These weighty reasons sway'd the vicar's mind — | Bemus'd in wine the bard his duns forgets,
To town he hied, but left his wife behind :-

And drinks serene oblivion to his debts :
Next levee-day he waited on his grace,

Wine drives all cares, and anguish from the heart, With hundreds more, who bow'd to get a place; And dubs us connoisseurs of every art: Show'd in the crowd, he stood amaz'd to see Whom does not wine with eloquence inspire ? Lords who to Baal bent the supple knee,

The bousey beggar struts into a squire. And doctors sage he could not but admire, This you well know — to me belongs to mind, Who stoop'd profoundly low—to rise the higher. That neatness with frugality be join’d; So much of ermine, lace, beaus, bishops, young That no intruding blab, with itching ears, and old,

Darken iny doors, who tells whate'er he hears; 'Twas like a cloud of sable edg'd with gold: Two D—s, each a poet, with me dine, By turns his grace the servile train addrest, Your friends, and decent C-n, a divine : Pleas'd with a smile, or in a whisper blest. There's room for more--so to complete the band, Sick of the scene, the vicar sought the door, Your wife will bring fair Innocence 'in hand, Determin'd never to see London more;

Should Cave want copy, let the teaser wait, But, as his friend had pleas'd the hour to fix, While you steal secret through the garden gate. First went to dinner to my lord's at six; He knock'd—was usherd to the room of state,

A PASSAGE FROM PETRONIUS, (My lord abroad) and dinner serv'd in plate; Which, though it seem'd but common soup and

TRANSLATED. Was really callipee and callipash, [hash,

Fallen are thy locks! for woeful winter hoar (The relics of the gaudy day before) What Indians eat, and Englishmen adore ;

Has stolen thy bloom, and beauty is no more! With bright champaign the courtier crown'd the Thy temples mourn their shady honours shora, feast,

Parch'd like the fallow destitute of com. Sooth'd his own pride, and gratified his guest

Fallacious gods ! whose blessings thus betray; All this conspir'd our Stoic to controul,

What first ye give us, first ye take away. And warpt the steady purpose of his soul

Thou, late exulting in thy golden hair,

As bright as Phæbus, or as Cynthia fair, When lo! the cry of fire creates amaze« The next house, Lady Riot's, in a blaze"

Now view'st, alas! thy forehead smooth and plain Aghast the vicar stood, in wild affright,

Asthe round fungus, daughter of the rain : Then briefly thus addres'd the priest polite:

Smooth as the surface of well polish'd brass, “ Adieu, my friend-- your state I envy not

And fly'st with fear each laughter-loving lass : Beef, liberty, and safety be my lot”.

Death hastes amain-tly wretched fate deplore
Fallen are thy locks, and beauty is no more.

HORACE, EPIST. V. BOOK 1. IMI.

AGAINST LIFE.
TATED.

FROM THE GREEK OF POSIDIPPUS.
TO JOHN HAWKESWORTH, ESQ.

What tranquil road, unvex'd by strife,

Can inortals chuse through human life? IF yon dear sir, will deign to pass a day

Attend the courts, attend the bar In the fair vale of Orpington and Cray,

There discord reigns, and endless jar: And live for once as humble vicars do;

At home the weary wretches find On Thursday let me see you here by two.

Severe disquietude of mind; Expect no niceties my plates to foul,

To till the fields, gives toil and pain; Bul Bans mutton, and a barn-door fowl,

Eternal terrours sweep the main :
My friends with generous liquors I regale,

If rich, we fear to lose our store,
Good port, old hock, or, if they like it, ale; Need and distress await the poor :
But if of richer wine you chuse a quart, Sad cares the bands of hymen give;
Why bring, and drink it here—with all my heart. Friendless, forlorn, th’unmarried live:
Plain is my furniture, as is my treat,

Are children born? we anxious groan; for 'tis my best ambition, to be neat.

Childless, our lack of beirs we moan : Leave then all sordid views, and hopes of gain,

Wild, giddy schemes our youth engage; To mortals miserable, mad, or vain;

Weakness and wants depress old age. Put the last polish to th' historic page,

Would fatethen with my wish comply,
And cease awhile to moralize the age.

I'd never live, or quickly die.
By your sweet converse cheer'd, the live-long day
Will pass unnotic'd like the stream, away.
Why should kind Providence abundance give,

FOR LIFE
If we, like niggards, can't afford to live ?
The wretched miser, poor 'midst heaps of pelf,

FROM THE GREEK OF METRODORUS.
To cram his heir, most madly starves himself-MANKIND may rove, inrex'l by strife,
So will not l-give me good wine and ease,
Andlet all misers call me fool that please. Through every road of human life,
What cannot wine?-it opens all the soul; Fair wisdom regula:es the bar,
Faint hope grows brilliant o'er the sparkling bowl: And peace concludes the wordy war:
Wine's generous spirit makes the coward brave,
Gives ease to kings, and freedom to the slave: 1 The name of a very agreeable young lady.

