If Gray or Mason you will deem
Than me more worthy your esteem.
Poems I write by folios

As fast as other men write profe;
Then I can fing fo loud, fo clear,
That Beard cannot with me compare.
In dancing too I all furpass,

Not Cooke can move with fuch a grace."
Here I made fhift with much ado

To interpofe a word or two.

"Have you no parents, Sir, no friends, Whose welfare on your own depends?" "Parents, relations, fay you? No. They're all difpofed of long ago."

66

Happy to be no more perplex'd! My fate too threatens, I go next. Dispatch me, Sir, 'tis now too late, Alas! to struggle with my fate! Well, I'm convinced my time is comeWhen young, a gipfy told my doom; The beldame shook her palfied head, As the perused my palm, and said: • Of poison, peftilence, or war, Gout, ftone, defluxion, or catarrh, You have no reason to beware. Beware the coxcomb's idle prate; Chiefly, my fon, beware of that. Be fure, when you behold him, fly Out of all earshot, or you die.""

To Rufus' Hall we now draw near, Where he was fummon'd to appear, Refute the charge the plaintiff brought,

Or fuffer judgment by default.

"For Heaven's fake, if you love me, wait One moment! I'll be with

you straight." Glad of a plaufible pretence— Sir, I must beg you to difpenfe With my attendance in the court. My legs will furely fuffer for't." Nay, prithee, Carlos, ftop awhile!" Faith, Sir, in law I have no skill. Besides, I have no time to spare, I must be going you know where." Well, I protest, I'm doubtful now Whether to leave my fuit or you!" "Me without fcruple!" I reply, "Me by all means, Sir!"-" No, not I. Allons, Monfieur !" "Twere vain, you know, To ftrive with a victorious foe.

66

So I reluctantly obey,

And follow where he leads the way.

"You and Newcastle are so close, Still hand and glove, Sir, I fuppofe.".

"Newcastle, let me tell you,

Sir,

Has not his equal every where."

"Well.

There indeed

There indeed your fortune's made.

Faith, Sir, you

your you understand

trade.

Would you but give me your good word:
Juft introduce me to my lord,

I should serve charmingly by way
Of fecond fiddle, as they say:

What think you, Sir? 'twere a good jest.

'Slife, we fhould quickly scout the rest.".

Sir, you mistake the matter far,

We have no fecond fiddles there."
"Richer than I fome folks may be;
More learned, but it hurts not me.
Friends though he has of different kind,
Each has his proper place affign'd."

66

66

Strange matters these alleged by you!". Strange they may be, but they are true.”"Well then, I vow, 'tis mighty clever, Now I long ten times more than ever To be advanced extremely near One of his shining character.

Have but the will-there wants no more,
'Tis plain enough you have the power.
His easy temper (that's the worst)

He knows, and is so shy at first.
But fuch a cavalier as you-

Lord, Sir, you'll quickly bring him to!
Well! if I fail in my design,

Sir, it shall be no fault of mine.
If by the faucy fervile tribe

Denied, what think you of a bribe?
Shut out to-day, not die with forrow,
But try my luck again to-morrow.
Never attempt to visit him

But at the most convenient time,
Attend him on each levee day,
And there my humble duty pay,
Labour, like this, our want fupplies;
And they must stoop who mean to rise."
While thus he wittingly harangued,

For which you'll guess I wish'd him hang'd,
Campley, a friend of mine, came by,

Who knew his humour more than I;

We stop, falute, and-" Why fo fast,
Friend Carlos? Whither all this hafte?”
Fired at the thoughts of a reprieve,
I pinch him, pull him, twitch his fleeve,
Nod, beckon, bite my lips, wink, pout,
Do everything but speak plain out:
While he, fad dog, from the beginning
Determined to mistake my meaning,
Instead of pitying my curfe,

By jeering made it ten times worse.
Campley, what fecret (pray!) was that
You wanted to communicate?"
"I recollect. But 'tis no matter;
Carlos, we'll talk of that hereafter.
E'en let the fecret reft. "Twill tell
Another time, Sir, just as well.”
Was ever fuch a dismal day?
Unlucky cur, he steals away,
And leaves me, half bereft of life,
At mercy of the butcher's knife;
When fudden, fhouting from afar,
See his antagonist appear!

The bailiff feized him, quick as thought,
Ho, Mr. Scoundrel! are you caught?
Sir, you are witness to the arrest."

Ay, marry, Sir, I'll do my beft." The mob huzzas. Away they trudge, Culprit and all, before the judge. Meanwhile, I luckily enough (Thanks to Apollo) got clear off.

A TALE, FOUNDED ON A FACT WHICH

HAPPENED IN JANUARY 1779.

HERE Humber

pours his rich commer

cial ftream

There dwelt a wretch, who breathed but to blafpheme;

In fubterraneous caves his life he led,

Black as the mine in which he wrought for bread.
When on a day, emerging from the deep,
A fabbath-day, (such sabbaths thousands keep!)
The wages of his weekly toil he bore

To buy a cock-whose blood might win him more ;
As if the nobleft of the feather'd kind

Were but for battle and for death defign'd;

As if the confecrated hours were meant
For sport, to minds on cruelty intent;

It chanced (such chances Providence obey)
He met a fellow-labourer on the way,

grace.

Whose heart the fame defires had once inflamed;
But now the favage temper was reclaim'd.
Persuasion on his lips had taken place;
For all plead well who plead the cause of
His iron heart with Scripture he affail'd,
Woo'd him to hear a fermon, and prevail'd.
His faithful bow the mighty preacher drew,
Swift as the lightning-glimpse the arrow flew.