Encourag'd thus, to mend my faults,
I turn'd his counsel in my thoughts,

Which way I should apply it;

Learning and wit seem'd past my reach;
For who can learn when none will teach
And wit-I could not buy it.

Then come, my friends, and try your skill,
You can inform me, if you will;

My books are at a distance:

With you I'll live and learn, and then,
Instead of books, I shall read men ;
So lend me your assistance.

Dear Knight of Plimpton,* teach me how
To suffer with unruffled brow,

And smile serene, like thine,

The jest uncouth, or truth severe,-
To such I'll turn my deafest ear,
And calmly drink my wine.

Thou say'st not only skill is gain'd
But genius, too, may be attain'd,
By studious imitation ;

Thy temper mild, thy genius fine,
I'll copy, till I make them mine,
By constant application.

* Sir Joshua was born at Plimpton, in Devonshire.

Thy art of pleasing, teach me, Garrick,
Thou, who reversest Odes Pindaric,
A second time read o'er ;*

Oh! could we read thee backwards too,
Last thirty years thou should'st review,
And charm us thirty more.

If I have thoughts and can't express 'em,
Gibbon shall teach me how to dress 'em
In terms select and terse;

Jones teach me modesty and Greek,

Smith how to think, Burke how to speak,
And Beauclerc to converse.

Let Johnson teach me how to place
In fairest light each borrow'd grace :
From him, I'll learn to write;
Copy his clear familiar style,
And, from the roughness of his file,
Grow, like himself, polite.

* Garrick, being asked to read Cumberland's Odes, laughed heartily, and affirmed that such stuff might as well be read backwards as forwards; and the witty Roscius accordingly recited them in that manner, and, mirabile dietu, produced the same good sense and poetry.

POETICAL PRESENT TO KING JAMES I.

THE following lines were put into the hands of the infant child of Sir Thomas Pope, when presented to King James I., who happened, in his progress, to come to the house of Sir Thomas, soon after his Lady had been delivered of a daughter.

"See! this little Mistress here,

Did never sit in Peter's chair,
Or a triple crown did wear,

And yet she is a POPE!

No benefice she ever sold,

Nor did dispense with sins for gold;
She hardly is a se'nnight old,

And yet she is a POPE!

No King her feet did ever kiss,

Or had from her worse look than this:

Nor did she ever hope,

To saint one with a rope,
And yet she is a POPE!

A female POPE, you'll say- -a second Joan,
No, Sire, she is POPE INNOCENT, or none."

TAGGING RHYMES.

In the convivial administration of Lord North, when the ministerial dinners were composed of

such men as the Lords Sandwich, Weymouth, Thurlow, Richard Rigby, &c., various pleasantries passed, for which the present times are somewhat too refined. Amongst others, it was the whim of the day to call upon each member, to tag a rhyme to the name of his left-hand neighbour. It was first proposed by Lord Sandwich, to get a laugh against his facetious friend Lord North, who happened to be seated next to Mr. Mellagen, a name deemed incapable of a rhyme. Luckily, however, for Lord North, Mr. Mellagen had just informed him of an accident that had befallen him, near the pump, in Pall Mall. When it came to Lord North's turn,

he wrote the following distich:

"Oh, pity poor Mr. Mellagen,

Who, walking along Pall Mall,

Hurt his foot, when down he fell,

And fears he won't get well again."

NICHOLAS ROWE.

ROWE was bred first at Westminster, and then at the Temple. He had about three hundred pounds a-year, and his chambers there. His father was a sergeant at law. Besides his patrimony, Rowe enjoyed, in the latter part of his

life, several lucrative offices. When the Duke of Queensberry was Secretary of State, he made Rowe his Under Secretary; but at the death of the Duke, he retired. Upon the accession of George I., he had a place given him in the Customs, and was made Poet-Laureate. Besides these, the Prince of Wales conferred on him the place of Clerk of his Council; and the Lord Chancellor Parker made him his Secretary for the Presentations.

His voice was uncommonly sweet, his observations so lively, and his manners so engaging, that his friends delighted in his conversation. He died, much regretted, at the age of fortyfive, in 1718. He was twice married, and had a son by his first wife, and a daughter by his second. Dr. Welwood prefixed some brief account of him in the posthumous publication of his Translation of Lucan's Pharsalia. The following account, probably, rests on the authenticity of Warburton, as it is well known he supplied the materials, and corrected the sheets of Ruffhead's Life of Pope, from whence it is transcribed:-" Rowe, in the opinion of Mr. Pope, maintained a decent character, but had no heart."