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Dreamt not of danger ; glad was he

'Tis the dispenses all the graces 'To sell his flock, and put to sea :

Of profits, pensions, honours, placesz The consequence has Æsop told,

And in her light capricious fits He loft his venture, theep and gold.

Makes wits of fools, and fools of wits So fares it with us fons of rhyme,

Gives vices, folly, dullness birth, From doggrel wit, to wit sublime ;

Nay Itamps the currency on worth ; On ink's calm ocean all seems clear,

'Tis the that lends the muse a fpur, No sands aftright, no rocks appear ;

And even Killing goes by Her. No lightnings blast, no thunders roar,

Far in the sea 3 temple stands No surges laik the peaceful shore ;

Built by dame ERROR'S hasty hands, Till, all too vent'rous from the land,

Where in her dome of lucid shells The tempests dah us on the strand :

The visionary goddess dwells, Then the low piratc boards the deck,

Here o'er her subject fons of earth And sons of theft enjoy the wreck.

Regardless or of place, or worth, The harlot muse fo paling gay,

She rules triumphant; and supplies Bewitches only to betray ;

The gaping world with hopes and lies, 'Though for a while, with easy air,

Her throne, which weak and totr’ring seems She smooths the rugged brow of care,

Is built upon the wings of dreams ; And laps the mind in flow'ry dreams,

The fickle winds her altars bear With fancy's transitory gleams.

Which quiver to the shifting air ; Fond of the nothings the bestows,

Hither hath REASON seldom brought We wake at laft to real wocs.

The child of VIRTUE or of THOUGHT, Through ev'ry age, in ev'ry place,

And JUSTICE with her equal face, Consider well the poet's cafe ;

Finds this, alas! no throne of Grace. By turns protected and carefsid,

CAPRICE, OPINION, FASHION wait Defam'd, dependent, and distress'd;

The porters at the temple's gate, The joke of wits, the banc of Naves,

And as the fond adorers press The curse of fools, the butt of knaves ;

Pronounce fantastic happiness ; Too proud to stoop for servile ends,

While Favour with a Syren's smile, To lacquey rogues, or flatter friends ;

Which might ULYSSES' self beguile, With prodigality to give,

Presents the sparkling bright libation, Too careless of the means to live :

The Nectar of intoxication ; The bubble fame intent to gain,

And summoning her ev'ry grace And yet too lazy to maintain ;

Of winning charms, and chearful face, He quits the world he irever priz'd,

Smiles away Reason from his throne, Pigied by few, by more despis:d ;

And makes his votaries her own : And loit to friends, oppress'd by focs,

Instant resounds the voice of fame; Sinks to the nothing whence he rose.

Caught with the whistlings of their name, O glorious trade, for wit's a trade,

The fools grow frantic, in their pride Where men are ruin'd more than made.

Contemning all the world beside Let crazy LEE, neglected Gay,

Pleas'd with the gewgaw toys of pow'r, The shabby OTWAY, DRYDEN grey,

The noisy pageant of an hour, 'Thore tuneful servants of the nine,

Struts forth the statesman, haughty, vain, (Not that I blend their name with mine)

Amidit a supplc fervile train, Repeat their lives, their works, their famey With shrug, grimace, nod, wink, and fart, And teach the world some useful shame.

So proud, he almost treads in air; At first the Poet idly ftrays

While levce-fools, who sue for place, Along the greensward path of praise,

Crouch for cmployment from his Grace, Till on his journies up and down,

And e'en good Bishops, taught to trim, To fee, and to be seen, in town,

Forfake their God to bow to him. What with ill-natur'd Aings and rubs

The Poet in that happy hour,
Prom Nippant bucks, and hackney scrubs,

Imagination in his pow'r,
His toils through dult, through dirt, through gravel, Walks all abroad, and unconfin'd,
Take off his appetite for travel.

Enjoys the liberty of mind :
Tranfient is fame's immediate breath,

Dupe to the smoke of Aimsy praise, Though it blows stronger after death;

He vomits forth sonorous lays;, Own then, wich MARTIAL, after fate

And, in his fine poctic rage, If glory comes, the comes too late.

Planning, poor soul, a deathless page, For who'd his time and labour give

Indulges pride's fantastic whim, For praise, by which he cannot live ?

And all the Worl.n) must wake to HIM, But in APOLLO's court of fame

A while from fear, from envy free, (In this all courts are much the fame)

He seepaton a pacific fea; By Favour folks must make their wa),

Lethargic ERROR for a while Favour, which lasts, perhaps, a day,

Deceives him with her fpecious smile, And when you've twirl'd yourself about

And Aatt'ring dreams delusive shed To wriggle in, you're wriggled out.

