O'er plains they ramble unconfin'd, No politics disturb their mind; They eat their meals, and take their sport, Nor know who's in or out at court. They never to the levee go, To treat as dearest friend a foe; Nor draw the quill to write for Bob. 88 STANZAS ON THE TAKING OF QUEBEC. At court the porters, lacqueys, waiters, STANZAS ON THE TAKING OF QUEBEC. AMIDST the clamour of exulting joys, Which triumph forces from the patriot heart; Grief dares to mingle her soul-piercing voice, And quells the raptures which from pleasure start. O Wolfe! to thee a streaming flood of woe, Sighing, we pay, and think e'en conquest dear; Quebec in vain shall teach our breasts to glow, While thy sad fate extorts the heart-wrung tear. Alive, the foe thy dreadful vigour fled, And saw thee fall with joy-pronouncing eyes: Yet they shall know thou conquerest, though dead; Since from thy tomb a thousand heroes rise. DESCRIPTION OF AN AUTHOR'S BED-CHAMBER. WHERE the Red Lion, staring o'er the way, Invites each passing stranger that can pay; Where Calvert's butt, and Parson's black champaign, Regale the drabs and bloods of Drury-lane ; A window patch'd with paper lent a ray, The morn was cold, he views with keen desire With beer and milk arrears the frieze was scor'd, And five crack'd tea-cups dress'd the chimneyboard; A night-cap deck'd his brows instead of bay, A cap by night-a stocking all the day! A NEW SIMILE. (IN THE MANNER OF SWIFT. LONG had I sought in vain to find A likeness for the scribbling kind; The modern scribbling kind, who write In wit, and sense, and nature's spite 'Till reading, I forget what day on, A chapter out of Tooke's Pantheon, I think I met with something there To suit my purpose to a hair. But let us not proceed too furious, First please to turn to god Mercurius: You'll find him pictur'd at full length In book the second, page the tenth: The stress of all my proofs on him I lay, And now proceed we to our simile. Imprimis, pray observe his hat, Wings upon either side-mark that. Well! what is it from thence we gather? Why, these denote a brain of feather. A brain of feather! very right, With wit that's flighty, learning light; Such as to modern bard's decreed. A just comparison,-proceed. In the next place, his feet peruse, Wings grow again from both his shoes; Design'd, no doubt, their part to bear, And waft his godship through the air: And here my simile unites, For, in a modern poet's flights, I'm sure it may be justly said, His feet are useful as his head. Lastly, vouchsafe t' observe his hand, Though ne'er so much awake before, |