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When lawless passion seiz'd th' imperial | Fix'd in Hibernia's hemisphere to rule, dame11,

And shed your influence o'er each knave and
fool 20.

Brothels were only found, to quench the flame;
No routs, or balls, the kind convenience gave,
To lose her virtue, yet her honour save.
In Cupid's rites, now, so improv'd our skill,
Mode find the means, when nature finds the will.
Each rev'rend relict keeps a private pack,
And sturdy stallion with Atlean back;
Where British dames to mystic rites repair,
Nor fail to meet a lurking Clodio there;
In amorous stealths defraud the public stews,
And rob the Drury vestal of her dues; [gown,
Who hapless mourns her last, long-mortgag'd
While Douglass 13 damns the drums of lady
Brown.

Whilst the sad summons of a mortar's knell
The rival deeds of each diploma tell;
And death's increasing muster-rolls declare,
That health and Thompson are no longer here;
How shall the Muse this salutation send?
What place enjoys thee? or what happier
friend?

By names celestial, mortal females call;
Angels they are, but angels in their fall.
One royal phenix 14 yet redeems the race,
And proves, in Britain, beauty may have grace.
Vain shall the Muse the various symptoms find,
When every doctor 's of a diff'rent mind.
In **'s palm, be foul corruption found,
Each court-empiric holds, his grace is sound;
In Sackville's 15 breast let public spirit reign,
Blisters! (they cry) the cause is in his brain;
So, Talbot's want of place is want of sense,
And Dashwood's 16 stubborn virtue, downright
insolence.

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Say, if in Eastbury's 21 majestic towers,
Or wrapt in Ashley's 22 amarantine bowers,
By friendship favour'd, and unaw'd by state,
You barter science with the wise and great:
O'er Pelham's politics in judgment sit,
Reform the laws of nations, or of wit;
With attic zest enrich the social bowl,
Crack joke on joke, and mingle soul with soul;
On laughter's wanton wing now frolic sport,
Nor envy Fox 23 the closet of a court.

Lost in this darling luxury of ease,
Alike regardless both of fame and fees,
"Let Shaw" (you cry) "o'er physic sovʼreign
Or W** boast his hecatombs of slain : [reign,
Be mine, to stay some friend's departing breath.
And Child's 24 may take the drudgery of death."

Yet, Thompson! say (whose gift it is to save,
Make sickness smile, and rescue from the grave)
Say, to what end this healing pow'r was meant ?
Nor hide the talent, which by Heav'nis lent.
Though envy all her hissing serpents raise,
And join with harpy fraud to blast thy bays:
Shall wan disease in vain demand thy skill,
While health but waits the summons of your

quill?

Shall Egypt's plague 25 the virgin cheek invade,
And beauty's wreck not win thee to its aid?
O! stretch a saving hand, and let the fair
Owe all her future triumphs to thy care:
Resume the pen! and be thyself, once more,
What Ratcliff, Friend, and Syd'nham were
before

Yet, when reviving patients set you free,
Let Vaughan 26 yield one social hour to me.

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Come then, my friend! if friendship's name

can woo,

Come! bring me all I want, that all in you.
If rural scenes have still the pow'r to please,
Flocks, vallies, hills, streams, villas, cots, and

trees;

Here all in one harmonious prospect blend, And landscapes rise, scarce Lambert's can mend.

No wreaths I court, no subsidies I claim,
Too rich for want, too indolent for fame.
Whilst here with vice a bloodless war I wage,
Or lash the follies of a trifling age,

Each gay-plum'd hour, upon its downy wings,
The Hybla freight of rich contentment brings;
Health, rosy handmaid, at my table waits,
And halcyon peace broods watchful o'er my
gates.

art

Here oft, on contemplation's pinions bore,
To Heav'n I mount, and nature's works explore;
Or, led by reason's intellectual clue, [sue;
Through errour's maze, truth's secret steps pur-
View ages past in story's mirror shown, [own:
And make time's mould'ring treasures all my
Or here the Muse now steals me from the throng,
And wraps me in th' enchantment of her song.

