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Though gilded grapes to sign-post chain'd, The lion thank'd him for his proffer,
Invite them to be entertain'd,

And if a vacancy shou'd offer,
And straddling cross his kilderkin,

Declar'd he had to just a notion, Though jolly Bacchus calls them in ;

To be averse to such promotion. Nay-though my lancllady wou'd trust 'em, The citizen drove off' with jov, Pilgarlic's sure of all the custom ;

“ For London-Ball-for London-hoy." And bis whole house is like a fair,

Content to hed he went his way,
Unless he only treats with air.

And is no bankrupt to this day.
What? shall each pert half witted wit,
That calls me Jack, or calls me Kit,
Prey on my time, or on my table?
No--but let's hasten to the fable.

The eve advanc'd, the Sun declin'd,
Ball to the booby-hutch was join'd,

A wealthy cockney drove away,
To celebrate Saint Saturday;

- Nobilitas sula est atque unica virtus.,

JUVENAL. Wife, daughter, pug, all crouded in, To meet at country house their kin.

Tvrtu friend Juvenal agree, Thro' Brentford, to fair Twickenham's bow'rs,

Virtue's the true nobility; The ungreas'd grumbling axle scow'rs,

Has of herself sufficient charms, To pass in rural sweets a day,

Altho' without a coat of arms. But there's a lion in the way :

Honestus does not know the rules, This lion a most furious elf,

Concerning Or and Fez, and Gules, Hung up to represent himself,

Yet sets the wond'ring eye to gaze on, Redden'd with rage, and shook his mane,

Such deeds no heralde er could blaze on, And roard, and roard, and roar'd again.

Tawdry achievements out of place, Wond'rous, tho' painted on a board,

Do but augment a fool's disgrace ; He mard, and roar'd, and roar'd, and roar'd.

A coward is a double jest,

Who has a lion for his crest; " At whose expense a legion feasts,

And things are come to such a pass, Foe to yourself, you those pissue,

Two horses may support an ass; Who're eating up your cakes and you ;.

And on a gamester or buffoon, Walk in, walk in, (so prudence votes)

A moral motto's a lampoon. And give poor Ball a feed of oats,

An honest rustic having done Took to yourself, and as for ma'm,

His master's work 'wjxt sun and sun, Coax her to take a little dram;

Retir' I to dress a little spot, Let Miss and Pug with cakes be fed,

Adjoining to his homely cot, Then, honest man, go back to bed ;

Where pleas'd, is miniature, he found You're better, and you're cheaper there,

His landlord's culniary ground, Where are no hangers on to fear,

Soine herbs that feed, and some that heal, Go buy friend Newbury's new Pantheon,

The winter's medicine or meal. And con the tale of poor Acteon,

The sage, which in his garden seen, Horn'd by Diana, and o'erpower'd,

No man need ever die ' I ween; And by the dogs he fed devour'd.

The marjoram comely to behold,

With thyme, and ruddiest marygold, Lewiness perhaps may give to thee;

And miut and pennyroyal sweet, And tho' your spouse my lecture scorns,

To deck the cottage windows meet, Beware his fate, beware his horns."

And baum, that yields a tiner juice "Sir," says the Cit, (who made a stand,

Than all that China can produce; And struk'd his forehead with bis hand)

With carrots red, and turnips white, " By your grim gravity and grace,

And leeks, Cadwallader's delight; You greatly wou'd become the mace.

And all the savory crop that vie This kind advice I gladly take -

To please the palate and the eye. Draw'r, bring the dram, and bring a cake,

Thus, as intent, he did survey With good brown beer that's brisk and hunming."

Vis plot, a Herald came that way, "A coming, sir! a coming, coming!"

A man of great escutcheon'd knowledge, The Cit then took a hearty draught,

And member of the motley college. And sbook bis jolly sides and laugh'd.

Heedless the peasant pass'd he by, Then to the king of beasts he bow'd,

Indulging this soliloquy; And thus his gratitude arow'd.-

“Ye gods! what an enormous space, "Sir, for your sapient oration,

Twixt man and man does Nature place; Loxe the greatest obligation.

