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Heard ye the gang of Fielding say,
Sir John*, at last we've found their haunt,
To desperation driven by hungry want, [way.
Through the crammed laughing Pit they steal their
Ye towers of Newgate! London's lasting shame,
By many a foul and midnight murder fed,
Revere poor Mr. Coe, the blacksmith's + fame,
And spare the grinning barber's chuckle head.
“ Rascals! we tread ye under foot,
(Weave we the woof; the thread is spun):
Our beards we pull out by the root;
(The weh is wove ; your work is done).”

Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn
Leave me uncurl'd, undinner'd, here to mour.
Through the broad gate that leads to College Hall,
They melt, they fly, they vanish all.
But, oh! what happy scenes of pure delight,
Slow moving on their simple charms unroll!
Ye rapturous visions, spare my aching sight,
Ye unborn beauties, crowd not on my soul!
No more our long lost Coventry we wail :
All hail, ye genuine forms; fair Nature's issue,

hail! Not frizz’d and fritter'd, pinn'd and rollid, Sublime their artless locks they wear, And gorgeous dames and judges old Without their têtes and wigs appear; In the midst a form divine, Her dress bespeaks the Pennsylvanian line; Her port demure, her grave religious face Attemper'd sweet to virgin grace.. * Sir John Fielding, the active police magistrate of that day. + Coe's father, the blacksmith of Cambridge.

What sylphs and spirits wanton through the air! What crowds of little angels round her play! Hear from thy sepulchre, great Penn! oh hear! A scene like this might animate thy clay. Simplicity now, soaring as she sings, [wings. Waves in the eye of Heaven her Quaker-colourd

No more toupees are seen That mock at Alpine height, And queues with many a yard of ribbon bound; All now are vanish'd quite. No tongs or torturing pin, But every head is trimm'd quite snug around: Like boys of the cathedral choir, Curls, such as Adam wore, we wear, Each simpler generation blooms more fair, Till all that's artificial shall expire. Vain puppy boy! think'st thou yon essenced cloud, Raised by thy puff, can vie with Nature's hue? To morrow see the variegated crowd With ringlets shining like the morning dew! Enough for me: with joy I see The different dooms our fates assign: Be thine to love thy trade and starve; To wear what Heaven bestow'd be mine.'

He said, and headlong from the trap-stairs’height, Quick through the frozen street he ran in shabby




DORINDA and her spouse were join'd,

As modern men and women are, In matrimony, not in mind,

A fashionable pair. Fine clothes, fine diamonds, and fine lace,

The smartest vis-a-vis in town, With title, pin-money, and place,

Made wedlock's pill go down.
In decent time by Hunter's art

The wish’d-for heir Dorinda bore;
A girl came next; she'd done her part,

Dorinda bred no more.
Now education's care employs

Dorinda's brain-but ah! the curse;
Dorinda's brain can't bear the noise

Go, take them to the nurse!' The lovely babes improve apace

By dear ma'amselle's prodigious care; Miss gabbles French with pert grimace,

And master learns to swear.
Sweet innocents! the servants cry,

So natural he, and she so wild;
Laud, nurse, do humour them—for why?

"Twere sin to snub a child.' Time runs- My God!'-Dorinda cries,

" How monstrously the girl is grown! She has more meaning in her eyes

Than half the girls in town.' VOL. V.


Now teachers throng; miss dances, sings,

Learns every art beneath the sun, Scrawls, scribbles, does a thousand things

Without a taste for one:
Lapdogs and parrots paints, good lack !

Enough to make Sir Joshua jealous;
Writes rebuses, and has her clack

Of small talk for the fellows: Mobs to the milliners for fashions,

Reads every tawdry tale that's new, Has fits, opinions, humours, passions,

And dictates in virtù. Ma'amselle to miss's hand conveys

A billet-doux; she's très commode, The dancing master's in the chaise,

They scour the northern road. Away to Scottish land they post,

Miss there becomes a lawful wife; Her frolic over, to her cost,

Miss is a wretch for life.
Master meanwhile advances fast

In modern manners and in vice,
And with a schoolboy's heedless haste

Rattles the desperate dice;
Travels no doubt by modern rules

To France, to Italy, and there Commences adept in the schools

Of Rousseau and Voltaire ; Returns in all the dernier goût

Of Brussels point and Paris clothes, Buys antique statues vampt anew,

And busts without a nose.

Then hey! at Dissipation's call

To every club that leads the ton,
Hazard's the word; he flies at all,

He's pigeon'd and undone.
Now comes a wife, the stale pretence,

The old receipt to pay new debts ;
He pocket's city madam's pence,

And doubles all his betts.

He drains his stewards, racks his farms,

Annuitizes, fines, renews,
And every morn his levee swarms

.With swindlers and with Jews.

The guinea lost that was his lasti

Desperate at length the maniac cries“This through my brain !''tis done; 'tis pass’d;

He fireshe falls--he dies !


By two black eyes my heart was won :
Sure never wretch was so undone

By two black eyes !
To Celia with my suit I came;

But she, regardless of her prize, Thought proper to reward my flame

By two black eyes.


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