I'll have my gardens in the fashion too,
For what is beautiful that is not new?
Fair four-legg'd temples, theatres that vye
With all the angles of a Christmas-pye.
Does it not merit the beholder's praise,
What's high to fink? and what is low to raise?
Slopes fhall afcend where once a green-house stood,
And in my horse-pond I will plant a wood.
Let mifers dread the hoarded gold to waste,
Expence and alteration fhews a Taste.
In curious paintings I'm exceeding nice,
And know their several beauties by their price.
Auctions and fales I conftantly attend,
But chufe my pictures by a skilful friend.
Originals and copies much the fame,
The picture's value is the painter's name.
My Tafte in sculpture from my choice is feen,
I buy no ftatues that are not obscene.
In spite of Addison m and ancient Rome,
Sir Cloudefly Shovel's is my favʼrite tomb.
How oft have I with admiration ftood,
To view fome city-magiftrate in wood!
I gaze with pleasure on a lord-mayor's head,
Caft with propriety in gilded lead.
Oh could I view through London as I país,
Some broad Sir Balaam in Corinthian brass:
High on a pedestal, ye freemen, place
His magifterial paunch and griping face;
Letter'd and gilt, let him adorn Cheapfidé,
And grant the tradefman, what a king's deny'd.
Old coins and medals I collect, 'tis true,
Sir Andrew has 'em, and I'll have 'em too.
But among friends if I the truth might speak,
I like the modern, and defpife th' antique.
Though in the drawers of my japan bureau,
To lady Gripeall I the Cæfars fhew,
'Tis equal to her ladyship or me,
A copper Otho, or a Scotch baubeè.
Without Italian, or without an ear,
To Bononcini's mufic I adhere°;
Mufic has charms to footh a favage breast,
And therefore proper at a sheriff's feast.
■ Sir Andrew Fountaine, knt. a gentleman famous for his valuable collection of pictures, statues, medals, and infcriptions. He was tutor to the duke of Cumberland, and at the time of his death, Sept. 4, 1753,
• On the establishment of a royal academy of mufick, about the year 1723, the publick was divided about the merits of Handel and Bononcini, as compofers, and great feuds were raised amongst the nobility on the occafion. The conteft was managed with much violence, and at length brought to a decifion by each of the rival performers compofing an 'act of Muzio Scævola. The fuperiority was generally acknowledged to belong to Handel.
My foul has oft á fecret pleafure found,
In the harmonious bagpipe's lofty found.
Bagpipes for men, frill German-flutes for boys,
I'm English born, and love a grumbling noife.
The stage should yield the folemn organ's note,
And fcripturé tremble in the eunuch's throat.
Let Senefino fing, what David writ,
And hallelujahs charm the pious pit.
Eager in throngs the town to Efther P came,
And Oratorio was a lucky name.
Thou, Heidegger! the English Tafte haft found 4,
And rul't the mob of quality with found.
In Lent, if mafquerades difpleafe the town,
Call 'em Ridottos, and they ftill go down.
Go on, prince Phiz! to please the British Nation,
Call thy next Mafquerade a Convocation.
Bears, lions, wolves, and elephants I breed,
And Philofophical Tranfactions read.
Next lodge I'll be Free-mafon, nothing lefs,
Unless I happen to be F. R. S.
I have a palate, and (as yet) two ears,
Fit company for porters or for peers.
Of every useful knowledge I've a fhare,
But my top talent is a bill of fare.
P Efther, one of the firft of Mr. Handel's oratorios, performed about
the year 1729 or 1730.
4 See vol. iii, p. 206.
Sir-loins and
Pleas'd with frogs fricaffeed, and coxcomb-pies,
Dishes I chufe though little, yet genteel,
Snails the first courfe, and peepers crown the meal.
Pigs heads with hair on, much my fancy please,
I love young colly-flow'rs if ftew'd in cheese,
And give ten guineas for a pint of peas.
No tattling fervants to my table come,
My grace is filence, and my waiter dumb.
Queer country-puts extol queen Bess's reign,
And of loft hofpitality complain.
Say thou that doft thy father's table praise,
Was there mahogena in former days?
Oh! could a British barony be fold!
I would bright honour buy with dazzling gold.
Could I the privilege of peer procure,
The rich I'd bully, and opprefs the poor.
To give is wrong, but it is wronger ftill,
On any terms to pay a tradefman's bill.
I'd make the infolent mechanics ftay,
And keep my ready money all for play.
I'd try if any pleasure could be found,
In toffing up for twenty-thousand pound.
Had I whole counties, I to White's would
And fet land, woods, and rivers, at a throw.
But should I meet with an unlucky run,
And at a throw be gloriously undone ;
My debts of honour I'd discharge the first,
Let all my lawful creditors be curs'd:
My title would preferve me from arreft,
And feizing hired horfes is a jeft.
I'd walk the morning with an oaken stick,
With gloves and hat, like my own footman, Dick.
A footman I would be, in outward fhow,
In fenfe, and education, truly fo.
As for my head, it should ambiguous wear
At once a perriwig and its own hair.
My hair I'd powder in the women's way,
And drefs and talk of dreffing more than they.
I'll please the maids of honour, if I can ;
Without black velvet breeches, what is man ?
I will my skill in button-holes display,
And brag how oft I shift me every day.
Shall I wear cloaths in aukward England made
And sweat in cloth, to help the woollen trade?
In French embroid'ry and in Flanders lace
I'll spend the income of a treasurer's place.
Deard's bill for baubles fhall to thousands mount,
And I'd out-di'mond even the di'mond count.
I would convince the world by tawdry cloaths
That belles are lefs effeminate than beaux,
And doctor Lamb fhould pare my lordship's toes.
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