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Our loves, or any kind assistance,
| Let us invert, in thy disguise, That may be granted at a distance;
That odious nature, we despise." But if you go to brag, good bye t'ye,
She ceas'd—the sable mantled dame Nor dare to brave the High and Mighty." With slow approach, and awful, came; -“Wrong are you both," rejoins a quail, And frowning with sarcastic sneer, Confin'd within its wiry jail:
Reproach'd the female rioteer : “ Frequent from realm to realm I've rang'd “ That nature you abuse, my fair, And with the seasons, climates chang'd.
Was I created to repair, Mankind is not so void of grace,
And contrast with a friendly shade, But good I've found in every place :
The pictures Heaven's rich pencil made; I've seen sincerity in France,
And with my sleep alluring dose, Amongst the Germans complaisance ;
To give laborious art repose; In foggy Holland wit may reign,
To make both noise and action cease, I've known humility in Spain ;
The queen of secresy and peace.. Free'd was I by a turban’d Turk,
But thou a rebel, vile, and vain, Whose life was one entire good work ;
Usurp’st my lawful old domain; And in this land, fair freedom's boast,
My sceptre thou affect'st to sway, Behold my liberty is lost.
And all the various hours are day; Despis'd Hibernia have I seen,
With clamours of unreal joy, Dejected like a widow'd queen;
My sister, Silence, you destroy ; Her robe with dignity long worn,
The blazing lamp's unnatural light And cap of liberty were torn;
My eye balls weary and affright; Her broken fife, and harp unstrung,
But if I am allow'd one shade, On the uncultur'd ground were flung;
Which po intrusive eyes invade, Down lay her spear, defild with rust,
There all the atrocious imps of Hell, And book of learning in the dust;
Theft, Murder, and Pollution dwell : Her loyalty still blameless found,
Think then how much, thou toy of chance, And hospitality renown'd :
Thy praise is likely worth tinbance; No more the voice of fame engross'd,
Blind thing that run'st without a guide, In discontent and clamour lost. -
Thou whirlpool in a rushing tide, Ah ! dire corruption, art thou spread,
No more my fame with praise pollute,
But damn me into some repute."
WHERE'S THE POKER?
| The poker lost, poor Susan storm'd,
As scolding, crying, swearing, sweating,
Abusing, fidgetting, and fretting.
“ Nothing but villainy, and thieving;
Good Heavens! what a world we live in? Quam multa prava atque injusta fiunt moribus. | If I don't find it in the morning,
TERENT. I'll surely give my master warning. Fashion, a motley nymph of yore,
He'd better far shut up his doors, The Cyprian queen to Porteus bore:
Than keep such good for nothing whores ; Various herself in various climes,
We vartuous bodies cannot thrive.” And turns in every age or nation,
Well may poor Susan grunt and groan; The chequer'd wheel of variegation ;
Misfortunes never come alone, True female that ne'er knew her will,
But tread each other's heels in throngs, Still changing, tho' immortal still.
For the next day she lost the tongs : One day as the inconstant maid
The salt box, cullender, and pot, Was careless on her sofa laid,
Soon shar'd the same untimely lot. Sick of the Sun and tir'd with light,
In vain she vails and wages spent She thus invok'd the gloomy Night :
On new ones for the new ones went. “ Come—these maliguant rays destroy,
There'd been, (she swore) some dev'l or witch is, Thou screen of shame, and rise of joy.
To rob or plunder all the kitchen. Come from thy western ambuscade,
One night she to her chamber crept ; Queen of the rout and masquerade :
(Where for a month she had not slept ; Nymph, without thee no caids advance,
Her master being, to her seeming, Without thee halts the loit'ring dance ;
A better playfellow than dreaming.) Till thou approach, all, all's restraint,
Curse on the author of these wrongs, Nor is it safe to game or paint;
In her own bed she found the tongs, The belles and beaux thy influence ask,
(Hang Thomas for an idle joker!) Put on the universal mask
In her own bed she found the poker;
With salt box, pepper box, and kettle,
Joyous to breakfast they sat round, With all the culinary metal.