Thames, made immortal by her Denham's strains, [plains; Meand'ring glides through Twick'nham's flow'ry While royal Richmond's cloud-aspiring wood Pours all its pendent pomp upon the flood. By Rome's proud dames let storied Tiber flow, And all Palladio grace the banks of Po; Here nature's charms in purer lustre rise, Nor seek from wanton art her vain supplies.

Lo! Windsor, rev'rend in a length of years, Like Cybele, her tow'r-crown'd summit rears; And Hampton's turrets, with majestic pride, Reflect their glories in the passing tide: There British Henries gave to Gallia law; Here bloom'd the laurels of a great Nassau 28. O! could these scenes one monarch more but please:

No frozen climates, no tempestuous seas,
For Brunswick's weal alarming fears shall bring,
Nor Britain envy meaner courts her king. [see,
Here Campbell's 29 varied shades with wonder
Like Heaven's own Eden, stor'd with every tree;
Each plant with plant in verdant glory vies;
High-tow'ring pines, like Titans, scale the skies;
And Lebanon's rich groves on Hounslow's deserts
rise.

But chief-with awful step, O! let us stray, Where Britain's Orpheus tun'd his sacred lay, Whose grove enchanted from his numbers grew, And proves, what once was fabled, now is true. Here oft the bard with Arbuthnot retir'd; Here flow'd the verse his healing art inspir'd30; Alike thy merit like thy fame should rise, Could friendship give, what feeble art denies : Though Pope's immortal verse the gods refuse, Accept this off'ring from an humbler Muse. Weak though her flight, yet honest still her strain, And what no minister could ever gain ; Pleas'd if the grateful tribute of her song, Thy merit, Thompson! shall one day prolong.

In marshal'd slaves let hungry princes trade, And Britain's bullion bribe their venal aid31; Let brave Boscawen trophied honours gain, And Anson wield the trident of the main. Safe, in the harbour of iny Twick'nam 32 bower, From all the wrecks of state, or storms of power; themselves, as he has never polluted his ancient British pedigree with any modern Anti-British principles.

27 A landscape-painter, much celebrated. 28 William the Third.

29 Duke of Argyle, celebrated as a warrior and

a statesman.

30 Pope's Epistle to Arbuthnot.

31 Alluding to a modern kind of military traffic, which consists in the exchange of British gold for German valour; and by which means, it is presumed, our politicians intend the native want of either party shall be reciprocally supplied.

32 He had a neat villa, in the style of a chateau,

66

Thus flow, and thus for ever flow! my days, Unaw'd by censure, or unbrib'd by praise; No friend to faction, and no dupe to zeal ; Foe to all party, but the public weal. Why then, from every venal bondage free, Courts have no glitt'ring shackles left for me: My reasons, Thompson! prithee ask no more; Take them, as Oxford's Flaccus sung before 33. My ease and freedom if for aught I vend, Would not you cry, to Bedlam, Bedlam, friend! But to speak out-shall what could ne'er engage My frailer youth, now captivate in age? What cares can vex, what terronrs frightful be, To him whose shield is hoary sixty-three 34? When life itself so little worth appears, That ministers can give no hopes, or fears; Although grown grey within my humbler gate, I ne'er kiss'd hands, or trod the rooms of state; Yet not unhonour'd have I liv'd, and blest With rich convenience, careless of the rest; What boon more grateful can the gods bestow On those avow'd their favourite sons below?”

on the north side of Twickenham Common, sacred to the muses. It was afterwards inhabited by the lady Bridget Tallmach, daughter of the late lord Northington.

33 See conclusion of Dr. King's apology.

34 Though the translator's virtue is not yet secured by this palladium of his grand climacteric, yet he flatters himself he shall at least be able to rival our truly Roman author, in the practice of his heroic indifference, however short he may fall of him in his elegant description of it.

