THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 PINDARIANA; 
 
 O R 
 
 PETER'S PORTFOLIO, 
 
 TALE, 
 
 FABLE, 
 
 TRANSLATION. 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 ODE, 
 
 ELEGY, 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 
 SONG, 
 
 PASTORAL, 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 WITH EXTRACTS FROM 
 
 TRAGEDY, COMEDY, OPERA, &c. 
 B Y 
 
 PETER PINDAR, Esq. 
 
 " Non/atis eft pulchra ejfe poemata " HoR. 
 
 To me, a tuneful line is dear ; 
 
 And yet it only wins the ear : 
 Verfes fliould win the heart too — i/ukia fuiito : 
 
 Such verfes fure fuccefs command : 
 
 The game is in the Poet's hand — 
 Spadillio, and Mannillio, Basto, Punto. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED BY T. SPILSBURY AND SON, 
 
 rOR J.WALKER, PATERNOSTER-ROW ; J. B E LL, O'XFOR D-ST R E ET ; J.LADLEY, MOUNT- 
 STREET, BERKELEY-SQJJARE ; A N D MR. J E FFRE Y,' P A LL-M A LL. 
 
 M.DCC.XCIV. 
 
 [Entered at Stationen Ha/l],
 
 %:
 
 TO THE PUBLIC. ^pp^ 
 
 READER, ^ifr^ p.; 
 
 Jl LEASANT and numerous are the volumes in ana ; 
 viz. Scaligeriana^ l^huana^ Huetiana^ Menao-'tattay Chcevrc- 
 ana^ Carpenteriana^ &c. to which I have added, for thine 
 amufement, P'mdaria7ta. May the fpirits of Chaucer, of 
 Shakefpeare, of Cervantes, of Rabelais, of Sterne, of Fon- 
 taine, of Tibullus, of Horace, of Martial, of Theocritus, 
 and my great old Coufm of Thebes, have entered my 
 Portfolio, and animated my leaves ! 
 
 Ah ! may no eye wax dim upon my page ; 
 
 The lid, ail heavy-laden, dully doling ; 
 The drooping head, as though from paliied age, 
 
 Reclining lumpifli on the breaft, and dozing ; 
 While from th' ungrafping hand, tremendous found, 
 The poor forgotten volume greets the ground ! 
 
 May no faftidious Critic be able to fay of my lucubrations 
 what the blafpheming Dr. Johnfon, with his oracular and 
 growling pompofity, afferted of the fublime OfTian — " that 
 as good a thing might be written by many men, manv 
 women, and many children 1" 
 
 Griev'd fliould I be, could my poetic fpawn 
 Produce one melancholy, damning yawn. 
 
 A 2 Q let 
 
 OQ'^f^OO
 
 [ iv ] 
 
 let me feel the Mufe's warmth divine ! 
 Perdition feize a foporific line ! 
 
 Ne'er may the kaden lumber load my brain ! 
 Avaunt the lleepy verfv; ! confound the fong 
 That dragging, h^avy, fnail-like, crawls along ! 
 
 Oblivion, bid thy mud o'crvvhelm the ftrain 1 
 
 1 hate it, as old Snuffle I abhor ; 
 
 The Parfon who, with one unvarying tone, 
 Sets all the jaded audience in a fnore — 
 
 Such the flrong opiate of his drowfy drone. 
 
 Nor, O ye Pow'rs of Poesy, be mine 
 
 The roaring, bluft'ring, mad, and bullying liney 
 
 As though the Mufes all were lying in 
 Of fome wild CalibaniJlD^ mountain form ; 
 An earthquake, or volcano, or a ftorm, 
 
 So huge the found, fo horrible the din^ 
 
 Nor let me prove fo pompoufly obfcure — 
 A mode of writing I deteft, abjure ; 
 
 With ftiff inverlions the poor fenfe to fkreeii 
 From ev'ry aching brain, and poring eye, 
 And in a rage to make the reader cry, 
 
 " Why, what the devil can the booby mean ? 
 ** 7 bus too with epithets to cannonade us, 
 " As if the beaft were vomiting a Gradus /" 
 
 Let
 
 [ ^' 1 
 
 Let me not a£l the goofe, fcreaming and v/addling, 
 Poking his filly head, in mudpools paddling ; 
 
 No 1 — with a lofty pinion let me rife ; 
 Face with an eagle wing the folar beam, 
 Drink with undazzled gaze th' effulgent ftream, 
 
 And with the rulh of whirlwinds fweep the fkies ; 
 Thence, in an inftant be the humble Wren, 
 Twitt'ring his love-notes fweet to Miftrefs Hen. 
 
 O Versatility, I hold thee dear ! 
 
 The Proteus power be mine, to take each fhape ; 
 Skip like a Will-o'-whifp — be here, be there — 
 
 Now the grave moralift, and now an ape. 
 
 Now roar the favage of the Lybian fhade, 
 
 Where Horror liftens to the fhrieking ghoft ; 
 
 Now Pompey in Belinda's bofom laid, 
 Or whining, pawing for a piece of toaft. 
 
 Now roll the Monarch of the ftormy Deep> 
 The floundering terror of the finny race ; 
 
 Now the Aim eel, of ponds fo lucid, creep ; 
 Now leap a falmon, and now glide a plaice. 
 
 Thrice happy change of foul-delighting fong f 
 T/jts were my talent, bleft would Peter be I 
 
 But who, alas ! is thus divinely ftrong ? 
 
 Shakespeare, that envied pow'r I mark in thee. 
 
 A3 Let
 
 [ vi ] 
 
 Let me inform thee, Reader, that no order will be obferved 
 with refpedl to the various pieces. Thou wilt receive them 
 as they leap from the Portfolio ; fo that there will fubfift 
 as little connexion between one and another, as be- 
 tween Lady Mary and the Graces, Lord Th w and 
 
 the Lord's Prayer, Signor Marchesi and Creation, Sir 
 Joseph Banks and Philosophy, Sir William Hamilton 
 and the Secrets of Mount Vesuvius, Judge K. and a 
 vohok Bottle of Port, Judge B. and Reprieve. 
 
 Various will be the fubjeds of the Muse. Ode, Elegy, 
 Fable, Tale, Ballad, Epigram, &c. a Verlion, at times, 
 of parts of the venerable Claflics, whofe fpirit has been 
 but feebly transfufed through our modern languages, will 
 be given ; 
 
 Whofe oah fo lofty (what abomination !) 
 
 Are chang'd to paltry bj-oomjiich^ by Translation : 
 
 Their pyramids, a little village fpire ; 
 Their fkies, blue paper ; their ear-rending thunder. 
 With lightnings darting danger, blazing wonder, 
 
 A poor coal cojffin bouncing from the fire ; 
 Their cities, emmets nefls — a fpider's hole ! 
 Their mountains, what ? — the manfion of the mole. 
 
 Too oft the rofcs of th' Athenian vale 
 Refign their blufhes for a deadly pale j 
 
 An
 
 [ vii ] 
 
 An Attic fun converted in a trice 
 
 To a dull torpid cake of fhiv'ring ice ! 
 
 A rill, their oceans that no longer roar ; 
 
 Their ftorms, a wind's fmall whiftle through a door ; 
 
 The fun-clad eagle, a weak flick'ring bat ; 
 
 And Afric's royal brute, a fqueaking rat. 
 
 The Tender Passion will make a prominent figure on 
 the canvas ; and why not, as it is one of the moft prominent 
 features of Nature ? Who is there that has not facrificed 
 to the AMOROUS Goddess ? 
 
 When dew-clad Evening's modeft blufhes fade. 
 And Nature finks amid the deep'ning fliade, 
 And Labour paufes on the fainting light ; 
 When beetles hum, and bats in circles fkim, 
 When hills and hamlets, trees and towVs, grow dim^ 
 And Silence fleals upon the gloom of night j 
 With joy I tread the ficret grove. 
 To meet the idol of my love. 
 
 What a monfter^ who never felt the Soft Emotion f 
 
 Ah! whence art Thou, of wealth the Have ? 
 Go, feek the haunted gloom, the grave ; 
 
 Whofe eye, on Money taught to roll^ 
 
 Admits not Beauty to the foul: 
 
 4 Fly
 
 [ viii ] 
 
 Fly thou the day, who fcorn'ft the Fair, 
 For thou wert born an imp of Care. 
 
 But who art Thou, with anxious eye, 
 With panting hope, and melting Ugh, 
 
 Who biddeft tempting gold depart. 
 
 And only woo' ft the Virgin's heart f 
 Go THOU where Beauty holds her throne ; 
 For blifs was form'd for thee alofie. 
 
 Next to the Contemner of the charming Sex, Is the Savage 
 ^^ ho abufes it. Poor Marian ! fweet is thy fong of forrow I 
 
 MARIAN'S COMPLAINT. 
 
 Since truth has left the fliepherd's tongue, 
 Adieu the cheerful pipe and fong ; 
 Adieu the dance at clofmg day, 
 And, ah 1 the happy morn of May. 
 
 How oft he told me I was fair, 
 And wove the garland for my hair ! 
 How oft for Marian cuU'd the bow'r, 
 And fill'd my lap with ev'ry flov/'r ! 
 
 No more his gifts of guile FlI wear. 
 But from my brow the chaplet tear ; 
 
 3 The
 
 The crook he gave, in pieces break, 
 And rend his ribbons from my neck. 
 
 How oft he vow'd a conflant flame, 
 And carv'd on ev'ry oak my name ! 
 Bluih, Colin, that the iDotrnded tree 
 Is all that will remember me. 
 
 Rich fragments of the Tragic and Comic Muse, not 
 forgetting the Muse of Ballad, yclept Opera, will occa- 
 flonally pour their corufcations through the work. — 
 Moreover will I prefent thee with delicious fcraps of 
 Criticifm : thou fhalt likewife have Apophthegms — fo that 
 a part of my labours may with propriety be baptifecl The 
 Wisdom of Peter. The Wifdom of Solomon is well 
 known. Plato and Xenophon, the two famous difciples 
 of Socrates, gathered the good things of their fublime 
 mafter, fancying every fentence that dropped from his 
 mouth, a gem of ineftimable value. Pythagoras uttered 
 fage maxims for the benefit of pofterity. Nor did the good 
 Marcus Aurelius think it beneath his dignity to turn col- 
 ledor. The Eaftern hemifphere glitters with apophthegmatic 
 conftellations j and now behold a Bard refolved to add a 
 ftar to that of the Weft. 
 
 Reader, thou {halt have inore than all this. Thou fhalt 
 be prefented with fome of the Travsh of the Bard, who, 
 
 Hke
 
 [ X ] 
 
 like tlie Hero of the Odyffey, 7}iores hom'mu7?i mult or urn 
 vidit et urbes. But exped: no wonders, as I am neither a 
 Mandeville, a Psalmanazar, nor an Abyssinian Bruce. 
 Unfortunately I have met with no " Anthropophagi^ and' 
 men whofe heads do grow beneath their flioulders." 
 
 How many Numbers I fliall offer thee, is a myftery even 
 to myfelf. — Should we not be eaten up by the threatening 
 and hungry S cms-culottes; by the blefhng of Apollo and 
 the Nine Ladies, a handfome volume or two may be pro- 
 duced ; and to give thee my fentiment on the Sa?2s-culottes 
 fubjedl, I really think we fhall 7wt be devoured. 
 
 Howl thyfelf hoarfe, wild War — of this fliir Isle 
 The happy natives fliall for ever fmile, 
 
 While by thy rage the kingdoms bleed around ; 
 Safe as the chirping birds amid the Oak, 
 That bids defiance to the tempcft's ftroke, 
 
 And keeps with ftern fublimity his ground. 
 
 Adieu.
 
 PINDARIANA, 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 TO THE CRITICS. 
 
 IN OW Winter gathers all his glooms, 
 And faintly Sol the world illumes ; 
 
 Weak wand'rer, {kirting pale the fouthern fky, 
 Yet fqninting on the old blue road, 
 In fummer with fuch fplendor trod, 
 
 Now far, alas ! above his wat'ry eye. 
 
 Well ! juft as Winter comes, fo drear, 
 Behold the Man of Rhymes appear ! 
 
 Much like the woodcock — bird too often bit j 
 When out are dogs, and fportfmen dire. 
 To try to fit him for the fire ; 
 
 Doom'd foon to turn, poor fellow, on the fpit 1 
 
 Lo,
 
 2 P I N D A R I A N A. 
 
 Lo, from his fhelt'iing fhade he vainly fprings ! 
 With bleeding breafl:, crufh''d legs, and broken wings. 
 And fcatter'd plumes a cloud, and hanging head, 
 Down falls the emigrant^ 2. lump of lead ; 
 Soon feiz'd by Tray, expeding much applaufe^ 
 Who, wriggling, brings the pris'ner in his jaws. 
 
 Thus may it moft unfortunately be. 
 Mod venerable Greybeards, with poor Me I 
 Condemn' d, for want of poetry and wit. 
 To turn perchawice upon your piercing fpit \ 
 
 Yet, Sirs, I thank you for all favours pafl ; 
 Hoping, moreover, they won't be the laj} : 
 And, Sirs, whatever fate you may allot me. 
 Thanks, thanks, that hitherto you have not fhot mc. 
 
 So much to the liberal Critics ; — what fhall I fay to 
 the illiberal f 
 
 Rake, if you pleafe, the kennel of your brains, 
 And pour forth all the loaded head contains ; 
 I fhall not fufFer by it, I am fure \ — 
 
 5 Nay,
 
 PINDARIANA. 3 
 
 Nay, my poetic plants will better thrive ; 
 Exalt their heads and fmile — be all alive ; 
 As 7}md is very excellent manure. 
 
 Brother Authors, attend unto the wifdoni of Peter, 
 Are the cries of the malevolent and envious againft you ? 
 Be filent, and let your works fight their own battle. — 
 Are they good for nothing ? Let them die. — Poffefs they 
 merit ? They need not be afraid. — Bid your minds then 
 ilt calmly on their thrones, amidll the hurlyburly of critical 
 attacks. 
 
 Go take a leflbn from the glorious Sun, 
 Who, when the elements together run 
 
 In wild confufion — earth and wind and water^, 
 Looks on the tumult down without difmay, 
 Nay, bright and fmiling — feeming thus to fay, 
 
 " Lord ! buftling Gentlefolk, pray what's the matter?'' 
 
 HYMN
 
 F I N D A R I A N A, 
 
 HYMN TO THE GUILLOTINE. 
 
 XJaughter of Liberty, wliofe knife 
 So bufy chops the threads of Hfe, 
 
 And frees from cumb'rous clay the fpirit ; 
 Ah ! why alone fhall Gallia feel 
 The beauties ot thy pond'rous fteel ? 
 
