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In sooth, the sorrow of such days
Is not to be express’d,
Aro both aliko distress'd.
Now all unwelcome at his gates
The clumsy swains alight,
He trembles at the sight.
And well he may, for well he knows
Each bumpkin of the cian, Instead of paying what he owes,
Will cheat him if he can.
So in they come-each makes his leg,
And Alings his head before, And looks as if he came to beg,
And not to quit a score.
“ And how does miss and madam do,
“ The little boy, and all ?" “ All tight and well. And how do you
“ Good Mr. What-d'ye-call ?”
The dinner comes, and down they sit
Wore e'er such hungry folk ? There's little talking, and no wit;
It is no tiine to joke.
One wipes his nose upon his sleeve,
One spits upon the floor,
Holds up the cloth before.
The punch goes round, and they aro dull
And lumpish still as ever ;
They only weigh the heavier.
At length the busy time begins,
“ Come, neighbours, we must wag" The money chinks, down drop their chins,
Each lugging out his bag.
And one of storms of hail,
By maggots at the tail.
“ In pulpit none shall hear:
O why are farmers made so coarse
Or clergy made so fine?
May kill a sound divine.
Then let the boobies stay at home ;
"Twould cost him, I dare say, Less trouble taking twice the sum
Without the clowns that
ADDRESSED TO HENRY COWPER, ESQ.
On his emphatical and interesting delivery of the
defence of Warren Hastings, Esq. in the House of Lords.
COWPER, whose silver voice, task'd sometimes hard
Legends prolix delivers in the ears, (Attentive when thou read'st,) of England's peers, Let verse at length yield thee thy just reward. Thou wast not heard with drowsy disregard,
Expending late on all that length of plea
Thy gen'rous pow'rs, but silence honour'd thee,
Of Attick phrase and senatorial tone,
Of others' speech, but magick of thy own.
ADDRESSED TO DR. DARWIN,
Author of " The Botanick Garden."
TWO Poets," (poets by report,
Not oft so well agree,)
Conspire to honour Thee.
Who oft themselves have known
pangs of a poetick birth
Though various yet complete,
And learned as 'tis sweet.
Though, could our hearts repine
They would—they must at thine.
Of friendship's closest tie,
With an unjaundic'd eye ;
And howsoever known,
Unworthy of his own. Aluding to the poem by Mr. Hayley, which docompanied these lines.
MRS. MONTAGUS FEATHER HANG
THE Birds put off their ev'ry huo,
The Peacock sends his heavenly dyes,
To this same patroness resort,