At home auspicious mortals find

Where cattle pastured late, the purple plain, Serene tranquillity of mind;

Sad scene of horrour! teeins with heres slain; All-beauteous nature decks the plain,

Where the proud palace rear'd its haughty head, . And merchants plough for gold the main: Deep in the dust, see! crumbling columns Respect arises from our store,

spread; Security from being poor:

See gallant Britons in the field expire, Alore joys the bands of Hymen give;

Towns turn'd to ashes, fanes involv'd in fire! Th’ unmarried with more freedom live:

These deeds the guilt of rash Ambition tell, If parents, our blest lot we own;

And bloody Discord, furious fiend of Hell! Childless, we have no cause to moan :

Ye baneful sisters, with your frantic crew, Firin vigour crowns our youthful stage,

Hence speed your flight, and take your last adieu, And venerable hairs old-age.

Eternal wars in barbarous worlds to wage; Since all is good, then who would cry,

There vent your inextinguishable rage. “I'd never live, or quickly die ?"

But come, fair Peace, and be the nation's bride,
And let thy sister Plenty grace thy side,

O come! and with thy placid presence cheer ON OCCASION OF THE PEACE.

Our drooping hearts, and stay for ever here.

Now be the shrill, strife-stirring trumpet mute; Peace o'er the world her olive wand extends,

Now let us listen to the softer lute: And white-rob’d Innocence from Heaven de- The shepherd now his numerous flocks shall feed, scends.

Pope.

Where war relentless doom'd the brave to bleed;

On ruin'd ramparts shall the hawthorn flower, Adieu the horrours of destructive war,

And inantling ivy clasp the nodding lower, And mad Bellona in her iron car!

Unusual harvests wave along the dale, But welcome to our smiling fields again,

And the bent sickle o'er the sword prevail. Sweet Peace ! attended with thy jocund train, No more shall states with rival rage contend, Truth, Virtue, Preedom, that can never cloy, But arts their empire o'er the world extend; And all the pleasing family of Joy. (plan'd, Ingenious arts, that humanize the mind, Those schemes pursued, which Pitt so wisely And give the brightest polish to mankind! Conquest has showerd her blessings on the land; | Then shall our chiefs in breathing marble stand, And Britain's sons more laurels have obtain'd, And life seein starting from the sculptor's hand; Than all her Henries, or her Edwards gain'd: Then lovely nymphs in living picture rise, George saw with joy the peaceful period given,

The fairest faces, and the brightest eyes : And bow'd obedient to the will of Heaven: Theie polish'd Lane 'no loss of beauty fears; Awful he rose to bid dissention cease,

Her charms, still mellowing with revolving years, And all the warring world was calm'd to peace; Shall, ev'n on canvas, youthful hearts engage, * Thus did the roaring waves their rage compose. And warın the cold indifference of age: When the great father of the floods arose." Then the firm arch shall stem the roaring tide, Then came Astrea mild, our isle to bless, And join those countries which the streams din Fair queen of virtue, and of happiness! Then villas rise of true palladian proof, [vide ; Then came our troops in fighting fields renown'd, And the proud palace rear its ample roof; And mark'd with many an honourable wound. Then statelier temples to the skies ascend, The tender fair one, long by fears opprest,

Where mix'd with nobles mighty kings may bend, Now feels soft raptures rising in her breast, Where poverty may send her sighs to Heaven, The blooming hero of her heart to view,

And guilt return, repent, and be forgiven. And hear him bid the dangerous camp adieu.

Such are the fruits which sacred peace imparts, The widow'd bride, that long on grief had fed, Sweet nurse of liberty and learned arts ! And bath'd with weeping the deserted bed, These she restores-0! that she could restore Glad that the tumults of the war are o'er, Life to those Britons who now breathe no more, That terrour, rage, and rapine are no more,

Who in th' einbatiled field undaunted stood, Greets her rough lord, secure from hostile harms, And greatly perish'd in their country's good; And hopes an age of pleasure in his arms: Or who, by rage of angry tempests tost, While he, with pompous eloquence, recites In whirlpools of the whelining main were lost. Dire scenes of castles, storm'd and desperate Ye honour'd shades of chiefs untimely slain ! fights;