 Why muft not Britain mark thy merit ? 
 
 Hark ! 'tis the Dungeon's groan I hear j 
 And lo, a fqualid band appear, 
 
 With fallow cheek and hollow eye ! 
 Unwilling, lo, the neck they bend ; 
 Yet, through thy pow'r, their terrors end, 
 
 And with their heads the Sorrows fly ! 
 
 O let us view thy lofty grace ; — 
 To Britons fliew thy blufhing face. 
 
 And blefs Rebellion's life-tir'd train ! — 
 Joy to my foul ! file's on her way, 
 Led by, her deareji friends, Dismay, 
 
 Death, and the Devil, and Tom Paine ! 
 
 Be
 
 P I N D A R I A N yi. 5 
 
 Be deaf, O Man, to the infinuations of Pride. It is 
 the poifonous weed of the heart, that fuffers not a flower 
 of beauty or fragrance to bloom near it. 
 
 Boaft not of the antiquity of thy Hne ; for, to thy 
 mortification, be it known, that the Family of the Hogs 
 was created before thee. 
 
 What can the 'ivifeji boaft ? ahis, how little ! 
 Then, Pride, be fparing of thy fancy fpittle ; 
 
 Nay, do not fquirt it in the hunibkft face : 
 The wheel of Fortune is for ever turning ; 
 Joy's birthday-fuit may foon be chang'd to mourn'mg j 
 
 NiMRODs become the viSiims of the chace. 
 
 Yes, Pride, I hate thee — canker of our nature ! 
 Why look contemptuous on a fellow-creature, 
 
 Becaufe it is a monkey or a pig ? 
 Ihey too have qualities, or I'm miftaken : 
 What man excels a hog in making bacon ? 
 
 What mortals, like a monkey, dance a jig .? 
 
 What man, from bough to bough, like Jacko fprings, 
 Ingenious rogue ! who tv/ifts his tail, and fwings .? 
 
 C Dare
 
 PINDARIANJ, 
 Dare we defpife, becaufe they cannot preach, 
 Forfooth, ungifted with the pow'rs of fpeech ? 
 
 That were a joke indeed to make 2ifong : 
 Ah me ! what numbers of the human race 
 Mofl fortunately had efcap'd difgrace, 
 
 Had Heav'n forgot to give their mouths a tongue I 
 
 In vain I preach — Pride laughs at all I fay j 
 Refolv'd, the fool, to keep her difiant vjoy. 
 
 THE PROUD OLD MAID. 
 
 A winking, hobbling, crabbed, proud Old Maid* 
 Whofe charms had felt a heavy cannonade 
 From Time's ftrong battVy, — to whofe lofty nofe 
 A rotten reputation was a rofe, 
 Liv'd in a country town — there fpit her fpite. 
 And dwelt on Scandal's ftories with delight. 
 
 Proud of her name (though poor) indeed was she j 
 
 In genealogies, an epicure ; 
 Knew, to a hair, each perfon's pedigree. 
 
 From that of fplendor, to the moft obfcure. 
 
 5 Madam
 
 P I N D A R 1 A N A, y 
 
 Madam Georgina Howard was her name ; 
 An appellation always carrying fame, 
 
 As ev'ry Howard kins with Norfolk's Duke ; 
 Moreover, ev'ry Campbell of our Ifle, 
 Cobbler, or chimney- fweeper, claims Argyle ; 
 
 And eh to Queensb'ry doth a Douglas look % 
 
 Boafting a certain portion of that blood, 
 Not to be waili'd away by Noah's flood. 
 
 Cousin of Norfolk, would flie often name. 
 When Conversation afk'd for no fuch kin ; 
 
 Cousin of Norfolk then tmthnely came ; 
 
 Nay, by the head a?2d poulders was lugg'd in. 
 
 This Lady, on a certain darkfome night. 
 From cards returning by a lantern's light ; 
 
 The lantern by her fervant Betty held, 
 Who walk'd before this Dame, to fhew the v/ay ; 
 When thus it happen'd, fadly let me fiy, 
 
 Such is th' unhappinefs of blinking Eld—^ 
 
 As her two eyes fo dim could only Jfare^ 
 And therefore wanted cleaning and repair ^ 
 
 Ao;ainft
 
 I P I A" D yJ R I A N J. 
 
 AgainftyW^ head, her poking head Jfhe poppM— 
 Daili'd with confuiion, fuddenly fhe ftopp'd, 
 Drew back, and bent for once her rufty knee — 
 ^' I beg your pardon, Sir," faid flie : 
 
 Then foUow'd Miftrefs Betty. — '' Blefs us, Bet, 
 " Tell me, who was the Gentleman I met ; 
 
 " Whofe face I bounc'd fo hard againft with mine ?" 
 Bet couki not for her foul the laugh relift — 
 *" A Gcntlema?i ! — a Jack-afs, Ma'am, you kifs'd ; 
 
 " I hope you found Jack's kilTes very fine." 
 
 " An Afs /" with anger fwelling, fcreech'd the Dame—* 
 " An Afs! — Lord ! Betty, I fliall die With. pame ! 
 *' Give me a knife — Fll fpoil the rafcal's note : 
 "" Give me a knife — Fll run and cut his throat. 
 *' Betty, don't fay a word on't — that, alas ! 
 " I curtfied, and afk'd piardon of an Afs /"
 
 PINDARIANA, 
 
 EARLY PROPENSITIES. 
 
 JTlow early, Genius fhews itfelf at times ! 
 
 Thus Pope, the pride of Poets, liffd in rhymes ; 
 
 And thus the great Sir Joseph* (ftrange to utter ! 
 To whom each infed-eater is a fool) 
 Did, when a very little boy at fchool, 
 
 Munch, fpiders fpread upon his bread and butter I 
 
 INVITATION TO CYNTHIA. 
 
 V>oME, Cynthia, to thy fhepherd's vale, 
 Though tyrant Winter fhade the fcene ; 
 
 The leaflefs grove has felt his gale, 
 And ev'ry warbler mourns his reign. 
 
 Yet, what to me the howling wind ? 
 
 Thy voice the linnet's fong fupplies : 
 Or what the cloud to 7«^, who find 
 
 Eternal funfhine in thy eyes ? 
 
 * Sir Jofeph Banks, the Prefident of die Royal Society, wlio has often 
 declared this rare fa6l of himfelf, and who is fo improved in power as to be 
 able to devour an alligator. 
 
 D KISSES.
 
 lo P I N D A R I A N A, 
 
 KISSES. 
 
 Hawjer. Uear Susan, one kind kifs before we part. 
 
 Sujan. Not the thoufandth part of one, Mr. Lieutenant, 
 I aflure yon. Keep your diftance, pray, kind Sir. Kiffes 
 indeed ! I wonder what fool firft invented the nonfenfe ? 
 
 Hawfer. Nonfenfe ! — Senfe^ Sufan ! rapture, Sufan ! 
 
 SONG. 
 
 When we dwell on the lips of the lafs we adore, 
 
 Not a pleafure in nature is miffing : 
 May his foul be in Heav'n, he defcrv'd it, I'm furej 
 
 Who was hrft the inventor of kiffing. 
 
 Mafter Adam, I verily think, was the man, 
 
 Whofe difcov'ry will ne'er be furpafl: : 
 Well, lince the fweet game with creation began. 
 
 To the e?id of the world may it laft ! 
 
 [Catches Susan, a?id kijfes he^ 
 
 Id<
 
 PINDARIANA. 
 
 n 
 
 1 DO not love a Cat — his difpolition is mean and fufpi- 
 cioiis. A friendfhip of years is cancelled in a moment by 
 an accidental tread on his tail or foot. He inftantly fpits, 
 raifes his rump, twirls his tail of malignity, and fhuns you; 
 turning back, as he goes off, a flaring vindidive face, full of 
 horrid oaths and unforgivenefs ; feeming to fay, '' Perdition 
 catch you ! I hate you for ever." But the Dog is my de- 
 light : — tread on his tail or foot, he expreffes, for a moment, 
 the uneafmefs of his feelings ; but in a moment the com- 
 plaint is ended. He runs around you ; jumps up againft 
 you ; feems to declare his forrow for complaining, as it vi^as 
 not intentionally done, nay, to make himfelf the aggreffor ; 
 and begs, by whinings-and lickings, that Mafter will think 
 of it no more. Many a time, when Ranger, wifliing for a 
 little fport, has run to the gun, fmelt to it, then wriggling 
 his tail, and, with eyes full of the mod expreffive fire, leaped 
 up againft me, whining and begging, have I, againft my 
 inclination, indulged him with a fcamper through the 
 woods or in the field : for many a time he has left a warm 
 neft, among the fnows of winter, to ftart pleafure for me. 
 Thus is there a moral obligation between a Man and i 
 Dog. 
 
 THI
 
 12 
 
 PINDARIANJ. 
 
 THE OLD S H E P H E Pv D 's DOG. 
 
 The old Shepherd^s Dog, like his mafter, was gray ; 
 
 His teeth all departed, and feeble his tongue ; 
 Yet where'er Corin went, he was follow'd by Tray ; 
 
 Thus happy through life did they hobble along. 
 
 When, fatigu'd, on the grafs the Shepherd would lie, 
 For a nap in the fun — 'midft his {lumbers fo fweet. 
 
 His faithful companion crawl' d conftantly nigh, 
 
 Plac'd his head on his lap, or lay down at his feet. 
 
 When Winter was heard on the hill and the plain, 
 And torrents defcended, and cold was the wind, 
 
 If Corin went forth 'mid the tempefts and rain, 
 Tray fcorn'd to be left in the chimney behind. 
 
 At length in the ftraw Tray made his laft bed ; 
 
 For vain, againft death, is the ftouteft endeavour — - 
 To lick Corin's hand he rear'd up his weak head. 
 
 Then fell back, clos'd his eyes, and, ah ! clos'd them 
 for ever. 
 
 Not long after Tray did the Shepherd remain. 
 
 Who oft o'er his grave with true forrow would bend ; 
 
 And, when dying, thus feebly was heard the poor fwain, 
 " O bury me, neighbours, befide my old Friend 1"
 
 PINDARIANyl. 
 
 13 
 
 JNoTWiTHSTANDiNG the general contempt of poor Stern- 
 hold and Hopkins, of pfalm-inditing memory^ I do not 
 deem them beneath the dignity oi fome imitation. I fear 
 that too many a Poet of the prefent day is affeded (if I 
 may coin an expreflion) with a Phufi-phobia^ or a dread of 
 nature and Umplicity ; and, if I may judge from the 
 difficulty of comprehending their meaning, they fancy 
 Obscurity to be the genuine parent of the Sublime. In 
 the following Ballad I have endeavoured to fteer between 
 the two^ afluming a little liberty with hiftorical truth 
 refpeding Jenny and the celebrated Auld Robin. 
 
 JENNY'S COMPLAINT. 
 
 The night was ftill, and full of fear, 
 
 And all the world feem'd dead ; 
 When, pond' ring on poor Robin Gray, 
 
 I went with fighs to bed. 
 
 There, while my heart did heave with grief. 
 
 The moon, that wand'rer pale, 
 In at my window peep'd and fhin'd 
 
 So faint againft the wall. 
 
 E I clos'd
 
 u 
 
 PINDARIANA. 
 
 i clos'd my eye in vain to fleep, 
 And figh'd "Ah! well-a-day !" 
 
 For then I dwelt on my dear love, 
 My buried Robin Gray. 
 
 As on my arm I lean'd my head, 
 
 All dreary and forlorn, 
 My hair did drink the briny tears 
 
 That down my cheek did mourn. 
 
 Sudden a cloud, like ink fo black, 
 The moon's pale face o'ercaft ; 
 
 The window (hook, and horror howl'd, 
 Amid the hollow blaft. 
 
 The oaks that proudly look'd on high, 
 
 Their lofty heads bent low. 
 And 'midft their mighty branches roar'd. 
 
 As if they fcorn'd to bow. 
 
 But, like a giant in his courfe, 
 
 The ftorm went rufliing on. 
 Scattering their limbs and leaves fo thick. 
 
 As hccdlcfs what was done. 
 
 Now
 
 PINDARIANA, 15 
 
 Now thunder from the black cloud broke. 
 
 And terrified the night, 
 And Ughtnings, with a dangerous blaze, 
 
 Made all the darknefs bright. 
 
 But my poor bleeding heart forlorn 
 
 Did link with no difmay, 
 Since often it had wifh'd to die 
 
 For dear auld Robin Gray. 
 
 Now did a fpedlre form appear, 
 
 All aged, pale, and wan ; 
 And, by his vifage, I could fpy 
 
 He was my loft auld Man. 
 
 Now on my bed-fide did he {it, 
 
 As harmlefs as a dove ; 
 And though he had two hollow eyes, 
 
 They look'd with tendVeft love. 
 
 Forth from their fockets then did rufh 
 
 Full many a drop of woe : 
 So from the cave or rv.gged rock 
 
 The pearly waters flov/. 
 
 I "Jeful"
 
 i6 PINDARIANA. 
 
 " Jefu !" I cry'd, and ftretch'd my arms 
 To clafp him round the waift ; 
 
 But nought of his poor fpedre drear 
 My longing arms embrac'd. 
 
 '' Oh ! Jenny (then he faid), in vain 
 " Thy arms would clafp me in ; 
 
 " For Spirits, fuch as thou behold' st, 
 " Have neither bones nor fkin." 
 
 Full on his vifage did I gaze, 
 
 All hurried with furprife ; 
 And, eager to devour each look, 
 
 My foul ruih'd through my eyes. 
 
 Now did I flrive to catch his hand, 
 
 That prefs'd fo often mine ; 
 But 'twas in vain — 'twas nought but air. 
 
 Which made my heart to pine. 
 
 And yet his hands fo flirivell'd wei-e. 
 As made of flefh and blood : 
 
 But God knows beft what fliould be done. 
 And God is very good. 
 
 And
 
 P I N D A R I A N A. i; 
 
 " And art thou happy then," I cry'd, 
 
 " In this thy prcfcnt ftatc ?" 
 He fmll'd Hke Angels then, and faid, 
 
 " God well hath chang'd my fate. 
 
 " Let innocence, O Jane, be thine, 
 
 " And peace fhall dwell with thee ; 
 " And when juft Heaven fliall call thee hence, 
 
 " With Robin thou fhalt be." 
 
 With that he look'd a fweet farewell, 
 
 And rais'd each wetted eye ; 
 Then glided off, and, as he went, 
 
 I heard the kindeft figh. 
 