Gay gilded vifions round his head. "Tis from the sunshine of her eyes

When, swift as thought, the goddess lead Bach courily infect lises or dies ;

Shifts the light gale į and temperts sudes

А

TALE.

T:

Such as the northern Skies deform,
When fell DESTRUCTION guides the storm,
Transport him to some dreary isle

THE SPIRIT OF CONTRADICTION.
Where Favour never deign'd to smile.
Where waking, helpless, all alone,
'Midit craggy steeps and rocks unknown ;
Sad scenes of woe his pride confound,
And DESOLATION stalks around.

"He very fillieft things in life
Where the dull months no pleasures bring,

Create the most material strifea

What scarce will suffer a debate,
And years roll round without a spring ;
Where He all hopeless, loft, undone,

Will oft produce the bitterest hate.
Sees chearless days that know no sun;

It is, you say ; I say 'tis nato
Where jibing Scorn her throne maintains,

Why you grow warm and you are hot.
Midlt mildews, blights, and blasts, and rains,

Thus each alike with passion glows,
Let others, with submissive knee,

And words come first, and, after, blowsa
Capricious goddess ! bow to Thee;

Friend JERKIN has an income clear,
Let them with fixt incessant aim

Some fifteen pounds, or more, a year,
Court fickle favour, faithless fame ;

And rented, on the farming plan,
Let vanity's fastidious save

Grounds at much greater sums per ann.
Lose the kind moments nature gave,

A man of consequence, no doubt,
In invocations to the shrine

'Mongst all his neighbours round about ;
Of Phæbus and the fabled Nine,

He was of frank and open mind,
An Author to his latest days,

Too honeft to be much refin'd,
From hunger, or from thirst of praise,

Would smoke his pipe, and tell his tale,
Let him through every subject roam

Sing a good song, and drink his ale.
To bring the useful morsel home ;

His wife was of another mould ;
Write upon LIBERTY opprest,

Her age was neither young nor old ;
On happiness, when most distrest,

Her features Itrong, but somewhat plain ;
Turn bookseller's obsequious tool,

Her air not bad, but rather vain ;
A monkey's cat, a mere fool's tool;

Her temper neither new nor strange,
Let him, unhallow'd wretch ! profane

A woman's, very apt to change ;
The muse's dignity for gain,

What the most hated was conviction,
Yield to the dunce his sense contemns,

What she most lov'd, flat CONTRADICTION,
Cringe to the knave his heart condemns,

A charming housewife ne'ertheless;
And, at a blockhead's bidding, force

Tell me a thing she could not dress,
Reluctant genius from his course ;

Soups, hashes, pickles, puddings, pies,
Write ode, cpistle, effay, libel,

Nought came amiss—she was so wife,

For she, bred twenty miles from town,
Make notes, or steal them, for the bible ;
Or let him, more judicial, fit,

Had brought a world of breeding down,
The dull Lord Chief, on culprit wit,

And Cumberland had seldom seen

A farmer's wife with such a mein :
With rancour read, with passion blame,
Talk high, yet fear to put his name,

She could not bear the sound of Dame;
And from the dark, but useful fade,

-No-Mistress JERKIN was her name.
(Fit place for murd'rous ambufcade,)

She could barangue with wond'rous grace

On
Weak monthly shafts at merit hurl,

gowns and mobs, and caps and lace ;
The GILDON of some modern ÇUrb.

But though ihe ne'er adornd his brows,
For me, by adverse fortune plac'd

She had a vast contempt for spouse,
Far from the colleges of taste,

As being one who took no pride,
I jostle no poetic name ;

And was a deal too countrified.

Such were our couple, man and wife;
I envy none their proper fame ; .
And if sometimes an easy vein,

Such were their means and ways of life,
With no design, and little pain,

Once on a time, the reason fair

For exercise and cheartul air,
Form'd into verle, hath pleas'd a while,
And caught the reader's transient smila,

It happen’d in his morning's roam,
My muse hath answer'd all her ends,

He kill'd his birds and brought them home.

Here, CICELY, take away my gun.
Pleasing herself, while pleas'd her friends;
But, fond of liberty, disdains

How shall we have these starlings done ?
To bear restraint, or clink her chains ;

Done! what my luve? Your wits are wild ,
Nor would, to gain a Monarch's FAVOUR,

Starlings, my dear; they're thrushes child,
Let dulness, or her fons, enslave her *.

