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WIT, by learning well refin'd,

“ Nec tantum Veneris, quantum ftudiofa culinæ." A beau, but of the rural kind, To Sylvia made pretences;

IGHT's fable clouds had half the world o'er. They both profess’dan equal love : Yet hop'd by different means to move

And silence reign'd, and folks were gone to bed: Her judgment or her senses.

When love, which gentle sleep can ne'er inspire,

Had feated Damon by the kitchen fire.
Young sprightly Flirt, of blooming mien,
Watch'd the best minutes to be seen ;

Pensive he lay, extended on the ground;
Went-when his his glass-advis'd him;

The little lares kept their vigils round; While meagre Phil of books enquit d

T'he fawning cats compassionate his case,

And A wight, for wit and parts admir'd ;

pur

around, and gently lick his face : And witty ladics priz'd him,

To all his'plaints the sleeping curs reply,

And with hoarse snorings imitate a sigh. Sylvia had wit, had fpirits too :

Such g'oomy scenes with lovers' minus agree, To hear the one, the other view,

And Tolitude to them is best society.
Suspended held the scales :
Her wit, her youth too, claim'd its share.

Could I (he cried) express, how bright a grace Let none the preference declare,

Adorns thy morning hands, and well-wash'd face; But turn up-heads or tails.

Thou wouldst, Colemira, grant what lim.plore,
And yield me love, or wash thy face no more.

Ah! who can see, and seeing not admire,
Whene'er she fets the pot upon the fire !

Her hands out-shine the fire, and redder things ;
STANZAS

Her eyes are blacker than the pots fhe brings.

But fure po chamber-damsel can compare, To the memory of an agreeable Lady, when in meridian lustre shines my fair,

buried in marriage to a person unde- When warm’d with dinner's toil, in pearly sills, serving her.

Adown her goodly cheek the sweat distills.

Oh ! how I long, how ardently desire,
WAS always held, and ever will,

To view those rosy fingers strike the lyre !

For late, when bees to change their climes began, T'anticipate a lesser ill,

How did I see them drum the frying-pan ! Than undergo a greater.

With her! I should not onvy George his queen, Though she in royal grandeur deck'd be seen

: When mortals dread diseases, pain,

While rags, just sever'u from my fair one's gown, And languishing conditions ; Who don't the lesser ill sustain

in russet pomp and greasy pride hang down. of phyfic and-physicians ?

Ah ! now it does my drooping heart rejoice,

When in the hil I hear thy mellow voice! Rather than lose his whole estate,

How would that voice exceed the village bell; He that but little wise is,

Would that but sing, “ I like thee passing well ! ” Full gladly pays four parts in eight

When from the hearth she bade the pointers go, To taxes and excises.

How soft ! how easy did her accents flow! Our merchants Spain has near undone

“Get-out, she cry?d, when strangers come to fup, for loll lips not requiting :

“ One ne'er can raise these snoring devils up.”' This bears our noble king to fhun

Then, full of wrath, the kick'd each lazy 1 he loss of blood-in fighting!

brute, With numerous ills, in single life,

Alas! I envy'd even that salute ; The bachelor's attended :

'T'was sure misplacid-Shock faid, or fee od to Such to avoid, he takes a wife

say, And much the case is mended !

He had as lief, I had the kick, as they.

If YOL V.I.

'T ,

Aa

He took a page

ton

If the the mystic bellows take in hand, His breakfast half the morning,
Who like the fair can that machine command ? He constantly attended;
O may's thou ne'er by Fo us be seen,

And when the bell rung
For he wou'd sure demand thee for his

queen. For evening song,

His dinner scarce was ended !
But should the flame this rougher aid refuse,
And only gentler med'cines be of use ;

He spar'd not ev'n heroics, With full-blown checks the ends the doubtful On which we poets pride us ; ftrife,

And wou'd make no more
Foments the infant flame, and puffs it into life, Of king Arthur's *, by the score,

Than all the world beside woes.
Such arts as these, exalt-the drooping fire,
But in my breaft a fiercer flame infpire:

In books of geography,
I burn! I burn! O! give thy puffing o'er;

He made the maps to flutter ; And swellthy cheeks, and pout thy lips, no more! A river or a fea

Was to him a dish of tea;
With all her haughty looks, the time I've seen,

And a kingdom, bread and butter.
When this proud damsel has more humble been,
When with nice airs the hoist the pan-cake round, But if some mawkiih potion
And drop'd it, haplets fair ! upon the ground. Might chance to over-dose him,

To check its rage,
Look, with what charming grace! what win-
ning tricks!