36 Libera si pretio quantôvis otia vendam, Cui non insanus videar? Sed apertius audi : Quæ juvenem, infirmumque animi captare nequibant,

Illa senem capiant? aut quæ terrere perîcla
Posse putes hominem, cui climactericus annus
Præsidio est omni majus ? cui vita videtur
Haud equidem tanti esse, ut quid caveatve
petatve

Si mihi non dextram tetigisse, aut limina regum
A regni satrapis, ullaque sit anxius borâ.
Contigit, & lare sub tenui mea canuit ætas :
Attamen æquo animo, non ullis rebus egenus,
Non inhonoratus vixi: neque gratius usquam
Dii munus dederunt, cui si favisse fatentur.

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The cruse of the widow, you very well know,
The more it was emptied, the fuller did flow:
So here with your purse the like wonder you'll
find;

The more you draw out, still-the more left behind.

Derry down.

The prodigal here without danger may spend ; That ne'er can be lavish'd, to Heaven. we lend; And the miser his purse-strings may draw with out pain,

For what miser won't give-when giving is gain? Derry down.

The gamester, who sits up whole days and whole nights,

To hazard his health and his fortune at White's; Much more to advantage his bets he may make, Here, set what he will, he will double his stake. Derry down. The fair-one, whose heart the four aces control, Who sighs for sans-prendre, and dreams of a vole, [drille, Let her here send a tithe of her gains at quaAnd she'll ne'er want a friend-in victorious spadille.

Derry down.

Let the merchant, who trades on the perilous sea,
Come here, and insure, if from loss he'd be free;
A policy here from all danger secures,
For safe is the venture-which Heaven insures.
Derry down.

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Whom no courtier can flatter,no patriot can blame; But, our president's here-or I'd tell you his

name.

Derry down.

FRAGMENT.

WHEN Bacchus, jolly God, invites
To revel in his ev'ning rites,
In vain his altars I surround,
Though with Burgundian incense crown'd:
No charm has wine without the lass;
'Tis love gives relish to the glass.

Whilst all around, with jocund glee,
In brimmers toast their fav'rite she;
Though ev'ry nymph my lips proclaim,
My heart still whispers Chloe's name;
And thus with me, by am'rous stealth,
Still ev'ry glass is Chloe's health.

VERSES

OCCASIONED BY LADY POMFRET'S PRESENT OF SOME ANTIQUE STATUES TO OXFORD; THE STREETS WHEREOF WERE FOOLISH LY SAID TO BE PAVED WITH JACOBITES.

Ir Oxford's stones, as Blaco writes,
And Pitt affirms, are Jacobites,
That bid the court defiance;
How must the danger now increase,
When stones are come from Rome and Greece,
To form a grand alliance!

Yet, sprung from lands of liberty, These stones can sure no Tories be, Or friends to the Pretender; And Pitt himself can ne'er devise, That Whiggish stones should ever rise Against our faith's defender.

TO DR. KING.

OFT have I heard, with clam'rous note,
A yelping cur exalt his throat
At Cynthia's silver rays;
So, with the blaze of learning's light,
When you, O King, offend his sight,
The spaniel Blaco bays.

THE

BUTTERFLY AND BEE.

TO FLAVIA.

SEE! Flavia, see! that flutt'ring thing,
Skim round yon flower with sportive wing,
Yet ne'er its sweet explore;
While, wiser, the industrious bee
Extracts the honey from the tree,

And hives the precious store.

So you, with coy, coquettish art,
Play wanten round your lover's heart,

Insensible and free: Love's balmy blessing would you try, No longer sport a Butterfly, But imitate the Bee.

VERSES

DROPT IN MR. GARRICK'S TEMPLE OF SHAKE-
SPEARE.