Whose bones lie scatter'd on some foreign plain; Or tells how Wolfe the free-born Britons led, That now perchance by lonely hind are seen How Granby conquer'd and the household fled; In glittering armour gliding o'er the green; She, to the pleasing dreadful tale intent, Ye! that beneath the cold cerulean wave Now smiles, now trembles, for the great event. Have made the watery element your grave, O curst Ambition, foe to human good,

Whose wandering spirits baunt the winding shore, Pregnant with woe, and prodigal of blood ! Or ride on whirlwinds while the billows roar, Thou fruitful source, whence streams of sorrow With kind protection still our isle defend, What devastations to thy guilt we owe! [Aow, (If souls unbodied can protection lend) Where-e'er thy fury riots, all around

Still o'er the king your shadowy pinions spread, Confusion, havoc, and dread deaths abound: And in the day of danger shield his head; Where Ceres flourish'd, and gay Flora sınild, Behold a barren, solitary wild!

The hon. Mrs. Lane, daughter of the right To stately cedars thorns and briars succeed, hon. lord chancellor Henley, and wife to the And in the garden spreads the noxious weed; hon. Mr. Lane,

BY MR.

OF BRAZEN

Your bright examples shall our pattern be, A neighbour's palfry, small and pretty,
To make us valiant, and to keep us free.

Is borrow'd for the use of Kitty.
Dec. 1762.

All things provided, out they stalk;
Poor Dobbin wisbes tbem at York ;
Then mount and sally in great state,

William before, behind them Kate;
ON A COUNTRY VICAR

Wben thus he entertains bis spouse
With observations on each house,

Each field and orchard, as they ride,
CARRYING HIS WIFE BEHIND HIM, TO VISIT HTS

Looking and pointing on each side; PARISHIONERS.

Remarking whence his profits rise, NOSE COLLEGE, OXFORD.

And where he gets the best supplies. In southern climes there lies a village,

“ That house is manag'd ill, my dear, Where oft the vicar, fond to pillage,

It scarce affords a pig a year : Sallies with gun aloft on shoulder,

This orchard 's good, but, were it wider, (Orlando's self could ne'er look bolder)

'Twould yield a hogshead of good cider.”
With which, well ramm'd with proper cartridge, With joy he shows where turnips grew,
He knocks down apples, or a partridge ; And tells what profits thence accrue ;
And whilst o'er all his neighbours' ground, But looks with envy on each stubble,
Striding, he throws his eyes around,

That nothing pays for vicar's trouble.
Surveying, with a look most blithe,

Pleas'd, she admires the lambkins play, The growing riches of his tithe,

And loves them—when she's told they pay. Minds not the game for which he's beating; Suppose them now arriv'd; my dame But, to prevent his flock from cheating,

Runs out, inquiring how they came; Looks in each yard with jealous eye,

Welcomes them in, and after all her With care examines every stye,

Forms are gone through, she shews her parlour. Numbers the cows, observes their udders, “Pray, madam, take a dram; the weather, And at the dread of losing shudders.

Is cold and damp, and I have either “ His composition's low; the butter

Good rum or brandy, plain or cherry; From so much milk”--he can but mutter. A glass will make you warm and merry." He counts the poultry, large and fine,

Next on the board the tea-things rattle, “ Forty and five, then four are mine."

And introduce a world of prattle. But when the vernal season came,

“ Your china's pretty, I declare; And took him from pursuit of game,

'Tis pity 'tis such brittle ware.". A sudden thought of his condition

“Your tea is to your mind, I hope" Induc'd him to an expedition;

Exceeding good”—“ Pray one more cup." An expedition of great moment,

" Your toast is very nice; I've eat Which sing I must, let what will come on 't. Till l'm asham'd.”-“ Another bit: Scratching his head one day in strong sort, The butter, ma'am, is fresh and sweet, Then turning short upon his consort,

Although I say 't, that should not say 't.» “ My joy,' quoth he, “ now things are dearish, After removing all the clutter To make some visits in the parish

Of china, tea, and toast and butter, I think can never be amiss;

Pipes and tobacco come, and beer As for my reason, it is this:

Preserv'd through many a rolling year; Some farms, you know, lie very distant, And currant-wive, and punch, fit liquor At which I seldom am a vist'ant;

To elevate the heart of vicar. And, now the shooting season's over,

At loo the ladies take a game, Cannot so readily discover

All but my notable old dame; If any sharp or filching wight

She has no time to seat her crupper, Should cheat us of our lawful right;

She's so intent on getting supper. Nor have we any means to hear how

At length it comes, a spare-rib, large Soon they expect a sow to farrow.

