With trembling hands implores their promis'd aid;
And sees their favour like a vision fade!
Is this, ye faithless Syrens!-this the joy
To which, your smiles th' unwary wretch decoy?
Naked and shackled, on the pavement prone,
His margled flesh devouring from the bone;
Rage in his heart, distraction in his eye!
Behold, inhuman hags! your minion be!
Behold his gay career to ruin rùn,
By you seduc'd, abandon'd and undone!
Rather in garret pent 16, secure from harm,
My Muse with murders shall the town alarm;
Or plunge in politics with patriot zeal,
And snarl like Gutherie for the public weal,
Than crawl an insect, in a beldame's power,
And dread the crush of caprice ev'ry hour!

FRIEND.

"Tis well;-enjoy that petulance of style,
And, like the envious adder, lick the file 17:
What tho' success will not attend on all !
Who bravely dares, must sometimes risk a fall.
Behold the bounteous board of Fortune spread;
Each weakness, vice and folly yields thee bread;
Wouldst thou with prudent condescension strive
On the long-settled terms of life to thrive.

POET.

What! join the crew that pilfer one another, Betray my friend, and persecute my brother: Turn usurer o'er cent per cent to brood,

Or quack, to feed like fleas, on human blood?

FRIEND.

Or if thy soul can brook the gilded curse, Some changeling heiress steal

POET.

Why not a purse? Two things I dread, my conscience and the law.

FRIEND.

How? dread a mumbling bear without a claw?
Nor this, nor that is standard right or wrong,
'Till minted by the mercenary tongue;
And what is conscience, but a fiend of strife,
That chills the joys, and damps the schemes of life?
The wayward child of vanity and fear,
The peevish dam of poverty and care;
Unnumber'd woes engender in the breast
That entertains the rude, ungrateful guest.

POET.

Hail, sacred pow'r! my glory and my guide!
Fair source of mental peace, what e'er betide;
Safe in thy shelter, let disaster roll
Eternal hurricanes around my soul;
My soul serene, amidst the storms shall reign,
And smile to see their fury burst in vain!

FRIEND.

Too coy to flatter, and too proud to serve 18, Thine be the joyless dignity to starve.

16 These are the dreams and fictions of Grubstreet, with which the good people of this metropolis are daily alarmed and entertained.

17 This alludes to the fable of the viper and file, applicable to all the unsuccessful efforts of malice and cuvy.

18 This, surely, occasioned Churchill's Too proud to flatter, too sincere to lie.

POET.

No;-thanks to discord, war shall be my friend;
And moral rage, heroic courage lend
To pierce the gleaming squadron of the foe,
And win renown by some distinguish'd blow.

FRIEND.

Renown! ay, do-unkennel the whole pack
Of military cowards on thy back. [stood 19,
What difference, say, 'twixt him who bravely
And him who sought the bosom of the wood ?=
Envenom'd calumny the first shall brand,
The last enjoy a ribbon and command.

POET.

If such be life, its wretches I deplore, And long to quit th' unhospitable shore.

REPROOF: A SATIRE.

POET, FRIEND.

POET.

HOWE'ER I turn, or wheresoe'er I tread,
This giddy world still rattles round my head!
I pant for silence ev'n in this retreat-
Good Heav'n! what demon thunders at the gate?

FRIEND.

In vain you strive, in this sequester'd nook, To shroud you from an injur'd friend's rebuke.

POET.

An injur'd friend!-who challenges the name?
If you, what title justifies the claim?
Did e'er your heart o'er my affliction grieve,
Your int'rest prop me, or your purse relieve?
Or could my wants my soul so far subdue,
That in distress she crawl'd for aid to you?
But let us grant th' indulgence e'er so strong;
Display without reserve th' imagin'd wrong:
Among your kindred have I kindled strife,
Deflow'r'd your daughter, or debauch'd your wife;
Traduc'd your credit, bubbled you at game;
Or soil'd with infamous reproach your name?

FRIEND.

No; but your cynic vanity (you'll own) Expos'd my private counsel to the town.

POET.

Such fair advice 'twere pity sure to lose; I grant I printed it for public use.

FRIEND.

Yes, season'd with your own remarks between, Inflam'd with so much virulence of spleen, That the mild town (to give the devil his due) Ascrib'd the whole performance to a Jew.

19 and 20 This last line relates to the behaviour of a general on a certain occasion, who discovered an extreme passion for the cool shade during the heat of the day: the Hanoverian general, in the battle of Dettingen.

