Elegant Extracts

Or check your honest rage;
Give forrow and revenge their fcope,
My prefent joy, your future hope,
Lies murder'd in his cage.

Matzel's no more! Ye graces, loves,
Ye linnets, nightingales, and doves,
Attend th' untimely bier;
Let every forrow be exprefs'd,

Beat with your wings cach mournful breast,
And drop the nat`ral tear.

In height of fong, in beauty's pride,
By fell Grimalkin's claws he died—
But vengeance fhall have way:
On pains and tortures I'll refine;
Yet, Matzel, that one death of thine
His nine will ill repay.

For thee, my bird, the facred Nine,
Who lov'd thy tuneful notes, thall join
In thy funereal verfe:

My painful talk shall be to write
Th' eternal dirge which they indite,
And hang it on thy hearse.

In vain I lov'd, in vain 1 mourn,
My bird, who never to return

Is fled to happier shades,
Where Lefbia thall for him prepare
The place most charming and most fair
Of all th' Elyfian glades.

There fhall thy notes in cyprefs grove
Sooth wretched ghofts that died for love;
There fhall thy plaintive ftrain
Lull impious Phaedra's endless grief,
To Procris yield fome short relief,
And foften Dido's pain:

Till Proferpine by chance fhall hear
Thy notes, and make thee all her care,
And love thee with my love;
While each attendant foul fhall praise
The matchlefs Matzel's tuneful lays,
And all her fongs approve.

TO-MORROW, didft thou say?

COTTON.

Methought I heard Horatio fay, To-morrow. Go to-I will not hear of it-To-morrow! 'Tis a fharper, who ftakes his penury Against thy plenty-who takes thy ready cash, And pays thee nought but wishes, hopes, and promises,

The currency of ideots-injurious bankrupt,
That gulls the eafy creditor!-To-morrow!
It is a period nowhere to be found

In all the hoary registers of Time,
Unless perchance in the fool's calendar.
Wisdom disclaims the word, nor holds society
With those who own it. No, my
Horatio,
'Tis Fancy's child, and Folly is its father;
Wrought of fuch ftuff as dreams are; and as bafelefs
As the fantastic vifions of the evening.

But foft, my friend-arreft the prefent moments; For be affur'd they all are arrant tell-tales; And though their flight be filent, and their path fracklefs, as the wing'd couriers of the air, They poft to heaven, and there record thy folly. Becaule, tho' ftation'd on the important watch, Thou, like a fleeping, faithlefs fentinel, Didft let them pafs unnotic'd, unimprov'd. And know, for that thou flumb'redft on the guard, Thou shalt be made to anfwer at the bar For every fugitive; and when thou thus Shalt ftand impleaded at the high tribunal Of hood-wink'd Juftice, who thall tell thy audit? Then ftay the prefent inftant, dear Horatio, Imprint the marks of wifdom on its wings. [cious 'Tis of more worth than kingdoms! far more preThan all the crimfon treafures of life's fountain. O! let it not elude thy grafp; but, like The good old patriarch upon record, Hold the fleet angel faft, until he bless thee.

$184. To a Child five Years Old. COTTON. FAIREST flow'r, all flow'rs excelling

Which in Eden's garden grew,
Flow'rs of Eve's embower'd dwelling
Are, my fair-one, types of you.
Mark, my Polly, how the rofes
Emulate thy damask cheek;
How the bud its fweets difclofes ;
Buds thy opening bloom befpeak.
Lilies are, by plain direction,

Emblems of a double kind;
Emblems of thy fair complexion,

Emblems of thy fairer mind.
But, dear girl, both flow'rs and beauty
Bloffom, fade, and die away;
Then purfue good fenfe and duty,
Evergreens that ne'er decay,

That not the whole Aonian quire

Can accents foft enough infpire
Its real flame to tell.

§ 189. To Mifs Wilkes, on her Birth-day, Aug. 16th, 1767. Written in France.

AGAIN I tune the vocal lay

On dear Maria's natal day.

§ 186. To Mr. Weft, at Wickham↑. 1740. This happy day I'll not deplore

FAIR Nature's fweet fimplicity,

With elegance refin'd,

Well in thy feat, iny friend, I fee, But better in thy mind.

LYTTELION.