Nor were asbam'd to eat a pound. Be warn'd, ye fair, by Susan's crosses,
These were the manners, these the ways, Keep chaste, and guard yourselves from losses ; In good queen Bess's golden days; For if young girls delight in kissing,
Each damsel ow'd her bloom and glee,' No wonder, that the poker's missing.
To wholesome elbow-grease, and me,
Thus where the Fates send you, they send THE TEA POT AND SCRUBBING
Flagitious times, which ne'er will mend,
'Till some philosopher can find, BRUSH.
A scrubbing-brush to scour the mind.” FABLE V. .
A TAWDRY tea-pot, a-la-mode, Where art her utmost skill bestow'd, Was much esteem'd for being old, And on its sides with red and gold Strange beasts were drawn, in taste Chinese, And frightful fish, and hump-back trees.
High in an elegant beaufet, This pompous utensil was set, And near it, on a marble slab, Forsaken by some careless drab, A veteran scrubbing-brush was plac'd, And the rich furniture disgrac'd. The tea-pot soon began to flout, And thus its venom spouted ont: “ Who from the scullery or yard, Brought in this low, this vile blackguard, And laid in insolent position, Among is people of condition? Back to the helper in the stable, Scour the close-stool, or wash-house table; Or cleanse some horsing block, or plank, Nor dare approach us folks of rank. Turn-brother coffee pot, your spout, Observe the nasty sripking lout, Who seems to scorn my indignation, Nor pays due homage to my fashion; Take, silver sugar dish, a view, And, cousin cream pot, pray do you.” “ Pox on you all,” replies old Scrub, "Of coxcombs ye confederate club. Full of impertinence, and prate, Ye bate all things that are sedate. None but such ignorant infernals, Judge, by appearance, and externals: Train'd up in toil and useful knowledge, I'm fellow of the kitchen college, And with the mop, my old associate, The family affairs negociate.Am foe to filth, and things obscene, Dirty by making others clean.Not shining, yet I cause to sbine, My roughness makes my neighbours fine; You're fair without, but foul within, With shame impregnated, and sin; To you each impious scandal's owing, You set each gossip's clack a going. How Parson Tythe in secret sins, And bow Miss Dainty brought forth twins : How dear delicious Polly Bloom, Oxes all her sweetness to perfume; Though grare at church, and cards can bet, At once a prude and a coquette.'Twas better for each British virgin, When on roast beef, strong beer, and sturgeon,
Whar's honour, did your lordship say? My loril, I humbly crave a day.-'Tis difficult, and in my mind, Like substance, cannot be defin'd. It deals in numerous externals, And is a legion of infernals ; Sometimes in riot and in play, Tis breaking of the Sabbath day: When 'tis consider'd as a passion, I deem it lust and fornication. We pay our debts in honour's cause, Lost in the breaking of the laws : 'Tis for some selfish impious end, To murder the sincerest friend ; But wou'd you alter all the clan, Turn out an honourable man. Why take a pistol from the shelf, And fight a duel with yourself. 'Twas on a time, the Lord knows when, In Ely, or in Lincoln fen, A frog and mouse bad long disputes, Held in the language of the brutes, Who of a certain pool and pasture, Shou'd be the sovereign and master. “ Sir," says the frog, and damn'd his blood, “I hold that my pre ension's good; Nor can a brute of reason doubt it, For all that you can squeak about it." The mouse, averse to be o'erpower'd, Gave him the lie, and call'd him coward ; Too hard for any frog's digestion, To have his froghood call'd in question ! A bargain instantly was made, No mouse of honour could evade, On the next morn, as soon as light, With desperate bullrushes to fight; The morning came and man to man, The grand monomachy began ; Need I recount how each bravado, Shone in montant and in passado; To what a height their ire they carry'd, How oft they thrusted and they parry’d; But as these champions kept dispensing. Finesses in the art of fencing, A furious vulture took upon her, Quick to decide this point of honour, And, lawyer like, to make an end on't, Devour'd both plaintiff and defendant, Thus, often in our British nation, (I speak by way of application)
A lie direct to some hot youth
For what? thou avaricious elf, The giving which perhaps was truth,
But to destroy it all thyself ; The treading on a scoundrels toe,
To lead a life of drink and feast, Or dealing impudence a blow,
T'oppress the poor, and cheat the priest, Disputes in politics and law,
Or triumph in a virgin lost; About a feather and a straw;
Is all the manhood thou canst boast. A thousand trifies not worth naming,
Pretty, in Nature's various plan, In whoring, jockeying, and gaming,
To see a weed that's like a man ; Shall cause a challenge's inditing,
But 'tis a grievous thing indeed,
To see a man so like a weed.”
