HERRINGS.
Be not sparing, Leave off swearing. Buy my herring
Fresh from Malahide, * Better never was try'd.
Come, eat them with pure fresh butter and mustard,
Their bellies are soft, and as white as a custard. Come, sixpence a dozen, to get me some bread, Or, like my own herrings, I soon shall be dead.
COME buy my fine oranges, sauce for your veal, And charming, when squeez'd in a pot of brown ale;
Well roasted, with sugar and wine in a cup,
They'll make a sweet bishop when gentlefolks sup.
* Malahide, a village five miles from Dublin, famous for oysters.-F.
ON ROVER. A LADY'S SPANIEL.
INSTRUCTIONS TO A PAINTER. *
HAPPIEST of the spaniel race, Painter, with thy colours grace: Draw his forehead large and high, Draw his blue and humid eye; Draw his neck so smooth and round, Little neck with ribands bound! And the muscly swelling breast, Where the Loves and Graces rest; And the spreading even back, Soft, and sleek, and glossy black And the tail that gently twines, Like the tendrils of the vines; And the silky twisted hair, Shadowing thick the velvet ear; Velvet ears, which, hanging low, O'er the veiny temples flow. With a proper light and shade, Let the winding hoop be laid; And within that arching bower (Secret circle, mystic power) In a downy slumber place Happiest of the spaniel race; While the soft respiring dame, Glowing with the softest flame,
* In ridicule of Phillips's poem on Miss Carteret ; and writ ten, it has been said, "to affront the lady of Archbishop Boulter."-ANDerson.
On the ravish'd favourite pours Balmy dews, ambrosial showers! With thy utmost skill express Nature in her richest dress, Limpid rivers smoothly flowing, Orchards by those rivers blowing; Curling woodbine, myrtle shade, And the gay enamell'd mead; Where the linnets sit and sing, Little sportlings of the spring; Where the breathing field and grove Sooth the heart, and kindle love. Here for me, and for the Muse, Colours of resemblance choose, Make of lineaments divine, Daply female spaniels shine, Pretty fondlings of the fair, Gentle damsels' gentle care; But to one alone impart All the flattery of thy art.
Crowd each feature, crowd each grace, Which complete the desperate face;
Let the spotted wanton dame Feel a new resistless flame! Let the happiest of his race Win the fair to his embrace. But in shade the rest conceal, Nor to sight their joys reveal, Lest the pencil and the Muse Loose desires and thoughts infuse.
SEVERAL OF THEM WRITTEN in 1726.
I. ON A WINDOW AT AN INN.
WE fly from luxury and wealth, To hardships, in pursuit of health; From generous wines, and costly fare, And dozing in an easy chair; Pursue the goddess Health in vain, To find her in a country scene, And everywhere her footsteps trace, And see her marks in every face; And still her favourites we meet, Crowding the roads with naked feet. But, oh! so faintly we pursue, We ne'er can have her full in view.
II. AT AN INN IN ENGLAND.
THE glass, by lovers' nonsense blurr'd Dims and obscures our sight; So, when our passions Love has stirr'd It darkens Reason's light.
III. ON A WINDOW AT THE FOUR CROSSES IN THE
WATLING-STREET ROAD, WARWICKSHIRE.
FOOL, to put up four Crosses at your door, Put up your Wife, she's CROSSER than all four.
IV. ANOTHER, AT CHESTER."
THE church and clergy here, no doubt,
Are very near akin; Both weather-beaten are without,
And empty both within.
My landlord is civil.'
But dear as the d-1:
Your pockets grow empty With nothing to tempt ye: The wine is so sour, 'Twill give you a scour : The beer and the ale Are mingled with stale. The veal is such carrion, A dog would be weary on. All this I have felt, For I live on a smelt.
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