WHILE here to Shakespeare' Garrick pays
His tributary thanks and praise;.
Invokes the animated stone,
To make the poet's mind his own;
That he each character may trace
With humour, dignity, and grace;
And mark, unerring mark, to men,
The rich creation of his pen;

Preferr'd the pray'r-the marble god
Methinks I see, assenting, nod,
And, pointing to his laurell'd brow,
Cry" Half this wreath to you I owe:
Lost to the stage, and lost to fame;
Murder'd my scenes, scarce known my name;
Sunk in oblivion and disgrace
Among the common, scribbling race,
Unnotic'd long thy Shakespeare lay,
To dulness and to time a prey:
But now I rise, I breathe, I live
In you-my representative!
Again the hero's breast. I fire,
Again the tender sigh inspire;
Each side, again, with laughter shake,
And teach the villain-heart to quake;
All this, my son! again I do-
1-No, my son!-'Tis I, and you."

While thus the grateful statue speaks, A blush o'erspreads the suppliant's cheeks"What!-Half this wreath, wit's mighty chief?

O grant," he cries, "one single leaf; That far o'erpays his humble merit, Who's but the organ of thy spirit."

Phœbus the gen'rous contest heardWhen thus the god address'd the bard: "Here, take this laurel from my brow, On him your mortal wreath bestow ;Each matchless, each the palm shall bear, la Heav'n the bard, on Earth the play'r."

CUPID BAFfled.

DIANA, hunting on a day,
Beheld where Cupid sleeping lay,
His quiver by his head:
One of his darts she stole away,.
And one of her's did close convey
Into the other's stead.

When next the archer through the grove,
In search of prey, did wanton rove,
Aurelia fair he 'spy'd ;
Aurelia, who to Damon's pray'r
Disdain'd to lend a tender ear,

And Cupid's pow'r defy'd.

1 The statue of Shakespeare, in the temple dedicated to the bard by Mr. Garrick, in his delightful garden at Hampton, was the work of that able and ingenious master, Roubiliac.

Soon as he ey'd the rebel maid; "Now know my pow'r !' enrag'd, he said; Then levell'd at her heart:

Full to the head the shaft he drew; But harmless to her breast it flew, For, lo!-'twas Dian's dart.

Exulting, then the fair-one cry'd,
"Fond urchin, lay your bow aside;
Your quiver be unbound:
Would you Aurelia's heart subdue,
Thy play-thing arrows ne'er will do;
Bid Damon give the wound."

DEATH AND THE DOCTOR. "TWIXT Death and Schomberg, t'other day, A contestdid arise; Death swore his prize he'd bear away; The Doctor, Death defies.

Enrag'd to hear his pow'r defy'd,

Death drew his keenest dart ; But wond'ring saw it glance aside, And miss the vital part.

AN

OCCASIONAL PROLOGUE,

SPOKEN BY MR. POWELL, AT THE OPENING OF TH? THEATRE ROYAL IN COVENT-GARDEN, ON MON DAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 1767.

As when the merchant, to increase his store,
For dubious seas, advent'rous quits the shore;
Still anxious for his freight, he trembling sees
Rocks in each buoy, and tempests in each breeze;
The curling wave to mountain billows swells,
And ev'ry cloud a fancied storm foretells:
Thus rashly lanch'd on this theatric main,
Our all on board, each phantom gives us pain;
The catcall's note seems thunder in our ears,
And ev'ry hiss a hurricane appears;

In journal-squibs we lightning's blast espy,
And meteors blaze in every critic's eye.

Spite of these terrours,still some hopes we view, Hopes ne'er can fail us-since they're plac'd -in you,

Your breath the gale, our voyage is secure,
And safe the venture which your smiles insure;
Though weak his skill, th' advent'rer must suc
ceed,

Where candour takes th' endeavour for the deed. For Brentford's state two kings could once suffice;

In our's, behold! four kings of Brentford rise;
All smelling to one nosegay's od❜rous savour,
The balmy nosegay of―the public favour.
From hence alone our royal funds we draw,
Your pleasure our support, your will our law.
While such our government, we hope you'll own

us;

But should we ever tyrants prove-dethrone us.
Like brother monarchs, who to coax the nation,
Began their reign with some fair proclamation,
We too should talk at least-of reformation;
Declare, that during our imperial sway,
No bard shall mourn his long-neglected play;

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