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A Copy of Verses, on seeing a loy walk on stilts.
I EAVING the grammar for his play,
La Forgetful of the rode;
Tott'ring on stilts, through mire and dirt,
The school-boy Itrolls abroad.'
Why does this innocent delight
Provoke the pedant's Spleen;
Look round the world, thou fool, and see
The use of this machine. .'
The tricking statesman, prop'd by these,
His virtues boasts aloud;
And on his gilded stilts, sublime,
Steps o'er the murmring crowd,
Through fields of blood the general stalks,
And fame sits on his hilt;
The sword, or gun, at length bestows
An honoural le ftilt.
When quite deserted by the Muse,
The sinking sonneteer
Hammers in vain a thoughtless verse,
To please Belinda's ear:
The mighty void of wit he stops
With a successrul chime;
On stilts poetic rises quick,
And leans upon his rhime.
With well durembled anguilh, see!
The canting raícal beg, .
And by a counterfeit gain more
Than by a real leg.
Yet on the boy's instructive sport,
Is this contrivance built:
The source from whence his gains arise,
What is it, but a stilt?
Corinna fair, of ftature low,
Yet, this defect upplies,
By heels, like ftilts, which may affiti,
The conquelt of her eyes.
See! in his second childhood faint,
The old man walks with pain; .
On crutches imitates his ftilts,
And acts the boy again.
A N age there was, some authors teach,
A When all things were endu d with speech;
Nor plant, nor bird, nor fish, nor brúte,
Nor thing inanimate was mute:
Their converse taught-or these men lie
Better than books, morality.
One grain more faith afford me now,
I ask but one more grain, I vow,
Speech on mere visions to bestow.
Then you'll believe, that truth I tell,
That what I now relate befell.
Calm was the day, the sky was clear,
Save that a light cloud here and there,
Floating amid the azure plain,
Promis'd fome gentle showr's of rains
Tho' Men are faithless, Clouds are true,
As by the sequel soon I'll thew.
Sol from the zenith now departed,
Eastward his rays obliquely darted,
The clouds, late glories of the day,
By western winds are born away,
Till to the east each vapour blown,
In lucid showr's came gently down.
Now full oppos 'd to Phæbus' rays,
Iris her vivid tints displays;
A wat ry mirror spread below.
To her own eyes her beauties shew.
I scarce can think Narcissus ey'd
Reflected beauty with such pride;
Or modern belle for birth night dressid,
Raptures so exquisite express d.
Some time enamour d o'er the lake
She hung, then thus the spake: .
“ Say, in Creation's ample bound,
Where can there such a form be found ?
How fine that curve! How bright those rays!
Oh I could here for ever gaze!'
See, see, resplendent circles rise,
Each above each, of various dyes!
Mark that first ring of sanguine light!
Beam'd ever ruby half fo bright?"
Or can the flaming topaz vie
With that next stream of golden dye?
Where was that em'rald ever seen
Whose rays could rival yonder green?
Or where's that faphire's azure hue,
Can emulate it's neighb'ring blue?
See ! purple terminates my bow,
Boast amethysts so bright a glow ?"
Thus to each charm she gave its due,
Nay more--but that is m entre nous,
Exhaustless seem'd the copious theme,
For where's the end of self esteem ?
She finding still for praise pretence,
From vanity drew eloquence :
When in the midst of her career,
Behold her glories disappear.
See her late boasted tints decay
And vanish into air away,
Like spectres at th' approach of day.
On things too transient hangs their fate,
· For them to hope a lasting date,
The fallen rain has clear'd the skies,
And lo! the short-lived phantom dies.
My application's brief and plain,
Beauty's the Rainbow, Youth's the Rain.
On the Seahorse, with the Astronomers on board, being attacked
ly a French frigate. M A RS, inform’d that some wights with inquisitive eye,
1 Design'd into Venus's inotions to pry,
Dispatch d a bold warrior from Lewis's fleet,
The caitiffs to seize, and their purpose defeat ; *
But Neptune ftrait sent a Seahorle to their aid,
And safe o'er the ocean his fav'rites convey'd. .
Lines from Mr. G- ck to a Nobleman, who asked him if he did
. not intend being in Parliament.
M ORE than content with what my labours gain,
IVI Of public favour though a little vain ;
Yet not so vain my mind, so madly bent,
To wish to play the fool in parliament;
In each dramatic unity to err;
Miftaking time and place and characler!
Were it my fate to quit the mimic art,
I'd “strut, and fret,” no more in any part,
No more in public scenes would I engage,
Or wear the cap and musk on any stage.
EPITAPH on Admiral Boscau'er.
QTOP and behold !
(Once a stable pillar of the state)
Admiral EDWARD BOSCAWEN,
January the 10th, 1761,
In the fiftieth year of his age ;
Equally in the lufire of renown
As in the meridian of life.
His birth, tho' noble,
Ilis titles, tho’illuftrious,
Were but incidental additions to his greatneis.
Be these therefore the lesser theme of heralds,
Whilst the annals of adverse nations,
If they faithfully record
What our own history,
Proud to adorn her page,
. Mutt perpetuate ;
Shall even to late pofterity convey,
With wliat ardent zeal,
With what succesful valour,
He served his country,
And taught her foes to dread
Her naval power.
What an infexible attachment to merit
Flourishing beneath his happy aufprices,
What an affemblage
Intrepidity, humanity and justice
To form his character,
And render him
At once beloved and envied.
Yet know, insidious Gaul !
Eternal enemy of this our isle !
Howe'er our grief
May seem to give the present exultation ;
Yet, even after death,
Shall to succeeding ages stand
A fair example,
And rouse the active sons of Britain,
. Like him,
To dart the terror of their thunders
On Callic perfidy!
So shall the conquests which his deeds inspired,
Indelibly transinit his virtues,
(A blaze of martial glory)
• Far beyond
The mural epitaph,
The local and perishable monuments
Of brass or stone.
EPITAPH on the late Mr. Richardson, Author of Pamela, Sir
Charles Grandison, &c.
TFever warm benevolence was dear,
If ever wisdom gain'd esteem sincere,
Or genuine fancy deep attention won,
Approach with awe the dust-of Richardson.
What tho' his Muse, thro' distant regions known,
Might scorn the tribute of this humble stone ;
Yet pleasing to his gentle hade, must prove
The meanest pledge of friendship, and of love :
For oft will these, from venal throngs exil'd;
And oft will Innocence, of afreet mild,
And white-rob'd Chastity, with streaming eyes.
Frequent the cloister where their patron lies.
This, reader, learn; and learn from one, whose woe
Bids her wild verse in artless accents flow :
For, could the frame her numbers to commend
The husband, father, citizen and friend ;
How would her Muse display, in equal strain,
The critic's judgment, and the writer's vein ?--