SONNET. TO THOMAS EDWARDS, ESQ. Though through the paths that Eonius trod before The Drummer: or the Haunted House. Occasioned by a famous Ball at Croydon, 1755. Ye belles and ye beaux Who delight in lac'd clothes, Attend to the siege I describe. *The friend of Richardson, and opponent in criticism of Warburton. Some of his sonnets, which are among the purest and best in the English language, may be found at the end of his work entitled "The Canons of Criticism;" and others in the volumes of Dodsley, Pearch, and Nichols. They are rigidly formed upon the genuine Italian model, and have been strangely overlooked by more modern collectors. He died 1757. At a wake or a fair, 'Tis no matter where, A youth who had ne'er been in Flanders, At a council of war, That was held at the bar, Thus harangu'd to his brother commanders. And agree, without further delay, Where some nymphs did presume Five drums were at hand, Which, at their command, And with loud cannonade Began the blockade, And drumm'd to the tune of the dance. At length the besieg'd Were by famine oblig'd On the drummers full boldly to sally, Who at sight of their charms E'en laid down their arms, "Till their officers forc'd them to rally. Though a skirmish ensu'd There was no loss of blood, The retreat was conducted so well; Not one shed a tear Though there soon did appear That was pinch'd black and blue, Learn hence all ye fair Of drums to beware, Whenever you dance at an Inn; And be sure ev'ry night The whole corps to invite A BALLAD; Sung at the New Year's Meeting, at Sevenoaks, Though the nymph, whose sweet strains Once enliven❜d our plains, Is fled to the region of Glo'ster, Yet let us all try Her loss to supply ; But first in a bumper we'll toast her. Ye Kentish youths all What your ancestors were in the field; With courage inspir'd They still were untir'd,. And never in battle would yield. Ye married men, pray Be resign'd and obey, Nor be eager to order your coaches; Be rul'd by your wives, Nor part 'till the day-light approaches. Ye hunters so bold Who rise uncontroul'd, For once with old customs comply: Forget the brisk horn Sleep the rest of the morn, And to night let a song be the cry. But you, ladies fair, Whose charms may compare With any that Britain can boast; A bumper or twain When beauties like you are the toast? * Mrs. Thomas, sister to General Amherst. May ye often recall The joys of our ball And remember this frolicksome rout! May each maiden gain The heart of a swain, And be married before the year's out! These two ballads are taken from a manuscript volume of the author's, and have never appeared in print, as far as we are informed. They are very neatly written, and when the age of the writer is considered, 26, can certainly reflect no discredit upon his memory. It would be an unpardonable neglect were we to conclude this article without reverting to one, of whom already honourable mention has been made, and whose compositions have, in the account of Dr.Hawkesworth, given additional value to our pages. Mrs. Duncombe survived her husband many years, and died at an advanced age at Canterbury, October 28th, 1812. This lady possessed considerable talent, and enjoyed during her life the best literary society. Before her marriage with Mr. Duncombe, she might boast in the number of her friends, the distinguished names of Young, Harris, Hawkesworth, Richardson, Isaac Hawkins Browne, Chapone and Carter. "After the decease of Mr. Duncombe," says Mr. Nichols, "she adopted a more retired life, accompanied by her only surviving daughter; and although her advanced years cast their autumnal tints on her once brilliant mind, yet they sufficiently marked the beauty of the days that had passed, and rendered perhaps more eminent the 'light |