Once shew'd him, 'midst the seals and rings
Of more than thirty Syrian kings,

A copper piece, in shape and size,
Exactly that before their eyes,
On which in high relief was seen
The image of a Tyrian queen;

Which made him think this other dame
A true Phoenician, and the same.
The next a critic, grave and big,
Hid in a most enormous wig,

Who in his manners, mien, and shape was
A genuine son of Esculapius,
Wonder'd that men of such discerning
In all th' abstruser parts of learning,
Could err, through want of wit or grace,
So strangely in so plain a case.

"It came," says he, "or I will be whipt, From Memphis in the Lower Egypt; Soon as the Nile's prolific flood

Has fill'd the plains with slime and mud,
All Egypt in a moment swarms
With myriads of abortive worms,
Whose appetites would soon devour
Each cabbage, artichoke, and flow'r,
Did not some birds, with active zeal,
Eat up whole millions at a meal,
And check the pest, while yet the
Is ripening into stalk and ear.
This blessing, visibly divine,
Is finely pourtray'd on the coin;

year

For here this line, so faint and weak,
Is certainly a bill or beak;

Which bill or beak, upon my word,
In hieroglyphics means a bird,

The

very
bird whose num'rous tribe is.
Distinguish'd by the name of Ibis.
Besides the figure with the wand,
Mark'd by a sistrum in her hand,
Appears, the moment she is seen,
An Isis, Egypt's boasted queen.
Sir, I'm as sure as if my eye
Had seen the artist cut the die,

That these two curves which wave and float thus,

Are but the tendrils of the Lotus,

Which, as Herodotus has said,

Th' Egyptians always eat for bread.”

He spoke, and heard, without a pause,

The rising murmur of applause;

The voice of admiration rung

On ev'ry ear from ev'ry tongue :
Astonish'd at the lucky hit,
They star'd, they deify'd his wit.

But ah! what arts by fate are tried
To vex, and humble human pride?
To pull down poets from Parnassus,
And turn grave doctors into asses!
For whilst the band their voices raise
To celebrate the sage's praise,
And echo through the house convey'd
Their pæans loud to man and maid;
Tom, a pert waiter, smart, and clever,
Adroit pretence who wanted never,
Curious to see what caus'd this rout,
And what the doctors were about,
Slyly stepp'd in to snuff the candles,
And ask whate'er they pleas'd to want else.

Soon as the Synod he came near,

Loud dissonance assail'd his ear;
Strange mingled sounds, in pompous style,
Of Isis, Ibis, Lotus, Nile:

And soon in Romans' hand he spies
The coin, the cause of all their noise.
Quick to his side he flies amain,

And peeps, and snuffs, and peeps again ;
And though antiques he had no skill in,
He knew a sixpence from a shilling;
And, spite of rust, or rub, could trace
On humble brass Britannia's face.
Soon her fair image he discries,

And, big with laughter, and surprise,
He burst" And is this group of learning
So short of sense, and plain discerning,
That a mere halfpenny can be

To them a curiosity?

If this is your best proof of science,
With wisdom Tom claims no alliance;
Content with nature's artless knowledge;;
He scorns alike both school and college."
More had he said-but, lo! around
A storm in ev'ry face he found:
On Roman's brow black thunders hung,
And whirlwinds rush'd from Swinton's tongue;.
Thynne lightning flash'd from ev'ry pore,
And reason's voice was heard no more.

The tempest ey'd, Tom speeds his flight,,
And, sneering, bids 'em all good night;
Convinc'd that pedantry's allies
May be too learned to be wise.

CHRISTOPHER SMART.

BORN 1722.-DIED 1771.

Next Shipbourne, though her precincts are confin'd
To narrow limits, yet can shew a train
Of village beauties pastorally sweet
And rurally magnificent. Fairlawn

Opes her delightful prospect; dear Fairlawn!
There where at once at variance and agreed,
Nature and art hold dalliance; there, where rills

Kiss the green drooping herbage; there, where trees,
The tall trees tremble at the approach of heaven,
And bow their salutation to the sun,
Who fosters all their foliage ;—these are thine!
Yea, little Shipbourne, boast that these are thing L
And if, but oh!-and if 'tis no disgrace,—
The birth of him who now records thy praise.

(HOP GARDEN.)

The village of Shipbourne in Kent, was then the birth place of Christopher Smart, who was born April 11th, 1722. His father possessed an estate of some value in the neighbourhood, and was steward to the Kentish property of Lord Barnard, afterwards Earl of Darlington. He had been originally destined for the church, and had acquired in consequence a taste for literature, which induced him to give his son a learned education.

Christopher Smart, suffered from his birth, which was premature, under a feeble constitution of body, which was not improved by his subsequent habits, but he displayed we are informed, at a very early period of his life, a taste and a talent for poetry. He lisped in

verse; and composed a poem when only four years: old; another in his thirteenth year, he deemed worthy a place in the collection he afterwards offered to the public; and he was capable of latin metrical compoposition when only sixteen years old.

He was educated first at Maidstone, and afterwardsat Durham, from whence he was removed in his seventeenth year, and placed at Pembroke Hall, Cambridge,. where he acquired a fellowship, and remained many years. He appears to have led a life of dissipation and extravagance during his residence at Cambridge, neither creditable to himself nor to the university of which he was a member. He was the wit and poet laureate of the place; his company was courted by strangers and residents, and like a poet of superior order in later times, he became a frequenter of taverns,. and was weak enough to afford to every idle inviter 66 a slice of his constitution." By these practices he contracted debts, involved himself in difficulties and disgrace, and acquired habits which in the end deprived him of reason, and every enjoyment of life.

While at Cambridge he wrote and published several poems on various subjects; among others a latin version of Pope's Ode on St. Cecilia's Day, and by that poet's. particular recommendation, another of the “Essay on Criticism."

In the year 1750 he became a candidate for the Seatonian prize for the best poem on the subject of the Supreme Being, and was successful in that and four succeeding years.

In 1752 he married the daughter of Mrs. Newbery, wife of the bookseller of that name, by a former husband, and lost his fellowship in consequence ;;