While some hy deeds of honour rise, You stand expos'd to son, and show'r,

To such a height, as far out-vies I know Jack Ellis of the Tow'r;

The visible diurnal sphere; By him you soon may gain renown,

While others, like this rustic here, He'll show your highness to the town;

Grope in the groveling ground content,
Or, if you chuse your station here,

Without or lineage or descent,
To call forth Britons to their beer,
As painter of distinguish'd note,

'Cur moriatur homo, cui salvia crescit in He'll send his man to clean your coat."


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Hail, Heraldry! mysterious art,

Thou to thy doom, old boy, art fated, Bright patroness of all desert,

To morrow—and thou shalt be baited." Mankind would on a level lie,

The deed was done-curse on the wrong! And undistinguish'd live and die;

| Bloody description, hold thy tongue.Depriv'd of thy illustrious aid,

Victorious yet the bull return'd, Such! so momentous is our trade.”

And with stern silence inly moum'd. “Sir,” says the clown, “why sure you joke," A vet’ran, brave, majestic cock, (And kept on digging as he spoke)

Who serv'd for hour glass, guard, and clock, “ And prate not to extort conviction,

Who crow'd the mansion's first relief, But merrily by way of fiction.

Alike from goblin and from thief; Say, do your manuscripts attest,

Whose youth escap'd the Christmas skillet, What was old father Adam's crest;

Whose vigour brav'd the Shrovetide billet, Did he a nobler coat receive

Had just return'd in wounds and pain, In right of marrying Mrs. Eve;

Triumpbant from the barbarous train. Or had supporters when he kiss'd her,

By riv'let's brink, with trees o'ergrown, On dexter side, and side sinister;

He heard his fellow sufferer's moan; Or was his motto, prithee speak,

And greatly scorning wounds and smart, English, French, Latin, Welch, or Greek ; Gave him three cheers with all his heart. Or was he not, without a lye,

“Rise, neighbour, from that pensive attitude, Just such a nobleman as I?

Brave witness of vile man's ingratitude; Virtue, which great defects can stifle,

And let us both with spur and horn, May beam distinction on a trifle ;

The cruel reasoning monster scoin. And honour, with her native charms,

Methinks at every dawn of day, May beautify a coat of arms;

When first I chant my blitbsorne lay, Realities sumewhat will thrive,

Methinks I hear from out the sky,
E'en by appearance kept alive;

All will be better by and by;
But by themselves, Gules, Or, and Fez, When bloody, base, degenerate man,
Are cyphers neither more or less :

Who deviates from his Maker's plan ;
Keep both thy head and hands from crimes, Who Nature and her works abuses,
Be honest in the worst of times:

And thus his fellow servants uses, Health's on my countenance impress'd,

Shall greatly, and vet justly want, And sweet content's my daily guest,

The mercy he refus'd to grant; My fame alone I build on this,

And (while his heart his conscience purges) And Garter King at Arms may kiss."

Shall wish to be the brute he scourges.”




In learning's lore and beauty's charms.
The seas wide empire we engross,

All nations hail the British cross;
The land of liberty we tread,

| When rul'd by truth and nature's ways, And woe to his devoted head,

When just to blame, yet fix'd to praise, Who dares the contrary advance,

As votary of the Delphic god,
One Englishman's worth ten of France.

I reverence the critic's rod;
These these are truths, what man won't write for, But when inflam'd with spite alone,
Won't swear, won't bully, or won't fight for; I hold all critics but as one;
Yet (tho' perhaps I speak thro’ vanity)

For though they class themselves with art, Wou'd we'd a little inore humanity;

And each man takes a different part; Too far, I fear, I've drove the jest,

Yet whatsoe'er they praise and blame; So leave to cock and bull the rest.

They in their motives are the same, A bull, who'd listen’d to the vows

Forth as she waddled in the brake, Of above fifteen hundred cows;

A grey goose stumbled on a snake, And serv'd his master fresh and fresh,

And took th’occasion to abuse her, With hecatombs of special flesh,

And of rank plagiarism accuse her. Like to an hermit or a dervise,

'Twas I," quoth she, “ in every vale, (Grown old and feeble in the service)

First hiss'd the noisy nightingale ; Now left the meadow's green parade,

And boldly cavill'd at each note, And sought a solitary shade.

'That twitter'd in the woodlark's throat: The cows proclaim'd in mournful lowing,

I, who sublime and more than mortal, The bull's deficiency in wooing,

Must stoop to enter at the portal, And to their disappointed master,

Have ever been the first to show All told the terrible disaster.

