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I, while the sun delay'd his parting beam,
Beheld my face reflected in the stream;
My eyes look'd bright, with diffidence I speak,
And youthful blushes glow'd upon my cheek;
I mark'd my form, to Vestris no disgrace,
Where just proportion vied with manly grace :
But, since these beauties charm my love no more,
I shun the fountains that I sought before;
From billiards, rackets, quoits, and cricket flee;-
And taw and skittles have no charms for me.

Canst thou forget, when, warm with love and ale,
I whisper'd in thine ear my tender tale?
How didst thou blush at Cupid's soft command,
(The glass of negus trembling in thy hand!)
And sighing, promise everlasting truth,

If I would take thee but to Saunders' booth,
To see the tailor, in equestrian pride,

With crupper, whip, and spur, to Brentford ride?
Did I not show thee ev'ry kind of fun ;—
Cows with two heads, that never had but one;
Sage necromancers, who, to conjuring prone,
Tell ev'ry body's fortunes but their own;
And Lady Morgan short, and Patrick tall?
No Yorkshire club was ours-I paid for all.
Yes, cruel maid! and no reward I seek,

Though that day's flourish made me fast a week;

Bear witness to my vows, ye pow'rs above!
I ask no other payment, but thy love;
No fonder pledge I crave, my lovely girl,
Than that thou gav'st me o'er a pint of purl!

Come to my longing arms, my lovely care!* And take the presents which the gods prepare! The macaroni cake, the Chelsea bun,

And almonds crisp, and raisins of the sun :
But what avails it that I yield my store ? +
The purse-proud Daphnis still will offer more,
And Blouzelinda has too sweet a tooth,
To scorn his gifts, and wed the poorest youth.
In splendid courts, let haughty princes reign,‡
The shepherd loves the forest and the plain :—
The prowling dun the hungry bard pursues,
The politician travels after news,

The unpaid tailor dogs the London spark,

*Huc ades, O formose puer. Tibi lilia plenis

Ecce ferunt Nymphæ calathis: tibi candida Naïs, &c. + Rusticus es, Corydon; nec munera curat Alexis: Nec, si muneribus certes, concedat Iollas.

Pallas, quas condidit arces
Ipsa colat nobis placeant ante omnia Silvæ.

:

Torva leæna lupum sequitur; lupus ipse capellam.
Florentem cytisum sequitur, lasciva capella :

Te Corydon, O Alexi: trahit sua quemque voluptas.

The curious hunt the Cossack through the park—
Each has his diff'rent hobby :-by this rule,
Sir Claudius plays the courtier, Coates the fool,
My Lord the jockey, Skeffington the beau,
And Love's my hobby, wheresoe'er I go.

Resound, ye hills! resound my mournful strain, Of perjur❜d Blouzelinda I complain !— The doctor tries his Esculapian skill, He draws the lancet, and prescribes the pill, And lays for Cupid many an artful lure ; But love's a pang that physic cannot cure ; A ruthless dun, devoted to his prey, By night tormenting, as he plagues by day.

But see, the night emits unwholesome damps, And nimble link-boys run to light their lamps; Now strolls the painted Cyprian in the dark, I'll to the Basin, in St. James's Park :

*

Farewell! the lawyer's quirk, the pleader's bawl; The Temple, Lincoln's-Inn, and Justice-Hall!

Farewell! the park, the play-house, and Pall-Mall! Blouzy, adieu !—and all the world, farewell!

* Non ego vos posthac, viridi projectus in antro,
Dumosà pendere procul de rupe videbo.
Carmina nulla canam : non, me pascente, capellæ,
Florentem cytisum et salices carpetis amaras.

ECLOGUE III.

THE DISCARDED MINISTER.

Amicus. Ho! Georgius, whither on thy way

so fast,

From good St. Stephen's?

Georgius.

Ah! my friend; at last,

(Would I had never liv'd, this day to see,
Strange revolution for the state and me !)
His Highness, who has ow'd me long a grudge,
Exclaims," You cringing ragamuffin, budge!
A fellow, that to serve his private ends,
Gives ev'ry place of profit to his friends!

No more I'll have a herd of Scotch petitioners,
Clerks of the crown, or Navy-board commissioners."

Ami. But what will now become of your

leagues,

col

Their ways and means, their councils, their intrigues? What other leader will they choose?

* Quo te, Mori, pedes? an, quò via ducit, in urbem?

+ O Lycida, vivi pervenimus; advena nostri,
(Quod nunquam veriti sumus) ut possessor agelli
Diceret, Hæc mea sunt; veteres migrate coloni.

Geo.

Heav'n knows!

I weep to think of leaving Treasurer Rose ;*

Methinks I hear him cry, distracted, vext,

66

Forebodings tell me that my turn comes next!" And then the honest man dissolves in tears, To lose the place he's held for twenty years.

Ami. And Vansittart,† will royalty reject him?

Here lies old George, who took the surest
And safest road to wealth, though dark;
The Statesman, Treas'rer, Sinecurist,

The Lords', though once a Purser's clerk.

Alike to him, were friends and foes;

And both by turns, he would importune;
For George's politics were those

Which tended most to make his fortune!

Bred in the Caledonian school,

Laborious, plodding, dull and grave;

He was too knowing for a fool,
Yet wanted wit to be a knave!

If there are sinecures in heav'n,

Our Treas'rer may indulge his whim;
If neither pow'r nor place be giv'n,
Faith, 'tis a sorry change for him!

The Grand Question debated.

Cries starch Mrs. Sidmouth to grave Mrs. Van,

"I cannot conceive what the deuce there can be in us, That the Prince to promote us should do all he can, When nobody else any merit can see in us;

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