WIT, by learning well refin'd, Young fprightly Flirt, of blooming mien, Went-when his his glass-advis'd him; Sylvia had wit, had fpirits too: Her wit, her youth too, claim'd its share. STANZAS To the memory of an agreeable Lady, buried in marriage to a perfon undeferving her. WAS always held, and ever will, 'TWA T'anticipate a leffer ill, Than undergo a greater. When mortals dread difcafes, pain, Our merchants Spain has near undone The bachelor's attended: COLEMIRA. A Culinary ECLOGUE. "Nec tantum Veneris, quantum studiosa culinæ.” IGHT's fable clouds had half the world o'erfpread, And filence reign'd, and folks were gone to bed: Penfive he lay, extended on the ground; To all his plaints the fleeping curs reply, Could I (he cried) exprefs, how bright a grace Adorns thy morning hands, and well-wash'd face; Thou wouldft, Colemira, grant what I implore, And yield me love, or wash thy face no more. Ah! who can fee, and feeing not admire, Whene'er fhe fets the pot upon the fire! Her hands out-fhine the fire, and redder things; Her eyes are blacker than the pots fhe brings. But fure no chamber-damfel can compare, When in meridian luftre fhines my fair, When warm'd with dinner's toil, in pearly rills, Adown her goodly cheek the fweat diftills. Oh how I long, how ardently defire, To view those rofy fingers ftrike the lyre! For late, when bees to change their climes began, How did I fee them thrum the frying-pan! With her! I fhould not envy George his queen, Though the in royal grandeur deck'd be seen : While rags, juft fever'd from my fair one's gown, In ruffet pomp and greafy pride hang down. Ah! now it does my drooping heart rejoice, When in the h I hear thy mellow voice! How would that voice exceed the village bell; Would that but fing, "I like thee paffing well! ་ When from the hearth fhe bade the pointers go, How foft! how eafy did her accents flow! "Get-out, the cry'd, when strangers come to fup, "One ne'er can raife thefe fnoring devils up." Then, full of wrath, fhe kick'd each lazy brute, Alas! I envy'd even that falute; 'Twas fure mifplac'd-Shock faid, or fee a'd to fay, He had as lief, I had the kick, as they. A 2 If If the the mystic bellows take in hand, But should the flame this rougher aid refuse, Foments the infant flame, and puffs it into life. Such arts as thefe, exalt the drooping fire, With all her haughty looks, the time I've seen, Look, with what charming grace! what win- The artful charmer rubs the candlesticks! approve, But thou my fair! who never wouldst a ton Perhaps art dreaming of-a breast of mutton. Thus faid, and wept the fad defponding fwain, Revealing to the fable walls his pain: But nymphs are free with those they should deny; To hofe, they love, more exquifitely coy! The lambent flames in languid streams arise, His breakfast half the morning, He conftantly attended; His dinner fearce was ended! He fpar'd not ev'n heroics, On which we poets pride us; He made the maps to flutter; Was to him a difh of tea; Of logic to compofe him A trap, in hafte and anger, Was bought, you need not doubt on't He could not, I think, get out on't. With cheese, not books, 'twas baited, Mind books, when he has other diet. Why should I fing, or either? And dragg'd them away together: Had then-a dozen or more in. Nor deem a man to wrong ye, Dan Prior's mice, I own it, Was the greater politician. Is clear from these mishaps, Sir; tions. *By Blackmore. 1 Let Written at the time of the Spanish depreda On certain PASTORALS. rude and tunelefs are thy lays, The weary audience vow, 'Tir not th' Arcadian fwains that fings, But 'tis his herds that low. A friend, who, weigh'd with your's, must prize That wrought the death of teazing flies, But ne'er their propagation. Let Flavia's eyes more deeply warm, On Mr. C― of Kidderminster's Poetry. The Extent of COOKERY, W "Aliufque et idem." HEN Tom to Cambridge firft was fent, Read much, and look'd as though he meant THY verfes, friend. are Kidderminster stuff, Sce him to Lincoln's inn repair, And I must own you've measured out cnough. To the VIRTUOSOS. HATI, to AIL, curious wights! to whom so fair Who deem thofe grubs beyond compare, No flope could e'er retard you ;- 1 Or painted wings reward you. Know what conferves they chufe to eat, Yet oh howe'er your towering view Whate'er refinements you purfue, Famous for a coarfe woollen manufacture. His refolution flag; He cherishes a length of hair, Nor Coke nor Salkeld he regards, And foon a judge's rank rewards. His pliant votes and