« PreviousContinue »
Who guards his want of shame and sense,
With shield of sevenfold impudence.
Hence cards on Pelham, cards on Pitt,
With much abuse and little wit.
Hence libels against Hardwicke penn'd,
That only hurt when they commend :
Hence oft ascrib'd to Fox, at least
All that defames his name-fake-beast,
Hence Cloacina hourly views
Unnumber'd labours of the Muse,
That firk, where myriads went before,
And sleep within the chaos hoar :
While her brown daughters, under ground,
Are fed with politics profound.
Each eager hand a fragment fnaps,
More excrement than wliat it wraps.
These, fingly, contributions raise,
of casual pudding and of praise.
Others again, who form a gang,
Yet take due measures not to hang,
In Magazines their forces join,
By legal methods to purloin :
Whose weekly, or whose monthly, feat is
First to decry, then steal, your treatise.
So rogues in France perform their job ;
Assassinating, ere they rob.
But, this long narrative to close :
They who would grievances expose,
In all good policy, no less,
Should thew the methods to redress.
If commerce, finking in one scale,
By fraud or hazard comes to fail ;
The task is next, all statelinen know it,
To find another where to throw it,
That, rising there in due degree,
The public may no lofer be.
Thus having heard how you invade,
And, in one way, destroy my trade ;
That we at lait may part good friends,
O search this sinful town with care :
What numbers, duly mine, are there!
The full-fed herb of money-jobbers,
Jews, Christians, rogues alike and robbers !
Who riot on the poor man's toils,
And fatten by a nation's spoils !
The crowd of little knaves in place,
Secret and fnug, by daily stealth,
The busy vermin pick up wealth ;
Then, without birth, control the great!
Then, without talents, rule the state !
Some ladies too--for some there are,
With shame and decency at war ;
Who, on a ground of pale threescore,
Still spread the rose of twenty-four,
And bid a nut-brown bofom glow
With purer white than lilies know :
Who into vice intrepid rush ;
Put modest whoring to the blush;
And with more front engage a trooper
Than Jenny Jones, or Lucy Cooper.
Send me each mischief-making nibbler;
'Tis equal, fenator or scribbler:
Who, on the self-fame fpot of ground,
The self-fame hearers staring round,
Abjure and join with, praise and blame,
Both men and measures, still the same.
Or serve our foes with all their might,
By proving Britons dare not fight :
Slim, flimsey, fiddling, futile elves,
They paint the nation from themselves ;
Less aiming to be wise than witty,
And mighty pert, and mighty pretty.
Send me each string-save green and blue These, brother Tower-hill, wait for you. But, Lollius, be not in the spleen; 'Tis only Arthur's Knights I meanNot those of old renown'd in fable, Nor of the round, but gaming table ; Who, every night, the waiters say, Break every
law they make by day; Plunge deep our youth in all the vicc Attendant
drink and dice, And, mixing in nocturnal battles, Devour each other's goods and chattels ; While from the mouth of magic box, With curses dire and dreadful knocks, They fling whole tenements away, Fling time, health, fame-yet call it play!
Till, by advice of special friends,
The titled dupe a sharper ends :
Or, if some drop of noble blood
Remains, not quite defild to mud,
The wretch, unpity'd and alone,
Leaps headlong to the world unknown !
“ Egregiam vero laudem et fpolia ampla refertis, “ Una dola Divùm fi Foemina victa duorum eft."
A certain young lady was surprized, on horse-back,
by a violent storm of wind and rain from the South-
west; which made her dismount, somewhat pre-
HE god, in whose gay train appear
Those gales that wake the purple year;
Who lights up health and bloom and grace
In Nature's, and in Mira's face ;
To speak more plain, the western wind,
Had seen this brightest of her kind :
Had seen her oft with fresh surprize!
And ever with desiring eyes !
Much, by her fhape, her look, her air,
Distinguish'd from the vulgar fair;
More, by the meaning soul that shines
Through all her charms, and all refines,