With all my soul!-th' imputed charge rehearse;
I'll own my errour and expunge the verse.
Come, come,-howe'er the day was lost or won,
The world allows the race was fairly run.
But lest the truth too naked should appear,
A robe of sable shall the goddess wear:
When sheep were subject to the lion's reign,
Ere man acquir'd dominion o'er the plain,
Voracious wolves, fierce rushing from the rocks,
Devour'd without control th' unguarded flocks:
The suff'rers crowding round the royal cave,
Their monarch's pity and protection crave:
Not that they wanted valour, force or arms,
To shield their lambs from danger and alarms;
A thousand rams, the champions of the fold,
In strength of horn, and patriot virtue bold,
Engag'd in firm association, stood,
Their lives devoted to the public good:
A warlike chieftain was their sole request,
To marshal, guide, instruct, and rule the rest:
Their pray'r was heard, and by consent of all,
A courtier ape appointed general.—
He went, he led, arrang'd the battle stood,
The savage foe came pouring like a flood;
Then pug aghast, fled swifter than the wind,
Nor deign'd, in threescore miles, to look behind;
While ev'ry band for orders bleat in vain,
And fall in slaughter'd heaps upon the plain:
The scar'd baboon (to cut the matter short)
With all his speed could not out-run report;
And to appease the clamours of the nation,
"Twas fit his case should stand examination.
The board was nam'd-each worthy took his place;
All senior members of the horned race3.-
The wether, goat, ram, elk, and ox were there,
And a grave, hoary stag possess'd the chair.-

I Governor of the Tower. 2 Sir John Cope.

It is not to be wondered at, that this board consisted of horned cattle only, since, before the use of arms, every creature was obliged in war to fight with such weapons as nature afforded it, consequently those supplied with horns bid fairest for signalizing themselves in the field, and carrying off the first posts in the army.-But I observe, that among the members of this court, there is no mention made of such of the horned family as were chiefly celebrated for valour; namely, the bull, unicorn, rhinoceros, &c, which gives reason to suspect, that these last were either out of fa

Th' inquiry past, each in his turn began
The culprit's conduct variously to scan.
At length, the sage uprear'd his awful crest,
And pausing, thus his fellow chiefs address'd.-
"If age, that from this head its honours stole,
Hath not impair'd the functions of my soul,
But sacred wisdom with experience bought,
While this weak frame decays, matures my thought;
Th' important issue of this grand debate
May furnish precedent for your own fate;
Should ever fortune call you to repel
The shaggy foe, so desperate and fell-
'Tis plain, you say, his excellence sir Ape
From the dire field accomplish'd an escape;
Alas! our fellow-subjects ne'er had bled,
If every ram that fell, like him had fled;
Certes, those sheep were rather mad than brave,
Which scorn'd th' example their wise leader gave.
Let us, then, ev'ry vulgar hint disdain,
And from our brother's laurel wash the stain."
Th' admiring court applauds the president,
And pug was clear'd by general consent.

FRIEND.

There needs no magic to divine your scope,
Mark'd as you are a flagrant misanthrope:
Sworn foe to good and bad, to great and small,
Thy rankling pen produces nought but gall:
Let virtue struggle, or let glory shine,
Thy verse affords not one approving line.-

POET.

Hail sacred themes! the Muse's chief delight!
O bring the darling objects to my sight!
My breast with elevated thought shall glow,
My fancy brighten, and my numbers flow!
Th' Aonian grove with rapture would I tread,
To crop unfading wreaths for William's head;
But that my strain, unheard amidst the throng,
Must yield to Lockman's ode and Hanbury's song.
Nor would th' enamour'd Muse neglect to pay
To Stanhope's worth the tributary lay;
The soul unstain'd, the sense sublime to paint,
A people's patron, pride and ornament!
Did not his virtues eterniz'd remain
The boasted theme of Pope's immortal strain.
Not ev'n the pleasing task is left, to raise
A grateful monument to Barnard's praise;
Else should the venerable patriot stand
Th' unshaken pillar of a sinking land.
The gladd'ning prospect let me still pursue:
And bring fair virtue's triumphs to the view!
Alike to me, by fortune blest or not,
From soaring Cobhain to the melting Scot.

vour with the ministry, laid aside on account of their great age, or that the ape had interest enough at court to exclude them from the number of his judges.

4 Two productions resembling one another very much in that cloying mediocrity, which Horace compares to-Crassum ungentum, et sardo cum melle papaver.

5 The earl of Chesterfield.

6 Daniel Mackercher, esq. a man of such primitive simplicity, that he may be said to have exceeded the Scripture injunction, by not only parting with his cloak and coat, but with his shirt also, to relieve a brother in distress: Mr. Annesley, who claimed the Anglesea title and estate.

