Our Bard obtrudes not on each anxious breast
The light farewell, and the accustom'd jest,

But leaves the mask which trifling mirth might wear,
Thalia's frolick robe, and laughing air;

Nor drives soft pity from the bleeding heart,
By the pert Epilogue's buffoonish art,

Soft pity due to wars of antient date,

Grief of past times, and helpless Mary's fate.

A PROPHECY;

ADDRESSED TO MRS. CRESPIGNY, OF BATH,
(now Lady DE CRESPIGNY.)

O THOU! in whom the varied graces meet,

Of

person, manners, elegance and wit;

In whom with smiling energy contend

What virtues grace the Mother, Wife, and Friend,

Whose pleasing powers in unison agree,

Where all is concord, peace, and symmetry;

Hear,

Hear, while the Bard consigns to future fame,

And dwells prophetic o'er the grateful theme,
Foretells rewards to real merit due,

And sings of fate, of happiness, and

you.

Health, peace, and plenty, shall surround your gate,

But-to be happy, is not to be great;

Corroding care, that wrings the Monarch's breast,

Shews that the middle sphere of life's the best ;
And conscious virtue, rightly understood,

Will ever prove the most essential good.

As Wife, then, know th' unerring fates decree
The claims of virtue, faith, and constancy;
Destin'd this first sweet balm of life to prove,
Connubial friendship, with connubial love:
For thro' the rugged paths and toils of life
Concentred are the joys of Man and Wife;
And while attention is their mutual care,
Congenial blessings wait the happy pair.

Let others, then, in search of pleasures roam,
Trust me, you'll find true happiness at home.

As Parent, Heav'n shall hearken to your pray'r, And filial zeal repay parental care ;

Honour preside o'er all his steps, and own

The Parent's virtues blossom in the Son.

As Friend, from ev'ry social breast receive
Th' acknowledg'd tribute gratitude can give.
Deign to accept the praise sincerely meant,
Nor deem it words, 'tis more than compliment,
Whilst all our wishes sympathetic join,

And ev'ry bosom corresponds with thine;
Each heart responsive echoing back again
That peace You feel, and Monarchs court in vain.
Thus when the busy task of life is o'er,

And frail humanity can add no more;

When Nature fails, and even beauty must
Fade, and return to its primeval dust;

Old Bladud's annals shall record thy name,

Say-Virtue, Truth, and CRESPIGNY's the same.

ON

A LADY'S BIRTH-DAY.

YE Hours that open the auspicious dawn
Of that bright day, the brightest of the year,
When

my lov'd JULIA, loveliest Maid, was born, say, revolving in your annual sphere, What new unheard-of treasure can you bring, Of wit, or beauty, to adorn her more? Yet, ere ye pass, O stop your rapid wing, And on my JULIA lavish all your store

Of health, of peace, of happiness, and love.

Blest be that gift! and may some favour'd Youth,

That would his passion worthiest her

approve,

Come cloth'd with honours, dignity, and truth; "Twas but to crown some more exalted worth

That Heav'n in mercy gave my JULIA birth.

ADDRESS

ΤΟ

THE QUAKERS,

FOR A TOLERATION OF THE PLAYERS.

YE stiff retainers of your yea and nay,
Who act your Tragic Farces ev'ry day,
And, as the spirit moves the stubborn will,
Sigh, sob, or pray, say nothing, or sit still;
Admit these Heroes of the strolling crew,
That, in their various Farces, rival you.
Yet to excel, or equal your grimace,
Mocks ev'ry art, exceeds the pow'r of face!
Freely to these your kind indulgence give,
At least the toleration you receive.

Or, if no plea your harden'd hearts can move,
Attend the softer eloquence of Love :

Mark well the Beauties of their female train:

My Friends, shall vagrant beauty plead in vain?

If