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Ah, no! expect not from the chisel'd stone
The praises, graven on our hearts alone.
There shall his fame a lasting fnrine acquire: ..
And ever shall his moving page infpire
Pure truth, fixt honour, wrtue's pleasing lore;
While taste and science crown'd tlus favour'd shore.
On the death of JOHN RICH, Esq..
Accept this latest trilute at my hand.
THE scene is clos'd--Life's play is done
I And pleasantry expires with Lun;
Who well perform'd, with various art,
The mimic, and the moral part.
His action jult, correct his plan,
Whether as llarlequin, or man.
Hlear, criticks, hear! and spare your jest,
Lise's but a motley garb at beft;
die wore it long with grace and ease,
And every gefiure taught to please ;
Where (some few patch-work foibles feen
Scatter'd around- blue-yellow g reen-
His confruit virtue's radiant hue
O'er all superior shone to view.
The lively vein of repartee, .
As magick-sword, was sinart and free;
Like that for harmless mirth defign’d, .
It Tiruch, but left no pain behind.
The mask of oddity, he wore,
Endear'd the hidden beauties more.
When thrown afide, the thade vai clear'u,
The real countenance appeai’d.
When human kindness, candour fair,
And truth the native features were.
With moral eye his labours scan,
And in the actor read the man.
Liow few, like him, could change with ease,
From shape to shape, and all should pleate !
Think on the numerous hours of tport
We (pent with him in Fancy's court!
What ev’nings of fupreme delight!
They're pait--they're clos’d in endless night.
---For gratitude, for virtue's cause,
- Crown his last exit with applause,
Let him not want the lasting praise,
( That noble meed of well-spent days!)
While, this his mortal dress laid by
With ready grace, and decency,
Now changing on a nobler plan,
To blissful faint from worthy man,
He makes, on yon celestial skore,
One easy transformation more.
ITHINK not, the fair deceiv'd by poet's lays,
1 Cupid in Goth inglorious melts liis days;
Think not enchain'd on Chloe's breast he lies,
Or bathes himself in Delia's languid eyes;
Now here, now there, the wanton Wanderer roves,
O'er Belgia's waters, or Italia's groves;
Now foothes the hearts of Gallia's filken swains,
Now fires the tawny youth on Java's plains. ,
As o'er luxurious China's fields he fails,
Upborn by lovers fighs, and balmy gales,
Deep in the bofom of a fragrant glade,
Where pines slow-moving form'd a dancing shade,
Where Zephyr stole the rose's rich perfume,
And wakeful almonds shook their snowy bloom,
Crown'd with rough thickets role a mois-grown cave,
Whose tinkling sides pour down a sparkling wave:
Unwilling to defert its native groves,
The ling'ring stream in flow'ry lab'rinths roves:
The god of love feeds his insatiate light,
Slow wave his loose wings, and retard his flight.
But say, what soft confusion seiz'd thy breast,
What heaving fighs thy instant flame confeft,
When Thea broke from Morpheus' dewy arms,
Rose from the grot, and blaz'd in all her charms?
Its swelling orb no hoop enormous spread, :
Like magic sphere to guard the tim'rous maid;
No torturing stays the yielding waist confin’il,
A bliss for lovers arms alone delen'd.
Her hair, by no malicious art repressid,
Play'd in the wind, and wanton'd o'er her brealt,
Jove grew a swan to press the Spartan fair,
What form to taste those charms would Cupid wear?
Quick thro' the founding grove the god defcendis,
Quick at her feet a fighing suppliant bends.
Can youth be deaf when Syren paifion sues?
Or how can beauty fly, when love puisues?
No more he seeks the Cyprian's smoaking fanes,
Or sips rich nectar in celestial plains;
In Thea's heart a flame more pleasing grows,
And from her lips more lucious nectar flows.
Venus indignant saw her power decay,
And rush'd impetuous through the realms of day:
Thus dost thou guard thy once lov'd parents' throne?
Shall then the rebel-power my power disown?
See! where the fatal cause of my disgrace
(Each hateful beauty glowing in her face)
Insulting stands!— There let her fixt remain,
Nor be the anger of a goddess vain.
To kneel to sue she strove, unhappy maid!
In vain, her stifening knees refuse their aid:
Her arms she lifts with pain, in wild surprise
She starts to see a verdant branch arise:
O love! she try'd to say, thy Thea aid,
Her ruddy lips the envious leaves invade:
Yet then, just sinking from his tortur'd view,
Her swimming eyes languish'd a last adieu.
