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By turns, astonied, every twig survey,
Whence oft with sugar'd cates she doth them greet, And ginger-bread y-rare; now, certes, doubly sweet.
See to their seats they hie with merry glee,
His grievous wrong, his dame's unjust behest;
His face besprent with liquid crystal shines,
Yet hence the youth, and hence the flower, shall claim, If so I deem aright, transcending worth and fame,
Behind some door in melancholy thought,
And many a sullen look askance is sent,
And still the more to pleasure him she's bent,
Ah me! how much I fear lest pride it be !
Like Vernon's patriot soul,* more justly great Than craft that pimps for ill, or flowery false deceit.
Yet, nurs'd, with skill, what dazzling fruits appear !
Nor, weeting how the Muse should soar on high, Wisheth, poor starvling elf! his paper kite may fly
And this perhaps, who, censuring the design,
* Admiral Vernon, the conqueror of Porto Bello.
+ The famous snarling critic.
As he who now, with 'sdainful fury thrill’d,
Surveys mine work, and levels many a sneer, And furls his wrinkly front, and cries, “What stuff is here!"
But now Don Phoebus gains the middle skie,
For well may Freedom, erst so dearly won,
Enjoy, poor imps! enjoy your sportive trade,
sods are laid,
Deluded wight! who weens fair peace can spring
Sce in each sprite some various bent appear !
Thilk to the huxter's savory cottage tend,
Here as each season yields a different store,
O may no wight e'er pennyless come there,
See !--Cherries here, ere cherries yet abound,
do those cakes abide, Whose honour'd names th’ inventive city own, Rendering through Britain's isle Salopia's praises known.*
Admired Salopia ! that with venial pride
Who cheerless o'er her darkling region stray,
* Shrewsbury cakes.
+ Shrewsbury, the capital of Shenstone's native county, was devoted to the cause of Charles the First.
A LETTER FROM HORACE WALPOLE TO HIS FRIEND GEORGE
GEORGE Montagu, one of Horace Walpole's schoolfellows at Eton, was of the Halifax branch of the family of that name. He became Member of Parliament for Northampton, and Private Secretary to Lord North while Chancellor of the Exchequer.
Walpole, who was now at Cambridge, in his nineteenth year, does not write so correctly as he did afterwards; yet the germ of his wit is very evident in this letter; also of his foppery or effeminacy; and some may think, of his alleged heartlessness. A wit he was of the first water; effeminate too, no doubt, though he prided himself on his open-breasted waistcoats in his old age, and possessed exquisite good sense and discernment, where party-feelings did not blind him. But of the charge of heartlessness, his zeal and painstaking in behalf of a hundred people, and his beautiful letter to his friend Conway in particular, offering, in a way not to be doubted, to share his fortune with him (see Correspondence, vol. i. p. 358), ought to acquit him by acclamation.
The letter, here presented to the reader, is (with some qualification as to prettiness of manner) a perfect exhibition of the thoughts and feelings that go through the mind of a romantic schoolboy. How good is his wishing to have had a kingdom, “only for the pleasure of being driven from it, and living disguised in an humble vale !"
KING'S COLLEGE, May 6th, 1736. EAR GEORGE,
I agree with you entirely in the pleasure you take in talking over old stories, but can't say but I meet every day with new circumstances, which will be still more pleasure