My hate to every thing that's low; " Is this the case" (quotb Hodge) “O rare! While thou, mean mimic of my manner, But hold, to morrow is the fair.

(Without inlisting to my banner)

Dar'st in thy grov'ling situation,
To counterfeit my sibilation."

| THE BAG-WIG AND THE TOBACCO. The snake enrag'd, reply'd, “Know, madam,

I date my charter down from Adam;

Nor can I, since I bear the bell,
E'er imitate where I excell.

A Bag-wig of a jauntee air.
Had any other creature dar'd

Trick'd up with all a barber's care,
Once to aver, what you've averr'd,

Loaded with powder and perfume,
I might have been more fierce and fervent, Hung in a spendthrift's dressing-room :
But you're a goose, and so your servant.” Close by its side, by chance convey'd,
« Truce with your folly and your pride,"

A black tobacco-pipe was laid ;
The warbling Philomela cry'd;

And with its vapours far and near, « Since no more animals we find

Outstunk the essence of Monsieur; In nature of the hissing kind,

At which its rage, the thing of h air, You should be friends with one another,

Thus, bristling up, began declare. Nay, kind as brother is to brother.

" Bak'd dirt! that with intrusion rude For know, thou pattern of abuse,

Break'st in upon my solitude, Thou snake art but a crawling goose;

And whose offensive breath defiles And thou dull dabbler in each lake,

The air for forty thousand miles-
Art nothing but a feather'd snake."

Avaunt-pollution's in thy touch-..
O barb'rous Englishman! horrid Dutch!
I cannot bear it-Here, Sue, Nan,

Go call the maid to call the man,
MRS. ABIGAIL AND THE DUMB And bid him come without delay,

To take this odious pipe away.

Hideous! sure some one smok'd thee, friend, PABLE XV.

Reversely, at his t'other end.

Oh! what mix'd odours! what a throng With frowning brow, and aspect low'ring,

Of salt and sour, of stale and strong! As Abigail one day was scow'ring,

A most unnatural combination, Prom chair to chair she past along,

Enough to mar all perspirationWithout soliloquy or song;

Monstrous ! again 'twou'd vex a saint! Content, in humdrum mood, t'adjust

Susan, the drops or else I faint !” Her matters to disperse the dust.

The pipe (for 'twas a pipe of soul) Thus plodded on the sullen fair,

| Raising himself upon his bole, Till a dumb-waiter claim'd her care ;

In smoke, like oracle of old, She then jo rage, with shrill salute,

Did thus his sentiments unfold. Bespoke the inoffensive mute:

“Why, what's the matter, Goodınan Swagger, " Thou stupid tool of vapourish asses,

Thou flaunting French, fantastic bragger? With thy brown shelves for pots and glasses ; Whose whole fine speech is (with a pox) Thou foreign whirligig, for whom

Ridiculous and heterodox. Us honest folks must quit the room;

'Twas better for the English nation And, like young misses at a christ'ning,

Before such scoundrels came in fashion, Are forc'd to be content with list'ning;

When none sought hair in realms unknown, Though thou'rt a fav'rite of my master's,

But every blockhead bore his own. 'll set thee gadding on thy castors."

Know, puppy, I'm an English pipe, This said with many a rough attack,

Deem'd worthy of each Briton's gripe, She scrubb'd him 'till she made him crack;

Who with my cloud-compelling aid. Insulted stronger still and stronger,

Help our plantations and our trade, The poor damb thing could hold no longer

And am, when sober and when mellow, “ Thon drab, born mops and brooms to dandle,

An upright, downright, honest fellow. Thou haberdasher of small scandal,

Though fools, like you, may think me rough, Factor of family abuse,

And scorn me, 'cause I am in buff, Retailer of domestic news;

Yet your contempt I glad receire, My lord, as soon as I appear, i

'Tis all the fame that you can give: Confines thee in thy proper sphere;

None finery or fopp’ry prize, Or else, at ev'ry place of call,

But they who've something to disguise; The chandler's shop, or cobler's stall,

For simple nature bates abuse,
Or ale-house, where (for petty tales,

And plainness is the dress of Use.”
Gin, beer, and ale are constant vails)
Each word at table that was spoke,
Wou'd soon become the public joke,
And cheerful innocent converse,

To scandal warp'd-or something worse.
Whene'er my master I attend,

Preely his mind he can unbend ;

Old Care, with industry and art, But when such praters fill my place,

At length so well had play'd his part;
Toen nothing should be said - but grace."