Venus triumphant, with a scornful smile,
Points to the tree, and seeks the Cyprian isle.
He mark'd the goddess with indignant eyes,
And grief and rage, alternate tyrants, rise.
Then fighing o'er the vegetable fair,
Yet still, he said, thou claim'st thy Cupid's care!
Her arts no more shall Cytherea prove,
But own my Thea aids the cause of love.
To the free ille, I'll give thy rites divine,
To nymphs, whose charms alone can equal thine.
For thee the toiling son's of Ind' shall drain
The honey'd sponge, which fwells the leafy cane;
The gentle Naiads to thy shrine shall bring
The limpid treasures of the crystal spring;
Thy verdant bloom shall sain the glowing stream,
Diffusing fragrance in the quivering fteam;
Around thy painted altars' brittle pride,
Shall dimpled smiles, and sleek-brow'd health preside:
Whilft white rob’d nymphs display each milder grace,
The morning dream just glowing on each face.
With joy I fee in ages yet unborn,
Thy votarists the British ille adorn.
With joy I fee enamour'd youths despise
The gobiet's lustre for the fair one's eyes:
Till rosy Bacchus shall his wreaths resign.
And Love and Thica triumph o'er the vine.
On a report of the king of Spuin's marrying Nladame Victoire, a prin
cess of France.
THO’ Frenchmen may promise him Madame Victoire, .
He'll find it a trick and a cheat,
An union with France, upon this or that score,
Will wed him to Madam - --Defeat.
The following epigram was made ly a Hessian officer upon Marshan
Broglio's being so near taken on the 10th of July, 1761, reconnoitring, and losing his spying-glass, which Prince Ferdinand immediately returned. The assuir of the 16th of the same month ut Fellinghausen is u'eil known.
Le Marichal de Broglio, dit la Gazette,
Ce fameux héros, favori des cieux;
Le dixieme perdit ses lunettes,
Et le leizieme ses yeux. .
In the Gazette we're dold,
That Broglio the cold,
His spectack lost by surprize;
But when to our cost,
Fellinghausen was lost,
'Twas found that he wanted his eyes.
Advice from a Mlatron to a young Lady concerning wedlock,
T RE you read this, then you'll suppose,
1 That some new lifted lover,
Thro' means of poetry tath chote
His passion to discover.
No, fair one, I m a matron grave,
Whom time and care hath wasted,
Who would thy youth from forrow fave,
Which I in wedlock tated.
Thy tender air, thy cheartui mien,
Thy temper so alluring,
Thy form for conqueft weil defignid,
Gives torments pait enduring;
And lovers, full of hopes and fears,
Surround thy beauties daily,
. . Whilst vet, regardless of thy cares,
Thy Tuoments pass on'gailv.
Then país them, charmer, gailier on, .
A maiden whilst you tarry ;
For, troth, your golden days are gone,
The moment that you marry.
In courtship we are all divine,
And vows and prayers ensnare us;
Darts, flames, and tears adorn our fhrine,
And artfully men woo us.
Then who'd the darling power forego,
Which ignorance has given ;
To ease them of eternal woe
Must we resign our heav'n?
No, marriage lets the vizard fall,
Then ceale they to adore us :
The goddess sinks to housewife Moll,
And they reign tyrants o'er us.
Then let no man impression make
Upon thy heart so tender,
Or play the fool for pity's fake,
Thy quiet to surrender.
Lead apes in hell! there's no such thing,
Those tales are made to fool us,
Though there we had better hold a string,
Than here let monkies rule us.
The applause l'estou'ed on the Rosciad, will, we imagine, render the fol.
lowing entracts from it agreeolle. They are such, we presume, as shew that the author unites the judgment of a critic with the fire and funcy of a poet.
Character of Mrs. Cilber.
DORM'D for the tragic scene, to grace the stage,
T With rival excellence of love and rage,
Mistress of each soft art, with matchiets skill,
To turn and wind the passions as he will;
To melt the heart with lympathetie woe,
Awake the figh, and teach the tear to flow;
To put on frenzy's wild distracted glare,
And freeze the soul with horror and despair;
With just defert enroll'd in endless fame
Conscious of worth fuperior, Cibber came.
When Poor Alicia's madding brains are rack'd,
And strongly imag d griefs her mind distract;