Rude arts at first, but witty want refin'd
The huntsman's wiles, and famine form'd the mind.
Bold Nimrod first the lion's trophies wore,
The panther bound, and lanc'd the bristling boar
He taught to turn the hare, to bay the deer,
And wheel the courser in his mid career.
Ah! had he there restrain'd his tyrant hand!
Let me, ye Powers! an humbler wreath demand:
No pomp I ask which crowns and sceptres yield,
Nor dangerous laurels in the dusty field;
Fast by the forest and the limpid spring
Give me the warfare of the woods to sing,
To breed my whelps and healthful press the game,
A mean, inglorious, but a guiltless name.
And now thy female bears an ample womb,
The bane of hares and triumphs yet to come.
No sport I ween, nor blast of sprightly horn,
Should tempt me then to hurt the whelps unborn.
Unlock'd in covers let her freely run
To range thy courts, and bask before the sun.
Near thy full table let the favourite stand,
Strok'd by thy son's or blooming daughter's hand.
Caress, indulge, by arts the matron bride,
To' improve her breed and teem a vigorous tribe.
So, if small things may be compar'd with great,
And Nature's works the Muse's imitate,
So stretch'd in shades and lull'd by murmuring streams,
Great Maro's breast receiv'd the heavenly dreams;
Recluse, serene, the musing prophet lay,
Till thoughts in embryo ripening burst their way.
Hence bees in state and foaming coursers come,
Heroes and gods, and walls of lofty Rome.
t witty want refin'd s, and famine form'd the mi the lion's trophies wore, and lanc'd the bristling bo ne hare, to bay the deer, ser in his mid career. strain'd his tyrant hand! an humbler wreath demand h crowns and sceptres yield ls in the dusty field; nd the limpid spring e of the woods to sing, s and healthful press the g but a guiltless name. ale bears an ample womb, nd triumphs yet to come. blast of sprightly horn, en to hurt the whelps unb et her freely run
and bask before the sun. et the favourite stand, or blooming daughter's hand arts the matron bride, eed and teem a vigorous tr may be compar'd with gro the Muse's imitate, des and lull'd by murm
Rude arts at first, but witty want refin'd
The huntsman's wiles, and famine form'd the mind.
Bold Nimrod first the lion's trophies wore,
The panther bound, and lanc'd the bristling boar:
He taught to turn the hare, to bay the deer,
And wheel the courser in his mid career.
Ah! had he there restrain'd his tyrant hand!
Let me, ye Powers! an humbler wreath demand:
No pomp I ask which crowns and sceptres yield,
Nor dangerous laurels in the dusty field;
Fast by the forest and the limpid spring
Give me the warfare of the woods to sing,
To breed my whelps and healthful press the game,
A mean, inglorious, but a guiltless name.
And now thy female bears an ample womb,
The bane of hares and triumphs yet to come.
No sport I ween, nor blast of sprightly horn,
Should tempt me then to hurt the whelps unborn.
Unlock'd in covers let her freely run
To range thy courts, and bask before the sun.
Near thy full table let the favourite stand,
Strok'd by thy son's or blooming daughter's hand.
Caress, indulge, by arts the matron bride,
To' improve her breed and teem a vigorous tribe_
So, if small things may be compar'd with great,
And Nature's works the Muse's imitate,
So stretch'd in shades and lull'd by murmuring
Great Maro's breast receiv'd the heavenly dreams
Recluse, serene, the musing prophet lay,
Till thoughts in embryo ripening burst their way
Hence bees in state and foaming coursers come,
Heroes and gods, and walls of lofty Rome.
MUCH had I heard of fair Francelia's name,
The lavish praises of the babbler Fame;
I thought them such, and went prepar❜d to pry
And trace the charmer with a critic's eye,
Resolv'd to find some fault before unspied,
And disappointed if but satisfied.
Love pierc'd the vassal heart that durst rebel,
And where a judge was meant, a victim fell.
On those dear eyes, with sweet perdition gay,
I gaz'd at once my pride and soul away;
All o'er I felt the luscious poison run,
And in a look the hasty conquest won.
Thus the fond moth around the taper plays,
And sports and flutters near the treacherous blaze;
Ravish'd with joy he wings his eager flight,
Nor dreams of ruin in so clear a light;
He tempts his fate and courts a glorious doom,
A bright destruction and a shining tomb.
THERSITES, OR THE LORDLING,
THE GRANDSON OF A BRICKLAYER, GREAT-GRANDSON OF A BUTCHER.
THERSITES, of amphibious breed,
Motley fruit of mongrel seed,
By the dam from lordlings sprung,
By the sire exhal'd from dung:
Think on every vice in both;
Look on him, and see the growth.
View him on the mother's side,
Fill'd with falsehood, spleen, and pride,
Positive and overbearing,
Changing still, and still adhering,
Spiteful, peevish, rude, untoward,
Fierce in tongue, in heart a coward:
When his friends he most is hard on,
Cringing comes to beg their pardon;
Reputation ever tearing,
Ever dearest friendship swearing;
Judgment weak and passion strong,
Always various, always wrong;
Provocation never waits
Where he loves, or where he hates;
Talks whate'er comes in his head,
Wishes it were all unsaid.
Let me now the vices trace
From his father's scoundrel race.
Who could give the looby such airs?
Were they masons, were they butchers?
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