youth was forward, apt to learn,
Could foon an honeft living earn;
Good company would always keep,
Was known to Falstaff in Eaft-cheap;
Threw many a merry main, could bully,
And put the doctor on his cully;
Ply'd hard his work, and learn'd the way,
To watch all night, and fleep all day.
Flush'd with fuccefs, new rigg'd, and clean,
Polite his air, genteel his mien :
Accomplish'd thus in every part,
He won a buxom widow's heart:
Her fortune narrow; and too wide,
Alas! lay her concerns, her pride:
Great as a dutchefs, fhe would scorn
Mean fare, a gentlewoman born;
Poor and expenfive! on my life
"Twas but the devil of a wife.

Yet Frank, with what he won by night,
A while liv'd tolerably tight;
And spouse, who fometimes fate till morn
At cribbidge, made a good return.
While thus they liv'd from hand to mouth,
She laid a bantling to the youth;
But whether 'twas his own or no,
My authors don't pretend to know.
His charge enhanc'd, 'tis also true
A lying-in 's expensive too,
In cradles, whittles, fpice-bowls, fack,
Whate'er the wanton goffips lack;
While scandal thick as hail-fhot flies,
Till peaceful bumpers feal their eyes.
Frank deem'd it prudent to retire,
And vifit the good man his fire;
In the stage-coach he feats himself,
Loaded with madam and her elf;
In her right hand the coral plac'd,
Her lap a China orange grac'd:
Pap for the babe was not forgot;
And lullaby's melodious note,
That warbled in his ears all day,
Shorten'd the rugged, tedious way.

Frank, to the manfion-house now come,
Rejoic'd to find himself at home;
Neighbours around, and coufins went
By scores, to pay their compliment.
The good old man was kind, 'tis true,
But yet a little fhock'd, to view
A fquire fo fine, a fight fo new.
But above all, the lady fair
Was pink'd, and deck'd beyond compare;

Scarce a frieve's wife at an allize
Was drefs'd fo fine, fo roll'd her eyes:
And mafter too in all his pride,
His filver rattle by his fide,
Would fhake it oft, then fhrilly, fcream,
More noify than the yeoman's team;
With taffels and with plumes made proud,
While jingling bells ring out aloud.

}

The good old dame, ravish'd out-right,
Ev'n doated on fo gay a fight;
Her Frank, as glorious as the morn;
Poor Numps was look'd upon with fcorn.
With other eyes the yeoman fage
Beheld each youth; nought could engage
His wary and difcerning heart,
But fterling worth and true defert,
At laft, he could no longer bear
Such strange sophisticated ware;
He cries (enrag'd at this odd fcene)
"What can this foolish coxcomb mean,
Who, like a pedlar with his pack,
"Carries his riches on his back?

* Soon fhall this blockhead fink my rents,
"And alienate my tenements,
"Which long have ftood in good repair,
"Nor funk, nor rofe, from heir to heir;
"Still the fame rent without advance,

"Since the Black Prince firft conquer'd France;
"But now, alas! all must be loft,
"And all my prudent projects croft.
"Brave honeft race! Is it thus then
"We dwindle into gentlemen?
"But I'll prevent this foul difgrace,
"This butterfly from hence I'll chace."
He faddles Ball without delay,
To London town directs his way;
There at the Herald's Office he
Took out his coat, and paid his fee,
And had it cheap, as wits agree.
A lion rampant, ftout and able,
Argent the field, the border fable;
The gay efcutcheon look'd as fine,
As any new-daub'd country fign.
Thus having done what he decreed,
Home he returns with all his speed:
"Here, fon," faid he, "fince you will be
"A gentleman in fpight of me;
"Here, fir, this gorgeous bauble take,
"How well it will become a rake!
"Be what you seem: this is your share;
"But honeft Numps fhall be my heir;
"To him I'll leave my whole eftate,
*Left my brave race degenerate."

THE HAPPY LUNATIC:

W

To DOCTOR M- -. A TALE.

HEN faints were cheap in good Nol's reign,
As finners now in Drury-Lanc;
Wrapt up in myfteries profound,

A faint perceiv'd his head turn round:
Whether the fweet and favoury wind,
That should have been discharg'd behind,
For want of vent had upward fled,
And feiz'd the fortrefs of his head;
Ye fage philofophers, debate:

I folve no problems intricate.
That he was mad, to me is clear,
Elfe why fhould he, whofe nicer car
Could never bear church-mufick here,
Dream that he heard the bleft above,
Chanting in hymns of joy and love?
Organs themselves, which were of yore
The mufick of the fcarlet whore,
Are now with transport heard. In fine,
Ravish'd with harmony divine,
All earthly bleffings he defies,
The gueft and favourite of the skics.
At last, his too officious friends
The doctor call, and he attends;
The patient cur'd, demands his fee.
"Curfe on thy farting pills and thee,"
Reply'd the faint: "ah! to my coft

"I'm cur'd; but where's the heaven I loft?
"Go, vile deceiver, get thee hence,
"Who'd barter Paradife for fense?"
Ev'n fo bemus'd (that is, poffeft),

With raptures fir'd, and more than bleft?
In pompous epick, towering odes,
I ftrut with heroes, feaft with gods;
Enjoy by turns the tuneful quire,
For me they touch each golden lyre.
Happy delufion! kind deceit !
Till you, my friend, reveal the cheat;
Your eye fevere, traces each fault,
Each fwelling word, each tinfel thought.
Cur'd of my Phrensy, I despise
Such trifles, ftript of their disguise,
Convinc'd, and miferably wife.

}

THE

WANDERER.

A VISION.

CANTO I.

Yet, though unequal to a foul like thine,
A generous foul, approaching to divine,
When blefs'd beneath fuch patronage I write,
Great my attempt, though hazardous my flight. Io
O'er ample Nature I extend my views;
Nature to rural fcenes invites the Mufe:
She flies all public care, all venal strife,
To try the ftill, compar'd with active life;
To prove, by these the fons of men may owe 15
The fruits of blifs to bursting clouds of woe;
That ev'n calamity, by thought refin'd,
Infpirits and adorns the thinking mind.