impotence of wit had ta'en. Teffion of my mufe-ftruck brain. had my birth, with fortune fit, rnish'd the dunce, or made the wit; had not held a fhameful place, or letters paid me with difgrace. -O! for a pittance of my own, hat I might live unfought, unknown! etir'd from all this pedant ftrife, r from the cares of butt'ling life; r from the wits, the fools, the great, nd all the little world I hate. THE MILK-MAID. W ́HOE'ER for p'easure plans a scheme, And when the thoughts on evil pore, Is Pleasure's fcheme the point in view; How eagerly we all purfue! Well-Tuesday is th' appointed day; DELIA furveys, with curious eyes, r Once on a time, a ruftic dame, (No matter for the lady's name) Wrapt up in deep imagination, Indulg'd her pleafing contemplation; While on a bench fhe took her feat, And plac'd the milk-pail at her feet, Oft in her hand the chink'd the pence, The profits which arofe from thence; While fond ideas fill'd her brain, Of layings up, and monftrous gain, Till every penny which the told, Creative fancy turn'd to gold; And reasoning thus from computation, She spoke aloud her meditation, "Please heav'n but to preferve my health, "No doubt I shall have ftore of wealth; "It muft of consequence enfue "Ifhall have ftore of lovers too, Oh! how I'll break their ftubborn hearts, "With all the pride of female arts. "What Suitors then will kneel before me. "Lords, Earls, and Viscounts fhall adore me. "When in my gilded coach I ride, "My Lady at his Lordship's fide, "How will I laugh at all I meet "Clatt'ring in pattens down the street! "And LOBBIN then I'll mind no more, "Howe'er I lov'd him heretofore; "Or, if he talks of plighted truth, "I will not hear the fimple youth, "But rife indignant from my feat, "And fpurn the lubber from my feet." Action, alas! the fpeaker's grace, Ne'er came in more improper place, For in the toffing forth her fhoe, What fancied blifs the maid o'erthrew ! While down at once, with hideous fall, Came lovers, wealth, and milk, and all. Thus fancy ever loves to roam, To bring the gay materials home; Imagination forms the dream, And actident deftroys the scheme. A FAMILIAR EPISTLE. FROM THE REV. MR. HANBURY'S HORSE, A THE REV. MR. SCOT. MONGST you bipeds, reputation "What did his Lord/hip fay ?-O! fine! "The very Thing! Bravo! Divine !” And then 'tis buzz'd from Route to Route, While ladies whisper it about, "Well, I proteft, a charming hit! "His Lordship has a deal of wit : "How elegant that double fenfe! "Perdigious! vaftly fine! immenfe !" When all my lord has faid or done, Was but the letting off a pun. up Mark the fat Cit, whofe good round fum, And after ev'ry Sunday's dinner, Like gamesters, who, with eager zeal, . o'er between the deal. knaves admire And dog, bird, the learned mare, the learned hare; all are fashionable too, And play at cards as well as you. Of paper, pen, and ink poffefs'd, I bore a poet on my back? Know, fafely rode my master's bride, Yet think not, fir, his awkward care Enfured protection to the fair. No-confcious of the prize I bore, 11 Almoft And Allow They three thousand years ago; men of Tafte and Judgment FINE, the paffage is divine. were fine mettled things indeed, And of peculiar ftrength and breed ; What leaps they took, how far and wide! -They'd take a country at a ftride. How great each leap, LONGINUS knew, Who from dimenfions ta'en of two, A third, good lord! would clear the world, But till fome learned wight shall shew If Accents MUST be us'd, or no, Of giant and of pigmy fize, Who waste their time, and fancies vex With afper, lenis, circumflex, As 'twere a matter of falvation; For when your pigmies take the pen a very Straw; Which they'll be centuries about, As a plain nag, in homely phrafe, That thus a quadruped fhould white; Th' ideal Pegafus, and ride Prodigious journeys-round a room, As boys ride cock-horse on a broom. Whether Acroftics teize the brain, Which goes a hunting words in vain, (For words moft capitally fin, Unless their letters right begin.) Since how to man or woman's name, Could you or I Acroftic frame. Or make the ftaring letters join, To form the word that tells us thine, Unlefs we'ad right initials got, S, C, O, T, and fo made SCOT ? Or whether Rebus, Riddle's brother (Both which had DULLNESS for their mother) Employ the gentle poet's care, Which all ad libitum he flits For you to pick it up by bits, It joins and is a worm again; They Where'er its feat is on the foul. Then, like your heathen idols, we Are things like these equeftrians fit Roberts joins compts with Burnam Black, Your humble fervant, Hanbury's hack. What BEROALDUS gravely told; In t'other Parfon, Doctor STERNE. * Of bottles, corks, and maiden fighs, If fuch Authorities prevail, To vanish o'er this petty fin, I plead a pardon for my tale, And having hemm'd and cough'd-begin. A Genius (one of those I mean, We read of in the Arabian nights; Not fuch as every day are feen At Bob's or Arthur's, whilom White's ; For how foe'er you change the name, THE NEW-RIVER HEAD The Clubs and Meetings are the fame ; A TALE. ATTEMPTED IN THE MANNER OF MR. C. DENIS. INSCRIBED TO J. WILKES Esq. Labitur&labetur in omne volubilis ærum. D HOR. EAR WILKES, whofe lively focial Wit To steal you from the idle hour (A Monster whom the Gods deteft) Turns traitor to himself. to court, Or Minifter or Monarch's fmile ; And dares, in infolence of fport, Invade the CHARTER of our isle. But why should I, who only ftrive By telling of an easy tale, To keep attention