He heap'd up such an ample store,
That av'rice could not sigh for more;

Ten thousand flocks his shepherd told,

To have a curious trick in store, His coffers overflow'd with gold;

Which never was perform'd before. The land all round him was his own.

Thro' all the town this soon got air, With corn his crowded granaries groan.

And the whole house was like a fair; In short, so vast his charge and gain,

But soon his entry as he made, That to possess them was a pain :

Without a prompter, or parade, With happiness oppress'd he lies,

'Twas all expectance, all suspense, And much too prudent to be wise.

And silence gagg'd the audience. Near him there liv'l a beauteous maid,

He hid his head behind his wig, With all the charms of youth array'd;

And with such truth took off a pig, Good, amiable, sincere and free,

All swore'twas serious, and no joke, Her name was Generosity.

For doubtless underneath his cloak, 'Twas hers the largess to bestow

He had conceal'd some grunting elf, On rich and poor, on friend and foe.

Or, was a real hog himself. Her doors to all were open'd wide,

A search was made, no pig was found The pilgrim there might safe abide :

With thund'ring claps the seats resound, For th' hungry and the thirsty crew,

And pit, and box, and galleries roar, The bread she broke, the drink she drew; With-O rare! bravo ! and encore. There Sickness laid her aching head,

Old Roger Grouse, a country clowu, And there Distress cou'd find a bed.

Who yet knew something of the town, Each hour with an all-bounteous hand,

Beheld the mimic and his whim, Diffus'd she blessings round the land :

And on the morrow challeng'd him, Her gifts and glory lasted long,

Declaring to each beau and bunter, And numerous was th' accepting throng.

That he'd out-grunt th' egregious grunter. At length pale Penury seiz'd the dame,

The morrow came the crowd was greater And Fortune fled, and Ruip came,

But prejudice and rank ill-nature She found ber riches at an end,

Usurp'd the miods of inen and wenches, And that she had not made one friend.

Who came to biss, and break the benches. , All curs'd her for not giving more,

The mimic took his usual station, Nor thought on what she'd done before;

And squeak'd with general approbation. She wept, she ray’d, she tore her hair,

“ Again, encore ! encore !” they cryWhen lo! to comfort her came Care.-

"Twas quite the thing—'twas very high : And cry'd, “ My dear, if you will join

Old Grouse conceal'd, amidst the racket, Your hand in nuptial bonds with mine;

A real pig beneath his jacketAll will be well— you shall have store,

Then forth he came—and with his nail And I be plagu'd with wealth no more.

He pinch'd the urchin by the tail. Tho' I restraiu your bounteous heart,

The tortur'd pig from out his tiroat, You still shall act the generous part.”

Produc'd the genuine nat'ral note. The bridal came-great was the feast,

All bellow'd out-twas very sad ! And good the pudding and the priest;

Sure never stuff was half so bad ! The bride in nine moons brought him forth

“ That like a pig!"'-each cry'd in scoff, A little maid of matchless worth :

“Pshaw! Nonsense! blockhead! Off! Off! Off!" Her face was mix'd of care and glee,

The mimic was extoll’d; and Grouse They coristen'd her Economy ;

Was hiss'd, and catcallid from the house. And styled her fair Discretion's queen,

“ Soft ye, a word before I go," The mistress of the golden mean,

Quoth honest Hodge-and, stooping low Now Generosity confin'd,

Produc'd the pig, and thus aloud Perfectly easy in her mind;

Bespoke the stupid partial croud: Still loves to give, yet knows to spare,

“ Behold, and learn from this poor creature, Nor wishes to be free from Care.

How much you critics know of Nature.”


