SONG. Written, at the request of Miss Speed, to an old air of Geminiani:-the thought from the French. THYRSIS, when we parted, swore And the bud that decks the thorn; Idle notes! untimely green! Speak not always winter past. TOPHET. AN EPIGRAM. Mr. Etough, of Cambridge University, the person satirized, was as remarkable for the eccentricities of his character as for his personal appearance. Mr. Tyson, of Bene't College, made an etching of his head, and presented it to Mr. Gray, who embellished it with the following lines. Mr. Etough was rector of Therfield, Herts, and of Colmworth, Bedfordshire. THUS Tophet look'd; so grinn'd the brawling fiend, Hosannas rụng through hell's tremendous borders, IMPROMPTU. Suggested by a view of the Seat and Ruins of a deceased Nobleman, at Kingsgate, Kent, in 1766. (The house was built as a correct imitation of Cicero's Formian Villa, at Baiæ.) OLD, and abandon'd by each venal friend, Here Holland form'd the pious resolution To smuggle a few years, and strive to mend A broken character and constitution. On this congenial spot he fix'd his choice; Earl Goodwin trembled for his neighbouring sand; Here seagulls scream, and cormorants rejoice, And mariners, though shipwreck'd, dread to land. Here reign the blustering North and blighting East, No tree is heard to whisper, bird to sing; Yet Nature could not furnish out the feast, Art he invokes new horrors still to bring. Here mouldering fanes and battlements arise, Turrets and arches nodding to their fall, Unpeopled monasteries delude our eyes, And mimic desolation covers all. "Ah!" said the sighing peer, "had Bute been true, Nor M—'s, R—'s, B—'s friendship vain, 66 And realized the beauties which we feign: 'Purged by the sword, and purified by fire, Then had we seen proud London's hated walls; Owls would have hooted in St. Peter's choir, And foxes stunk and litter'd in St. Paul's." THE CANDIDATE ; OR, THE CAMBRIDGE COURTSHIP. This tart lampoon was written a short time previous to the election of a high steward of the University of Cambridge, for which office the noble lord alluded to made an active canvass. WHEN sly Jemmy Twitcher had smugg'd up his face, "Lord! sister," says Physic to Law, “ I declare, Such a sheep-biting look, such a pick-pocket air! Not I for the Indies :-You know I'm no prude, But his name is a shame, and his eyes are so lewd! Then he shambles and straddles so oddly-I fearNo-at our time of life 'twould be silly my dear." 66 I don't know," says Law, "but methinks for his look, 'Tis just like the picture in Rochester's book; His lying and filching, and Newgatebird tricks;— Divinity heard, between waking and dozing, [To Jemmy] Never hang down your head you poor penitent elf, Come buss me-I'll be Mrs. Twitcher myself." |