Enough to cover a small barge; Besides, my dearest, should they cheat us, Or for (the simile to drag on) We shall get something when they treat us; A tilt for any carrier's waggon: And save at home the spit and pot;

Attended by a brace of chicken, A penny sav'd 's a penny got."

But twelve months old, for lady's picking: While thus, with all bis oratory,

A link of sausages, that seem He labour'd through the pleasing story;

A boom design’d for some strong stream. Ma'am by bis side was all attention,

“ Your chịcks are very fine,"-"You flatter; Delighted with his good invention;

I wish they were a little fatter. Admir'd, and prais'd, then seal'd his bliss But I have two shut up, design'd With joyous matrimonial kiss.

For you ma'am.”_"You're extremely kind."'. And soon the loving pair agreed

“ And soon (my sow is very big) By this same system to proceed;

I hope to send you a fat pig." And through the parish, with their how d’ye, (The vicar inward smil'd, to see Go to each gaffer and each goody.

His scheme succeed so happily.) 'T'was then resolv'd, that first of all

And last an apple-pye appear'd, They pay a visit at E-t hall;

In earthen bowl, with custar'd smeard. And William 's order'd, to save trouble,

The cloth remov'd, the chearful glass To get a steed that carries double,

Begins to circulate apace:

The landlord, waxing brisk and mellow, By which, 'tis plain to all mankind,
Bewonies a hearty jovial fellow;

His mill for verses goes by wind.
And now with liquor grown full ripe,

Encourag'd thus with bouncing liquor, “ Parsun, you shall take t’ other pipe."

He points his wit against the vicar ; "We must not stay; 'tis late, Sir._"No"-Then grows satiric on his wife, "Well, one half pipe, and then wo go." The very meekest thing in life; The pipe and liquor out, they start,

And next on cunning-looking Kitty, And homeward speed, with joyful heart. And calls her palfiy, not her,-pretty. He triumphs in his good success;

But why, sad poet, should you fall
And she applauds his nice finesse.

On the good woman of E-t Hall?
Because you did out taste her supper,

You hit her hard upon her crupper.
THE VICAR'S REPLY.

Next time that I and spouse ride double,

To save your Muse, and you too, trouble ;
BY FRANCIS FAWKES, M. A. And keep my horse from being bit
RHYMES ! bless me! doggrel, I suppose,

With any of your waggish wit;

I'll take you in my hand along, Penn’d by some son of Brazen Nose;

And thus prevent some idle song ; Some starveling bard, or curate thin,

Cram you with custard till you choke : Whose bones have elbow'd out his skin;

And fill with punch, and not with smoke. And jogg'd him to provoke his Muse

Mean while, to prove my honest heart,
An honest vicar to abuse,

Step down direct, and take a quart,
Because he looks a little sleek,
With belly fair, and rosy cheek,
Which never but in men abound

TO DR. REDMAN,
Of easy minds, and bodies sound.
This vicar lives so blithe and happy,

WHO SENT THE AUTHOR A HARE, AND PROMISED With daily roast-meat, and ale nappy ;

BY THE REV. DR. COWPER'. With dogs to hunt, and steeds to ride, And wife that ambles at his side ;

Qui leporem mittis contingis cuncta lepore; Who loves no hurries, routs, nor din,

Condiat O leporem, te veniente, lepos ! But gently chucks her husband's chin,

Digna etenim, Redmanne, Jove est lepidissima These blessings, altogether met,

cena, Have put lean curate in a pet,

Quæ sic tota tua est et lepus atque lepos.
As meagre wine is apt to fret.
And so this bard ecclesiastic
One day presum'd in Hudibrastic,

IMITATED BY MR. FAWKES.
One day in Lent, un-eating time,
To prick his genius into rhyme;

A hare you in season presented to us, [puss: The wind fresh blowing from the south,

And with fine Attic salt you will season your And Indian vapours from his mouth:

'Tis a jovial treat-worthy Jove, I declare, For smoking aids this dry divine ;

For the sauce and the supper will suit to a Puff follows puff, and line succeeds on line.

hair. His lines by puffs he's wont to measure ; He rhymes for drink, and puffs for pleasure. "John, eldest son of judge Cowper, rector of And as he labours for a joke,

Berkhamsted, Herts, patentee for making out Out comes a puff, that ends in smoke.

commissions of bankruptcy, ope of K. George Lo! swelling into thought he sits;

the Second's chaplains, and afterwards dean of Wrapt in the rage of rhyming fts;

Durham.
Fits which are seldom known to fail,
When full blown up with bottled ale.
But paffy cider 's better still,
It always works his doggrel mill;

TO SUP WITH HIM.

1