THE BROCADED GOWN AND LINEN O'er their devoted heads hangs hovering,
A gown descended of brocade.
French !-Yes, from Paris-that's enough,
That wou'd give dignity to stuff.
By accident or by design,
Or from some cause, I can't divine; The Sun had rais'd above the mead
A linen rag, (sad source of wrangling!) His glorious horizontal head;
On a contiguous peg was dangling, Sad Pbilomela left her thorn;
Vilely besmear'd--for late his master, The lively linnets hymn’d the morn,
It sery'd in quality of plaister. And Nature, like a waking bride,
The gown, contemptuous beholder, Hler blushes spreads on every side ;
Gave a French shrug from either shoulder, The cock as usual crow'd up Tray,
And rustling with emotions furious, Who nightly with his master lay;
Bespoke the rag in terms injurious. The faithful spaniel gave the word,
“ Unfit for tinder, Jint, or fodder, Trelooby at the signal stirr'd,
Thou thing of filth, (and what is odder) And with his gun, from wood to wood,
Discarded from thy owner's back, The man of prey his course pursu'd ;
Dar’st thou proceed, and gold attack? The dew and herbage all around,
Instant away—or in this place, Like pearls and emeralds on the ground;
Begar me give you coup de grace.” Tl'uncultur'd flowers that rudely rise,
To this reply'd the honest rag, Where smiling freedom art defies;
Who lik’d a jest, and was a wag; The lark, in transport, tow'ring high,
" Though thy glib tongue without a halt run, The crimson curtains of the sky,
Thou shabby second-hand subaltern, Affected not Trcooby's mind
At once so ancient and so easy, For what is beauty to the blind?
At once so gorgeous and so greasy; Th’amorous voice of sylvan love,
I value not thy gasconading, Form'd charming concerts in the grove;
Nor all thy alamode parading ; Sweet zephyr sigh'd on Flora's breast,
But to abstain from words imperious, And drew the blackbird from his nest;
And to be sober, grave, and serious. Whistling he leapt from leaf to leaf;
Though, says friend Horace, 'tis no treason, But what is masic to the deaf?
At once to giggle, and to reason, At length wbile poring on the ground,
When me you lesson, friend, you dream, With monumental look profound,
For know I am not what I seem ; A curious vegetable caught
Soon by the mill's refining motion, His-something similar to thought:
The sweetest daughter of the ocean, Wond'ring, he ponder'd, stooping low,
Fair Medway, shall with snowy hue, (Trelooby always lor'd a show)
My virgin purity renew, And on the mandrake's vernal station,
And give me reinform'd existence, Star'd with prodigions obserration.
A good retention and subsistence. Th' affronted mandrake with a frown.
Then shall the sons of genius join, Address'd in rage the wealthy clown.
To make my second life divine. “ Prond member of the rambling race,
O MURRAY, let me then dispense, That vegetate from place to place,
Some portion of thy eloquence; Pursue the leveret at large,
For Greek and Roman rhetoric shine, Nor near thy blunderbuss discharge.
United and improved in thine. Disdainful though thou look'st on me,
The spirit stirring sage'alarms, What art thou, or what can'st thou be?
And Ciceronian sweetness charms. Nature, that mark'd thee as a fool,
Th’ Athenian Akenside may deign
To stamp me deathless with his pen,
While flows appror'd by all the Nine
Pattern of love, and peace, and unity, Th' immortal soul of etery line.
