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TO THE MASQUE OF BRITANNIA. Spoken by Mr. GARRICK *, 1755a in the character of a Sailor, fuddled and talking to himself.
He enters, finging,
"How pleasant a failor's life paffes-"
WELL, if thou art, my boy, a little mellow!
A failor, half feas o'er-'s a pretty fellow! What cheer ho? * Do I carry too much fail? * to the pit.
No-tight and trim-I fcud before the gale
*be flaggers forward, then steps. But foftly though-the veffel feems to heel: Steddy! my boy-she must not fhew her keel. And now, thus ballafted-what course to steer? Shall I again to fea-and bang Mounfeer? Or ftay on shore, and toy with Sall and SueDoft love 'em, boy?—By this right hand, I do! A well-rigg'd girl is furely most inviting : There's nothing better, faith-fave flip and fighting: For fhall we fons of beef and freedom stoop, Or lower our flag to flavery and foop? What! fhall these parly-vous make fuch a racket, And we not lend a hand, to lace their jacket? Still fhall Old England be your Frenchman's butt? Whene'er he fhuffles, we should always cut.
* Some of the lines too were written by him.
I'll to 'em, faith-Avaft-before I goHave I not promis'd Sall to fee the show? * Pulls out a play-bill.
From this fame paper we shall understand
What work 's to-night-I read your printed hand!
I'll take one fugar-plumb *—and then I'll read it, * Takes fome tobacco.
He reads the play-bill of Zara,
which was acted that evening.
At the The-atre Royal-Drury Lane-
I'm glad 'tis Sarah-Then our Sall may fee
To which will be added-a new Mafque.
Huzza, boys! by the Royal George I swear,
And give her three round cheers, with hand and heart!. going off, he flops.
I wish you landmen, though, would leave your tricks,
INSCRIPTION FOR A PICTURE.
WITH no one talent that deferves applause ;
With no one aukwardness that laughter draws; Who thinks not, but juft echoes what we fay; A clock, at morn, wound up, to run a day: His larum goes in one fmooth, fimple strain; He ftops and then, we wind him up again.
Still hovering round the fair at fifty-four,
A flesh-fly, that juft flutters on the wing,
Brifk where he cannot, backward where he can;
TO A SCOTCH TUNE.
HERE Thames, along the daify'd meads,
Silent, flow, ferenely flowing,
Wealth on either fhore beftowing:
There, in a fafe, though small retreat,
From art, from jealousy secure;
As faith unblam'd, as friendship pure ;
Vain opinion nobly scorning,
Virtue aiding, life adorning.
Fair Thames, along thy flowery fide,
May those whom truth and reason guide,
Live like us, belov'd and loving!
TO MR. THOMSON, On his publishing the SECOND EDITION of his POEM, called WINTER. /
Harm'd, and instructed, by thy powerful fong,
Thy worth new lights the Poet's darken'd name,
For those, whofe aided will could lift thee high,
How could't thou think of fuch, and write fo well? Or hope reward, by daring to excell?
Unskilful of the age! untaught to gain
Those favours, which the fawning base obtain !
But hence that vileness-pleas'd to charm mankind, Caft each low thought of intereft far behind: Neglected into noble fcorn-away
From that worn path, where vulgar Poets stray:
And by the pride defpis'd, they ftoop to praise!
So fhall thy name, through ages, brightening fhine,