Nay now but look, consider, wife,

They're starlings--No-pon my life: * These two last lines were added by Mr. Kenrick; Sure I can judge as well as you,

I know a thrush and starling too.
to whom the piece was originally addrededo

Who was it shot them, you or 1 ?
They're starlings-thruihes-zounds you lica
Pray, Sir, take back your dirty word,
I scorn your language as your birdį,

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It ought to make a husband blush,

If the moon rises and goes down, To treat a wife so 'bout a thrush.

And changes as the docs in town ; 'Thrush, Cicely !-Yesma ítarling -No,

If you've returns of night and day, The lie again, and then a blow.

And seasons varying roll away; Blows carry strong and quick conviction,

Whether your mind exalted woves And mar the pow'rs of contradiction.

Th' embraces of a serious mufe ; Peace soon ensued, and all was well :

Or if you write, as I do now, It were imprudence to rebel,

The knows what, the L-d knows how... Or keep the ball up of debate

These, and a thousand things like these, Against these arguments of weight,

The friendly heart are sure to pleafc. A year rollid on in perfect eale,

Now will my friend turn up his eyes, 'Twas as you like, and what you please,

And look superlatively wise ; 'Till in its course and order due,

Wonder what all this stuff's about, Came March the twentieth, fifty-two.

And how the plague I found him out! Quoth Cicely, this is charming life,

When he had taken so much pains, No tumults now, no blows, no ftrife.

In order to regale his brains What fools we were this day last year!

With privacy and country air, Lord, how you beat me then, my dear!

To go, no soul alive knew where ! -Sure it was idie and ablurd

Besides, 'tis folly to suppose To wrangle fo about a bird ;

That any person breathing goes A bird not worth a single ruh

On such a scheme, with a delign A starling-no, my love, a thruh,

To write or read fuch stuff as mine, That I'll maintain--that I'll deny.

And idly waste his precious time - You're wrong, good husband-wife, you lie, In all th' impertinence of rhyme. Again the self fame wrangle rose,

My good, wise, venerable fir! Again the lye, again the blows.

Why about nonsense all this itir! Thus every year (true man and wife)

Is it, that you would stand alonc, Ensues the same domeftic strife.

And read no nonsense but your own; Thus every year their quarrel ends,

Though you're (to tell you, by and bye) They argue, fight, and buss, and friends ;

Not half so great a fool as I;
'Tis starling, thrush, and thrush and itailing i Or is it that you make pretence,
You dog, you b; my dear, my darling.

Being a fool, to have come sense ?
And would you really have my

muse
Employ yourself in writing news,

And most unconscionably teize her
With rhyming to Warsaw and Weser;

Or toss up a poetic olio,
A FAMILIAR EPISTLE TO ****** Merely to bring in Marshal Broglio?

Should I recite what now is doing,

Or what for future times is brewing, HAT, three months gone, and never send or triumph that the poor French see all letter to a friend ?

Their hopes defeated at Montreal, In that time, sure, we might have known

Or should I your attention carry
Whether

you
fat or lean was grown ;

To Fred'rick, Ferdinand, or Harry,
Whether your host was short or tall,

Of Aying Ruffian, daftard Swede,
Had manners good, or none at all;

And baffled Austria let you read ;
Whether the neighb'ring squire you found Or gravely tell with what design
Asmere a brute as fox or hound;
Or if the parfon of the place

The youthful Henry pass'd the Rhine ?

Or should I shake my, empty head, (With all due rev'rence to his grace)

And tell you that the king is dead, Took much more pains himself to keep,

Observe what changes will ensue, Than to instruct and feed his sheep;

What will be what, and who'll be who, At what hour of the day you dine ;

Or leaving these things to my betters, Whether

you

drink beer, punch, or wine ; Before you set the face of letters ! Whether you hunt, or shoot, or ride ;

Or should I tell domestic jars, Or, by some muddy ditch's side,

How author against author wars, Which you, in visionary dream,

How both with mutual envy rankling, Call bubbling rill, or purling ttream,

Fr-kndamns M-Ip-y, Mrp-y Frok? Sigh for some aukward country lats,

Or will it more your mind engage Who must of consequence furpass

To talk of actors and the stage, All that is beautiful and bright,

To tell, if any words could tell, As much as day surfasses night;

What GARRICK acts still, and how well,
Whether the people eat and drink,

That SHERIDAN with all his care.
Or ever talk, or ever think;
If, to the honour of their parts,

Will always be a labour'd play'r,

And that his acting at the best The men have hmads, the women hearts

'Is all but art, and art confeft ;

W A single letter to a friend

That BRIDE*, if reason may presume

Yet wars and tumults will commence, To judge by things past, things to come,

For Rogues hate virtue, Blockheads sense. In future times will tread the ftage,

Believe me, Opposition grows Equally form'd for love and rage,

Not always from our real foes, Whilft Pope for comic humour fam'd,

But (where it feldom ever ends) Shall live when CLIVE no more is nam'd.