 " Adieu !" I cry'd, half choak'd with grief, 
 
 " Soul of my foul, adieu ! 
 ** My bofom throbs to leave this world, 
 
 " And thy dear flight purfue. 
 
 " But Robin, Robin, ftay awhile ; 
 
 " Ah ! ftay awhile," I faid — 
 ** As Jemmy is Come home from fea, 
 
 *' May I with Jenlmy wed ?" 
 
 F But
 
 PINDARIANA. 
 
 But Robin anfwer'd not a word, 
 
 But off his ghoft did go ; 
 Which made me wonder — but perhaps 
 
 His ghoft had anfwer'd, " No." 
 
 Auld Robin's kindnefles to me, 
 
 Whilft we in love did live, 
 Deferve iwort Jlreams from thefe fad eyes, 
 
 Than they have d?-ops to give. 
 
 The evening that he fought his grave 
 
 Did wear a difmal gloom ; 
 And all who did the burying fee, 
 
 With eyes fo red went home* 
 
 The honeft tribute of their tears, 
 I thought was fweeteft fame ; 
 
 And when I die, God grant my bier 
 Be fprinkled with the fame ! 
 
 The harmlefs children, too, in bands. 
 
 Did pour their little fighs. 
 And on the coffin near the grave 
 
 They ftrain'd their wat'ry eyes. 
 
 And
 
 PINDylRlANA, 
 And when into the earth below 
 
 His corpfe at length was giv'n, 
 They look'd towards each other's eyes, 
 
 And ligh'd, " He's gone to Heaven." 
 
 Then on his grave they fat them down. 
 And lifp'd his name with praife, 
 
 Till all the little wights did wifli 
 To be auld Robin Grays. 
 
 19 
 
 ODE FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. 
 
 J_>ovE is a pretty paflion, to be fure; 
 And long, fay I indeed, may Love endure ! 
 Yet now and then to Prudence fhould it look — 
 Yes, take a little leaf from Wisdom's book. 
 
 Our boys, alas ! begin too foon to figh. 
 Mourn the pierc'd heart, and lay them down to die ; 
 Juft like expiring fwans, with tuneful breath, 
 Sweet rhyming in the agonies of death. 
 
 3 Too
 
 20 P I N D A R I A N A. 
 
 Tcx) fooii the gills abufe o^" pens the nib, 
 
 And pour their Httle grc ming fouls on paper : 
 
 Love Hioiild not come till Time removes the bib; 
 MilTcs Hionld learn to v:rlk before they caper. 
 
 Love, though it deals mjweets^ has n\dinj fours \ 
 It does not always furnifh happy hours, 
 
 Putting us oft in difmal lituations : 
 The novelty fets people's fouls a longing— 
 What thoufands to their ruin thus are thronging ! 
 
 Indeed we fee the evil in all nations. 
 
 I fear Love does at times a deal of harm : 
 
 It keeps the world alive, it is confess 'd ; 
 So far, indeed, I like the pleafmg charm — 
 
 Yet, yet, through Love, what thoufands are diftress'd 1 
 
 " Give me," exclaims the Youth, " but heav'nly kifling, 
 " And lo, I feek nought elfe — for nought is miffing : 
 
 " Let me for ever dwell on Chloe's lip ; 
 *' On Chloe's bofom let me only lie ; 
 ** There pour in fweeteft ecftafy the figli, 
 
 " And, like the bee, the honey 'd treafure Tip. 
 
 '' I heed
 
 P I J>1 D A R I A N A. 
 
 " I heed not fragrant wines, nor flefli, nor filli ; 
 " Chloe is all I want, and all I wiOi !" 
 
 And thus again the raptiir'd Nymph exclaims, 
 
 " Sweet are of Love the fighs, and dear the flames ! 
 
 " Love fmiles away the dark'ning clouds of life : 
 " Love feels no rains, nor ftorms, nor pinching cold : 
 " Love wants not fire nor candle, meat, clothes, gold 
 
 *' All blifs is center'd in that one word — Wife''' 
 
 THE OWL AND PARROT. 
 
 x\n Owl fell defp'rately in love, poor foul ! 
 Sighing and hooting in his lonely hole — 
 A Parrot the dear objedt of his wifhes. 
 Who in her cage cnjoy'd the loaves and fifhes, 
 In fhort, had all flie wanted — meat and drink, 
 Wafliing and lodging — full enough, I think. 
 
 'Squire Owl moft mufically tells his tale ; 
 His oaths, his fqueezes, kifles, fighs, prevail : 
 Poll cannot bear, poor heart, to hear him grieve \ 
 So opes her cage, without a " By your leave ;" 
 Are married, go to bed with raptur'd faces. 
 Rich words, and fo forth — ufual in fuch cafes. 
 
 G A day
 
 22 P I N D A R I A N A. 
 
 A day or two pass'd amoroufly fvveet ; 
 Love, kifllng, cooing, billing, all their meat : 
 
 At length they both felt hungry — '' What's for dinner? 
 *' Pray what have we to eat, my dear ?" quoth Poll. — 
 '* Nothing ! by all my wifdom," anfwer'd Owl ; 
 
 " I never thought of that, as I'm a (inner; 
 
 *' But, Poll, on fomething 1 fliall put my pats — 
 *' What fay'ft thou. Deary, to a difh of rats ?" 
 
 " Rats^ Mister Owl ! d'ye think that I'll eat rats ? 
 " Eat them yourfelf, or give them to the cats," 
 
 Whines the poor Bride, now burfting into tears. — 
 *' Well, Polly, would you rather dine on moufe f 
 *' I'll catch a few, if any in the houfe ; 
 
 " Thou fhalt not ftarve. Love, fo difpel thy fears." 
 
 " I won't eat rats — I won't eat mice — I won't : 
 " Don't tell me of fuch dirty vermin — don't : 
 
 " O that within my cage I had but tarried !" 
 ** Polly," quoth Owl, " I'm forry, I declare, 
 *' So delicate, you relifli not ovir fare — 
 
 " You flioiild have thought of that before you married,"'^ 
 
 4 This
 
 P I N D A R 1 A N A. 23 
 
 This fable aptly alfo will apply 
 To Frenchmen — Scms-cu/oUes-mQn. — Ah ! how ? why ? 
 
 The French are changeful fellows, all muft grant ; 
 
 Cameleons — but, ah ! changing for the worfe : 
 Poor ignorants, fcarce knowing what they want ; 
 
 Bart' ring too often bleffings for a curfe. 
 
 All good, in one word. Novelty, they fee ! 
 
 So ftrong within them is of change the leaven : 
 A Frenchman's flutt'ring foul would feel epima 
 
 E'en midft the bleffed conftancy of Heaven ! 
 
 AN ANACREONTIC. 
 rO A KISS. 
 OoFT child of Love — thou balmy blifs, 
 Inform me, O delicious Kiss, 
 Why thou fo faddenly art gone ? 
 Loft in the moment thou art won ? 
 
 Yet go — for wherefore fhould I figh ? 
 
 On Delia's lip, with raptur'd eye, 
 
 On Delia's blufhing lip I fee 
 
 A thoufand full as fweet as ^/jce. 
 
 A PANE-
 
 24 P I N D A B. I A N A. 
 
 A PANEGYRIC ON TEA, 
 
 Br KIEN LONG. 
 
 WRITTEN IN HIS TENT, DURING A HUNTING EXCURSION, NEAR MOUKDEH. 
 
 J\dEi-HOA che pott yao 
 
 Fo-cheou hiang tfie kie, 
 
 Soimg-che ouei fa?ig ny ; 
 
 San pin tchou tfing kue. 
 
 Pong y tche kio tang^ 
 
 Ou tche tcheng koang hiuey 
 
 Houo heou pien yu hii^ 
 
 "Ting yen y cheng mie. 
 
 Tue Ngueou po Jten jou, 
 
 "Tan lou ty tchan yue, 
 
 Ou yun kmg tai pan 
 
 Ko 011^ pou ko choice. 
 
 Foti foil teou lo ty 
 
 Ho ho ytin hiang tche 
 
 Ou-tfuen y ko tfaii 
 
 Lin-fou cha?ig che pie. 
 
 Lan hi Tchao-tcheou ngan 
 
 Po fiao Yu-tchouan hiii 
 
 Han Jiao ting Jing leou 
 
 Kou yue kan hiiieit tftie. 
 
 "Joan pao tche7t ki yu 
 
 Tjiao ki?tg Jing ou he. 
 
 Kien-long pi7ig-yn 
 
 Siao ichun yu Ty. 
 
 A TRANSLA-
 
 P I N D A R 1 A N A. 25 
 
 A TRANSLATION 
 
 OF THE PRECEDING 
 
 IMPERIAL PANEGYRIC ON TEA. 
 
 1 H E fiow'r Meho is not fo bright, 
 And yet it gives the eye delight ; 
 
 It likewife has a charming fmell : 
 The pines, too, are a pretty fruit. 
 That much indeed my palate fuit. 
 And much in flavour, too, excel. 
 
 Get an old kettle, if you pleafe, 
 For fuch a thing is found with eafe. 
 
 That has three legs — and therefore fhows 
 Its ancient fervices ; — then fill 
 With water, and, what's beft, the rill, 
 
 The lucid rill, from melted fnows. 
 
 Heat in this kettle, to your wifli. 
 The water fit to boil a fifli. 
 
 Or turn the blackeft lobfter red ; 
 Pour then the water on the tea, 
 Then drink it, and 'tv/ill drive, d'ye fee, 
 
 All the blue devils from your head. 
 
 H Far
 
 26 PINDARIANy!, 
 
 Far from the toil of ftate affairs 
 I fteal away, to drown my cares, 
 
 For which I take of tea a cup ; 
 And then I fnap the rich Fochu^ 
 Fine to the tafte, and to the view ; 
 
 And then again the tea I fup. 
 
 Now on the rare Meho I gaze ; 
 Now of the ancients, with amaze, 
 
 I think — and alfo with deHght ; 
 And now upon the great O t s e'n, 
 The beft and frugalleft of men. 
 
 Who liv'd on pine from morn to night. 
 
 With envy on this mighty man I think ! 
 
 And then I drink : 
 Then I crack nuts, and eat the kernels too ; 
 Then think on that great gard'ncr, great Linfou, 
 
 When, lo ! I pafs from great Linfou 
 
 To that great Prince, yclept Tchao-tcheou ; — ■ 
 
 Then upon You-tchouan I ponder : 
 
 Thus do I fit, and cat, and drink, and wonder. 
 
 T^hcjirjly my fancy plainly fees 
 ' Surrounded by all forts of trees ; 
 
 Now
 
 PINDARIANA. 
 
 Now tafting this rich fruit, now that fo fine : 
 I mark xh&fecond quaffing the rich water ; 
 But, knowing very little of the matter, 
 
 Thank Heav'n his vulgar tafte was never 7nine, 
 
 I hear, I hear the evening drum 
 Sounding aloud, " Go to bed, Tom !" 
 
 Good me ! how pleafant is the ftarry night ! 
 L05 on each dilli, and filver fpoon, 
 And plate, and porringer, the moon 
 
 Peeps througii my tent with friendly light. 
 
 Now, this is charming, I mufl own ; 
 
 My ftomach, too, fo eafy grown ! 
 
 And now Fll take a nap — thus ends my fong, 
 
 Compos'd by fne (a humble Bard) Kien Long, 
 
 27 
 
 ODE TO COFFEE. 
 
 IN THE MANNER OF KIEN LONG, 
 
 Uelicious Berry, but, ah ! beft 
 
 When from the Eaftern Ind, not Weft ; 
 
 Nought richer is, I think, than thee ;— * 
 
 Into a roafter, with my hand, 
 
 I put thee, and then o'er thee ftand, 
 
 And then I catch thy fmell with glee. 
 
 3 And
 
 2S PINDARIANA. 
 
 And now I fhake thee round about ; 
 And, wlien tnrn'd brown, I take thee out, 
 
 And then I put thee in a mill ; 
 And, when to powder thou art crufli'd, 
 Into a tin pot thou art puili'd, 
 
 To feel the boiling fmoking rill. 
 
 And now from my tin pot's long nofe 
 The fragrant fluid fweetly flows ; 
 
 And now I put the lily cream. 
 And fugar too, the befl: of brown ; 
 And, happy, now I gulp thee down, 
 
 Keeping my nofe upon the fl:eam. 
 
 On Hastings now my fenfes work ; 
 And now on virtuous Edmund Burke, 
 
 Who calmly let Sir Thomas 'fcape : 
 And then unto myfelf I fay, 
 *' Is honour dead ? ah, well-a-day !" 
 
 And then my mouth begins to gape. 
 
 Now on Sir Josf.ph Banks I ponder, 
 /\iid now at his rare merit w^onder, 
 
 In flies and tadpoles deep ; 
 And now to many a drowfy head 
 I hear the drowfy Blagdon* read, 
 
 And then I fall afleep. 
 
 * Sir Jofeph's right hand, and Secretary to the Royal Society ; who has 
 very often read the very refpecftable meetings of the Royal Society to flumber.
 
 FINDARIANA, 29 
 
 ODE. 
 
 When Flatt'ry lings, Age opes his eyes fo clear, 
 And claps fo brifk the trumpet to his ear, 
 
 So ivond'' roiijly infpir'd he lifts, and fees ! 
 When Flatt'ry fings, pale Colic's pains are off; 
 Consumption pants not, but forgets his cough ; 
 
 And Asthma's loaded lungs forbear to wheeze. 
 
 Stung is the foul with Hyp's rope-off'ring evils ? 
 Flatt'ry's a talifman to drive the devils. 
 
 Sweet on the lift'ning ear of ftilly Night, 
 
 As warbling dyeth Philomela's fong ; 
 So on the ear of man, with rich delight, 
 
 The lulling mufic flows from Flatt'ry's tongue. 
 
 Shew me the man, and I will thank thee for it. 
 Who fays, with truth, *' Poh ! Flatt'ry ! I abhor it."-— 
 'Tis a non-defcript — by Sir Joseph bred — • 
 A SoHo monjler^ born without a head. 
 
 Flatt'ry's a perfedl miftrefs of her art \ 
 With picklock keys to open ev'ry heart, 
 
 I What
 
 30 t> I N D A R 1 A N A. 
 
 What mortal can withftand the fire of Flatt'ry ? 
 No one ! 'tis fuch a moil fuccefsful batt'ry. 
 No head, however thick, refifts its iliot ; 
 Yet each pretends to mock it ! — what a fot ! 
 
 SUSAN AND THE SPIDER. 
 
