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See to their seats they hye with merry glee,
(This hand in mouth y-fix'd, that rends his hair ;) And eke with snubs profound, and heaving breast, Convulsions intermitting! does declare
His grievous wrong; his dame's unjust behest; And scorns her offer'd love, and shuns to be caress'd.
His face besprent with liquid crystal shines,
If so I deem aright, transcending worth and fame.
Behind some door, in melancholy thought, Mindless of food, he, dreary caitiff! pines, Ne for his fellows' joyaunce careth aught, But to the wind all merriment resigns; And deems it shame, if he to peace inclines: And many a sullen look ascance is sent, Which for his dame's annoyance he designs; And still the more to pleasure him she's bent, The more doth he, perverse, her haviour past resent.
Ah me! how much I fear lest pride it be ! But if that pride it be, which thus inspires, Beware, ye dames, with nice discernment see, Ye quench not too the sparks of nobler fires: Ah! better far than all the Muses' lyres, All coward arts, is Valour's generous heat; The firm fixt breast which fit and right requires, Like Vernon's patriot soul! more justly great Than Craft that pimps for ill, or flowery false Deceit.
Yet nurs'd with skill, what dazzling fruits appear!
And there a chancellor in embryo,
Or bard sublime, if bard may e'er be so, As Milton, Shakspeare, names that ne'er shall die! Though now he crawl along the ground so low, Nor weeting how the Muse should soar on high, Wisheth, poor starveling elf! his paper kite may
And this perhaps, who, censuring the design, Low lays the house which that of cards doth build, Shall Dennis be! if rigid Fate incline,
And many an epic to his rage shall yield; And many a poet quit th' Aonian field; And, sour'd by age, profound he shall appear, As he who now with 'sdainful fury thrill'd Surveys mine work; and levels many a sneer, And furls his wrinkly front, and cries, "What stuff is here?"
But now Dan Phoebus gains the middle skie,
For well may Freedom erst so dearly won, Appear to British elf more gladsome than the Sun.
Enjoy, poor imps! enjoy your sportive trade, And chase gay flies, and cull the fairest flowers; For when my bones in grass-green sods are laid, For never may ye taste more careless hours In knightly castles, or in ladies' bowers. O vain to seek delight in earthly thing! But most in courts where proud Ambition towers; Deluded wight! who weens fair Peace can spring Beneath the pompous dome of kesar or of king.
See in each sprite some various bent appear!
In pastry kings and queens th' allotted mite to
Here, as each season yields a different store, Each season's stores in order ranged been; Apples with cabbage-net y-cover'd o'er, Galling full sore th' unmoney'd wight, are seen; And goose-b'rie clad in livery red or green; And here of lovely dye, the catharine pear, Fine pear! as lovely for thy juice, I ween: O may no wight e'er pennyless come there, Lest smit with ardent love he pine with hopeless care!
See! cherries here, ere cherries yet abound, With thread so white in tempting posies ty'd, Scattering like blooming maid their glances round, With pamper'd look draw little eyes aside; And must be bought, though penury betide. The plum all azure and the nut all brown, And here each season do those cakes abide, Whose honour'd names th' inventive city own, Rendering through Britain's isle Salopia's praises known;
Admir'd Salopia! that with venial pride Fyes her bright form in Severn's ambient wave, Fam'd for her loyal cares in perils try'd, Her daughters lovely, and her striplings brave: Ah! midst the rest, may flowers adorn his grave Whose heart did first these dulcet cates display! A motive fair to Learning's imps he gave, Who cheerless o'er her darkling region stray; Till Reason's morn arise, and light them on their
Describing the sorrow of an ingenuous mind, on the melancholy event of a licentious amour.
WHY mourns my friend? why weeps his downcast
That eye where mirth, where fancy us'd to shine? Thy cheerful meads reprove that swelling sigh;
Spring ne'er enamell'd fairer meads than thine.
Art thou not lodg'd in Fortune's warm embrace? Wert thou not form'd by Nature's partial care? Blest in thy song, and blest in every grace
That wins the friend, or that enchants the fair?
"Damon," said he, " thy partial praise restrain;
Not Damon's friendship can my peace restore; Alas! his very praise awakes my pain,
And my poor wounded bosom bleeds the more.
"For oh! that Nature on my birth had frown'd,
"But led by Fortune's hand, her darling child, My youth her vain licentious bliss admir'd; In Fortune's train the syren Flattery smil'd,
And rashly hallow'd all her queen inspir'd.
"Of folly studious, e'en of vices vain,
Ah vices! gilded by the rich and gay!