And call my lyric lucubrations stuff:
But I'm a modeft, not unconnyinge elf,
Or I could fay fuch things about myself-
But God forbid that I should puff!

Yet natural are felfifh predilections!

Like fnakes they writhe about the heart's affections,
And fometimes too infufe a poifonous fpirit;
Producing, as by nat'ralifts I'm told,

Torpid infenfibility, fo cold

To every brother's rifing merit.

Wits to each other just like loadstones act,
That do not always like firm friends attract;
Though of the fame rare nature, (strange to tell!
The little harden'd rogues as oft repel.
But lo, of thee I'll fpeak, my long-ear'd friend!
Great were the wonders of thy heels of yore;
Victorious, for lac'd hats didst thou contend;

And ribbons grac'd thy ears-a gaudy store.

Buff breeches too have crown'd a proud proud day,
Not thou, but which thy rider wore away:
Triumphant strutting through the world he firode,
Great foul! deferving an Olympic Ode.

Thy bravery often did I much approve ;
Rais'd by that queen of paffions, love.
Whene'er in love's delicous frenzy croft
By long-ear'd brothers, lo, wert thou a host!
Love did thy lion-heart with courage steel!
Quicker than that of Veftris mov'd thy heel:
Here, there, up, down, in, out, how thou didst fraite!
And then no alderman could match thy bite!

And is thy race no more rever'd ?
Indeed 'tis greatly to be fear'd!

Yet fhalt thou flourish in immortal song,
To me if immortality belong;

For ftranger things than this have come to pafs-
Pofterity thine hift'ry fhall devour,

And read with pleasure how, when vernal show'r

In gay profufion rais'd the dewy grafs,

I led thee forth, thine appetite to please,

And mid the verdure faw thee up to knees!

How, oft I pluck'd the tender blade;

And, happy, how thou cam'ft at my command,

And wantoning around, as though afraid,

With poking neck didft pull it from my hand,

Then

Then fcamper, kicking, frolickfome, away: 200
With fuch a fafcinating bray!

Where oft I paid thee vifits, and where thou
paidhappines
4: mo.]
Didit cock with happinefs thy kingly ears,
And grin fo 'witchingly, I can't tell how, astic CO
-
And dart at me
fuch friendly leers; in modw 10 Y
E lieb sorast svou sono
With fuch a smiling head, and laughing tail wod nemH
And when I moy'd, how, griev'd, thou feem'dft to fay、//
"Dear mafter, let your humble Als prevailed I doin??
"Pray, master, do not go away?babuswob eds to boƉ
And how (for what than friendship can be fweeters?) uq
I gave thee grafs again, O pleasant Peterands walil filivi A
And how when, Winter bade the herbage diet ni gargain
And nature mourn'd beneath the stormy sky;

When waving trees, furcharg'd with chilling rainyer ed W
Dropp'd feeming tears upon the harass'd plain,di flusgA
I gave thee a good ftable, warm as wool gida), bl. A
With oats
ts to grind, and hay to pulls #sm shoƆ "
Thus, whilst abroad December rul'd the day, -! on !oй
How plenty they'd within, the blooming Mayildid W

And lo, to future times it fhall be known,si eft flotar !oI
How, twice a day to comb and rub thee down, r A
And be thy bed-maker at night, tali Auloqot ufT
Thy groom attended, both with hay and oat,
By which thy back could boaft a handsome coat,

And laugh at many a fine court lord and knight, .
Whofe ftrutting coats belong p'rhaps to the tailor,
And probably their bodies to the jailor!
What though no dimples thou haft got ;
Black sparkling eyes (the fashion) are thy lot,
And oft a 'witching fmile and cheerful laugh;
And then thy cleanliness! 'tis ftrange to utter !
Like fin, thy heels avoid a pool, or gutter;

And then the stream fo daintily doft quaff.
Unlike a country alderman, who blows, do
And in the mug baptizeth mouth and nofe!

A

ODE

1791.

ODE to HYMEN; or, the HECTIC.

[From the Rights of Kings, &c. By the fame Author.]

