With careless eye looks at 'emBut bolder he, himself who coops In his own little bark, nor stoops, To heed the quizzing of the troops, Led by the EARL of CHATHAM. In vain shall Neptune's prudent tide, What wonders all the papers fill! While WINSOR lights with flames of gas In parachute by way of change, That e'er Munchausen told us, Great Jupiter! for mercy's sake, For at this rate we soon shall make HORACE IN LONDON. BOOK I. ODE V. Quis multâ gracilis te puer in rosâ, &c. SAY, Lucy, what enamour'd spark, And, as infatuation leads, Permits his reason and his steeds To run their course at random. Fond youth, those braids of ebon hair, Those locks which now invite to love, Unpractis'd in a woman's guile, Thou think'st, perchance, her halcyon smile That, ever charming, fond, and mild, Alas! how often shalt thou mourn, In her accommodating creed, His Lordship's love contents the fair, A nobler prize-his Grace's. Unhappy are the youths who gaze, Chamber'd in Albany, I view Of Benedictine neighbours; And should some brat her love bespeak, (Tho' illegitimate and weak As these unpolish'd verses ;) A father's joys shall still be mine, Bills, beadles, quacks, or nurses. WALCHEREN EXPEDITION; OR, THE ENGLISHMAN'S LAMENT FOR THE LOSS OF HIS COUNTRYMEN. I. YE brave, enduring Englishmen, "Twas in the summer's sunshine The Frenchman dropp'd his laughter, In your fame To the dark and swampy shore. III. But foul delays encompass'd ye As Antwerp's town and it's guarded fleet Lay still on the swampy shore. In vain your dauntless mariners Was doom'd to be no more, Sunk with shame In the dark and swampy shore. V. Ye died not in the triumphing For full three months and more, Pierc'd with scorn, Lay at rot on the swampy shore. No ship came o'er to bring relief, No orders came to save; But DEATH stood there and never stirr'd, Still counting for the grave. They lay down, and they linger'd, And died with feelings sore, And the waves Pierc'd their graves Thro' the dark and swampy shore. |