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But though this ifle increas'd in wealth and power,
And rofe with fuch accumulated grace;

Yet ftill her fplendid, her meridian hour
Was held referv'd for Brunswick's royal race.

Sprung from her kings, to vindicate her laws
The people's hopes were plac'd on them alone;
They nobly came, afferted freedom's caufe ;

And, fix'd by virtue, firmly fix'd the throne.

Already two their glorious course have run,
With laurels crown'd, and full of happy days;
The third afcending like the morning fun,
Beams o'er his fubjects with auspicious rays.

Bleft in a confort, whofe illuftrious mind
Defcription fails in her attempts to fing;
Bleft in a blooming offspring, where, combin❜d,
The Loves, the Virtues, and the Graces fpring.

Seeft thou where proudly yonder spires + afcend;
'Tis there the King, a Briton born, refides;
Whose various ifles and provinces extend
As far as Ocean rolls his foaming tides.

But future times will beft his deeds emblaze;
When, free from guile, fair History shall contend
With heav'n-born Poetry, who most shall praise
The King, the Husband, Father and the Friend.

*George the First and Second,

+ London.

Yet

Yet, in an empire of such vast extent,
By faction led, rebellion will enfue;
Extraneous wars no wifdom can prevent,
Nor aught but manly fortitude fubdue.

But foon, I trust, the æra will appear,

When kindred blood to flow around shall ceafe; When treach'rous Gaul shall shake with guilty fear, And proud Iberia fupplicate for peace.

SHEPHERD.

SE C T. CLXXX.

TO MEMORY.

I.

MEMORY! thou fond deceiver,

Still importunate and vain,

To former joys recurring ever,

And turning all the past to pain:

II.

Thou, like the world, th' oppreft oppreffing,

Thy fmiles increase the wretch's woe;

And he who wants each other bleffing,

In thee must ever find a foe.

DR. GOLDSMITH,

SECT.

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HIS tomb, infcrib'd to gentle Parnel's name,
May speak our gratitude, but not his fame.
What heart but feels his fweetly-moral lay,
That leads to truth thro' pleafure's flow'ry way?
Celestial themes confefs'd his tuneful aid;
And Heav'n, that lent him genius, was repaid.
Needless to him the tribute we beitow,
The tranfitory breath of fame below :

More lafting rapture from his works fhall rife,
While converts thank their Poet in the fkies.

DR. GOLDSMITH,

THA

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HANKS, my Lord, for your ven'fon; for
finer, or fatter,

Never rang'd in a forest, or fmok'd on a platter.
The haunch was a picture for painters to study;
The white was fo white, and the red was so ruddy!
I had thoughts, in my chamber to hang it in view,
To be shown to my friends as a piece of Virtù;
As in fome Irish houfes, where things are fo-fo,
One gammon of bacon hangs up for a fhow;

* Lord Clare.

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But, for eating a rafher of what they take pride in,
They'd as foon think of eating the pan it is fry'd in.
But hold let us paufe-don't I hear you pronounce
This tale of the bacon a damnable bounce?
Well, fuppofe it a bounce; fure a poet may try,
By a bounce now and then, to get courage to fly :
But, my Lord, 'tis no bounce: I protest in my turn,
'Tis a truth; and your lordship may ask Mr. Burne.

To go on with my tale-As I gaz’d on the haunch,

I thought of a friend that was trufty and ftaunch:
So I cut it, and fent it to Reynolds undrest,

To paint it, or eat it, juft as he lik'd best.

Of the neck and the breast I had next to dispose; 'Twas a neck and a breast-that might rival Monroe's: But in parting with thefe I was puzzled again,

With the bow, and the who, and the where,and the when: There's Coley, and Williams, and Howard, and Hief— I think they love ven'fon; I know they love beef: But-hang it !-to poets, that feldom can eat, Your very good mutton's a very good treat : Such dainties to them! It would look like a flirt, - Like fending 'em ruffles when wanting a shirt. While thus I debated, in reverie center'd,

An acquaintance, a friend—as he call'd himself, enter'd; A fine-spoken cuftom-houfe officer he,

Who fmil'd as he gaz'd on the ven'son and me. "What have we got here?-aye, this is good eating! "Your own, I fuppofe—or is it in waiting?" Why, whofe fhould it be, Sir? cried I, with a flounce I get these things often-But that was a bounce. "If that be the cafe then," cried he very gay, "I'm glad I have taken this house in my way.

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"To-morrow you take a poor

dinner with me.

"No words-I infift on't-precisely at three. "And now that I think on't, as I am a finner, "We wanted this ven'fon to make up the dinner. "I'll take no denial-you shall, and you muft; "And my wife, little Kitty, is famous for crust. "We'll have Jolinfon and Burke; all the wits will be there;

My acquaintance is flight, or I'd ask my Lord Clare. "Here, porter! this ven'fon with me to Mile-end"No words, my dear Goldfmith! my very good friend!"

Thus, feizing his hat, he brush'd off like the wind,
And the porter and eatables follow'd behind.

Left alone to reflect, having empty'd my shelf,
And nobody with me at fea, but myself;

Though I could not help thinking my gentleman hafty,
Yet Johnson and Burke, and a good ven'fon pafty,
Were things that I never dislik'd in my life,
Though clogg'd with a coxcomb, and Kitty his wife.
So next day, in due fplendour to make my approach,
I drove.to his door in my own hackney-coach.

When come to the place where we all were to dine, (A chair-lumber'd closet, just twelve feet by nine) My friend bid me welcome, but ftruck me quite dumb With tidings that Johnson and Burke could not come : "And I knew it," he cried; "both eternally fail; "The one at the Houfe, and the other with Thrale. "But, I warrant for me, we fhall make up the party, "With two full as clever, and ten times as hearty. "The one is a Scotchman, the other a Jew, "Who dabble and write in the papers-like you :

"The

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