Of logic-to compofe him
The artful charmer rubs the candlesticks!
So bright she makes the candlesticks the handles, A trap, in haste and anger,
Oft have I said, there were no need of candles. Was bought, you need not doubt on't

And, such was the gin,
But thou my fair! who never wouldst approve,

Where a lion once got in, Or hear the cender story of my love ;

He could not, I think, get out on't. Or mind, how burns my raging breast,-a buc

With cheese, not books, 'twas baited, Perhaps art dreaming of a breast of mutton.

The fa & I'll not belye it

Since none--I'll tell you that Thus said, and wept the {ad desponding swain, Whcther scholar or rat Revealing to the fable walls his pain :

Mind books, when he has other diet. But nymphs are free with those they should de

But more of trap and lsait, Sir, ny;

Why should i siny, or either ? To hose, they love, more exquisitely coy!

Since the rat, whe knew the flight, Now chirping crickets raise their tinkling Came in the dead of night, voice

And dragg'd them away together : The lambent flames in languid streams arise,

Both trap and bait were vanishid,
And smoke in azure folds evaporate and dies.

Through a fracture in the flooring
Which, though so trin
It now may seem,

Had then-adozen or more in.
The RAPE of the TRAP.

Then answer this, ye fages !

Nor deem a man to wrong ye,

Had the rat which thus did seize on
A Ballad, 1737.

The trap, less claim to reason,

Than many a scull among ye?

Dan Prior's mice, I own it,
The Muses favourite city,

Were vermin of condition ;
Such pranks of late

But this rat who merely learn'd Were play d by a rat,

What rats alone concern'd, As-tempt one to be witty.

Was the greater politician. Allin a Coilege study,

That England 's topsy-turvy, Where broks were great plenty;

Is clear from these mishaps, Sir; This rat would devour

Since traps we may determine, More sense in an hour,

will no longer take our vermin, Than I cou'd write-in twenty.

But vermin † take our traps, Sir.

Let Corporeal food, 'is granted,

Serves vermin less refin'd, Sir; But this, a rat of tafte,

By Blackmore. All other rats surpass:d ; And he prey'd on the food of the mind, Sir ; of Written at the time of the Spanish depreda

',

Let fophs, by rats infested,

Theo trust in cats to catch 'em ; Let they grow as learn'a as we, In our studies ; where, d' ye fce,

No morial fits to watch 'em.
Good luck betide our captains;

Good lack bet:de our cats, Sir;
And grant that the one
May quell the Spanish Don,

And the other destroy our rats, Sir.

A friend, who, weigh'd with your's, must prize

Domitian's idle passion;
That wrought the death of teazing flies,

But ne'er their propagation.
Let Flavia's eyes more deeply warm,

Nor thus your hearts determine,
To flight dame nature's fairelt forin

And figh for nature's vermin.
And fpeak with some respect of beaux,

Nor more as triflers creat 'em :
'Tis better learn to save one's cloaths,

Than cherish moths, that eat 'em.

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The Extent of COOKERY.,

Aliusque et idem.”
HEN Tom to Cambridge first was sent,

A plain brown bob he wore;
Read much, and look'a as though he meant

To be a fop no more.
Sçe himn to Lincoln's inn repair,

His resolution Alag;
He cherishes a length of hair,

And tucks it in a bag.
Nor Coke nor Salkeld he regards,

But gets into the house,
And foon a judge's rank rewards.

His pliant votes and bows,
Adieu, ye bobs ! ye bags, give place!

Full . otroms come indead !
Good Lord : to see the various ways

Of dressing—a calve's head ?

To the VIRTUOSOS.

AII, curious wights! to whom so fair,

Who deem those grubs beyond compare,

Which common sense despises. Whether o'er hill, morass, or mound,

You make your sportsman fallies ; Or that your prey in gardens found

Is urg'd through walks and alleys. Yet, in the fury of the chace,

No flope could e'er retard you ; Bleft if one fly repay

the race, Or painted v.ings reward you. Fierce as Camilla o'er the plain

Pursued the glittering stranger ; Still ey'd the purple's pleasing itain,

And knew not fear nor danger.
'Tis you dispense the favourite meat

To nature's filmy people ; ;
Know what conferves they chuse to cat,

And what liqueurs to tipple.
And if her brood of infects dies,

You fage assistance lend her ;
Can stoop to pimp for umorous flies,

And help them to engender.
'Tis you protect their pregnant hour;

and when the birth 's at hand, Exerting your obstretic power,

Prevenc a mo.hless land.
Yet oh howe'er your towering view

Above gross objects rises,
Whate'er refinements you pursue,
Hear, what a friend advises :

famous for a coarse woollen manufacture,

The Progress of ADVICE.