WILKES

My exile from my native thore.
No tear of mine to-day thell flow
For injur'd England's cruel woe,
For impious wounds to Freedom giver,
The firft, mett fered gift of Heaven
The Mufe with joy thaif prune her wing;
Maria's ripen'd graces fing

And, at feventeen, with truth fhall own
The bud of beauty 's fairly blown.
Softnefs and fweetek innocence
Here thed their gentle influence;
Fair modeity comes in their train,
Then, to give fpirit, tafile and cafe,
To grace her fifter virtue's reign.
The fov'reign art, the art to pleafe;

THE Mutes and Graces to Phoebus com-Good-humour'd wit, and fancy gay,

plain'd,

"That no more on the earth a Sappho remain'd "That their empire of wit was now at an end. "And on beauty alone the Sex must depend : "To the Men he had giv 'n all his fancy and << fire,

Art of healing to Armstrong, as well as his lyre:"

When Apollo replied, "To make you amends, In one Fair you fhall fee wit and virtue, good

"friends:

WHE

THEN beauteous Laura's gentle voice
Divides the yielding air,
Fix'd on her lips, the falt'ring founds
Excefs of joy declare.

There, lingering round the rofy gate,
They view their fragrant cell;
Unwilling to depart that mouth
Where all the Graces dwell.
Some tuneful accents ftrike the fenfe
With soft imperfect found;
While tho fand others die within,
In their own honey drown'd.

Yet thro' this cloud, diftin& and clear,
Sweet fenic directs its dart;
And, while it feems to fhun the car,
Strikes full upon the heart.

Tomorrow cheerful as to day,
The fun-fhine of a mind ferene, -
Where all is peace within, are feen.
What can the grateful Muse ask more?
The gods Irave lavish'd all their store.
Mari fhines their darling care;
Still keep her, Heaven, from every fnare:
May ftill unfpotted be her fame,
May the remain through life the fame,
Unchang'd in all-except in name!

$ 190.

To Mifs Wilkes, on her Birth-day, Aug. 16th, 1768. Written in Prifon.

HOW fhall the Mufe in prifon fing,

WILKES

How prune her drooping ruffled wing? Maria is the potent fpell,

Ev'n in thefe walls, all grief to quell;
To cheer the heart, rapture infpire,
And wake to notes of joy the lyre,
The tribute verfe again to pay
On this aufpicious festive day.
When doom'd to quit the patriot band,
And exil'd from my native land,
Maria was my fure relief;
Her prefence banish'd every grief.
Pleature came fimiling in her train,
And chas'd the family of Pain.
Let Lovers every charm admire,
The eafy fhape, the heav'nly fire
That from thofe modeft beaming eyes
The captive heart at once furprite.
A Father's is another part;

I praife the virtues of the heart,
And wit fo elegant and free,
Attemper'd sweet with modesty.

+ Near Croydon.

Gilbert Weft, Efq. the author's cousin.
Dr. John Armstrong, author of The Art of Preferving Health, &c.

And

Not high-rais'd battlements or labour'd
Thick wall or moated gate;
Not cities proud, with fpires and turrets crown'd;
Not bays and broad-arin'd ports,
Where, laughing at the form, rich navies ride:
Not ftarr'd and fpangled courts, [pride.
Where low-brow'd balenefs wafts perfume to
NO-MEN, high-minded MEN,

With powers as far above dull brutes endued
In foret, brake, or den,

As beats excel cold rocks and brambles rude:
Men who their duties know,

He was refolv'd to crown his life,
And by that means to fix his wife.
The girls were pleas'd at his conceit
Each diefs'd herself divinely neat;
With faces full of peace and plenty,
Blooming with roles, under twenty,
For furely Nancy, Betfy, Sally,
Were fweet as lilies of the valley ;
was like new hay and mignionet;
But fingly, furely buxon Bet
For that, of truth, was faid of Nancy i
But each furpafs'd a poet's fancy,
As fair as thofe of old Crotonat,
And as for Sal, fhe was a Donna,
Who to Apelles lent their faces
To make up madam Helen's graces.
To thofe the gay divided Pim
Came elegantly smart and trim:
When ev'iy fmiling maiden, certain,
Cut of the cheese to try her fortune.
Nancy, at once, not fearing-caring

But know their rights, and, knowing, dare main-To fhew her faving ate the paring;

tain;

Prevent the long-aim'd blow,

And ch the tyrant while they rend the chain:

Thefe conftitute a State;

And Sov'reign Law, that State's collected will,
O'er thrones and globes elate
Sits emprefs, crowning good, repreffing ill:
Smit by her facred frown,

The fiend Difcretion* like a vapour finks,
And e'en the all-dazzling crown

Hides his faint rays, and at her bidding fhrinks.
Such was this heav'n-lov'd iile,

Than Lefbos fairer and the Cretan fhore!
No more fhall freedom fmile ?