From our more dangerous feeming friends. Your wisdom I suppose can't bear

I hate not foes, for they declare, About dull pantomime to hear ;

'Tis War for War, and dare who dare ; Nor would you have a single word

But your sy, sneaking, worming owls, Of Harlequin, and wooden sword,

Whom FRIENDSHIP (corns and FEAR.controuls, Of dumb Thew, fools tricks, and wry faces, Who praise, support, and help by halves, And wit which lies all in grimaces,

Like Heifers, neither Bulls, nor Calves ; Nor should I any thing advance

Who, in Hypocrisy's disguise, Of new invented comic dance.

Are truly as the Serpent wife, Callous, perhaps, to things like there,

But cannot ALL the precept love, Would it your worship better please,

And be as harmless as the Dove. That I, more loaden than the camels,

Who bold each charitable meeting, Should crawl in philosophic trammels?

To mean no more than good sound eating, Should I attack the stars, and stray

While each becomes a hearty fellow In triumph o'er the milky way,

According as he waxes mellow, And like the TITANS try to move

And kindly helps the main design, From seat of empire royal Jove,

By drinking its success in wine ; Then spread my terrors all around,

And when his feet and senses reel, And his Satellites confound,

Totters with correspondent zeal ; Teach the war far and wide to rage,

Nay; would appear a patron wise, And ev'ry star by turns engage?

But that his wisdom's in disguise, The danger we should share between us,

And would harangue, but that his mouth,
You fight with Mars and I with VENUS,

Which ever hates the fin of drought,
Or should I rather, if I cou'd,

Catching the full perpetual glass,
Talk of words little understood,

Cannot afford a word to pass. Centric, excentric, epicycle,

Such, who like true Churchwardens eat, Fine words che vulgar ears to tickle !

Because th: Parish pays the treat, A vacuum, plenum, gravitation,

And of their bellyful secure, i And other words of like relation,

O'ersee, or over-look the poor ; Which may agree with studious men,

Who would no doubt be wond'rous just, But hurt my teeth, and gag my pen ;

And faithful Guardians of their trust, Things of such grave and serious kind

But think the deed might run more clever Puzzle my head and plague my mind;

To them and to their Heirs for ever, Besides in writing to a friend

That Charity, too apt to roam, A man may any nonsense send,

Might end, where she begins, at home; And the chief merit's to impart,

Who make all public good a trade, The honcft feelings of his heart.

Benevolence a mere parade,

And Charity a cloak for fin,
To keep it snug and warm within ;
Who Aatter, only to betray,
Who promise much and never pay,
Who wind themselves about your heart

With hypocritic, knavish art,
CHARITY.' A FRAGMENT.

Tell you what wond'rous things they're doing,
And undermine you to your ruin

Such, or of low or high eitate,
REV. MR.

To speak the honest truth, I hate :

I'view their tricks with indignation,
ORTH is excis'd, and Virtue pays

And loath each fulsom protestation,

As I would loath a whore's embrace,
A heavy Tax for barren praise.
A friend to universal Man,

Who smiles, and smirks, and strokes my face, Is universal good your plan?

And all so tender, fond, and kind, God may perhaps your project bless

As free of body, as of mind,

Affects the softness of the Dove,
But man fhall strive to thwart success.
Though the grand scheme thy thoughts pursue,

And p-xes me to shew her Love.
Bespeak a noble generous view,

Thc Maiden wither’d, wrinkled, pale, Where CHARYT Y o'er all presides,

Whose charms, tho' strong, are rather state,

Will use that weapon callid a tongue, And SENSE approves what VIRTUE guides,

To wound the beauteous and the young. * Miss Bride an Actress then of Drury-Lane The-1--What, Delia handsome !well ! - overen

I'm either blind or stupid grown. atre, who foon after quitted the Stage. Scc her cha- | -The girl is well enough to passy Bacter in the Rofciad.

A rosy, simple, ruftic tafs,

INSCRIBED

TO

TNE

RANBURY.

W

name

But there's no meaning in her face,
And then her air, so void of grace!
And all the world, with half an eye,
May see her shape grows quite awry.
I speak not from an ill design,
For he's a favourite of mine,
-Though I could wish that he would wear
A more reserv'd becoming air;
Not that I hear of indifcretions,
Such folks, vou know, make no confessions,
Though the World says, that Parson there,
That smock-fac`d Man with darksith hair,
He who wrote verses on her bird,
The simpleft things I ever heard,
Makes frequent vilits there of late,
And is become exceeding great ;
This I myself aver is true,
I saw hiin lead her to his pew.