A common Cafe.

“ Suade, non certum eft." AYS Richard to Thomas (and seem'd half a i

iraid) · I am thinking to marry thy mistress's naidi : Now, because Mirs. Lucy to thee is well known, I will do ta thou bid it mc, or let it alonc. Nay don't make a jeit ou t; 'tis no jeit to me; for 'faith I'm in tarnett, 10 pr’ythee be free. I have no fau.t to find with the giri fince i know

her, But I'd have thy advice, ere I tye myself to her.”

's Said Thomas to Richard, to speak . ny opinion, here is not such a bitch in king George's domiAnd I firmly believe, if thou kuew lt her as I do, Thou wouluit chule out a whipping-poit, frit to

bety'd to. She's pec vish, she thievith, she's ugly, she's old, Anu á har, and a fooi, anu a ilut, and a cold." Next day Richaru haiteu'd to church and was wed, And ere night had informn'u her whát Thomas

had ialde Аа 2

A BALLAD.

rin,

A BALLA D.

And ye ! whose souls are held,

Like lione s in a cage ! “ Trahit fua quenque voluptas." Who talk of fetters, links, and chains, ROM Lincoln to London rode forth our

ittend and imitare my ítrains ? FROM

O sweet, O sweet Anne Page ! young squire, To bring down a wise, whom the Swains might And you who boast or grieve, admire ;

What h rrid wars we wage ! But, in spite o whatever the mortal could say,

of wounds recei, 'd from many an eye, I he goddess objected the length of the way!

Yet mean as I do, when I figh, To give up the opera, the park, and the ball,

o sweet, O sweet Anne Page ! For to view the stag's horns in an old country Hence every fond conceit

of shepherd or of sage; To have neither China nor India to see !

'Tis Slender's voice, 'tis Slender's way Nor a laceman to plague in a morning-not fhe! Expresses all you have to say, To forsake the dear play-housc, Quin, Garrick,

O sweet, 0 [weet Anne Page ! and live, Who by dint of mere humour had kept her a

hall;

live ;

road ;

To forego the dull box for his loncfome abode,
O heavens ! she fhould faint, he should die on the

The INVIDIOUS. MART. To forego the gay fashions and gestures of France, o Was ne'er folicitous for gold,

Fortune ! if my prayer of old
And leave dear Augufte in the midst of the dance,
A d Harlequin too !m'twas in vain to require it ;

With better grace thou may'st allow And he wonder'd how folks had the face to de: My fuppliant wish, that asks it now. fire it.

Yet think not, goddess ! I require it

For the same end your clowns defire it. She might yield to resign the sweet-lingers of in a well made effectual ftring, Ruckholt,

Fain would I fee Lividio swing ! Where the citizen-matron seduces her cu kold ;

Hear him, from Tyburn's height haranguing, But Ranelagh foon would her footsteps recal,

But such a cur's not worth one s hanging. And the mulic, the lamps, and the glare of Vaux- Give me, O goddess ! store of pelf, hall.

And he will tye the knot himself. To be sure she could breathe no where else but in

town, Thus she calk'd like a wit, and he look'd like a

clown; But the while honest Harry despair'd to succeed, The PRICE of an EQUIPAGE. A coach with a coronct trail'd her to Twecd.

“ Servum si potes, Ole, non habere,

" Et regem potes, Ole non habere.” MANT, SI.ENDER's Ghoft. Vide Shakespear. ENEATH a church-yard yew,

A sk'd a friend, amidst the throng,
I

Whose coach it was that trail'd along :

“ The gilded coach there~don't ye mind? At duik of eve methought I spy'd

'i hat with the footmen stuck behind.” Poor Slender's ghoit, that whimperiug cried, O Sir ! says he, what! han't seen it? O sweet, O sweet Anne Page !

'Tis Damon's coach, and Damon in it. Ye gentle bards ! give ear !'

'Tis odds, methinks, you have forgot Who talk of amorvus rage,

Your friend, your neighbour, and-what not ! Who spoil the lily, rob the rose,

Your old acquaintance Damon !" True ; Conie learn of me to weep your woes :

But faith his equipage'is new.” O iweet, О (wect Anne Page !

