UMBRA. [Curll says this character was intended to ridicule a very worthy gentleman, probably Ambrose Philips.] CLOSE to the best known author UMBRA sits, The constant index to old Button's wits. "Who's here?" cries Umbra: "Only Johnson.”* Your slave," and exit; but returns with Rowe: Charles Johnson, a second rate dramatist, and great frequenter of Button's. Pope elsewhere classes him with Philips : “Lean Philips and fat Johnson." Farewell to London. Bowles. SYLVIA, A FRAGMENT. SYLVIA my heart in wondrous wise alarm'd, Frail, feverish sex; their fit now chills, now burns: And a mere heathen in the carnal part, Is still a sad good Christian at her heart.* * I have been informed, on good authority, that this character was designed for the then Duchess of Hamilton. Warton. Swift describes this lady as handsome, airy, and violent tempered, with abundance of wit and spirit. See Swift's Works, vol. iii. p. 118. Sir W. Scott. IMPROMPTU, TO LADY WINCHELSEA. OCCASIONED BY FOUR SATIRICAL VERSES ON WOMEN WITS, IN THE In vain you boast poetic names of yore, EPIGRAM. A BISHOP by his neighbours hated Has cause to wish himself translated; 'Tis where God sent some that adore him, EPIGRAM, ON THE FEUDS ABOUT HANDEL AND BONONCINI. STRANGE! all this difference should be 'Twixt Tweedle-DUM and Tweedle-DEE! ON MRS. TOFTS, A CELEBRATED OPERA-SINGER. So bright is thy beauty, so charming thy song, along : But such is thy avarice, and such is thy pride, That the beasts must have starved, and the poet have died. THE BALANCE OF EUROPE. Now Europe balanced, neither side prevails; For nothing's left in either of the scales. APPLIED TO F. C. HERE Francis Chartres lies*-be civil! The rest God knows-perhaps the Devil. • Thus applied by Mr. Pope: "Here lies Lord Coningsby." EPIGRAM. You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come : Knock as you please, there's nobody at home. EPIGRAM FROM THE FRENCH. PRIOR. SIR, I admit your general rule, That every poet is a fool: But you yourself may serve to show it, EPITAPH. WELL then, poor G— lies under ground! So there's an end of honest Jack. So little justice here he found, 'Tis ten to one he'll ne'er come back. |