Shall Britons languifh, and be men no more?
Since all muft life refign,

Thofe fweet rewards which decorate the brave
'Tis folly to decline,

And steal inglorious to the filent

grave.

192. The Choice of a Wife by Cheese.
CAPTAIN THOMPSON.

THERE liv'd in York, an age ago,

A man whofe name was Pimlico:
He lov'd three filters paffing well,
But which the best he could not tell.
These fifters three, divinely fair,
Shew'd Pimlico their tenderest care:
For each was elegantly bred,
And all were much inclin'd to wed;
And all made Pimlico their choice,
And prais'd him with their fwecteft voice.
Young Pim, the gallant and the gay,
Like afs divided 'tween the hay,
At laft refoiv'd to gain his eale,
And choose his wife by eating cheese,
He wrote his card, he feal'd it up,
And faid with them that night he'd fup;
Defir'd that there might only be

Good Chefhire cheeft, and but them three;

* Difcretionary or arbitrary power. tiful Helen.

And Bet, to fhew her gen'rous mind,
While prudent Sarah, fure to please,
Cut, and then threw away the rind;
Like a clean maiden, fcap'd the checfe.
This done, young Pimlico replied,

Sally I now declare my bride:
"With Nan I can 't my welfare put,

For the has prov'd a dirty flut:
"And Betfy, who has par'd the rind,
"Would give my fortune to the wind,
Sally the happy medium chofe,
"And I with Sally will repofe;
"She's prudent, cleanly; and the man
"Who fixes on a nuptial plan

"Can never err, if he will choofe

"A wife by cheefe-before he ties the noose."

$193. The Choice.

POMFRET.

Heaven the grateful liberty would give,
That I might choofe my method how to live,
And all thofe hours propitious fate should lend
In blifsful eafe and fatisfaction spend :

Near fome fair town I'd have a private feat,
Built uniform, not little, nor too great:
Better, if on a rifing ground it ftood;

On this fide fields, on that a neighbouring wood,
It should within no other things contain,
But what are ufeful, neceffary, plain :
Methinks 'tis naufeous, and I'd ne'er endure
The needlefs pomp of gaudy furniture.
A little garden, grateful to the eye;
Where a cool rivulet runs murmuring by:
On whofe delicious banks a ftately row
Of fhady limes, or fycamores, fhould grow.
At th' end of which a filent study plac'd
Should be with all the nobleft authors graç'd:
Horace and Virgil, in whofe mighty lines
Immortal wit, and folid learning thines;
Sharp Juvenal, and amorous Ovid too,

Who all the turns of love's foft paffion knew:

+ Apelles, from five beautiful virgins of Crotona, drew the beau

He that with judgment reads his charming lines,
In which strong art with ftronger nature joins,
Muft grant his fancy does the beft excel;
His thoughts fo tender, and exprefs'd fo well:
With all thofe moderns, men of steady fenfe,
Efteem'd for learning and for eloquence.
In fome of thefe, as fancy fhould advife,
I'd always take my morning exercise :
For fure no minutes bring us more content,
Than thofe in pleafing ufeful ftudies spent.
I'd have a clear and competent estate,
That I might live genteelly, but not great:
As much as I could moderately spend,
A little more fometimes t' oblige a friend.
Nor fhould the fons of poverty repine
Too much at fortune, they fhould taste of mine;
And all that objects of true pity were,
Should be reliev'd with what my wants could
Spare:

For that our Maker has too largely given,
Should be return'd in gratitude to Heaven.
A frugal plenty fhould my table spread;
My friends with no luxurious dishes fed:
Enough to fatisfy, and fomething more
To feed the ftranger and the neighbouring poor.
Strong meat indulges vice, and pampering food
Creates difcafes, and inflames the blood.
But what's fufficient to make nature firong,
And the bright lamp of life continue long,
I'd freely take; and, as I did poffefs,
The bounteous author of my plenty blefs.
I'd have a little vault, but always ftor'd
With the best wine cach vintage could afford.
Wine whets the wit, improves its native force,
And gives a pleasant flavour to difcourfe:
By making all our fpirits debonair,
Throws off the lees, the fediment of care.
But as the greateft bleffing Heaven lends
May be debauch'd, and ferve ignoble ends;
So, but too oft, the grape's refreshing juice
Does many mifchievous effects produce.
My houfe should no fuch rude diforders know,
As from high drinking confequently flow;
Nor would I use what was fo kindly given,
To the difhonour of indulgent Heaven.
If any neighbour came, he should be free,
Us'd with refpect, and not uneafy be,
In my retreat, or to himself or me.
What freedom, prudence, and right reafon give,
All men may, with impunity, receive;
But the leaft werving from their rule's too much;
For what 's forbidden us, 'tis death to touch.

That life may be more comfortable yet,
And all my joy's refin'd, fincere, and great;
I'd choose two friends, whofe company would be
A great advance to my felicity:

Well-born, of humours fuited to my own,
Difcreet, and men as well as books have known :
Brave, generous, witty, and exactly free
From loofe behaviour, or formality:
Ay and prudent; merry, but not light;
Quick in difcerning, and in judging right:
Secret they fhould be, faithful to their trust;
in reasoning cool, ftrong, temperate, and juft:

Obliging, open, without huffing, brave,
Brifk in gay talking, and in fober, grave:
Clofe in difpute, but not tenacious; try'd
By folid reafon, and let that decide:
Not prone to luft, revenge, or envious hate:
Nor bufy meddlers with intrigues of state:
Strangers to flander, and fworn foes to spite ;
Not quarrelfome, but ftout enough to fight;
Loyal, and pious, friends to Cæfar; true
As dying martyrs to their Maker too.
In their fociety I could not mifs
A permanent, fincere, fubftantial blifs.
I'd be concern'd in no litigious jar;
Belov'd by all, not vainly popular.
Whate'er affiftance I had power to bring,
T 'oblige my country, or to ferve my king,
Whene'er they call, I'd readily afford
My tongue, my pen, my counfel, or my fword.
Law-fuits I'd fhun, with as much studious care,
As I would dens where hungry lions are;
And rather put up injuries, than be
A plague to him, who 'd be a plague to me.
I value quiet at a price too great,
To give for my revenge fo dear a rate:
For what do we by all our bustle gain,
But counterfeit delight for real pain!

If Heaven a date of many years would givė,
Thus I'd in pleasure, eafe, and plenty live.
And as I near approach'd the
of life,
verge
Some kind relation (for I'd have no wife)
Should take upon him all my worldly care,
Whilft I did for a better state prepare.
Then I'd not be with any trouble vex'd,
Nor have the evening of my days perplex'd ;
But, by a filent and a peaceful death,
Without a figh refign my aged breath.
And when committed to the duft, I'd have
Few tears, but friendly, dropt into my grave;
Then would my exit fo propitious be,
All men would wish to live and die like me.

§ 194. To my Candle. PETER PINDAR.
THOU lone companion of the fpectred night,
I wake amid thy friendly-watchful light,
To fteal a precious hour from lifeless fleep-
Hark, the wild uproar of the winds! and hark,
Hell's genius roams the regions of the dark,

And fwells the thund'ring horrors of the deep. From cloud to cloud the pale moon hurrying flies ; Now blacken'd, and now flashing through her fkics

But all is filence here-beneath thy beam,

I own I labour for the voice of praise-
For who would fink in dull oblivion's stream?

Who would not live in fongs of diftant days?
Thus while I wond'ring paufe o'er Shakspeare's

page,

I mark, in vifions of delight, the Sage,

High o'er the wrecks of man, who ftands
fublime;

A column in the melancholy wafte
(Its cities humbled, and its glories paft),
Majcític, 'mid the folitude of time,

Yet

Yet now to fadnefs let me yield the hour-
Yes, let the tears of purest friendship show'r.
I view, alas! what ne'er fhould die-
A form that wakes my deepest figh;

A form, that feels of death the leaden fleepDefcending to the realms of thade,

I view a pale-ey'd panting maid,

I fee the Virtues o'er their fav'rite weep. Ah! could the Mufe's fimple pray`r Command the envied trump of fame, Oblivion fhould Eliza fpare:

A world fhould echo with her name. Art thou departing too, my trembling friend? Ah! draws thy little luftre to its end?