Or bow cou'd you expect impunity? Collins, perhaps, bis aid may lend,
O Lord ! this nasty thing will bite, Melpomene's selected friend.
And scratch and clapper, claw and fight. Perhaps our great Augustan Gray
O monstrous wretch, thus to devise, May grace me with a Doric lay;
To tear out your poor Sylvia's eyes. With sweet, with manly words of woe,
You're a fine Popish plot pursuing, That nervously pathetic flow.
By presents to affect my ruin ; What, Mason, may I owe to you?
And thus for good are ill retorting Learning's first pride, and Nature's too ;
To me, who brought you such a fortune; On thee she cast her sweetest smile,
To me, you low-liv'd clown, to me, And gave thee Art's correcting file ;
Who came of such a family; That file, which with assiduous pain,
Me, who for age to age possess'd The viper Envy bites in rain.
A lion rampant on my crest; Such glories my mean lot betide,
Me, who have filld your empty coffers, Hear, tawdry fool, and check thy pride.
Me, who'd so many better offers ; Thou, after scouring, dying, turning,
And is my merit thus regarded, (If haply thou escape a burning)
Cuckold, my virtue thus rewarded. From gown to petticoat descending,
O'tis past sufferance-Mary-Mary, And in a beggar's mantle ending.
I faint—the citron, or the clary," Shalt in a dunghill or a stye,
The poor man, who had bought the creature, 'Midst filth and vermin rot and die.
Out of pure conjugal good-nature,
Though form'd beyond all skill antique,
They can't their marble silence break;
They only breathe, and think, and start,
Astonish'd at their maker's art. Yg thunders roll, ye oceans roar,
Quoth Mag,“ Fair Grizzle, I must grant, And wake the rough resounding shore ;
Your spouse a magpye cannot want : Ye guns in smoke and flames engage,
For troth (to give the Dev'l his due) And shake the ramparts with your rage;
He keeps a rookery in you. Boreas distend your chops and blow;
Don't fear I'll tarry long, sweet lady, Ring, ring, ye honny bells of Bow;
Where there is din enough already, Ye drums and rattles, rend the ears,
We never should agree together, Like twenty thousand Southwark fairs;
Although we're so much of a feather; Bellow, ye bulls, and bawl, ye bats,
You're fond of peace, no man can doubt it, Encore, encore, ye amorous cats;
Who make such wond'rous noise about it ; In vain, poor things, ye squeak and squall,
And your tongue of immortal mould Soft Sylvia shall out-tongue you all :
Proclaims in thunder you're no scold. But bere she comes-there's no relief,
Yes, yes, you're sovereign of the tongue, She comes, and blessed are the deaf.
And like the king can do no wrong ; * A magpie! why, you're mad, my dear, Justly your spouse restrains his voice, To bring a chattering magpie here.
Nor vainly answers words with noise ; A prating play thing, fit for boys
This storm, which no soul can endure, You know I can't endure a noise.
Requires a very different cure; You brought this precious present sure,
Por such sour verjuice dispositions,
Your crabsticks are the best physicians.”
THE BLOCKHEAD AND BEEHIVE.
FABLE X. He'll only make me catch my death.
The fragrance of the new-mown hay O Heavens ! for a little breath!
Paid incense to the god of day; Thank God, I never knev resentment,
Who issuing from his eastern gate, But am all patience and contentment,
Resplendent rode in all his state: Or else, you paltry knave, I shou'd
Rous'd by the light from soft repose, (As any other woman wou'd)
Big with the Muse, a bard arose, Wring off his neck, and down your gallet,
And the fresh garden's still retreat Cram it, by way of chick or pullet.
He measured with poetic feet. Well, I must lock up all my rings,
The cooling, high, o'er-arching shade, My jewels, and my curious things :'
By the embracing branches made, My Chinese toys must go to pot;
The smooth shorn sod, whose ver lant gloss, My dear, my pinchbecks-and what not?