half alive 'Gaint BODGOLAM and FLIMNAP rail? For whether ENGLAND be the name, (Name which w're taught no more to prize) Or BRITAIN, it is all the fame, The Lilliputian Statesmen rife Nor thofe prodigious learned folks, Or fage URGANDA could do greater.) (For had the cobler known the king. Lord! it would quite have fpoil'd the thing). In ftrange disguise he flily went And ftump'd along the high-way track, With greafy knapsack at his back; And now the night was pitchy dark, Without one star's indulgent spark, Whether he wanted fleep or not, Is of no confequence to tell ; A bed and lodging must be got, For genuifes live always well. At the best houfe in all the town, (It was th' attorney's you may fwear) He knock'd as he'd have beat it down, Knock as you would, no entrance there. But from the window cried the dame, Go, firrah go, from whence you came. Here, Nell, John, Thomas, fee who knocks, Fellow, I'll put you in the stocks. Be gentle ma'am, the Genius cried : Have mercy on the wand'ring poor, Who knows not where his head to hide, And asks a pittance at your door. A mug of beer, a cruft of breadHave pity on the houseless head; Your husband keeps a lordly tables I afk but for the offal crumbs, *Rape of the Lock. + Pope's Letters. And for a lodging-barn or ftable Bad him e'en try his luck again; God fave you, dame. And fo he told the piteous tale, Which you have heard him tell before ; Your patience and my own would fail Were I to tell it o'er and o'er. Suffice it, that my goody's care Brought forth her beft, though fimple fare, And from the corner-cupboard's board, Her ftranger gueft the more to please, Befpread her hofpitable board With what he had 'twas bread and cheese. "Tis honeft though but homely cheer; Much good may't do ye, eat your fill. Would I cou'd treat you with ftrong beer, But for the action take the will, You fee my cot is clean though small, Pray heav'n encrease my fiender stock! You're welcome, friend, you fee all; my And for your bed, Sir there's a flock. No matter what was after said, He eat and drank and went to bed. And now the cock his mattins fung, (Howe'er fuch finging's light efteem'd, "Tis precious in the Mufes' tongue When fung, rhimes better than he fcream'd ;) The dame and pedlar both arofe, At early dawn of rifing day, But much he thought himself to blame. He did not thank the careful dame But money now runs very low, But if you'll take this piece of Stuff -No, quoth the dame, I'm as poor as you, Your kindeft wishes are enough, You're welcome, friend, farewell-Adieu. But first reply'd the wand'ring gueft, May what you first begin to do. Thank you, faid she, and shut the door, She folds a fhift-by strange encrease, From fuch a very fmall beginning, She might for all the town provide, Who to be fure, took much upon her, Who did the Parish mighty honour, She could not come, not the indeed! So out this wond'rous ftory came, To get the Pedlar tete-a-tete, And though the wish'd him at the devil Now all was racket, noife and pother. -But there's fuch thieving here of late→ Not that I dream'd that you were fuch, When you came knocking at my gate, I must confefs myself to blame, And I'm afraid you lately met Sad treatment with that homely dame, Would help a friend in time of need. I'm fure I mean it for the best, And give it with a willing mind, Instead of Goody's cheese and bread, The candlesticks of bright (French) plate And more the Pedlar to regale, And make the wond'rous man her friend, Decanters foam'd of mantling ale, And port and claret without end; They hobb'd and nobb'd, and smil'd and laugh'd, She could not reft, but turn'd and tofs'd That what her indifcretion laft, Such Linen to fo poor a dame! For fuch coarse fare! perplex'd her head; Of Cambricks, Hollands, Muflins, Lawns, Free gifts, and Purchases, and Pawns, Refolv'd to multiply them more, Till fhe had got a Stock of Linen. The morning came, when up the got, With all that civil ftuff we find To one, who must be still in debt For this vour eutertainment's fake, May what you first shall undertake, For every rag which they could find Of any fize, or any kind. Draw'rs, Boxes, Clofets, Chefts and Cafes Her Point, her Gawz, her Pruffla-net, How shall I now my tale purfue," And marting half her application. The promif'd hopes of profit fpoil, Before the folds a fingle rag, Or takes a cap from board or bag, That nothing might her work prevent, (For fhe was now refolv'd to labour, With earnest hope and full intent To get the better of her neighbour) To do that neceffary thing, By Male and Female, Queen and King; For ten or twenty miles together.. Inftead of folding Cap or Mob, While for her Indifcretion's crime, And coveting too great a store, She made a river at a time, Which fure was never done before. A FAMILIAR LETTER OF RHIMES. Y TO A LAD T. ESI could rifle grove and bow'r And strip the beds of every flow'r, And deck them in their faireft hue, Merely to be out blush'd by you. The lilly, pale, by my direction, Should fight the rose for your complexion : Or I could make up fweeteft pofies, Fit fragrance for the ladies' nofes, Which drooping, on your breast reclining, Should all be withering, dying, pining, Which every fongster can display, I've more authorities than GAY; Nay, I could teach the globe its duty all homage to your beauty, And, wit's creative pow'r to fhow, The very fire fhould mix with now; Your eyes, that brandish burning darts To fcorch and finge our tinder hearts, To pay |