 " V^OME down, you toad," cry'd Susan to a Spider, 
 High on the gilded cornice a proud rider, 
 
 And, wanton, Twinging by his filken rope ; 
 " I'll teach thee to fpin cobwebs round the room ; 
 " You're now upon fome murder, I prefume — 
 
 " I'll hlefs thee — if I don't, fay I'm no Pope." 
 
 Then Susan brandifh'd her long brufli, 
 Determin'd on a fatal puHi, 
 To bring the rope-dancer to ground. 
 And all his fchemes of death confound. 
 
 Tlie Spider, bleft with oratory grace, 
 Slipp'd down, and, flaring Susan in the face, 
 
 " Fie, Susan ! lurks there murder in that heart ? 
 *' O barb'rous, lovely Susan ! I'm amaz'd ! 
 " O can that form, on which fo oft I've gaz'd, 
 
 *' PoiTcfs of cruelty the flighteil part ? 
 
 4 " Ah !
 
 P I N D A R I A A A. 
 
 " Ah ! can tliat fwelling bofom of delight, 
 
 '* On which I've peep'd with wonder many a night, 
 
 " Nay, with thefe fingers touch'' d too, let me fay, 
 " Contain a heart of crueky ? — no, no ! 
 " That bofom, which exceeds the new-fall'n fnow, 
 
 " All foftnefs, fweetnefs, one eternal May." 
 
 " How!" Susan fcreech'd, as with diforder'd brain — ' 
 " How, Impudence ! repeat thofe words again : 
 *' Come, come, confefs with honefty — fpeak, fpeak, 
 " Say, did you really crawl upon my neck ?" 
 
 " Susan, by all thy heav'nly charms, I did; 
 
 " I faw thee fleeping by the taper's light ; 
 
 " Thy cheek, fo blufhful, and thy breaft fo white : 
 " I could not ft and it, and fo down I Aid." 
 
 *' You did, fweet Mifter Spider ? fo you Jaw /" 
 " Yes, Susan ! Nature's is a pow'rful law." 
 
 " Arn't you a murd'rer?" gravely Susan cries ; 
 
 " Arn't you for ever bufy with that claw, 
 " Killing poor unoffending little flies, 
 
 " Merely to fatisfy your nafty maw ?" 
 
 3» 
 
 " But, Susan, don't you feed on gentle lamb ? 
 " Don't you on pretty little /^/g-ci?//^ cram? 
 
 Don't
 
 32 P I N D A R I A X JL 
 
 " Don't you on Iiarmkis _;^/Zw often dine?" 
 *' That's very true," quoth Susan, " true indeed : 
 " Lord ! with what eloquence thefc Spiders plead ! 
 
 *' This little rafcal beats a grave Divine. 
 
 *' It was no fnake, I verily believe, 
 
 " But a ^Y fpider that feduc'd poor Eve. 
 
 " But then you are fo tigly.'' — " Ah ! l-vveet Sue, 
 " I did not make myfelf, you know too well : 
 
 *' Could I have made myfelf, I had ht^w you, 
 
 " And kill'd with envy ev'ry beauteous Belle." 
 
 *' Heav'ns ! to this Spider! — what a 'witching tongue I 
 '' Well ! go about thy bus'nefs — go along; 
 
 " All animals indeed their food muft get : 
 *' And hear me — fhouldft thou look, with longing eyes, 
 '* At any time on young, fat, lufcious flies, 
 
 " I'll drive the little rafcals to thy net. 
 
 " Lord ! then how blind I've been to form and feature ! 
 *' I think a Spider, 7ww, a comely creature I"
 
 P I N D A R I A N A. 33 
 
 VERSES 
 
 TO A 
 
 WHITE SATIN PETTICOAT, 
 
 Belonging to Miss Molly M , but /polled by the Author's inadvertent 
 
 Stupidity, in throwing on it a Cup of Coffee. 
 
 \J FAIR prote<Elrefs of the faireft Maid, 
 How fliall the Poet for his crime atone ? 
 
 So lately bleft as thou, I'm fore afraid 
 I have no recompence to offer ! — 7io7ie ! 
 
 But Molly parts with thee with pitying eye ! 
 
 Then from this moment do not dare co?nplam : 
 Nay, more — the Nymph furveys thee with ^figh — ^ 
 
 Then boaft ! — the e7ivy thou, of ev'ry fwain. 
 
 THE TINKER, AND MILLER'S DAUGHTER. 
 A TALE. 
 
 1 HE meaneft cvz^Ltxavc fomewhat may contain. 
 As Providence ne'er makes a thing ifi vain. 
 
 Upon a day, a poor and trav'ling Tinker, 
 On Fortune's various tricks a conftant thinker, 
 Pafs'd in fome village near a Millgr's door ; 
 
 K Where,
 
 34. PINDARIANA. 
 
 Where, lo ! his eye did moft afloniih'd catch 
 The Miller's daughter peeping o'er the hatch, 
 Deform'd, and monftrous ugly, to be fure. 
 
 Struck with th' uncommon form, the Tlv^zx Jlarted^ 
 Juft like a frighten'd horfe, or murd'rer carted, 
 
 Up gazing at the gibbet and the rope : 
 Turning his brain about, in a brown ftudy, 
 (For, as I've faid, his brain was not fo muddy) 
 
 " 'Sbud ! (quoth the Tinker) I have now fome hope \ 
 
 *' Fortune, the jade, is not far off, perchance" — 
 And then began to rub his hands, and dance. 
 
 Now all fo full of love, o'erjoy'd he ran, 
 
 Embrac'd and fqueez'd Miss Grist, and thus began : 
 
 *' My dear, my foul, my angel, fweet Miss Grist, 
 *' Now may I never mend a kettle more, 
 " If ever I faw one \\k.Q. you before !" 
 
 Then, "nothing loth," like Eve, the nymph he kifs'd. 
 
 Now, very fenlibly indeed, Miss Grist 
 Thought opportunity fhould not be mifs'd ; 
 Knowing that Prudery oft lets flip a joy : 
 Thus was Miss Grist too p?'udent to be coy. 
 
 For
 
 PINDARIANA. 2S 
 
 For really 'tis with girls a dangerous farce, 
 To flout a fvvain, when offers are but fcarcc. 
 
 She did wol f cream ^ and cry, " FU not be woo'd ; 
 " Keep off, you fmutty fellow — don't be rude ; 
 " I'm meat for your fuperiors, Tinker." — No^ 
 Indeed fhe treated not the Tinker yc*. 
 
 But lo, the damfel, with her ufual fquint, 
 Suffer'd her Tinker lover to imprint 
 
 Sweet kiffes on her lip, and fqueeze her hand. 
 Hug her, and fay the fofteft things unto her, 
 And in Love's plain and pretty language woo her. 
 
 Without a frown, or e'en a reprimand. 
 
 Soon won, the Nymph agreed to join his bed, 
 And, when the Tinker chofe, to church be led» 
 
 Now to the Father the briik Lover hied, 
 Who at his noify mill fo bufy plied. 
 Grinding, and taking handfome toll of corn. 
 Sometimes indeed too handfome to be borne, 
 
 " Ho ! Mafter Miller !" did the Tinker fay — 
 
 Forth from his cloud of flour the Miller came : 
 
 *' Nice weather, Mafter Miller — charming day — 
 
 " God's very kind" — the Miller faid ^^ fame, 
 
 '' Now.
 
 36 PINBARIANA. 
 
 *' Now, Miller, poffibly you may not giiefs 
 *' At this fame bufinefs I am come about : 
 
 " 'Tis this then — know, I love your daughter Bess : — 
 " There, Mafler Miller ! — now the riddle's out. 
 
 " I'm not for mincing matters. Lord! d'ye fee — 
 *' I lihs your daughter Bess, and fhe likes me.'^ 
 
 ** Poh 1" quoth the Miller, grinning at the Tinker, 
 " Thou doft not mean to marriage to perfuade her; 
 
 *' Ugly as i^ the Dev'l I needs muft think her, 
 
 " Though, to be fure, 'tis faid, 'twas me that 7nadc her. 
 
 " No, no, though (he's my daughter, I'm not blind : 
 " But, Tinker, what hath now pofTefs'd thy mind ? 
 " Thou'rt the firfl offer {lie has met, by Gad — 
 " But tell mc. Tinker, art thou drunk, or mad ?" 
 
 "■ No — I'm not drunk, nor mad," the Tinker cry'd, 
 ** But Bet's the maid I wifh to make my bride ; 
 
 " No girl in thefe two eyes doth Bet excel." 
 " Why, fool, (the Miller faid) Bet hath a hump! 
 *' And then her 7iofe ! — the nofe of my old pump." 
 
 *' I know it (quoth the Tinker), know it well." 
 
 1 " Her
 
 P I N D A R I A N yL 
 
 *' HQvface (quoth Grist) is freckled, wrinkled, flat \ 
 " Her mouth as wide as that of my Tom Cat ; 
 
 " And then {lie fquints a thoufand ways at once — > 
 " Her waift, a corkfcrew ; and her hair, how red ! 
 *' A downright bunch of carrots on her head — 
 
 " Why what the dev'l is got into thy fconce ?" 
 
 " No dev'l is in my fconce," rejoin'd the Tinker ; 
 " But, Lord ! what's that to you, \i ji?ie, I think her ? 
 
 '■'- Why, man (quoth Grist) fhe's fit to make a Show, 
 " And therefore fure I am that thou muft banter !" 
 
 " Miller ! (reply 'd the Tinker) right ! for know, 
 " 'Tis for that very thing, a Show, I want hen" 
 
 V 
 
 MELANCHOLY. 
 
 Hermione. 
 A SIGHING folitary form I roam ; 
 A tear on Nature's univerfal fmile ! 
 Thou Genius of my natal hour, whofe hand 
 Pierces my moments with the thorns of woe, 
 When will the meafure of my grief be full ? 
 When will the filent afp of hopelefs love 
 
 L Withdraw
 
 33 P I N D A R I A N y}. 
 
 Withdraw his fang of torment from my heart ? 
 How lately joy was mine ! — but where is joy, 
 That cheerful pour'd a funfhine o'er my foul ? 
 Gone ! like the laft, laft fun, to fmk in night. 
 Nature's laft night, and gild a morn no more ! 
 
 E?2ter Camilla, 
 My lov'd Hc?'mione^ I heard thy Ugh, 
 And left my fleep to foften thy afflidion. 
 Why killeft thou that gentle frame with weeping ? 
 Sorrowing, thou feemeil: to delight in woe. 
 And feed exiftence upon (iglis and tears. 
 
 Hermione. 
 Camilla^ the dread filence of the hour 
 Suits but too wxli the colour of my foul. 
 Night, who to o'he?^s brings the balm of fleep, 
 And happy dreams to foothe the peaceful breaft, 
 Pours on my wakeful eye, far diff'rent guefts ; 
 The fouleft, darkeft demons of defpair. 
 Lorn, at the midnight hour, when all is hufh'd^ 
 I wander reftlefs ; fadly now I fit. 
 My brimfull eyes for hours both motionlefs, 
 Swimming with woe, towards the pafling Moon, 
 
 Wh<
 
 P I N D A R I yl N A. y) 
 
 Who on me, as flie lonely glides along, 
 Cafts a pale beam of melancholy light, 
 That feems a ray of pity on my fate. 
 
 THE DRUID HYMN TO THE SUN, 
 
 \J SACRED fount of life to All ! 
 Before thy glorious beam we fall. 
 
 And ftrike with raptur'd hand the lyre ; 
 To thee we lift our wond'ring eyes ; 
 To thee the hymn of morn fhall rife. 
 
 And blefs thy mounting orb of fire. 
 
 Cho?'us. 
 Hail to that Orb, from whofe rich fountain flow 
 Beams that illume and glad the world below. 
 
 Unfeen by thee had Nature mourn'd ; 
 No fmile her ^thiop cheek adorn'd ; 
 Pale Night had fpread her fpedre'd reign, 
 And death-like Horror rul'd the fcene. 
 
 Chorus,
 
 40 P I N D A R I A N A. 
 
 Chorus. 
 All hail the beams that Night deftroy, 
 And wake an opening world to joy ! 
 Bright fpreading o'er the Vast of gloom, 
 That chafe the fpedres to their tomb. 
 
 TO C H L O E. 
 
 C_>HLOE, no more muft we be billing — 
 There goes my laft, my poor laft fliilling 
 
 Vile Fortune bids us part ! 
 Yet, Chloe, this my bofom charms, 
 That, when thou'rt in another's arms, 
 
 I ftill poffefs thy heart. 
 
 Fortune's a whimfical old Dame, 
 And pofllbly may blulTi with fhame 
 
 At this her freak with me : 
 But fhould fhe fmile again^ and offer, 
 Well fill'd with gold, an ample coffer, 
 
 I'll fend the key to Thee. 
 
 THE
 
 P 1 N D A R I A N A. 41 
 
 THE BLIND BEGGAR. 
 
 Welcome, thou Man of Sorrows, to my door! 
 
 A willing balm thy wounded heart fhall find ; 
 And lo, thy guiding Dog my care implores ! 
 
 O hafte, and fhelter from th' unfeeling wind. 
 
 Alas ! fhall Mis'ry feek my cot with fighs, 
 And humbly fue for piteous alms my ear ; 
 
 Yet difappointed go with lifted eyes, 
 
 And on my threfhold leave th' upbraiding tear ? 
 
 Thou boweft for the pity I beftow : 
 
 Bend not to me, becaufe I mourn diflrefs ; 
 
 I am thy debtor — much to thee I owe ; 
 For learn — the greateft blefling is to blefs. 
 
 Thy hoary locks, and wan and pallid cheek, 
 
 And qui v' ring lip, to fancy feem to fay, 
 *' A more than cofmnon Beggar we befpeak ; 
 
 ** A form that once has known a happier day.'' 
 
 M Thy
 
 42 P I N D A R I A N J. 
 
 Thy fightlefs orbs, and venerable beard, 
 
 And, prefs'd by weight of years, thy palfied head, 
 
 Though filent, fpeak with tongues that mufl be heard, 
 Nay, muft command, if Virtue be not dead. 
 
 Thy fhatter'd, yet thine awe-infpiring form, 
 Shall give the village-lads the foften'd foul, 
 
 To aid the vidims of Life's frequent ftorm, 
 And fmooth the furges that around them roll ; 
 
 Teach them, that Poverty may Merit Ihroud ; 
 
 And teach, that Virtue may from Misery fpring ; 
 Flame like the lightning from the frowning cloud. 
 
 That fpreads on Nature's fmile its raven wing. 
 
 O let me own the heart which pants to bkfs ; 
 
 That nobly fcoms to hide the ufelefs ftore ; 
 But looks around for objeds of diftrefs. 
 