But lo! a swarm of harpies, intervene,
To ravage, mangle, and pollute the scene!
Gorg'd with our plunder, yet still gaunt for spoil,
Rapacious Gideon fastens on our isle;
Insatiate Lascelles, and the fiend Vaneck,
Rise on our ruins, and enjoy the wreck;
While griping Jasper 8 glories in his prize,
Wrung from the widow's tears and orphan's cries.

FRIEND.

Relaps'd again! strange tendency to rail!
I fear'd this meekness would not long prevail.

POET.

You deem it rancour then?-Look round and see
What vices flourish still, unprun'd by me:
Corruption, roll'd in a triumphant car,
Displays his burnish'd front and glitt'ring star;
Nor heeds the public scorn, or transient curse,
Unknown alike to honour and remorse.
Behold the leering belle 9, caress'd by all,
Adorn each private feast and public ball;
Where peers attentive listen and adore,
And not one matron shuns the titled whore.
At Peter's obsequies 10 I sung no dirge;
Nor has my satire yet supply'd a scourge
For the vile tribes of usurers and bites,
Who sneak at Jonathan's and swear at White's.
Each low pursuit, and slighter folly b.ed
Within the selfish heart and hollow head,
Thrives uncontrol'd, and blossoms o'er the land,
Nor feels the rigour of my chast'ning hand:
While Codrus shivers o'er his bags of gold,
By famine wither'd, and benumb'd by cold;
I mark his haggard eyes with frenzy roll,
And feast upon the terrours of his soul;
The wrecks of war, the perils of the deep,
That curse with hideous dreams the caitiff's sleep;
Insolvent debtors, thieves, and civil strife,
Which daily persecute his wretched life;
With all the horrours of prophetic dread,
That rack his bosom while the Mail is read.
Safe from the rod, untainted by the school,
A judge by birth, by destiny a fool,
While the young lordling struts in native pride,
His party-coloured tutor by his side",
Pleas'd, let me own the pious mother's care,
Who to the brawny sire commits her heir.

7 A triumvirate of contractors, who, scorning the narrow views of private usury, found means to lay a whole state under contribution, and pillage a kingdom of immense sums, under the protection of law.

8 A Christian of bowels, who lends money to his friends in want at the moderate interest of 50 per cent. A man famous for buying poor

seamens' tickets.

9 A wit of the first water, celebrated for her talent of repartee and double entendre.

10 Peter Waters, esq. whose character is too well known to need description.

"Whether it be for the reason assigned in the subsequent lines, or the frugality of the parents, who are unwilling to throw away money in making their children wiser than themselves, I know not: but certain it is, that many people of fashion commit the education of their heirs to some trusty footman, with a particular command to keep master out of the stable.

Fraught with the spirit of a Gothic monk,
Let Rich, with dulness and devotion drunk,
Enjoy the peal so barbarous and loud,
While his brain spues new monsters to the crowd;
I see with joy, the vaticide deplore
An hell-denouncing priest and sov'reign whore.
Let ev'ry polish'd dame, and genial lord
Employ the social chair, and venal board 1⁄4;
Debauch'd from sense, let doubtful meanings run,
The vague conundrum and the prurient pun;
While the vain fop, with apish grin, regards
The gig'ling minx half chok'd behind her cards:
These, and a thousand idle pranks, I deem
The motley spawn of ignorance and whim.
Let pride conceive and folly propagate,
The fashion still adopts the spurious brat:
Nothing so strange that fashion cannot tame;
By this dishonour ceases to be shame:
This weans from blushes lewd Tyrawly's face,
Gives Hawley 15 praise and Ingoldsby disgrace,
From Mead to Thompson shifts the palm at once,
A meddling, prating, blund'ring, basy dunce!
And may (should taste a little more decline)
Transform the nation to an herd of swine.
FRIEND.

The fatal period hastens on apace!

Nor will thy verse th' obscene event disgrace;
Thy flow'rs of poetry, that smell so strong,
The keenest appetites have loath'd the song;
Condemn'd by Clark, Banks, Barrowby,and Chitty
And all the crop-ear'd critics of the city:
While sagely neutral sits thy silent friend,
Alike averse to censure or commend.

POET.