Thus fcandal, like a false quotation,
Misrepresents in defimation ;
And where she haply callinot spy
A loop wherean to hang alye,
Turns every action wrong lide out
To bring her paultry tale about.

Thus Excellence of every kind,
Whether of body or of mind,
Is but a mark set upon high,
For knaves to guide their arrows by,
A mere Scotch Post for public itch,
Where Hog, or Man, may scrub his breech.

But thanks to nature, which ordains
A just reward for all our pains,
And makes us ftem, with secret pride,
Hoarse DisaPPOINTMENT's rugged tide,
And like a lordly ship, which braves
The roar of winds, and ruth of Waves,
Weather all storms, which jealous Hate
Or frantic Malice m ay create.
Tis CONSCIENCE, a reward alone,
CONSCIENCE, who plac'd on Virtue's throne,
Eyes raging men, or raging seas,
Undaunted, firm, with heart at ease.

From her dark Cave, though Envy rise
With hollow checks, and jaundic'd eyes,
Though HATRED league with FOLLY vain,
And SPLEEN and Rancour join the train ;
Shall Virtue fhrink, abash'd, afraid,
And tremble at an idle shade?
Fear works upon the Fool, or Knave,
An honest man is always brave.
While OPPOSITION's fruitless aim
Is as the bellows to the flame,
And, like a Pagan persecution,
Enforces Faith and RESOLUTI'

Though prejudice in narrow I
The mental eye of reason biinds;
Though Wit, which not c'en friends will spare,
Affect the sneering, laughing air,
Though DULLNESS, in her monkish gown,
Display the WISDOM of a frown,
Yet TRUTH will force herself, in spite
Of all their efforts, into light.

See Bigod, Monks in Spain prevail,
See GALIL AO dragg'd to gaol :
Hear the grave Doctors of the schools,
The Golgotha of Icarned Fools,
As damnable and impiaus brand
That art they cannot understand,

And out of zeal pervert the Bible,
As if it were a standing Libel,
On every good and useful plan
That rises in the brain of man.

O BIGOTRY! whole frantic rage
Has blotted half the classic page,
And in Religion's drunken fit,
Murder'd the Greek ar.d Roman wit;
Who zealous for that Faith's encrease,
Whose ways are righteousness and peace,
Witii rods and whips, and sword, and axe,
With prisons, tortureś, flames and racks,
With persecution's fiery goad,
Enforcing some new-fangid mode,
Wouldst pluck down Reason from her throne
To raise some phantom of thy own ;
Alas! the fury undiscerning,
Which blasts, and stunts, and hews ap Learning,
Like an ill-judging zealous friend,
Blasphemes that Wisdom you defend.

Go, kick the prostituted whores, The nine stale virgins out of doors ;

For let the Abbess beat her drum,
Eleven thousand troops shall come;
All female forms, and virgins true,

As ever Saint or Poet knew.
And glorious be the honour'd nan
OF WINIFREDE, of SAINTED fame,
Who to the Church like lightning sped,
And ran three miles without her head ;
(Well might the modeft Lady run,
Since 'twas to keep her maiden one)
And when before the congregation
The Prince fell dead for reparation,
Secure of Life as well as Honour,
Ran back with both her heads upon her.

No matter of what shape or size,
Gulp down the Legendary Lies,
Believe, what neither God ordains,
Nor Christ allows, nor sense maintains ;
Make Saint of Pope, or Saint of Thief,
Believe almost in unbelief;
Yet with thy folemn priestly air,
By book and bell, and candle swear,
That God has made his own elect
But from your ftem and favourite feet ;
That He who made the world, has blet
One part alone, to damn the rest,
As if th' Allmerciful and just,
Who form'd us of one common duft,
Had render'd up his own decree,
And lent his attributes to thee.

Thus his own eyes the Bigot blinds,
To fhut out light from human minds,
And the clear truth (an emanation
From the great Author of creation,
A beam transmitted from on high,
To bring us nearer to the sky,
While ev'ry path by science trod
Leads us with wonder up to God,)
Is doom'd by Ignorance to make
Atonement at the Martyr's itake;
Though, like pure gold, th' illustrious James
Comes forth the brighter from the flame.
No persecution will avail;
No inquisition racks, nor gaol ;
When Learning's more enlight'ned ray
Shall drive these lickly foge aways

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