Yes, on thy frame Fate too fhall fix her fealO let me, penfive, watch thy pale decay; How fast that frame, fo tender, wears away! How fast thy life the reftlefs minutes fical! How flender now, alas! thy thread of fire! Ah! falling, falling, ready to expire!

In vain thy ftruggles-all will foon be o'er. At life thou Inatcheft with an eager leap: Now round I fee thy flame fo feeble creep, Faint, lefs'ning, quiv'ring, glimm'ring-now

no more!

Thus fhall the funs of Science fink away,

And thus of beauty fade the fairest flow'rFor where's the Giant who to Time fhall fay, "Deftructive tyrant, I arreft thy pow'r ?"

195. Prefented together with a Knife by the Rev. SAMUEL BISHOP, Head Mafter of Merchant Taylors School, to his Wife on ber Wedding Day, which happened to be ber Birth Day and New Year's Day.

KNIFE, dear girl, cuts love, they fay→
Mere modifh love perhaps it may;
For any tool of any kind

Can fep'rate what was never join'd.
The knife that cuts our love in two
Will have much tougher work to do:
Muft cut your foftness, worth, and spirit
Down to the vulgar fize of merit;
To level yours with modern tafte,
Muft cut a world of fenfe to waste;
And from your fingle beauty's store,
Clip what would dizen out a score.
The felf-fame blade from me must sever
Senfation, judgment, fight, for ever;
All mem'ry of endearments past,
All hope of comforts long to laft,
All that makes fourteen years with
A fummer-and a fhort one too:
All that affection feels and fears,

you

When hours, without you, feem like years.-
Till that be done (and I'd as foon
Believe this knife will clip the mocn)
Accept my prefent undeterr'd,
And leave their proverbs to the herd.
If in a kifs-delicious treat!
Your lips acknowledge the receipt;
Love, fond of fuch fubstantial fare,
And proud to play the glutton there,

All thoughts of cutting will disdain, Save only cut and come again."

$196. By the fame, with a Ring. THEE, Mary, with this ring I wed," So fixteen years ago I faidBehold another ring! "For what?" To wed thee o'er again-why not?" With the first ring I married youth, Grace, beauty, innocence, and truth ; Tafte long admir'd, fenfe long rever'd: And all my Molly then appear'd.

If the, by merit fince difclos'd,
Prov'd twice the woman I fuppos'd,
I plead that double merit now,
To juftify a double vow.

Here then to-day (with faith as fure,
With ardour as intenfe and pure,
As when amidst the rites divine
I took thy troth, and plighted mine)
To thee, fweet girl, my fecond ring,
A token and a pledge I bring;
With this I wed, till death us part,
Thy riper virtues to my heart;
Thefe virtues, which, before untry'd,
The wife has added to the bride;
Thofe virtues, whofe progreffive claim,
Endearing wedlock's very name,
My foul enjoys, my song approves,
For confcience fake, as well as love's.

For why-They fhew me hour by hour Honour's high thought, affection's pow'r, Difcretion's deed, found judgment's fentence; And teach me all things-but repentance.

§ 197. Whitfuntide. Written at Winchester College, on the immediate Approach of the Holidays. HENCE, thou fur-clad Winter, fly;

Sire of fhivering poverty!

Who, as thou creep'ft with chilblains lame
To the crowded charcoal flame,

With chattering teeth and ague cold,
Scarce thy fhaking fides canft hold
Whilft thou draw'ft the deep cough out
God of foot-ball's noify rout,
Tumult loud and boift'rous play,
The dang'rous flide, the fnow-ball fray,
But come, thou genial fon of Spring,
Whitfuntide, and with thee bring
Cricket, nimble boy and light.
In flippers red and drawers white
Who o'er the nicely meafur'd land
Ranges around his comely band,
Alert to intercept cach blow,
Each motion of the wary foc.

Or patient take thy quiet ftand,
The angle trembling in thy hand,
And mark, with penetrative eye,
Kiffing the wave, the frequent fy;
Where the trout with eager fpring
Forms the many-circled ring,
3D 4

And,

« Anterior Continuar »

Libros

Elegant Extracts: Or, Useful and Entertaining Pieces of Poetry, Selected for ...