Peace to the gentle soul, that could deny
And let me still the sentiment disdain
His invocated voice to fill the cry!
Of him, who never speaks but to arraign;
The sneering son of calumny and scorn,
Whom neither arts, nor sense, nor soul adorn:

12 Monsters of absurdity.

He look'd, and saw a sable sorc'rer rise,
Swift to whose hand a winged volume flies:
All sudden, gorgons hiss, and dragons glare,
And ten-horn'd fiends and giants rush to war.
Hell rises, Heaven descends, and dance on Earth,
Gods, imps and monsters, music, rage and mirth,
A fire, a jig, a battle, and a ball,
'Till one wide conflagration swallows all.

Dunciad.

13 This is no other than an empty chair, carried about with great formality, to perform visits, by the help of which a decent correspondence is often maintained among people of fashion, many years together, without one personal interview; to the great honour of hospitality and good neighbourhood.

14 Equally applicable to the dining and cardtable, where every guest must pay an extravagant price for what he has.

15 A general so renowned for conduct and discipline, that, during an action in which he had a considerable command, he is said to have been seen rallying three fugitive dragoons, five miles from the field of battle.

16 A fraternity of wits, whose virtue, modesty, and taste, are much of the same dimension.

Or his, who to maintain a critic's rank,
Tho' conscious of his own internal blank,
His want of taste unwilling to betray,
"Twixt sense and nonsense hesitates all day;
With brow contracted hears each passage read,
And often hums and shakes his empty head;
Until some oracle ador'd, pronounce
The passive bard a poet or a dunce;

Then, in loud clamour echoes back the word,
'Tis bold! insipid-soaring or absurd.
These, and th' unnumber'd shoals of smaller fry,
That nibble round, I pity and defy.

THE TEARS OF SCOTLAND.

. Written in the Year 1746.

MOURN, hapless Caledonia, mourn
Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn!
Thy sons, for valour long renown'd,
Lie slaughter'd on their native ground;
Thy hospitable roofs no more,
Invite the stranger to the door;
In smoky ruins sunk they lie,
The monuments of cruelty.

The wretched owner sees afar
His all become the prey of war;
Bethinks him of his babes and wife,
Then smites his breast, and curses life.
Thy swains are famish'd on the rocks,
Where once they fed their wanton flocks:
Thy ravish'd virgins shriek in vain;
Thy infants perish on the plain.
What boots it then, in every clime,
Thro' the wide-spreading waste of time,
Thy martial glory, crown'd with praise,
Still shone with undiminish'd blaze?
Thy tow'ring spirit now is broke,
Thy neck is bended to the yoke.
What foreign arms could never quell,
By civil rage and rancour fell.

The rural pipe and merry lay
No more shall cheer the happy day:
No social scenes of gay delight
Beguile the dreary winter night:
No strains but those of sorrow flow,
And nought be heard but sounds of woe,
While the pale phantoms of the slain
Glide nightly o'er the silent plain.
O baneful case, oh, fatal morn,
Accurs'd to ages yet unborn!
The sons against their fathers stood,
The parent shed his children's blood.
Yet, when the rage of battle ceas'd,
The victor's soul was not appeas'd:
The naked and forlorn must feel
Devouring flames, and murd'ring steel!

The pious mother doom'd to death,
Forsaken wanders o'er the heath,
The bleak wind whistles round her head,
Her helpless orphans cry for bread;
Bereft of shelter, food, and friend,
She views the shades of night descend,
And, stretch'd beneath th' inclement skies,
Weeps o'er her tender babes and dies.

VERSES

ON A YOUNG LADY PLAYING ON A HARPSICHORD
AND SINGING.

WHEN Sappho struck the quiv'ring wire,
The throbbing breast was all on fire:
And when she rais'd the vocal lay,
The captive soul was charm'd away!

But had the nymph, possest with these,
Thy softer, chaster, pow'r to please;
Thy beauteous air of sprightly youth,
Thy native smiles of artless truth;

The worm of grief had never prey'd
On the forsaken love-sick maid:
Nor had she mourn'd a hapless flame,
Nor dash'd on rocks her tender frame.

WH

LOVE ELEGY.

IN IMITATION OF TIBULLUS.

HERE now are all my flatt'ring dreams of joy! Monimia, give my soul her wonted rest; Since first thy beauty fix'd my roving eye, Heart-gnawing cares corrode my pensive breast. Let happy lovers fly where pleasures call, With festive songs beguile the fleeting hour; Lead beauty thro' the mazes of the ball,

Or press her wantou in love's roseate bower. For me, no more I'll range th' empurpled mead, Where shepherds pipe, and virgins dance around, Nor wander thro' the woodbine's fragrant shade, To hear the music of the grove resound.