 And triumphs in a forrow for the poor ! 
 
 When Heaven on man is pleas' d its wealth to fhow'r, 
 Ah, what an envied blifs doth Heaven beftow ! 
 
 To raife pale Merit in her hopelefs hour. 
 
 And lead Despondence from the tomb of Woe ! 
 
 5 Lo,
 
 PINDARIANA. 
 
 43 
 
 Lo, not the little birds fhall chirp in vain, 
 
 And, hov'ring round me, vainly court my care ; 
 
 While I poffefs the life-prefcrving grain, 
 
 Welcome ye chirping tribe to peck your fhare. 
 
 How can I hear your fongs at Spring's return. 
 
 And hear while Summer fpreads her golden ftore ; 
 
 Yet, when the gloom of Winter bids ye mourn. 
 Heed not the plaintive voice that charm d before ! 
 
 Since Fortune, to my cottage not unkind. 
 
 Strews \i\\}i\jQme flow'rs the road of life for me^ 
 
 Ah ! can humanity defer t my mind ? 
 
 Shall I not foften the rude flint for Thee ? 
 
 Then welcome, Beggar, from the rains and fnow. 
 And warring elements, to warmth and peace ; 
 
 Nay, thy companion too fhall comfort know, 
 Who fhiv'ring fhakes away the icy fleece. 
 
 And lo, he lays him by the fire, elate ; 
 
 Now on his Mafter turns his gladden'd eyes ; 
 Leaps up to greet him on their change of fate. 
 
 Licks his lov'd hand, and then beneath him lies. 
 
 A hut
 
 44 P I N D A R I A N A, 
 
 A hut is mine, amidft a flielt'ring grove : 
 
 A Hermit there, exalt to Heav'n thy praife ; 
 
 There fhall the village children Ihew their love, 
 And hear from thee the tales of other days. 
 
 ^There iliall our feather' d friend, the bird of morn, 
 Charm thee w^ith orifons to opening day ; 
 
 And there the red-breaft, on the leaflefs thorn, 
 At eve fliall footh thee with a fimple lay. 
 
 When Fate fhall call thee from a world of woe, 
 Thy friends around fhall watch thy clofing eyes ; 
 
 With tears, behold thy gentle fpirit go, 
 And wifli to join its pafTage to the ikies. 
 
 ANACREONTIC SONG. 
 
 rO MT LUTE. 
 
 What fhade and what ftillnefs around ! 
 
 Let us feek the lov'd cot of the Fair ; 
 There foften her ileep with thy found, 
 
 And banifh each phantom of care. 
 
 The
 
 P I N D A R 1 A N A. 45 
 
 The Virgin may wake to thy flrain, 
 
 And be footh'd, nay, be pleas' d with thy fong : 
 Alas ! {he may pity the fwam, 
 
 And fancy his forrows too long. 
 
 Could thy voice give a fmile to her cheek, 
 What a joy, what a rapture were mine ! 
 
 Then for ever thy fame would I fpeak — 
 O my Lute, what a triumph were thine ! 
 
 Ah ! whifper kind love in her ear, 
 
 And fweetly my wifhes impart ; 
 Say, the fwain who adores her, is near ; 
 
 Say, thy founds are the fighs of his heart. 
 
 A PASTORAL SONG. 
 
 jr AREWELL, O farewell to the day, 
 
 That fmiling with happinefs flew ! 
 Ye verdures and bluflies of May, 
 
 Ye fongs of the linnet, adieu ! 
 
 N . In
 
 ^6 PINDARIANA, 
 
 In tears from the vale I depart ; 
 
 In anguiHi I move from the Fair : 
 For what are thofe fcenes to the heart 
 
 Which Fortune has doom'd to defpair ? 
 
 Love frowns, and how dark is the hour ! 
 
 Of Rapture, departed the breath ! 
 So gloomy the grove and the bow'r, 
 
 I tread the pale valley of Death. 
 
 With envy I w^ander forlorn, 
 
 At the breeze which her beauty has fann'd ; 
 And I envy the bird on the thorn, 
 
 Who fits watching the crumbs from her hand. 
 
 I envy the lark o'er her cot. 
 
 Who calls her from flumber, fo bleft ; 
 
 Nay, I envy the nightingale's note, 
 The Syren who fings her to reft. 
 
 On her hamlet, once more let me dwell — ■ 
 One look ! (the laji comfort I) be mine — 
 
 O Pleasure, and Delia, farewell ! 
 Now, Sorrow, I ever am thine. 
 
 Ta
 
 P I N D A R I A N A, ,47 
 
 T^AX not, O Parfon, the great Author of Nature 
 with cruelty to his creatures. 
 
 Too often doft thou impudently endeavour to put off 
 thy folly for his wifdom. 
 
 Thy anathemas are not his anathemas , nor is his morality- 
 iffy morality. 
 
 O think not, that, like the Lord Mayor of London, he 
 punifheth the fale of every article on the Sabbath-day, 
 except Milk and MackareL 
 
 GOOD FRIDAY. 
 
 Sir Harry, a high prieft, and deep divine, 
 Ambitious much 'mid moderii Saints to fhine, 
 
 On a Good Friday evening took an airing : — - 
 Not far had he proceeded, ere a found 
 Did the two ears of this good prieft ajlotmd ; 
 
 Such as loud laughs, commix'd with fome fmall fwearlng. 
 
 Now in an orchard peep'd the Knight fo fly. 
 With fuch a ftaring, rolling, frenzied eye ; 
 
 Where, lo ! a band of rural fwains were bleft : — 
 
 5 '^°^
 
 4? PI N D A R I A N A. 
 
 Too proud io join the crcxv^ he wav'd his hand, 
 Beck'ning to this unholy playful band — 
 Forth came a hoy^ obedient to the Prieft. 
 
 *' What wicked things are ye all doing here, 
 
 '• On this moft folemn day of all the year ?" — 
 
 " Playing to fkittles," faid the fniiple lad : 
 
 " Playing at fkittles ! — Devils, are ye mad ? 
 
 " For whatT' — " A Jack-afs, Sir," the boy replies — 
 
 " A Jack-afs F'' roars the Prieft, with wolf-like eyes : 
 
 " Run, run, and tell them Heav'n will not be fhamm'd- 
 '' Tell them this inftant, that they'll all be damnd'' 
 
 ■*' I wull^ Sir Harry — ifs^ I nsoull^ Sir Harry" — 
 Then off he fet, th' important news to carry ; 
 
 To warn them what dread torments would enfue : 
 But fuddenly the fcamp'ring lad turn'd round. 
 And thus, with much fimplicity of found, 
 
 " Sir Harry, muft the Jack-afs be damn d too f
 
 P I N D A R J A N A. 
 
 49 
 
 PRETTY B A R - M A I D. 
 
 iSwEET Nymph, with teeth of pearl, and dimpled chin, 
 And rofes that would tempt a faint to fin, 
 
 Daily to thee fo conftant I return ; 
 Whofe fmile improves the coffee's ev'ry drop. 
 Gives tendernefs to ev'ry fteak and chop. 
 
 And bids our pockets at expences fpurn. 
 
 What Youth, well powder'd, of pomatum fmelling, 
 Shall on that lovely bofom fix his dwelling ? 
 
 Perhaps the Waiter, of himfelf fo full ! 
 With thee he means the coffee-houfe to quit ; 
 Open a tavern, and become a c/V, 
 
 And proudly keep the head of the Black Bull. 
 
 'Twas here the Wits of Anna's Attic age 
 Together mingled their poetic rage ; 
 
 Here Prior, Pope, and Addison, and Steele ; 
 Here Parnell, Swift, and Bolingbroke, and Gay, 
 Pour'd their keen profe, and tun'd the merry lay, 
 
 Gave the fair toaft, and made a hearty meal. 
 
 O "iwas 
 
 #
 
 5© P I N D A R I A N A. 
 
 'Twas here, o'er fragrant coffee to unbend, 
 The Wits their epigrams fo happy, penn'd. 
 
 And bade in madrigals a Chloe fhine j 
 A MiRA, a Belinda, and a Phillis, 
 Who boafted rofes pollibly, and Ulies, 
 
 Such as now deck that cheek and breaft of thine. 
 
 Nymph of the roguiih fmile, which thoufands feek, 
 
 Give me another, and another fteak, 
 
 A kingdojn for another fteak, but giv'n 
 
 By ihy fair hand, that fliames the fnow of heaven. 
 
 Give me a glafs of punch, O fmihng lafs, 
 And let thy lufcious lip embalm the glafs — 
 
 Touch it, and fpread a charm around the brim : 
 Health to thy beauties, Nancy, and may Time 
 Ne'er meddle with thy prcfent healthful prime, 
 
 Thy ringlets fpoil, and eyes of di'monds dim. 
 
 Lo, from each box thy hite-ton'd voice to hear. 
 Youth nimbly turns him round, with wanton leer; 
 
 Nay, wrinkled Age himfclf, with locks fo white, 
 Findeth within a kind of baftard fire, 
 Whofc mouth, poor cripple, watering v/Ith delire. 
 
 Opes toothlcfs on thy beauties in delight. 
 
 5 How
 
 PINDARIANyl. 51 
 
 How for thy lamb-like flefli he feems to hunger ! 
 He feels himfelf a pair of ages younger I 
 
 Tell me again, O Nymph, whofe happy arms 
 
 Are doom'd, for life, to circle thofe bright charms, 
 
 And to that bofom give brave girls and boys ? 
 That lucky lot, alas ! will ne'er be 7?tim — 
 A gaze, a fqueeze, perchance a kifs divine, 
 
 Muft form the bounds, O Nancy, of my joys. 
 
 Yet if rich favours, far beyond a fmile 
 
 So kind, thy Poet's moments to beguile, 
 
 Thou wifhefl to beftow ! — in Love's name give 'em ; 
 
 And, thankful, on my kftees will I receive 'em. 
 
 ANACREONTIC. 
 SONG. 
 
 W^H o dares talk of hours ? Seize the bell of that clock ; 
 . Seize his hammer, and cut off his hands : 
 To the bottle, dear bottle, I'll ftick like a reck, 
 And obey only Pleasure's commands. 
 
 Let
 
 ^2 P I N D A R I A N A, 
 
 Let him ftrike the fliort hours, and hint at a bed — 
 Waiter, bring us more wine — what a whim ! 
 
 Say, that Time, his old mafter, for Topers was made, 
 And not jolly Topers for him. 
 
 O Man, be not puffed up with the pride of offspring, as 
 the triumphs of Papa are too often fmiled at in fecret by 
 wifer Mama. 
 
 ODE TO A HEDGE-SPARROW, 
 
 NURSING A YOUNG CUCKOO. 
 
 Ah, whining, anxious, reftlefs bird ! 
 Thou art a fool, upon my word : 
 
 Now on the bufli, and now upon the ground ; 
 Now hov'ring o'er my head, and faying 
 Such bitter things — now begging, praying. 
 
 Poor wretch, furveying me fo (harp all round- 
 
 Imploring me to leave the neft, 
 Where all thy dcareft wilfhes reft. 
 
 How bufy thou in catching grub and fly, 
 As foon as dewy morning paints the fky ; 
 
 Now
 
 PINDARIANA. 
 
 Now twitt'ring near the neft fuch ftrains of joy, 
 Proclaiming to the world a hopeful boy I 
 
 Great is thy triumph in thy fancied child ! 
 Immenfe thy pride — thy ecftafy how wild ! 
 
 Yet not one trait of thee doth he difplay : 
 Indeed thou never didft beget the youth ; 
 And more — to tell thee an unpleafant truth, 
 
 mh father will be here the Firft of May. 
 
 Nor fingidar art thou — for, lo I 
 
 A little gamefome Knight we know, 
 
 "Who fofters children — loves them to diftradion 
 Shews them about from morn to night. 
 Drinking fuch draughts of rich delight 
 
 From evVy feature — fo much fatisfadion ! 
 
 Sees his o'oon eyes, own mouth, own lip, qw7i ear. 
 Own nofe, awn dimple, in each pretty Dear ! — 
 But who's the real parent ? — Am'rcus John, 
 Good-natur'd fellow, made them ev7'y one^ 
 
 SI 
 
 TO
 
 54 
 
 P I N D A R I A N J, 
 
 TO ANACREON. 
 
 Ghost of Anacreon, quit the fliades, 
 And with thee bring thy fweet old lyre ; 
 
 To praife the firft of Britidi Maids, 
 Whofe charms will fet thy foul on fire. 
 
 But hold — 'twere better keep away — 
 Of juftice muft thy harp defpair j 
 
 Which fuited very well thy day, 
 That faw no Damfel half fo fair. 
 
 THE CAPTIVE Q^U E E N. 
 
 ne Lilies are fiippofed to be Jpokcji by a Friend of the unfortunate 
 Antoinette. 
 
 Vv iTH radiance rofe thy morning fun, 
 
 Fair promife of a happy day ; 
 But, lucklefs, ere it reach'd its noon. 
 
 The fiend of darkncfs dimm'd the ray. 
 
 3 What
 
 PINDARIANA. SS 
 
 What though the brighteft gifts are thine, 
 
 And diftant nations pour thy praife ; 
 While, raptur'd, on thy form divine 
 
 The eyes of Love and Wonder gaze r 
 
 The voice of Joy, for ever mute, 
 
 Muft yield to fighs that mourn in vain ; 
 
 And Pity, come with fwecteft lute. 
 To foothe thy forrows with her ftrain. 
 
 The Syren Hope, who won thy car, 
 
 Mufh charm no more the dangerous hour ; 
 
 The warning voice of ravens, hear. 
 
 That croak thy doom on yonder tOw'r. 
 
 Yet what is life, 'mid Horror's reign. 
 
 Where Murder's triumph cleaves the fky ; 
 
 Where heaves with death the groaning fcene, 
 And dungeons loud for vengeance cry ? 
 
 Yet what is life to fpotlefs fame ? 
 
 And thme to lateft time fhall bloom — 
 The blow that finks that beauteous frame 
 
 Gives all the Virtues to the tomb. 
 
 A N A>^
 
 56 P I N D yl R I A N A. 
 
 ANACREONTIC. 
 
 1^ IE, Sylvia ! why fo gravely look, 
 Becaufe a kifs or two I took ? 
 Thofe lufcious lips might thoiifands grant- 
 Rich rogues that never feel the want. 
 So little in a kifs I fee, 
 A hundred thou mayft take from me. 
 