bows, Adieu, ye bobs! ye bags, give place! Good Lord to fee the various ways A BALL A D. "Trahit fua quemque voluptas." ROM Lincoln to London rode forth our young fquire, FROM To bring down a wife, whom the fwains might admire; But, in fpite of whatever the mortal could fay, To have neither China nor India to fee! Nor a laceman to plague in a morning-not fhe! To forfake the dear play-house, Quin, Garrick, and live, Who by dint of mere humour had kept her alive; To forego the dull box for his lonefome abode, O heavens! fhe should faint, she should die on the road; To for go the gay fashions and geftures of France, And leave dear Augufte in the midst of the dance, Ad Harlequin too!-'twas in vain to require it; And the wonder'd how folks had the face to defire it. She might yield to refign the fweet-fingers of Ruckholt, Where the citizen-matron seduces her cu kold; But Ranelagh foon would her footfte ps recal, And the mufic, the lamps, and the glare of Vauxhall. To be fure the could breathe no where elfe but in town, Thus the talk'd like a wit, and he look'd like a clown; But the while honeft Harry defpair'd to fucceed, A coach with a coronet trail'd her to Tweed. SLENDER's Ghoft. Vide Shakespear. B ENEATH a church-yard yew, At dusk of eve methought I fpy'd Poor Slender's gholt, that whimpering cried, O fweet, O fweet Anne Page! Ye gentle bards! give ear!' Who talk of amorous rage, And ye whofe fouls are held, Like linne s in a cage! Who talk of fetters, links, and chains, Attend and imitate my trains? O fweet, O fweet Anne Page! And you who boaft or grieve, What horrid wars we wage ! Of wounds recei'd from many an eye, Yet mean as I do, when I figh, O fweet, O fweet Anne Page! Hence every fond conceit Of shepherd or of fage; 'Tis Slender's voice, 'tis Slender's way Expreffes all you have to say, O fweet, O fweet Anne Page ! The INVIDIOUS. MART. Fortune if my prayer of old Was ne'er folicitous for gold, With better grace thou may'ft allow My fuppliant wifh, that afks it now. Yet think not, goddefs! I require it For the fame end your clowns defire it. In a well made effectual ftring, Fain would I fee Lividio fwing! Hear him, from Tyburn's height haranguing, But fuch a cur's not worth one s hanging. Give me, O goddess! store of pelf, And he will tye the knot himself. I The PRICE of an EQUIPAGE. "Servum fi potes, Ole, non habere, Et regem potes, Ole non habere." MART. Afk'd a friend, amidst the throng, Whofe coach it was that trail'd along : "The gilded coach there-don't ye mind? That with the footmen ftuck behind." O Sir! fays he, what! han't you seen it? 'Tis Damon's coach, and Damon in it. 'Tis odds, methinks, you have forgot Your friend, your neighbour, and-what not ! Your old acquaintance Damon !" True; But faith his equipage is new." "Blefs me, faid I, where can it end? in lace and food, fo large a train? Thus To the memory Of A. L. Efquire, Juftice of the peace for this county; Or cenfured his breeding; The noise, or report fuch things generally cause in the world, (As he was feen to perform them of none) Of the party in diftrefs; When he could render that fo;/ To all round about him: Making the moft forrowful countenance To fmite In his prefence; Always beftowing more than he was afked, But the moft mature and folemn deliberation ; With an incredible prefence and undauntedneis of mind; With an inimitable gravity and economy of face; Bidding loud defiance To politeness and the fashion, H To a FRIEND. 'AVE you ne'er feen, my gentle squire, The humours of your kitchen fire? Says Ned to Sal, "I lead a spade, Why don't ye play ?—the gir!'s afraidPlay fomething-any thing-but playis but to pais the time awayPhoo-how the ftands-biting her nailsAs though the play'd for hali her vails— Sorting her cards, hagling and picking— We play for nothing, do ns chicken ?> That card will do 'blood never doubt it, It's not worth while to think about,it " Sal thought, and thought, and miss'd her aim, And Ned, ne'er fludying, won the game. Methinks, old friend, 'tis wondrous true nd play for nothing, all the while : Through fragrant fcenes the trifler roves Sal found her deep-laid fchemes were vain— Well, now who wins ?-why, fill the fameFor Sa has loft another game. "I've done; (fhe mutter'd) I was faying, It did not arguty my playing. Some folks will win, they cannot chufe, But think or not think-1ome mult lofe. I may have won a game or is But then it was all age ago Thus Sal, with tears in either eye; hus 1, long envying your fuccefs, You, |