I'll seek some lonely church, or dreary hall,

Where fancy paints the glimm'ring taper blue, Where damps hang mould'ring on the ivy'd wall, And sheeted ghosts drink up the midnight dew:

There leagued with hopeless anguish and despair,
Awhile in silence o'er my fate repine:
Then, with a long farewel to love and care,

To kindred dust my weary limbs consign.

Wilt thou, Monimia, shed a gracious tear

On the cold grave where all my sorrows rest? Strew vernal flow'rs, applaud my love sincere, And bid the turf lie easy on my breast?

SONG.

WHILE with fond rapture and amaze, On thy transcendent charms I gaze,

My cautious soul essays in vain
Her peace and freedom to maintain:
Yet let that blooming form divine,
Where grace and harmony combine,
Those eyes, like genial orbs, that move,
Dispensing gladness, joy, and love,
In all their pomp assail my view,
Intent my bosom to subdue;

My breast, by wary maxims steel'd,
Not all those charms shall force to yield.

But, when invok'd to beauty's aid,
I see th' enlighten'd soul display'd;
That soul so sensibly sedate
Amid the storms of froward fate!
Thy genius active, strong and clear,
Thy wit sublime, tho' not severe,
The social ardour void of art,
That glows within thy candid heart;
My spirits, sense and strength decay,
My resolution dies away,
And ev'ry faculty opprest,
Almighty love invades my breast!

SONG.

To fix her-'twere a task as vain
To count the April drops of rain,
To sow in Afric's barren soil,
Or tempests hold within a toil.

I know it, friend, she's light as air,
False as the fowler's artful snare;
Inconstant as the passing wind,
As winter's dreary frost unkind.

She's such a miser too in love,

It's joys she'll neither share nor prove;
Tho' hundreds of gallants await
From her victorious eyes their fate.

Blushing at such inglorious reign,
I sometimes strive to break her chain;
My reason summon to my aid,
Resolv'd no more to be betray'd.

Ah! friend! 'tis but a short-liv'd trance,
Dispell'd by one enchanting glance;
She need but look, and, I confess,
Those looks completely curse or bless..

So soft, so elegant, so fair,

Sure something more than human's there; I must submit, for strife is vain, 'Twas destiny that forg'd the chain.

Could not thy healing drop, illustrious quack, Could not thy salutary pill prolong her days; For whom, so oft, to Marybone, alack! Thy sorrels dragg'd thee thro' the worst of ways!

Oil-dropping Twick'nham did not then detain Thy steps, tho' tended by the Cambrian maids; Nor the sweet environs of Drury-lane; Nor dusty Pimlico's embow'ring shades; Nor Whitehall, by the river's bank, Beset with rowers dank;

Nor where th' Exchange pours forth its tawny sons; Nor where to mix with offal, soil, and blood, Steep Snow-hill rolls the sable flood;

Nor where the Mint's contaminated kennel runs:

Ill doth it now beseem,

That thou shouldst doze and dream,
When Death in mortal armour came,

And struck with ruthless dart the gentle dame.
Her lib'ral hand and sympathising breast
The brute creation kindly bless'd:
Where'er she trod grimalkin purr'd around,
The squeaking pigs her bounty own'd;
Nor to the waddling duck or gabbling goose
Did she glad sustenance refuse;

The strutting cock she daily fed,
And turky with his snout so red;

Of chickens careful as the pious hen,

Nor did she overlook the tomtit or the wren; While redbreast hopp'd before her in the ball, As if she common mother were of all.

For my distracted mind,
What comfort can I find;

O best of grannams! thou art dead and gone,
And I am left behind to weep and moan,

To sing thy dirge in sad funereal lay,
Ah! woe is me! alack! and well-a-day!

TO MIRTH.

PARENT of joy! heart-easing Mirth! Whether of Venus or Aurora born;

Yet goddess sure of heavenly birth,
Visit benign a son of Grief forlorn:

Thy glittering colours gay,.
Around him, Mirth, display;
And o'er his raptur'd sense
Diffuse thy living influence:

So shall each hill in purer green array'd,
And flower adorn'd in new-born beauty glow;
The grove shall smooth the horrours of the
shade,

And streams in murmurs shall forget to flow.
Shine, goddess, shine with unremitted ray,
And gild (a second sun) with brighter beam our day.

Labour with thee forgets his pain,
And aged Poverty can smile with thee;
If thou be nigh, Grief's hate is vain,
And weak th' aplifted arm of Tyranny.
The Morning opes on high
His universal eye;

And on the world doth pour

His glories in a golden shower,

Lo! Darkness trembling 'fore the hostile ray Shrinks to the cavern deep and wood forlorn:

The brood obscene, that own her gloomy sway, Troop in her rear, and fly th' approach of Morn.