 But lincc, like mifers o'er their ftorc, 
 Thou hat' St to give, though running o'er ; 
 I fcorn to caufe the flighteft pain, 
 So pr'ythee take them back again ; 
 Nay, with good int'reft be it done — 
 Thou'rt welcome to take ten for one. 
 
 TO TIME. 
 
 O Time, 'tis childifli, let me fay. 
 To give, then take a grace away ; 
 The Damfel from her charms to fever, 
 So pleas'd to keep them ;A\for ever. 
 
 WJien
 
 PINDARIANA. 
 
 When Cynthia tires with conq'ring hearts, 
 And fays, " O Time, receive my darts ;" 
 Her beauties are a lawful prize — 
 Then take the lightnings of her eyes. 
 
 Pluck all the rofes from her cheek, 
 And root the lilies from her neck ; 
 Her dimples feize, her fmile, her air, 
 And with them make a thoufand fair. 
 
 57 
 
 ODE TO JEALOUSY. 
 
 AvAUNT, thou fquinting Hag, whofe lift'ning ear 
 Seizes on every whifper — whofe owl's eye. 
 
 When Night's dark mantle wraps the filent fphere. 
 Stares watchful of each form that paffeth by ! 
 
 Thou Fiend, what bus'nefs haft thou here on earth, 
 Diffenfion-breeder, from thy very birth ? 
 
 How much more of xho-ferpent than the dove ! 
 I cannot guefs thine errand to this world — 
 By thee is Nature topfy-turvy hurl'd ! 
 
 And nearly ruin'd the foft land of Love ! 
 
 Q^ Speak
 
 58 P I N D A R I A N A. 
 
 Speak I but to my neighbour's Wife fo h'md^ 
 
 And fay, '' Pray how d'ye do, my dearejl Ma'am ?" 
 
 Behold, a tempeft fvvells the hujba7id\ mind, 
 Who gives my fvveet civiHty a d-mn : 
 
 For, lo, thy vvickednefs at once adorjis 
 
 His trembling temples with a brace of horns. 
 
 The inftant thou behold' ft a married Pair, 
 Adieu, alas ! the pleafures of the Fair ! 
 
 Farewell, of Benedick, the wedded blifs ! 
 Scarce canft thou let the honey-moo7i go by. 
 When, hark ! the keen reproach ! — the lady's figh ! 
 
 Dead the fond fqueeze, and mute the chirping kifs ! 
 
 *' Watch him" — thou whifper'st in the woman's ear, 
 " Open his letters — pick his pockets. Ma'am — 
 
 " Somewhat will be difcover'd, never fear ; 
 
 " Something to dafh the monfter's cheek with fhame. 
 
 " Ken him amid the harlots at the play ; 
 " Nor let your eyes a fmgle moment ftray : 
 
 " He catches a lev/d fquint, \i yours are blinkers : 
 *' Make him look ftrait on, forward to x\\q Jlage ; 
 " And, on refufal, tell him, in a rage, 
 
 *' You'll give him, coach-horfc like, a pair o^ vjinkers.' 
 
 A N A-
 
 PINDARIANA. 59 
 
 ANACREONTIC. 
 
 \J FAR from me thofe lightnings dart; 
 
 On others bid thy beauty fhine : 
 Beyond the hopes of this fad heart, 
 
 I view that peerlefs form, to pine. 
 
 Whilft ev'ry fhepherd fmgs her praife,. 
 
 'Tis mine of Sylvia to complain ; 
 Made a poor pris'ner while I gaze, 
 
 I feel in ev'ry fmile a chain. 
 
 ODE TO THE LADIES OF ENGLAND. 
 
 Peter more than fufpecfleth, that a few Pajfages of his Works have 
 given offence to his fair Coioitrywomen — Peter'j contrition thereat f. 
 and violent refolution. 
 
 i_>ADiES, I fliould be forry — grievd indeed, 
 Could I once write what you would blufli to read ; 
 
 But that fame Poet clepped Jean Fontaine 
 Was verily the tafte and admiration 
 Of all the Ladies of the Gallic nation, 
 
 Quoted and toafted o'er and o'er again. 
 
 What !
 
 6o PINDARIANJ, 
 
 What 1 wound of Britip Maids the tender ear, 
 
 V/ho, when to Nymphs of other reahns compar'd, 
 (And lo, on numbers have thefe eye-balls ftar'd) 
 
 Are, as rich Burgundy to dead Small Beer ! 
 
 Our Poet Pope, againfl a naughty word 
 
 Protefted — -feenwig too to fhut his door ; 
 Pronouncing all obfcenity, abfurd— 
 
 That ribaldry w^as folly — nothing more : 
 Yet Mafter Pope, who Decency fo flatters, 
 Plumps boldly into certain wicked matters. 
 
 Now this I do dillike in Mafter Pope — 
 
 At gluttony a man fliould never bark, 
 On dainties, who is pleas'd his mouth to ope, 
 
 And guttHng fwallow plates-full like a fliark. 
 
 Mifs Heloise, that warm young lafs, I ween. 
 Says things that cover Modesty with fhame : 
 
 I muft confefs I never faw Nincteeii 
 
 Pour fuch an jEtna forth of am'rous flame. 
 
 And lo again — the Locl^ the ravifli'd Lock ! 
 Too oft the lines give Modesty a fhock : 
 
 3 . Warm
 
 P I N DA R I A N yL 6 
 
 Warm iniiendos bid her bluflies rife : 
 Yes, often I've heard Modesty declare 
 " That many a line indeed has made \\^x Jlare ; 
 
 " She knew not where to look — where fix her eyes." 
 
 The Wife of Bath, and eke the lovely May, 
 Held language horrid for our chafer day. 
 
 Were Peter now to fing in fuch a ftyle, 
 
 What Lady-mouth would yield the Bard a fmile ? 
 
 No ! — frowns would fill their faces in its ftead. 
 
 And yet, ye Dames fo chafte, thofe tales are read— 
 
 I fee no lips with blufhing anger ope, 
 
 And cry, " I loath the nafty leaves of Pope." 
 
 Nay more, my dear young Miffes, and grave Dames, 
 Who read with fear my fongs of darts and flames ; 
 
 Speak — is not Pope an idol 'mid your books ? 
 Does not Saint Patrick's Dean, fo v^oid of grace, 
 Among your leathern fav'rites fhew his face, 
 
 Whofe many a leaf fhould only lodge with cooks ^ 
 
 Since then the lightnings of the Ladies eyes 
 Knock not the mem'ries of thofe Poets down, 
 
 It ftriketh me indeed with huge furprife. 
 
 That Peter's purer line fliould feel a frown. 
 
 R They
 
 62 PINDARIAN^. 
 
 They ^r^/z^^^t:^/ Modesty with verfe unchafte ; 
 
 / with a twig of Pindus {caxcqIj Jiruck her : 
 'They ftripp'd her naked — /juft clafp'd her waifl, 
 
 And dehcately only touch'd her tucker. 
 
 Yet is there, is there one fweet Britifh Prude, 
 
 Who will not read my rhymes — miftrufting harm ? 
 
 Let not my volumes on the Nymph intrude. 
 And ring to Chastity the wild alarm; 
 
 Make in her pretty panting heart a riot. 
 
 Demanding months to bring it back its quiet. 
 
 Tales of a Damfel kind, and fighing Lover, 
 
 Holding of Love's choice fpice a little. 
 
 Might be indulg'd to warm Dame Nature's Kettle, 
 But not to bid it boil tempeftuous over. 
 
 Ev'n Age delighteth in an am'rous tale ; 
 Love warms his infide like a pot of ale ; 
 
 Thaws his cold heart, and makes it beat fo cheery 1 
 His eyes, that, owl-like, wink'd upon the day, 
 Burll open with a keen and twinkling ray. 
 
 And, lo ! he hugs and kiffes his old Deary. 
 
 Why then forbid them ? — fuch wc muft approve : 
 And woe to mortals who are foes to Love ! 
 
 As
 
 P I N D A R 1 A N A. 63 
 
 As long as this our fyilcm holds together, 
 
 Love will ftand brufli, againft all wind and weather. 
 
 Yet Jhould my fav'rite Britidi Maids and Dames 
 Refufe to read my rhymes on darts and flames, 
 And other pretty little trifling things, 
 The fount from which fuch nat'ral rapture fprings ; 
 
 Ladies of France, I think my fong 
 1^0 you in future muft belong : 
 
 Yes, yes, iox you the Bard fliall form the flirain — 
 And then, who knows ? it may be foy I wot. 
 The Dames may cry, " Thofe Iflanders have got, 
 
 ** Ye Gods ! an abfolute Fontaine. 
 
 " Refufe to read him I — no, Heav'n blefs him ! — no ; 
 *' Lord ! let his wild imagination flow — 
 " Banifli the Loves ! — O v/hat a Gothic fwecp ! 
 " The World at once, fo dull, would fall afleep !'^ 
 
 So help me, Grace ! I ever meant to pleafe — 
 E'en now would I afk pardon on my hmes : 
 
 If aught I've fmn'd, the fl:anza mufl not live — . 
 Bring me the knife — I'll cut the wanton page. 
 Which puts my lovely readers in a rage : 
 
 But hark ! they cry, *' Barbarian, we forgive." - 
 
 A thou fan d
 
 64 TINBARIANA. 
 
 A thoufand thanks t'ye all, my charming creatures 5 
 What goodnefs, kindnefs, reigns in female natures ! 
 
 TO CYNTHIA. 
 
 What danger lurks in thofe bright eyes I 
 Lo, by their fire thy Poet dies : 
 
 Yet bravely let me meet my doom — 
 And fince to the& I owe my death, 
 I beg thee, with my parting breath, 
 
 To let thy bofom be my tomb. 
 
 ANACREONTIC. 
 
 JHlh ! wherefore did I daring gaze 
 
 Upon the radiance of thy charms ? 
 And, vent'ring nearer to their rays. 
 
 How dar'd I clafp thee in my arms ? 
 
 That kifs will give my heart a pain. 
 
 Which thy fweet pity will deplore : 
 
 Then, Cynthia, take the kifs again. 
 
 Or let me take ten thoufand more. 
 
 4 Happy
 
 PINDARIANA. ^s 
 
 XTappy art thou, O Man, who waft not born amidft the 
 luxuries of life. 
 
 Lucky art thou who canft eat the Jtmpk flu'c ; whofe 
 nofe turneth not up at a boiled leg of mutton and turnips, 
 or bacon and eggs. 
 
 Health waketh with thee at morn, and accompanieth 
 the flumbers of night. 
 
 Art thou an Alderman, and putteft pounds of turtle 
 into thy paunch ? thou devoureft an apoplexy. Swalloweft 
 thou hot fauces ? thou gulpeft rheumatifm and gout. 
 
 Say not wickedly, " I will not repeat the Lord's Prayer, 
 as it is beneath a Gentleman to pray for bread.'''' 
 
 Curfe not fprats and flounders ; peradventure fprats and 
 flounders might blufli to enter the doors of thy gullet. 
 
 Deem thyfelf not undone, becaufe thou pofleiTeft not 
 more than thou oughteft in reafon to ufe. 
 
 Fortunate are thoufands in having never been favourites 
 of Fortune. 
 
 Content figheth not for venifon ; {he lifteth not her 
 eye to heaven for turbot. 
 
 She hateth not the fight of the fun at dinner-time ; but 
 preferreth his radiance, to the greafy light of a candle. 
 
 Read, and learn the inconveniences of luxury, from a Dog. 
 8 THE
 
 66 PINDARIANA. 
 
 THE LADY'S LAP-DOG, AND THE COACHMAN. 
 
 Chloe, a fav'rite of a rich old Dame, 
 Was vaftly delicate in all her frame ; 
 
 Could put down nought at laft, but nice tid-bits : 
 Nay oft, with much folicitation too, 
 Her Miftrefs was oblig'd to kifs and woo. 
 
 For fear poor tender Chloe might have^/j-. 
 
 Fat was our Chloe — like a ball of greafe ; 
 So round, a foot-ball quite, and fair her fleece- 
 Oft on the Turkey carpet as fhe lay, 
 
 And fleep o'er Chloe's eye-lids did prevail ;, 
 'Twas very very difficult to fay 
 
 Which was her head indeed, and which her taiL 
 
 At length it came to pafs, that Chlo^ 
 Did fullennefs and ficknefs fhow ; 
 
 So heavy leaving off her wanton capers; 
 Gap'd, ftrctch'd, and lethargy flie likewife fiiew'd,. 
 Was fick at ftomach, (may I dare fay^^-wV .^) 
 
 And feem'd, poor Dog, afflidlcd with the vapours-. 
 
 4 My
 
 PINDARIANA. 67 
 
 My Lady took her pining to her arms, 
 Hugg'd her, and kifs'd her, full of fad alarms, 
 
 Fearing her poor dear little foul would die : 
 Chloe was all flupidity and lumpifh ; 
 Scarce lick'd her hand — fo fullen and fo mwnpijh^ 
 
 Nor fcarcely rais'd the white of either eye. 
 
 The Coachman's call'd — " O Jehu, Chloe's ill ; 
 *' Quite loft her appetite — fhe has no will 
 
 " To move, or fay, poor foul, a fingle thing : 
 " Jehu, what can the matter be — d'ye know ?" 
 " I think, my Lady, I could cure Mifs Chlo." — 
 
 " Dear Jehu, what delicious news you bring ! 
 
 " Take her, then — take her, Jehu, to your room, 
 " And from her fpirits drive this ugly gloom, 
 
 " And get her pretty appetite again." 
 " O good my Lady, never, never fear ; 
 " I underftand her cafe — 'tis very clear ; 
 
 " By heav'n's afliftance, I Iha'nt work in vain." 
 
 Now to his room the Coachman bore Mifs Bitch, 
 Who, looking back all wiftful, felt no itch 
 To go with Jehu — ftill he bears her on : — 
 
 Arriv'd, kind Jehu offers her a bone. 
 
 . . Mifs
 
 63 PINDARIANA. 
 
 Mifs Chloe ill a paflion feeks the door : 
 
 In vain — 'tis Hint — (he lays her on the floor, 
 
 And whines — gets up, all reftlefs — looks about ; 
 Watches the door fo fly, and cocks her ears ; 
 So pleas'd and nimble at each found fhe hears, 
 
 In hopes (vain hopes, alas !) of getting out. 
 
 Chloe, like lightning, now refolves to pafs, 
 Bounce from her gaoler, through a pane of glafs, 
 
 And, by a leap, no more in prifon groan ; 
 But, fearing (he might fpoil her pretty chops. 
 Nay, break her neck by chamber-window hops, 
 
 Chloe raofl wifely lets the leap alone. 
 