“ Bless me, said I, where can it end?

What niadness has possess'd my friend ?
Why should such labour'd strains
Your format Muse engage?

Four powder'd laves, and those the tallest,

Their stomachs doubtle's not the smallest ! I never dream'do flame or dart,

Can Damon's revenue maintain That fir d my breast or pierc d my heart,

in lace and food, so large a train ? But figh'd, O lwcet Anne Page !

I know his land- each inch of groundAnd you ! whose love-fick minds

'Tis not a mile to waik it roundNo nied cine can assuage !

If Damon's whole estate can bear Accule the leech's art no mire,

To keep his lad and onc-horse chair, But liarn of lender to deplore ;

I own tis paft my comprehension." O sweet, O sweet Anne Page!

Yes, Sir, but Damon has a pension

Thus

B ,

you

To a FRIEND.

Thus does false ambition rule us, Thus pomp delude, and folly fool us ; To keep a race of Pickering, knaves, Ne grows himself the worlt of Naves.

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To the memory

Of A. L. Esquire,
Justice of the peace for this county ;
Who, in the whole course of his pilgrimage

Through a triling ridiculous world,

Maintaining his proper dignity,
Notwith&anding the scoffs of ill-disposed persons,

And wits of the age,
That ridiculed his behaviour,

Or censured his breeding ;
Following the dictates of nature,

Desiring to ease the afflided,
Eager to set the prisoners at liberty,

Without having for his end
The noise, or report such things generally cause in

the world,
(As he was seen to perform them of none)
But the sole relief and happiness
Of the party in distress;

Himself resting easy
When he could render that so ;/
Not griping, or pinching himself,

To hoard up fuperfluitics;
Not coveting to keep in his poffefsion
What gives more disquietude, than pleasure ;

But charitably diffusing it

To all round about him :
Making the mof sorrowful countenance

To fmiie

In his presence ;
Always bestowing more than he was asked,
Always imparting before he was detrcd ;

Not proceeding in this manner

Upon every trivial suggestion,
But the inoft mature and solemn deliberation ;
With an incredible presence and undauntedneis

of mind;
With an inimitable gravity and economy

of face;
Bidding loud defiance
To politeness and the fa hion,

Dared let a f-t.

IVE you ne'er seen, my gentle squire,

The humours of your kitchen fire ?
Says Ned to Sal, “ 'I lead a spade,
Why don't ye ?--the girl's afraid
Play something-any thing—but play-
"lis but to pats the time away-
Phoo-how she lands-biting her nails
As though she play'd for halt her vails
Sorting her cards, hagling and picking-
We play for nothing, do ng chicken ?-
That card will do--'blood never doubt it,
It's not worth while to think about it."

Sal thought, and thought, and miss’d her aim, And Ned, ne'er iludying, won the game.

Methinks, old friend, 'tis wondrous true,
That verse is but a game at loo.
While many a bard, that shews so clearly
He writes for his amusement merely,
is known to study, fret and toil;

nd play fr nothing, all the while :
Or prailsat molt, for wreaths of yore
Ne'er lignify'd a farthing more :
Till, having vainly toil'd to gain it,
He sees your flying pen obra.n it.

Through fragrant scenes the trifler roves,
And hallow'd haunts that Phæbus loves:
Where with trạnge heats his bolom glows,
And mystic fiames the God belows.
You now none other fiame require,
Than a good blazing parlour tire;
Write verle-to defy the storiers,
In Thit-hoults and chinney-corners.

Sal found her deep-laid schemes were vain-
The cards are cut-come deal again-
No good conies on it when one linger's
I'll pay the cards come next my fingers--
Fortune could never let Ned loo her,
When she had left it wholly to her.

Weid, now who wins ? --why, till the same For Sa has lost another game.

" I've done ; (the muttır’d, I was saying,
It did not ar, uty my playing.
Some folks will win, they cannot chuse,
But think or not think-lome muit lote.
I may have won a game or 10--
But then it was all age ago-
It ne'er will be my lot ay in-
I won it of a baby then
Give me an ace of trumps and see,
Our Ned will beat me with a thisce,
'Tis all by luck that thugs are carryd-
H:'ll suffer for it, when ne o marry'd."

Thus Sal, with tears in either eye ;
While yictor Ned lat littering by.

i hus 1, long envying your success,
And bent to write and sedy buds,
Sate down and icribo ed in itirice,
Juit what you le-mind you despie.

You,

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