Fair are your words, as fair your carriage, Let me be free, drudge you in marriage; Get me a boy call'd Adrian;
Trust me I'll do for't what I can.'
Home went, well pleas'd, the Suffolk Tony,
Heart free from care, as purse from money;
He got a lusty squalling boy;
(Doubtless the dad's and mammy's joy ;)
In short, to make things square and even,
Adrian he nam'd was, by Dick Stephen.
Matt's debt thus paid; he now enlarges,
And sends you in a bill of charges;
A cradle, Brother, and a basket,
(Granted as soon as e'er I ask❜d it,)
A coat not of the smallest scantling,
Frocks, stockings, shoes, to grace the bantling;
These, too, were sent, (or I'm no drubber,)
Nay, add to these the fine gum-rubber;*
Yet these won't do, send t' other coat,
For faith the first's not worth a groat;
Dismally shrunk, as herrings shotten,
Supposed originally rotten.
Pray let the next be each way longer,
Of stuff more durable and stronger;
Send it next week, if you are able;
By this time, sir, you know the fable.
From this, and letters of the same make,
You'll find what 'tis to have a namesake.
Cold and hard times, sir, here, (believe it,)
I've lost my curate too, and grieve it;
At Easter, for what I can see,
(A time of ease and vacancy,)
*Commonly called a coral.
If things but alter, and not undone,
I'll kiss your hands and visit London.
Molly sends greeting; so do I, sir:
Send a good coat, that's all: good b'ye, sir.
A YOUNG GENTLEMAN IN LOVE.
'FROM public noise and factious strife,
From all the busy ills of life,
Take me, my Celia, to thy breast,
And lull my wearied soul to rest:
For ever in this humble cell,
Let thee and I, my fair one, dwell;
None enter else, but Love-and he
Shall bar the door, and keep the key.
To painted roofs and shining spires,
(Uneasy seats of high desires,)
Let the unthinking many crowd,
That dare be covetous and proud
In golden bondage let them wait,
And barter happiness for state:
But, oh! my Celia, when thy swain
Desires to see a court again,
May Heav'n around this destin'd head
The choicest of its curses shed:
To sum up all the rage of fate,
In the two things I dread and hate,
May'st thou be false, and I be great.'
Thus, on his Celia's panting breast
Fond Celadon his soul express'd;
While with delight the lovely maid
Receiv'd the vows, she thus repaid:
'Hope of my age, joy of my youth,
Bless'd miracle of love and truth;
All that could e'er be counted mine,
My love and life, long since are thine:
A real joy I never knew,
Till I believ'd thy passion true;
A real grief I ne'er can find,
Till thou prov'st perjur'd or unkind.
Content, and poverty, and care,
All we abhor, and all we fear,
Bless'd with thy presence I can bear.
Through waters and through flames I'll go,
Sufferer and solace of thy woe:
Trace me some yet unheard-of way,
That I thy ardour may repay,
And make my constant passion known
By more than woman yet has done.
"Had I wish that did not bear
The stamp and image of my dear,
I'd pierce my heart through every vein,
And die to let it out again.
No; Venus shall my witness be,
(If Venus ever lov'd like me,)
That for one hour I would not quit
My shepherd's arms and this retreat,
To be the Persian monarch's bride,
Partner of all his power and pride;
Or rule in regal state above,
Mother of gods and wife of Jove.'
VOL. XV.
O happy these of human race! But soon, alas! our pleasures pass. He thank'd her on his bended knee, Then drank a quart of milk and tea, And leaving her ador'd embrace, Hasten'd to court to beg a place; While she, his absence to bemoan, The very moment he was gone, Call'd Thyrsis from beneath the bed, Where all this time he had been hid.
WHILE men have these ambitious fancies,
And wanton wenches read romances,
Our sex will-'What? out with it;'-Lie,
And their's in equal strains reply.
The moral of the tale 1 sing
(A posey for the wedding ring)
In this short verse will be confin'd;
Love is a jest, and vows are wind.
It always has been thought discreet
To know the company you meet;
And sure there may be secret danger
In talking much before a stranger.
Agreed: what then?" Then drink your ale
I'll pledge you, and repeat my Tale.
No matter where the scene is fix'd,
The persons were but oddly mix'd;
When sober Damon thus began,
(And Damon is a clever man,)
'I now grow old, but still from youth
Have held for modesty and truth:
The men who by these sea-marks steer,
In life's great voyage never err:
Upon this point I dare defy
The world; I pause for a reply.'
'Sir, either is a good assistant, (Said one, who sat a little distant; Truth decks our speeches and our books,
And modesty adorns our looks:
But farther progress we must take;
Not only born to look and speak,
The man must act. The Stagirite
Says thus, and says extremely right:
Strict justice is the sovereign guide
That o'er our actions should preside;
This queen of virtues is confess'd
To regulate and bind the rest;
Thrice happy if you can but find
Her equal balance poise your mind;
All different graces soon will enter,
Like lines concurrent to their centre.'
'Twas thus, in short, these two went on,
With yea and nay, and pro and con,
Through many points divinely dark,
And Waterland assaulting Clarke,
Till, in theology half lost,
Damon took up the Evening Post, Confounded Spain, compos'd the North, And deep in politics held forth.
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