 Jehu now offer'd her a piece of liver : 
 
 " Chloe, do you love liver?" Jehu faid — 
 
 " The devil take," flie feem'd to fay, " the giver:" 
 So hurt the dog appeared — then turn'd her head. 
 
 " V/ell, Chloe, well — licav'n mend your proud digeftion ; 
 
 *' To-morrow I fhall afk you the fame queftion." 
 
 The morrow {ah ! a fjlky morrow) came : 
 
 Chloe fcarce Hcpt a fuigle wink all night ; 
 
 Whining and groaning, longing much to bite ; 
 
 Calling in vain upon my Lady's name. 
 
 " Well,
 
 P I N D A R I A N A. 6-; 
 
 " Well, Chloe, can you tafte your liver ?" — '' No, 
 " No, thank ye, Jehu." — " Leave it, pretty Chlo." 
 
 The day pafsM on — no eating ? not a crumb. 
 Mifs Chloe crawl'd about the room, fo fad, 
 Sulky and difappointed, angry, mad ; 
 
 Now moaning, now upon her rump fo dumb. 
 At times, around on barb'rous Jehu fquinting ; 
 Such looks ! not much good will to Jehu, hinting. 
 
 Another morning came — a liver meal — 
 
 " Chloe, how {lands your ftomach ? how d'ye feel?" 
 
 " Jehu, I will ?iot eat ?" — Jehu goes out— 
 What does Mifs Chloe ? — With a nimble pace^ 
 Runs to the liver, without faying grace. 
 
 Gobbling away, with appetite yo y?o/// ; 
 
 For now the liver feem'd to meet her wifli. 
 And, not half fatisfy'd, fhe Iklid the dip ! 
 
 Jehu returns, and fmiles — Chloe grows good; 
 
 Takes civilly a flice of mufty bread ; 
 Rejeds from Jehu's hand no kind of food ; 
 
 Glad on a rifid of Chepire to be fed. 
 
 T Jehu
 
 79 • FINDARIANA. 
 
 Jehu with Chloe to my Lady goes, 
 And, triumphing, his little patient fhows ; 
 Not once difcovering the coarfe mode of cure— 
 Jehu had loft his place then to be fure. 
 
 My Lady pueffes Chloe to her breaft, 
 Half crazy, hugging, kifiing her — fo blefl: 
 
 To fee her fav'rite Chloe's chang'd condition : 
 *^' Thank ye, good Jehu — Heav'ns, what fkill is in ye 
 Then into Jehu's hand flie flips a guinea, 
 
 And Jehu's thought a very fine phyfician. 
 
 ODE TO THE POET DELILLE. 
 
 Peter kindly congratidateth bis Brother Poet on his lucky deliverance 
 from a dungeon, and ajketh him quejiions concerning his poetical feelings — 
 Whether he meaneth to exak Con v e n t ion , and debafe poor Britain? 
 — Peter advifeth the contrary, and telleth the Poet unpleafant truths,, 
 ivith a witty comparifon. — Peter painteth, with the pencil of a 
 GREAT Master, the portrait of a Frenchman, in which, impudence, 
 infolence, ignorance, andfavage cruelty, form the predominarit features, 
 
 1 HRicE welcome from thy dungeon, poor Delille I 
 Imprifon'd, much (I guefs) againft thy will, 
 By that unfeeling tyrant Roberspierre : 
 
 5 Set
 
 PINDARIANA. 71 
 
 Set free from this finie death-enciixlcd vault 
 By om (I fear me !) not without a fault \ 
 
 In fliiort — I mean ^s great a rogue^ Barrere. 
 
 Dead is all dalliance with the Mufe, I wonder : 
 The guilloti?ie\ high flood mud damp thy fire : 
 
 The ax, which falls upon its prey in thunder, 
 
 Muft bid thee touch with trembling hand the lyre. 
 
 But Eards, like birds, can feldom ceafe from iinging : 
 Yes, on the Mufe's bells thou muft be ringing ; 
 Thou "wilt indulge the fafcinating chime. 
 Deaf to the oracle that cries " Don't rhyme." 
 
 Speak — wilt thou praife Convention for its powr\ 
 Swear Britain foon beneath its might muft cow'r, 
 Juft like the wren beneath the eagle's wing ? 
 Say, no fuch thing. 
 
 However grating to a Frenchman's ears. 
 We Britons, I proteft, have no fuch fears : 
 France, to be fure, is huge — our Ifland little — 
 Yet fpare upon our heads th' infulting fpittle. 
 
 The colony of Teeth, though fmall, 
 
 Are little folks of refolution y 
 
 And
 
 72 PINDARIANJ. 
 
 And when upon their prey they fall, 
 Do a vaft deal of execution. 
 
 I do affure thee, my enquiring eyes 
 Have found the lubbers of the largejl fize. 
 
 'Tis pleafant to behold a Frenchman gape 
 
 On the world's map : 
 Aftonilli'd on his view to fee advance 
 
 Regions like France ! 
 
 Thus I prefume the folitary Mole 
 Deems the wide univerfe within his hole. 
 
 Yet let Monfieur, fo happy, prate away ; 
 'Tis pity undeceive the popinjay. 
 
 Let the pert tripping prig pronounce with pride. 
 Barbarian, favage, all the world befiide ; 
 
 It is his narrow nature — ceafe then blame ; 
 In Afric I have {c&n. on trees the apes 
 Mocking at man, with grins and antic fhapes, 
 
 Who o{ our fpecies thought the very fame. 
 
 But thou fhouldft fhew more fenfe, my friend Delille 
 Then pr'ythce take from me a little pill ; 
 
 Then
 
 FINDARIANA. 
 Perhaps 'tis fomcvvhat bitter — never mind it : 
 It cureth puppy ifm — I hope thou' It find it. 
 
 Pride not thyfelf becaufe a Fre?ichman born ; 
 Thy fame is then upon the hope forlo7^1^ j 
 
 Doom'd not far dijiant ages to explore : 
 Learn to defplfe thy Country — 'tis a fool, 
 Cruel, and of Hypocrisy's dark fchool. 
 
 Tyrannic, favage, rotten at the core. 
 
 So much for France — forgive me, lucky Bard — 
 But Vice fhould ever meet his fair rev/ard : 
 
 Yes, let me drag the monfter from his den — 
 This trifling Ode perchance may roufe thy gall ; 
 If angry, bid thy rage on Jufike fall, 
 
 The goodly Goddess who now guides my pen. 
 
 11 
 
 TRANSLATION FROM CALLUS. 
 
 At morn, if Cynthia meet my fight, 
 'Tis fweet Aurora's blufhing light; 
 And if at eve fhe crofs my way, 
 The ftar of Venus darts its ray. 
 
 U A SECOND
 
 74 PINDARIANA, 
 
 A SECOND ODE 
 
 TO THE 
 
 POET DELILLE. 
 
 Peter propofeth very import a?it quejlmis, and fufpeBeth Mo]^51t.\]k 
 Delille of an inclination to lohitewap the blackfaces of Devils — 
 Peter giveth afublime defer iption of French Liberty — Pet e r putteth 
 Delille in mind of Nature 'j niggard allozvance to every ?nan 
 of one head only, and of an incanvenience arifing from the lof of it, 
 on account of the difficulty of procuring another — ^-^TiLKfagely advifeth 
 him to beware of 'Qa.'B.'ry.K'e, and think of a return to his dungeon — 
 Peter piSlurefquely defer ibeth the fupports of French Liberty — fore- 
 tellcth the humbled fate of the mighty Reformers — Peter objeSieth 
 not to a general intelleSlual illumination, but feemeth to think that a 
 Frenchman'j attempt muf produce only a national conflagration ; 
 Peter tht;s fancying every Frenchman a mad S^uixote — Peter again 
 kindly inviieth his brother Bard to England, and concludeth with a 
 flaming trait o/'Barrere. 
 
 //"^//o that could fave his fliip, would fuffer wreck ? 
 
 74^ ho warble with a rope about his neck ? 
 
 IVho in the Tiger's mouth would keep his head, 
 
 With pow'r to draw it from a place fo dread ? 
 
 Who^ 'midO; the Charnel's melancholy glooms, 
 
 Would mingle with the refufe of the tombs. 
 
 With legs to bear him to the fragrant day, 
 
 From recking bones, and Horror's haunt, away ? 
 
 And
 
 PINDARIANA. y^ 
 
 And yet thy fong may ftay perhaps to blefs 
 A dark divan of Devils — yes, 
 
 Full of their deeds may flow the flatt'ring rhyme ; 
 Which fong may ftoutly fwear that '' Athens, Rome, 
 *' Ne'er rais'd to Liberty an equal dome, 
 
 *' So facred, fo ftupendous, fo divine !" 
 
 Yet what is it to Reason's fober eye ? 
 
 A v^on^voM% jlaughter-houfe that taints the fky : 
 
 Within a day — perchance one little hour, 
 Thy courteous fong, which foothes with fweeteft found, 
 Turn'd by the people's thunder, will be found, 
 
 All of a fudden, vinegar fo four 1 
 
 What is the madding Million's fhouting breath ? 
 Black Murder's orgies — the wild howl of Death ! 
 
 Then quit thy Country — yes, dijclaim thy mother : 
 Mind ! — on thy fhoulders ftands 07ie Ample head ; 
 Mind me, but one — and when that one is fled, 
 
 'Twill puzzle thee, I think, to get another. 
 
 Since, then, this head is not yet gone, 
 
 Take Peter's counfel, man, and keep it on. 
 
 Barrere's red paws are ready now to dart j 
 
 Perhaps to plunge in thy devoted heart. 
 
 5 Lo,
 
 76 PINDARIANA, 
 
 Lo, at his voice (to Satan's near akin) 
 The dungeon gapes perhaps to let tJoee in ; 
 Opes his dark jaws, amid the fpedlred gloom, 
 
 For thee, 2ifeco?id time to raife thy moan ; 
 
 Breathe the vain wifh, and heave the helplefs groan— 
 Thou' It be well furnifh'd both with time and roQ7n, 
 
 The columns of your Liberty, Death knows, 
 Are cannon, fvvords, and bayonets, and fpears ; 
 
 The Angels who this glorious pile compofe, 
 
 Hyzenas, Tygers, Jackalls, Wolves and Bears: 
 
 Inftead of adamant for a foundation. 
 
 The groaning carcafes of half tlie nation. 
 
 Dread, of Adversity the humbling povvV — 
 Sharp are her whips of wire, and hard her bats : 
 
 What fad humility awaits the hour 
 
 When Lordly Lions grind poor mice with cats! 
 
 When Jove's own Eagle leaves his fky for bogs, 
 Cracks fnails with crows, and feafts with croaking frogs I 
 Yet this, you wond^rous men muft do ere long. 
 If Truth (who feldom fails) awaits my fong. 
 
 Yes,
 
 77 
 
 P I N D A R I A N A. 
 
 Yes, be illumln'd, rev'rend Age and Youth ; 
 
 Y^ith.you I'd tear up Superstition's root, 
 Dark Fiend ! who from the flicred hand of Truth 
 
 Dares fnatch her torch, and crufh it under foot. 
 This were Dame Wisdom's aft ; but, let me add, 
 Wisdom and France are foes — for France is mad. 
 
 What voice to reafon can a Frenchman bring ? 
 
 Go, bid with lullaby the tiger lleep ; 
 Bind v/ith a fpider's web, the whirlwind's wing ; 
 
 And with the wren's fmall plume, keep down the Deep 
 
 Wrap the black furge within thy hand, fo wifcy 
 And fniother its wild thunder on the fkies. 
 
 Pr'ythee take counfel, man, and hafte away : 
 
 'Tis vaftly fafer, I affure thee, here. 
 Since Murder is the order of the day, 
 
 And venom feeds the heart of black Barrere. 
 
 Barrere ! who, when in h-11 he fliews his face, 
 Each frighten'd Dev'l at once will fly the place. 
 
 FROM
 
 yS PINDARIANA. 
 
 FROM ANACREON. 
 
 UPON HIMSELF. 
 
 On fragrant myrtles let me lie, 
 
 And Love, my Have, the wine fupply. 
 
 Too foon we feek the Stygian gloom : 
 Time flies ; and, flnce to duft we go. 
 Why idly bid the incenfe flow, 
 
 And fpill the juice upon the tomb ? 
 
 Ah ! rather let me quaff the loine. 
 And bid the rofe my brows entwine, 
 
 While youth, while health the bofom warms- 
 Then pr'ythee. Love, delight my heart, 
 Ere Death difpatch his certain dart, 
 
 And bring a Chloe to my arms. 
 
 MAY DAY. 
 
 1 HE daifles peep from ev'ry field, 
 And vi'lets fweet their odour yield ; 
 The purple bloffom paints the thorn, 
 And ft reams refledt the blufli of morn. 
 
 Then
 
 PINDARIANui. 
 
 79 
 
 Then lads and lafTes all, be gay, 
 For this is Nature's holiday. 
 
 Let lufty Labour drop his flail, 
 Nor woodman's hook a tree alTail j 
 The ox fliall ceafe his neck to bow, 
 And Clodden yield to reft, the plough. 
 Then lads, &c. 
 
 Behold the lark in ether float, 
 While rapture fwells the liquid note ! 
 What warbles he, with merry cheer ? 
 " Let Love and Pleasure rule the year." 
 Then lads, &c, 
 
 Lo, Sol looks down, with radiant eye. 
 And throws a fmile around his fky ; 
 Embracing hill and vale and ftream, 
 And warming Nature with his beam. 
 Then lads, &c. 
 
 The infedl tribes in myriads pour, 
 
 And kifs with Zephyr ev'ry flow'r ; 
 
 Shall thcfe our icy hearts reprove, 
 
 And tell us we are foes to Love ? 
 
 Then lads, &c. 
 
 3 PHILLIDA'
 
 So P I N D A R I A N A. 
 
 PHILLIDAs COMPLAINT. 
 
 What has eflranged thy affcdions from me? What 
 have I done, that I ftioiild lofe thee ? But thou art th'-ed 
 with the objedt that loves thee ; poflibly, becaufe her fole 
 happincfs is founded on ihinc. 
 
 SONG. 
 When Night fpreads her fliadows around, 
 
 I will watch with delight on thy reft ; 
 I will foften thy bed on the ground. 
 
 And thy cheek fliall recline on my breaft. 
 
 Love heeds not the ftorm, and the rain ; 
 
 On me, let their fury defcend : 
 This bofom fnall fcora to complain, 
 
 While it flielters the life of a friend. 
 
 What tempts thee to wander away ? 
 
 To another, ah ! doft thou depart ? 
 Believe me, in time thou wilt fay, 
 
 None e'er lov'd thee like Phillida's heart. 
 
