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B ; i, s, i ATE PIDID I 11002, THE COCK-FIGHTER'S GÅRLAND).
. . .. 11.183.1, 3.18) Muse_hide his name of whom I sing, ") Lest his surviving house thou bring . ww I
For his sake into scorn,
Nor place where he was born.
That such a man once was, may seem Worthy of record (if the theme
Perchance may credit win)
* Written on reading the following in the obituary of the Gentleman's Magazine for April, 1789." At Tottenbam, John Ardesoif, Esq., a young man of large fortune, and in the splendour of his carriages and horses rivalled by few country gentlemen. His table was that of hospitality, where, it may be said, he sacrificed too much to conviviality; but, if he had his foibles he had his merits also, that far outweigbed them. Mr. A. was very fond of cock-fighting, and had a favourite cock, upon which he had won many profitable matches. The last bet he laid upon this cock he lost; which so enraged him, that be had the bird tied to a spit and roasted alive before a large fire. The screams of the miserable animal were so affecting, that some gentlemen who were present at. tempted to interfere, which so enraged Mr. A., that he seized a poker, and with the most furious vehemence declared, that he would kill the first man who interposed; but, in the midst of his passionate asseverations, he fell down dead upon the spo:. Such, we are assured, were the circumstances which attended the death of thiş great pillar of humanity.”
For proof to man, what man may prove,'
The source of guilt within.
This man (for since the howling wild
Wanted no good below,
If wealth can worth bestow.
In social talk and ready jest,
And qualities of mind,
Possess'd of every kind. Methinks I see him powder'd red, With bushy locks his well-dress'd head
Wing'd broad on either side,
As luxury could provide.
A tyrant entertain'd
'Twixt birds to battle train'd...!
One feathered champion he possessid,
Which never knew disgrace,
The Cæsar of his race.
His courage droop’d, he fled.
He doom'd his favourite dead.
He seized him fast, and from the pit
And, bring me cord, he cried ;
Alive and struggling, tied.
That can be shall be sunk-
And him with fury drunk.
All, suppliant, beg a milder fate
He, deaf to pity's call,,
Whirl'd round him rapid as a wheel
Death menacing on all.
But vengeance hung not far remote,
And heaven and earth defied,
He totter'd, reeld, and died.. ...de
'Tis not for us, with rash surmise, . To point the judgment of the skies ; ! i !!
But judgments plain as this, is er That, sent for man's instruction, bring t o A written label on their wing, ...
'Tis hard to read amiss. May, 1789.
Hastings ! I knew thee young, and of a mind,
TO MRS. THROCKMORTON,
ON HER BEAUTIFUL TRANSCRIPT OF HORACE'S ODE,
“ AD LIBRUM SUUM.”
MARIA, could Horace have guess'd . .
What honour awaited his ode
The honour which you have bestow'd ; .'
So elegant, even, and neat, He had laugh'd at the critical sneer is en
Which he seems to have trembled to meet.
And sneer, if you please, he had said,
A nymph shall hereafter arise,
The glory your malice denies ;
Although but a mere bagatelle ;
Nothing ever was written so well.