Hangs a huge fragment; destitute of props,
Prone on the wave the rocky ruin drops;
With hoarse rebuff the swelling seas rebound,
From shore to shore the rocks return the sound:
The dreadful murinur Heaven's high convex cleaves,
And Neptune shrinks beneath his subject waves:
For, long the whirling winds and beating tides
Had scoop'd a vault into its nether sides.
Now yields the base, the summits nod, now urge
Their headlong course, and lash the sounding surge.
Not louder noise could shake the guilty world,
When Jove heap'd mountains upon mountains
hurl'd;

Retorting Pelion from his dread abode,

To crush Earth's rebel sons beneath the load.
Oft too with hideous yawn the cavern wide
Presents an orifice on either side.

A dismal orifice, from sea to sea
Extended pervious to the God of Day:
Uncouthly join'd, the rocks stupendous form
An arch, the ruin of a future storm:

High on the cliff their nests the woodquests make,
And sea-calves stable in the oozy lake.

But when bleak Winter with his sullen train Awakes the winds to vex the watery plain; When o'er the craggy steep without control, Big with the blast, the raging billows roll;

Or vex the ladies, w
That you are turning forty-tw
But, if these topics shall appe
rong arguments to keep you
Ithink, though you judge hard
Good manners must give place
The nymphs, with whom you
Are each become a harridan ;
Montague so far decay'd,
Her lovers now must all be paid
Has her contemporary
d every belle that since arose,

to celebrate the birth-day of his nich was on the first day of January. "Matthew Ford, at Wood Park."-Dr Delany mens intimate friends, ortune, a fine gentleman, and the best nation,"-N.

beaux.

or former comrades, once so With whom you toasted half the rheumatism and pox complain and bid adieu to dear champaign r great protectors, once in po now in exile or the Tower.

Your

our foes triumphant o'er the law
o hate your person and your c
Once they get you on the spot,
must be guilty of the plot:
true or false, they'll ne'er ing
use you ten times worse than
London! what would you
do

you, my friend, with patience
would it not your passion r
se than a pun, or Irish phrase

That you are turning forty-two:
But, if these topics shall appear
Strong arguments to keep you here,
I think, though you judge hardly of it,
Good manners must give place to profit.
The nymphs, with whom you first began,
Are each become a harridan ;

And Montague so far decay'd,
Her lovers now must all be paid;
And every belle that since arose,
Has her contemporary beaux.
Your former comrades, once so bright,
With whom you toasted half the night,
Of rheumatism and pox complain,
And bid adieu to dear champaign.
Your great protectors, once in power,
Are now in exile or the Tower.
Your foes triumphant o'er the laws,
Who hate your person and your cause,
If once they get you on the spot,
You must be guilty of the plot:
For, true or false, they'll ne'er inquire,
But use you ten times worse than Prior.
In London! what would you do there?
Can you, my friend, with patience bear
(Nay, would it not your passion raise
Worse than a pun, or Irish phrase?)

t James's Street -H.

ontague and Marchioness of Monther of John Duke of Marlborough.-H.