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O gentle Sleep, who seal'st the ship boy's eyes,

When the white billows with tremendous roar, Curling their monstrous tops like mountains rise,

And roll impetuous 'gainst the foaming shore.

When perch'd aloft upon the main topmast,

(His torpid body numb’d by thy sweet charm,) Wearied he sleeps midst ev'ry shiv'ring blast,

Senseless of fears, the watchful breast alarm.

Why o'er a boy thus cradled in the shroud,

Thy magic infuence so kindly shed,
And not o'er those of high distinction proud,

Who on a downy pillow lay their head ?

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If to the rich thy slumbers thou refuse,

And poverty alone thy blessings taste, Then grant, kind Heav'n, this rich but temp'rate muse,

To some poor cottage may his footsteps haste.

There blest with poverty, if blest with sleep,

On pillow'd straw repose the throbbing head, Whilst sweet oblivion o'er his eyelids creep, As death's dark mantle on the tombstone spread.

With coarsest çloathing, water from the spring,

Alternate labour, but alternate rest;
Far happier. then, this-wearied muse would sing,

Than if in all the pomp of splendor drest.

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THE FOLLOWING ADDRESS

Was intended to hare been spoken at a Play, which Lord

B***y*** had once the idea of giving at his
Theatre the day he came of age, to some

Friends, and to his Creditors.

OYER, Oyer, Oyer, our most noble lord
Bids you all welcome to his festive board;
And me has sent to greet his honor'd friends,
To whom respectful compliments he sends.
But first ye Belles, whose charms I fondly view,
Tho' Cupid's arrows pierce me through and through,
And all the throbbing pains of love renew.
Belles such as Britain only can produce,
Whose rich productions, for their shew or use,
Exceed in beauty those of other states,
Whence Europe envies what my heart elates.
My Lord to-night perforins a noble part,
And what all noblemen should learn by heart :
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True

True real honor he displays to view,
Pays his old debts, and then begins anew.
The paying debts he knows is not the passion,
But hopes to-night to set this comely fashion.
Rais'd by a title, which in former times
The peer ne'er us'd to varnish o'er his crimes ;
A noble mind he'll shew, as well as birth,
(Unlike some new made lords, just sprung from earth,)
And try his founder's virtues to inherit,
Who got his peerage by superior merit.
To ease his friends, my Lord's enlarg'd this place,
That none may shew a discontented face;
But all of you enjoy sea-room enough,
E’en the broad crest of honest Captain Bluff.
“ To see a Play, I've paid most woundy dear,
Old Square Toes said, going from hence last year,
So squeez’d and press’d, was never man before,
Your W**g***e plays shall never see me more :
The Col'nel too, forsooth, must pinch my corns,
Perhaps create a harder substance, horns !"
“ Alas, what's that, replies his loving wife,
My dear was hurt, my soul, my chick, my life."
Miss Dumplirg next complain’d the House was small,
That some rude bear had push'd her 'gainst the wall ;

Besides,

* Besides, papa, a vulgur ill-bred man,
Dar'd to stoop down, and pick me up my fan ;
Presumptuous wretch! who ventur’d thus to touch,
The fan presented me by Count Nonsuch.
Would my Lord B*** y** re enlarge his place,
And let us quality have a sep’rate space,
I might perhaps once more adorn his plays,
Make the men's hearts with admiration blaze,
Whilst all transported at my person gaze;
And women e'en, though envious of my charms,
Extol the beauty of my face and arms.
Who's that i cries one, Miss Dumpling says another,
And none their praises of my shape can smother ;
Earls, Dukes, and Princes swell my conquest roll,
And I, like Venus, o'er their hearts controul.
As it now is, some monster I should dread
Might by o'er kindness indispose my head;
For sure the greatest of life's various ills,
What most the heart with spleen and rancour fills,
Is to be pester'd by your awkward clowns,
Whose gauche politeness, I return by frowns.
Better kick’d, curs’d, or famish'd by a Lord,
Than by an upstart commoner ador’d,"

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