Replies the sky ruler," they've no business there, "In Britain there always is beauty to spare ; "And as to Dame Wisdom, by Styx I aver,

"While Faction stays with them they won't employ her.

"Haste home with them Hermes," away flew the God, And the yielding clouds cut with his snake-twisted rod;

In London, from place to place, questioning flew, Where is Wisdom? but where, indeed nobody knew. He return'd with a tale, with a tale melancholy, That Wisdom elop'd into Scotland with Folly.

"Where is Venus?" quoth Mars, " Aye, my Wife have you seen?"

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Cries the King of the Cyclops," My Man-loving queen ?"

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Ileft her employ'd with her Handmaids, the Graces, By Science requested to finish his Faces:

"Here's the name of each Genius with whom she's a guest,

"REYNOLDS, GAINSBOROUGH, MORTIMER, MYERS, DANCE, WEST."

Vulcan vow'd he wou'd fetch her, "You shan't, "thunder'd Jove,

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"I encourage the Arts, and yon Island I love ; Into Fate I have look'd, and e'er long I can see, "What Athens was once, my Britania will be; "So Lemnos be mute, Hæbe hand me the nectar, "Here's Great-Britain's Artists, and GEORGE their PROTECTOR."

THE DREAM.

TUNE.

"Push about the brisk Bowl."

Y a whirlwind methought I through Æther was Electric 'mong Spirits of Air; [hurl'd, Upborn by the clouds, we look'd down on the world, And odd exhibitions spy'd there.

England's Genius was there, bearing Monarchy's

crown,

In procession round Liberty Hall;

Faction seiz'd her rich robe, Public Spirit pull'd down,

And Folly broad grinn'd at her fall.

In weather-house plac'd, to denote foul and fair,
Two Figures are veering about;

So pageants we saw, and we smil'd at their glare,
As they turn'd, with the Times, in and out.

The Methodists, mask'd with Hypocrisy's face,
Anathemas thunder'd aloud;

So Jack Puddings joke, with distorted grimace,
Benetting their Gudgeons,-the Croud.

Wit and Honour were there, drove from Dignity's door,

That Stupidity's coach might have room; Debauch we saw open Temptation's base store, And Disease taint Simplicity's bloom.

C 4

Stubborn Will against Prudence was waging a fight, While Desire oppos'd Duty strong;

The Passions confess'd Reason's Dictates were right, Though themselves still resolv'd to be wrong.

A wonderful Troop towards Westminster bore;
What wonders there are 'mong mankind?
In gilt chariots Lawyers paraded before,
On foot Justice follow'd behind.

Church Preferments we saw-but respect shall

withstand

The abuse that's pour'd forth on the Cloth; Stock Fobbers and Statesmen we saw hand in hand, And Pride stood at par between both.

Cent per Cent had lain siege to Integrity's head,
And Beauty was battering his heart;

East-India Success struck Humility dead,
And Title took Vanity's part.

Crafty Care and pale Usury, two sleepless hags,
Wealth o'erwhelm'd, yet untired with toil;
Their heir Dissipation we saw at their bags,
With Flattery sharing the spoil.

The myst'ries of Trade.-but no longer I'll dwell,
On either the mighty or mean;
From an Emperor's court to a Penitent's cell,
Life's all the same laughable scene.

'Tis a pitiful piece, like a Farce in a Fair,

Where shew, noise, and nonsense misrule, Where tinsel paradings, make Ignorance stare, Where he who acts best is the Fool.

ONE

TUNE.

NE evening, Good Humour, took Wit as his
guest,

By Friendship invited to Gratitude's feast;
Their liquor was Claret, and Love was their host,
Laugh, song, and droll Sentiment, garnish'd each

toast.

While Freedom and Fancy enlarg'd the design,
And dainties were furnish'd by Love, Wit, and Wine,
Alarm'd, they all heard, at the door a loud knock,
A watchman hoarse bawling, 'Twas past Twelve
o'Clock.

They nimbly ran down, the disturbing dog found, And up stairs they brought the Impertinent, bound; When dragg'd to the light, how much were they pleas'd To see 'twas the Grey-glutton Time they had seiz'd.

His Glass as his Lanthorn, his Scythe as his Pole, And his single Lock dangled adown his smooth skull; My friends, quoth he, panting, I thought fit to knock, And bid ye be gone, for 'tis past Twelve o' Clock.

Says the Venom'd-Tooth'd-Savage, on this advice fix, Tho' Nature strikes twelve, Folly still points to six; He longer had preach'd, but no longer they'd bear it, So hurry'd him into a Hogshead of Claret.

Wit observ'd it was right, while we'er yet in our prime,

There is nothing like Claret for killing of Time;
Love, laughing reply'd, I am pleas'd from my heart,
He can't come and put us in mind we must part.

This intruder, rude Time, tho' a tyrant long known,
By Love, Wit and Wine can be only o'erthrown;
If hereafter he's wanted on any design,

He'll always be found in a Hogshead of Wine.

Since Time is confin'd to our Wine, let us drink,
By this rule we are sure of our Time when we drink;
Henceforth, let our glasses with bumpers be prim'd,
We're certain our drinking must now be well tim'd.