Was check'd with intermingled moss, For all your magpies are, like lawyers,
Cowslips, like topazes that shine, At once thieves, brawlers, and destroyers.
Close by the silver serpentine, You for a wife have search'd the globe,
Rude rustics which assert the bow'rs, You've got a very female Job,
Amidst the educated flow'rs.
The lime tree and sweet-scented bay,
| Which certain bee, if rightly known, (The sole reward of many a lay)
Wou'd prove no better than a drone; And all the poets of the wing,
There are (but I shall pame no names, Who sweetly without salary sing,
I never love to kindle flames) Attract at once bis observation,
A pack of rogues with crimes grown callous, Peopling thy wilds, Imagination!
Who greatly wou'd adorn the gallows; “ Sweet Nature, who this turf bedews,
That with the wasps, for paltry gold, Sweet Nature, who's the thrash's Muse!
A secret correspondence hold, How she cach anxious thought beguiles,
Yet you'll be great your subjects free, And meets me with ten thousand smiles !
If the whole tbing be left to me.” O infinite benignity!
Thus, like the waters of the ocean, She smiles, but not alone on me;
His tongue had run in ceaseless motion, On bill, on dale, on lake, on lawn,
Had not the queen ta'en up in wrath, Like Celia when her picture's drawn ;
This thing of folly and of froth. Assuming countless charms and airs,
“ Impertinent and witless meddler, 'Till Hayman's matchless art despairs,
Thou smattering, empty, noisy pedler! Pausing like me he dreads to fall
By vanity, thou bladder blown, From the divine original."
To be the football of the town. More bad he said-but in there came
O happy England, land of freedom, A lout-Squire Booby was his name.
Replete with statesmen, if she need 'em. The bard, who at a distant view
Where war is wag'd by Sue or Nell, The busy prattling blockhead knew,
And Jobson is a Machiavel! Retir'd into a secret nook,
Tell Hardwick that his judgment fails, And thence his observations took.
Show Justice how to hold her scales.Vex'd be cou'd find no man to tea“.
To fire the soul at once, and please, The squire 'gan chattering to the bees,
Teach Murray and Demosthenes; And pertly with officious mien,
Say Vane is not by goodness grac'd, He thus address'd their humming queen :
And wants humanity and taste.“ Madam, be not in any terrours;
Thu' Pelham with Mæcenas vies, I only come t'amend your errours ;
Tell Fame she's false, and Truth she lies ; My friendship briefly to display,
And then return, thou verbal Hector, And put you in a better way.
And give the bees another lecture.” Cease, madam, (if I may advise)
This said, the portal she unbarr'd, To carry honey on your thighs,
Calling the bees upon their guard, Employ ('tis better, I arer)
And set at once about his ears Old Grub, the fairies' coach-maker;
Ten thousand of her grenadiers. For be who has sufficient art
Some on his lips and palate hung, To make a coach, may make a cart.
And the offending member stung. To these vou'll yoke some sixteen bees,
“ Just” (says the bard from out the grot) Who will dispatch your work with ease ;
“ Just, thougb severe, is your sad lot, And come and go, and go and come,
Who think, and talk, and live in vain,
Of sweet society the bane.
And active idleness at best.”
THE CITIZEN AND THE RED LION And know each author Ilay fist on,
| I love my friend—but love my ease, You're not quite right-'tis not the thing.
And claim a right myself to please ; Myself wou'd gladly be an actor,
To company however prone, To help the honey manufacture.
At times all men wou'd be alone. I hear for war you are preparing,
Free from each interruption rude, Which I should like to have a share in :
Or what is meant by solitude. Yet though the enemy be landing,
My villa lies within the bills, 'Tis wrong to keep an army standing.
So- like a theatre it fills: If you'll ensure me from the laws,
To me my kind acquaintance stray, I'll write a pamphlet in your cause.
And Sunday proves no sabbath day; I vow, I am concern'd to see
Yet many a friend and near relation,
Make up a glorious congregation ;
They crowd by dozens and by dozens,
And bring me all their couiry cousins.
Though cringing landlords on the road,