In every age, and each profession,
Men err the most by prepossession,
But when the thing is clearly shown,
And fairly stated, fully known,
We soon applaud what we deride,
And penitence succeeds to pride.
A certain baron on a day,
Having a mind to show away,
Invited all the wits and wags,
Foot, Massey, Shutter, Yates and Skeggs,
And built a large commodious stage,
For the choice spirits of the age;
But above all, among the rest,
There came a genius who profess'd


By a prattling stream, on a Midsummer's eve,
Where the woodbine and jess'mine their boughs

“ Fair Flora,” I cry'd, « to my harbour repair,
For I must have a chaplet for sweet William's,

She brought me the villet that grows on the bill,
The vale-dwelling lily, and gilded jonquill: i
But such languid odours how cou'd I approve,
Just warm from the lips of the lad that I love..

She brought me, his faith and his truth to dis| The undying myrtle, and ever-green bay:[play,

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But why these to me, who've bis constancy | And sing with more than nsual glee known

To Nancy, who was born for me. And Billy has laurels enough of his own.

Tell the blithe Graces as they bound The next was the gift that I could not contemn, Luxuriant in the buxom round; For she brought me two roses that grew on a stem: They're not more elegantly free, Of the dear nuptial tie they stvod emblems confest, Than Nancy, who was born for me. So I kissid 'em, and press'd 'em quite close to Tell royal Venus, though she rove, my breast.

The queen of the immortal grove; She brought me a sun-flow'r—"This, fair one's | That she must share her golden fee your due ;

With Nancy, who was born for me. For it once was a maiden, and love-sick like you:” Tell Pallas, though tho Athepian school, Oh! give it me quick, to my shepherd I'll run,

And ev'ry trite pedantic fool,
As true to his flame, as this flow'r to the Sun.

On her to place the palm agree,
| Tis Nancy's, who was born for ine.

Tell spotless Dian, though she range,

The regent of the up-land grange, TIE LASS WITH THE GOLDEN | In chastity she vields to thee. LOCKS.

0, Nancy, who wast born for me. BALLAD II.

Tell Cupid, Hymen, and tell Jove, No more of my Harriot, of Polly no more,

With all the pow'rs of life and love,

That I'd disdain to breathe or be,
Nor all the bright beauties that charm'd me be-

If Nancy was not born for me,
My heart for a slave to gay Venus I've sold,
And barter'd my freedom for ringlets of gold:
Plt throw down mny pipe, and neglect all my

And will sing to my lass with the golden locks.
Thougho'er her white forchead the gilttresses flow,

BALLAD IV. Like the rays of the Sun on a billock of snow;

My Florjo, wildest of his sex, Such painters of old drew the qucen of the fair,

|(Who sure the veriest saint would vex) 'Tis the taste of the ancients, 'tis classical hair:

From beauty roves to beauty; And though witlings may sooff, and though rail

| Yet, though abroad the wanton roam, lery mocks,

| Wbene'er he deigos to stay at home, Yet I'll sing to my lass with the golden locks.

He always minds his duty. To live and to love, to conrerse and be free,

Something to every charming she, Is loving, my charmer, and living with thee:

In thonghtless prodigality, Away go the hours in kisses and rhyme,

He's granting still and granting; Spite of all the grave lectures of old father Time; 1.

• To Phyllis that, to Cloe this, Afg for his dials, his watches and clocks,

And every madam, every miss; He's best spent with the lass of the golden locks.

Yet I find nothing wanting. Than the swan in the brook she's more dear to my

| If hap!y I his will displease, sight,

Tempestuous as th'autumnal seas Her mien is more stately, her breast is more white,

He foams and rages ever;. Her sweet lips are rubies, all rubies above,

But when he ceases from hisire, They are fit for the language or labour of lore;

| I cry,“ Such spirit, and such fire, At the Park in the Mali, at ihe play in the box,

Is surely wond'rous clever.”
My lass bears the bell with her golden locks.
Her beautiful eyes, as they roll or they now, | I ne'er want reason to complain ;

But sweet is pleasure after pain,
Shall be glad for my joy, or shall weep for my

[soft pain ;

And every joy grow's greater. She shall ease my find heart, and shail south my

| Then trust me, damsels, whilst I tell, While thousands of rivals are sigbiny in vain ;

I should not like him half so well, Let them rail at the fruit they can't reach, like

If I cou'd make him better. ; the fox, While I have the lass with the golden locky.


Tis Nancy's birth-day-raise your strains,
Yenympics of the Parnassian plains,


From morn to pight, from day to day
At all times and at every place,
You scold, repeat, and sing, and say,
Nor are there hopes you'll ever cease.

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