G

OD of ten million charming things,

Of whom our Milton fo' divinely fings,
Once dove-tail'd to a devil of a wife-
Hymen, how comes it that I am so flighted?
Why with thy mist'ries am I not delighted,
Which I have try'd to peep on half my
life?
God of the down-clad chains, difpel the mift-
O put me speedily upon thy lift!!
A civil lift, like that of kings, I'm told,
Bringing in fwelling bags of glorious gold!

What have I done to lofe thy good opinion?
Against thee was I ever known to rail ; -
And fay, (abufing thus thy fweet dominion)
"Curfe me if this boy's trap fhall catch my tail ¿??
No! no!-I praife thy knot with bellowing breath,
Which, like Jack Ketch's, feldom flips till death.

Lo! 'midft the hollow-founding vault of night,
Deep coughing by the taper's lonely light,.ool fold b..
The hopeless Hectic rolls his eye-balls, fighing:
"Sleep on," he cries, and drops the tend relt tear;
Then kiffes his wife's cherub cheek fo dear

"Bleft be thy flumbers, love! though 1 am dying:
"Ah! whilft thou fleepeft with the fweeteft breath,
"1 pump, for life, the putrid well of death!
"I feel of Fate's hard hand th' oppreffive pow'r s
"I count the iron tongue of ev'ry hour,
"That feems in fancy's ftartled ear to fay-
"Soon must thou wander from thy wife away."

"Dread found! too folemn for the foul to bear
"Murm'ring deep melancholy on my ear:
"And fullen-ling'ring, as if loth to part,
"And ease the terrors of my fainting heart.
"Yet, though I pant for life, fleep thou, my dove,
"For well thy conftancy deferves my love."

And, lo! all young and beauteous by his fide,
His foft, frefn-blooming, incenfe-breathing bride,
Whofe cheek the dream of rapt'rous kiffes warms,
Anticipates her fpoufe's with fo good;

Feels love's wild ardours tingling through her blood,
And pants amidst a second husband's arms;
Now opes her eyes, and, turning round her head,
"Wonders the filthy fellow is not dead !”

[From Poems by the Author of the Village Curate, and Adriano.]

YEZ, my good people draw neary
My ntory furpaffes belief,

Yet deign for a moment to hear, Punka
And aflift me to catch a stray thief.: 9-

Bring her home, honeft friends, bring her home, a dos
And fet her down safe at my door,

Let her once my companion become,
And I fwear the fhalt wander no more.

Bring her home, and I'll give a reward
Whofe value can never be told,
More precious than all you regard,
More in worth than a houfe-full of gold.
in criw squalls

A reward fuch as none but a dunce,
reward fuck bunga enduran would mifs,

O yes, I will give you for once

From the charmer you bring me, a kiss.

PROJECT for the IMPROVEMENT of THEATRICAL ENTER TAINMENTS. « beri fe de calqu

[From Whift, a Poem.]

HAT dome, whofe managers inceffant strive
To keep the public appetite alive,

And feed their guefts, oireach returning night,
With varied treats of ever new delight;

Where yet delight is often fought in vain,

And languor and difguft too often reigns!!
One fimple change might to a temple turn,

Where pleafure's lamp could never fail to burn,aa noin'
How rich a feaft would ev'ry play become,
If, like a pantomime, the feenes were dumb
And liberty of fpeech to none allow'd,"
But thofe diftinguith'd from the vulgar crowd
Who, thron'd betwixt the galleries and pit,
In vaulted cabinets of fplendor fit!

A

We fhould not then frequent the house to know". SO SC
What Hamlet faid a thousand years ago;

But flock to catch, in the politeft way,

The news and fcandal of the present day. Hau Flossti

What perfect blifs from fuch a scheme appears

To all our faculties of eyes and cars!

The one delighted with the charms that flow
From graceful action, and the pomp of fhow;
The other ravish'd with the full difplay
Of all that wit and elegance could fay.

A plan which promis'd thus their toils to eafe,
The flothful players could not fail to please;
Nor would it coft them one triumphant hour,
Or circumfcribe their fafcinating pow'r.ne
For fure the Siddons, whofe expreffive eye

N 2

Each