 Though refolv'd from a Mourner to fly ; 
 
 To mem'ry thou ft ill ftialt be dear : 
 The winds ftiall oft waft thee a figh, 
 
 And the ocean convey thee a tear.
 
 PINDARIANA. 8i 
 
 A THIRD ODE 
 
 TO THE 
 
 POET DELILLE. 
 
 The Lyric Bard proclahmth the folly of the prefent French — Advtfeth 
 them not to harbour pcjjions degrading to humanity. — Peter, with 
 wonderful y^;^^/, pourtrayeth Prudence, ^7z^ Passion. — Peter 
 taketh the part of the late unfortunate Monarch and his ^.ecn, and 
 endeth his Gde isjith a beautiful a?id apt comparifon, — The Feet then 
 tlhijirateth the aSiions of the Frc7ich by a moji appofite Tale. 
 
 XJe LILLE, the world from laugh can fcarce refrain — 
 Moft Sampfon-like, ye've ruin'd a rare pile : 
 
 To fee you building thus, all hands, again, 
 On an oWs face fo grave muft plant a fmiie. 
 
 Sorrow, difcard thy weeds, and dry thy tears — 
 Pity, difdain t'embalni them with thy breath : 
 
 They're fmking ! — lo, if aught like life appears, 
 
 'Tis Health's y?(9/';2 rofe upon the cheek of Death. 
 
 07Ke happinefs ^2l% yours ^ my friend, indeed — 
 
 " We'll have no more on't," mad ye cry'd, " away ! 
 
 *' Change ! change ! we'll cut off the Great Nation's head, 
 " And try v/hat the huge Trunk will fay." 
 
 Y Off
 
 82 F I N D A R I J N A. 
 
 Ojff goes the head — 
 The Nation's dead ! 
 
 Well, now 'tis done — the head Is off — what then ? 
 Ye fbem to flare, like difappointed men. 
 Where was Dame Foresight ? Ah, ye filly folk ! 
 And yet it is too ferious for 3. joke. 
 
 Since, then, the head is off; for Freedom panting, 
 
 "What is't ye look for? — " Lord, Dame Freedom's iimnthig ; 
 
 *' Into a terrible miftake we fall — 
 
 *' For Tyranny's hard irons load us all !" 
 
 Indeed ! ye juft have found tlie fecret out ! 
 
 Ye're wifer than ye were, good folks, no doubt ! 
 
 Alter not things when rul'd by Paffion — Why ? 
 Becaufe good Madam Prudence is not nigh : 
 Prudence keeps company that's vaftly ycv^^r ; 
 
 Prudence is mildly-breathing, fmiling May, 
 
 So full of balmy blofToms, all fo gay ; 
 Passion, the mad, wide-wafting, wild October. 
 
 Prudence, a pretty, plcafing, ftealing rill. 
 
 Winning with eafy lapfc its winding courfe ; 
 Passion, a torrent rough, from hill to hill. 
 
 Tumbling and tearing, drowning man and horfe. 
 
 Prudence
 
 P I N D A R I A N A, 
 
 Prudence Is alfo a frefK-water eel, 
 
 So calmly gliding through the liquid glafs ; 
 
 Passion, a porpus — tempefts at his heel, 
 
 Flound'ring amid old Ocean's thund'ring mafs. 
 
 Prudence is that fmall pleafing worm of light, 
 The mild hedge-regent of the dewy night ; 
 
 A little moon to many an infed race. 
 Who by her filv'ry radiance find their way, 
 Nibble the faireft flow'rs, and fip and play. 
 
 Gaze on their loves, dance, ogle, and embrace. 
 
 Passion's a meteor, Skipping here and there; 
 
 Hopping o'er hedge and ditch, and fen and pool, 
 Amidft his wild and fierce and mad career. 
 
 Making himfelf indeed a downright fool : 
 And after all, what is this thing of caper F 
 A fimple child of {linking mud and vapour ! 
 
 Why fo enrag'd againfl poor Louis Seize ^ 
 
 Who pliable did every thing to piea/e P 
 
 And why in league againft his charming Queen, 
 
 Revenge, and Madness, Malice, Envy, Spleen ? 
 
 Revenge's company for ever fhun ; 
 
 Too much of danger frequently appears ; 
 
 5 A
 
 24 p I N D A R I A N A. 
 
 A kind of weak and overloaded gun, 
 
 Burfting with horrid crafh about our ears. 
 
 Ridiculous the triumph wdll be found. 
 When, for a penny's worth, we lofe a pound. 
 The Monarch eat a little of the State — 
 But ihould ye therefore madly give him. fate?' 
 
 We fhould not rage for trifling matters, 
 
 And blufc'ring kick the world about j 
 It fhows the folly of our natures, 
 
 For a pin's head to make a rout. 
 
 Lord ! grant a MttX^ fimgtis on the vine 
 
 And olive, yielding oil and juice and gladnefs ; 
 
 Who'd root up the whole tree for't ? nought but fv/inc 
 'Twere idiotifm, ftupidity, and madnefs. 
 
 The following {imple well-known flory fhows 
 What fad misfortune from fuch folly flows. 
 
 THE
 
 PINDARIANA. 
 
 THE KNIGHT AND THE RATS. 
 
 A Knight liv'd in the Weft not long ago, 
 Like Knights in general, not oerivife^ I trow — 
 This Knight's great barn was vilitcd by rats, 
 In fpite of poifon, gins, and owls and cats : 
 
 Like millers taking toll of the fweet corn, 
 Carous'd they happily from night to morn. 
 
 Lo, waxing wrath, that neither gins nor cats, 
 Nor owls, nor poifon, could deftroy the rats ; 
 
 *' ril nab them by a fcheme, by heav'ns," quoth he : 
 So of his neighbourhood he rous'd the mob, 
 Farmers and farmers boys, to do this job ; 
 
 His fervants too of high and low degree ; 
 And eke the tribes of Dog, by found of horn. 
 To kill the rats that dar'd to tafte the corn. 
 
 This done, the Knight, refolv'd with god-like ire, 
 Ran to his kitchen for a ftick of fire, 
 
 From whence intrepid to the barn he ran ; 
 
 Z Much
 
 86 P I N D A R I A N A. 
 
 Much like the Macedonian and fair Punk, 
 Who, at PerfepoHs fo very drunk. 
 
 Did with their links the mighty ruin plan. 
 
 Now, 'midil the dwelling flew the blazing flick : 
 Soon from the flames rufli'd forth the rats fo thick ; 
 
 Men, dogs, and bats, in furious war unite — 
 Hie conquer'd rats lie fprawling on the ground ; 
 The Knight, with eyes triumphant, flares around, 
 
 Surveys the carnage, and enjoys the fight. 
 
 Not e'en Achilles faw, fo bleft, his blade 
 Difmifs whole legions to tli' infernal fhade ! 
 
 But, lo ! at length by this rat-driving flame. 
 
 Burnt was the corn — the walls down thund'ring came ; 
 
 The meaning of it was not far to learn — 
 When turning up thofe billiard-balls his eyes. 
 That held a pretty portion of furprife, 
 
 " Zounds I what a blockhead ! I have burnt the ba?'?t /' 
 
 AZID,
 
 PINDARIANA. 87 
 
 A Z I D, 
 
 O R 
 
 THE SONG OF THE CAPTIVE NEGRO. 
 
 X ooR Mora eye be wet wid tear, 
 
 And heart like lead fink down wid woe ; 
 
 She feeni her mournful friends to hear, 
 And fee der eye like fountain flow. 
 
 No more fhe give me fong fo gay. 
 But figh, " Adieu, dear Domahay." 
 
 No more for deck her head and hair. 
 Me look in ftream, bright gold to find ; 
 
 Nor feek de field for flow'r fo fair, 
 Wid garland Mora hair to bind. 
 
 " Far ofF de ftream !" I weeping fay, 
 " Far off de fields of Domahay." 
 
 But why do AziD live a flavc. 
 
 And fee a flave his Mora dear ? 
 Come, let we feek at once de grave — 
 
 No chain, no tyrant den we fear. 
 
 5 Ah,
 
 PINDARIANA. 
 
 Ah, me ! I hear a fpirit fay, 
 
 " Come, AziD, come to Domahay." 
 
 Den gold I find for thee once more. 
 For thee to fields for flow'r depart ; 
 
 To pleafe de idol I adore. 
 
 And give wid gold and flow'r my heart. 
 
 Den let we die and hafte away. 
 And live in groves of Domahay, 
 
 TO CYNTHIA. 
 
 Ah, what an envious rogue is Time, 
 Who means one day to crop thy prime ! 
 
 This were a barb'rous deed, I vow — 
 If thus the Tyrant can behave. 
 Lord, let us difappoint the knave. 
 
 And let me take thofe beauties ?jow.
 
 PINDARIANA, 8r? 
 
 THE CRUELTY OF ^NEAS 
 
 T O 
 
 QJJ E E N DIDO. 
 
 I FORGIVE Man almoft any crime fooner than barbarous 
 ingratitude towards charming Woman. What a brute was 
 the pious iEneas to his Mistress, the beautiful and un- 
 fortunate Queen of Carthage ! How eafily a Poet of 
 Virgil's imagination could have given a tear to the eye, 
 and a companionate figh to the foul of his Hero, at 
 parting with a Princefs who had fo hofpitably entertained 
 him, and fo completely made him happy ; and thus, by 
 adding a fliining, amiable, and condftent trait to his- 
 charadter, have rendered him an objed of efteem inftead of 
 eternal condemnation ! But let the bafe adion be recorded 
 on the pyramid of E7iglip poetry, as well as of the Roman. 
 
 When good ^neas left the widow Dido, 
 
 Moft i7if anions towards her was his carriage ; 
 
 " Madam," quoth he, " all men would ad as / do — 
 " You will not fwear I ever offer d marriage.''' 
 
 A a 'Tis
 
 90 PINDARIANA. 
 
 " 'Tis very tme," cry'd Dido, with a figh ; 
 
 Then from her eyes the tears began to roll ; 
 And then fhe mov'd from him, refolv'd to die. 
 
 And make a bonfire of herfelf, poor foul ! 
 
 What did the pious Hero ? — march'd on board ; 
 Fell faft alleep, and like a bull-frog fnor'd. 
 
 THE WORLD. 
 
 jL H I s world's a charming world, I do declare- 
 
 The man who tmderfiands it, I fuppofe. 
 May, with a modicum of fenfe and care, 
 Convert with eafe each thorn into a rofe. 
 
 But folks become fuch ideots, or are born ; 
 They change life's fragrant rofe into a thorn ; 
 On ev'ry fmile of funfKine, fling a cloud. 
 And then on cruel Fortune cry aloud. 
 
 ON GENIUS. 
 
 Dearly I like to fee a Genius fpring, 
 
 Mark his rich plumes, and eye his foaring wing ; 
 
 But
 
 PINDARIANA. 91 
 
 But Death too foon arrefts his eagle flight I 
 Not long upon the meteor can we gaze — 
 From the dark element, the lightning's blaze, 
 
 That breaks, and fudden fliuts in pitchy Night. 
 
 TO A YOUNG LADY, WITH COLLINS's POEMS. 
 
 jT^mid thefe leaves, where Collins fliines, 
 Love boafts, alas ! no golden lines 5 
 
 From Love the Bard was free : 
 What lofs ! what pity, that his eye 
 (To give his heart the fweeteft flgh) 
 
 Beheld no Nymph like thee ! 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Farewell to the fragrance of morn ; 
 
 Farewell to the fong of the grove — 
 I go from my Delia forlorn ; 
 
 I go from the Daughter of Love ! 
 
 I was told that I ought not to gaze 
 On the Beauty by which I'm undone ; 
 
 3 ^ut
 
 92 PINDARIANA. 
 
 But how could I hide from their rays ? 
 What mortal can fly from the Su7i f 
 
 FROM ANACREON. 
 
 ON WOMAN. 
 
 Uame Nature, from her ftore, fo kind, 
 To bulls, the guarding horns aflign'd, 
 
 And arm'd with hoofs the bounding fteed ; 
 Teeth to the lion's jaw fhe gave ; 
 Fins to the tenant of the wave ; 
 
 And cloath'd the little hare with fpeed. 
 
 But what fliould Nature grant the Fair ? 
 Grant ! — Beauty's fafcinating air : 
 With this the Charmer takes the field, 
 And bids the world to Woman yield. 
 
 TO NANCY OF THE ROSE. 
 
 \J Nancy ! wilt thou go with mc, 
 And all the Poet's treafure fee, 
 
 My garden-houfe, my temple-rooms? 
 
 There
 
 P I N D A R I A N A. 
 There fliall I dwell on thoie black eyes, 
 And pour my tuneful foul in figlis. 
 
 And catch thy panting breath's perfumes. 
 
 Will Nancy quit the noify bar, 
 
 And founds that thus with mufic war, 
 
 Of vulgar Coachman, Drayman, Porter ; 
 That I may prefs thy purple lip, 
 And Love's delicious nedlar fip. 
 
 And in his prettieft language court her ? 
 
 Ah ! Nancy, now I hear thee fay, 
 
 " Lord blefs us ! I'm the youthful May, 
 
 " And you are Autumn, Sir — September] 
 *' And therefore we by no means fuit." 
 Dear Nancy, that's the time iov fruit. 
 
 Thou furely oughteft to remember. 
 
 Then bleft together let us wing-— 
 Love only blojfoms in the Spring, 
 
 93 
 
 FROM ANACREON. 
 
 XTaste, let the rofes bind our hair, { 
 
 And merry jeft and laugh prepare ; . 
 
 B b Behold
 
 94 PINDARIANA. 
 
 Behold a blooming Maid advance ! 
 She waves the fpear, with ivy bound, 
 And to the lute's enchanting found, 
 
 With tempting foot, begins the dance. 
 
 And, breathing balmy odours, lo, 
 A youth, whofe locks luxuriant flow ; 
 The lyre he fweeps, and fweetly lings. 
 Accordant to the tuneful firings. 
 
 And lee, to mingle in our joy. 
 With golden locks, the Paphian Boy; 
 And Bacchus too, with beauteous mien ; 
 And Her, of all the Loves the Queen : — 
 They come, in pleafures to engage. 
 That gild with fmiles the gloom of Age, 
 
 O D E. 
 
 A NEW, AND MORAL, AND SERIOUS THOUGHT. 
 
 Jriow diff'rently, at different times. 
 
 The felf-fame objcds ftrike our fenfes ! 
 
 Thus fays Sir Oracle, the man of rhymes ; 
 
 And thus, to prove it, he commences. 
 
 5 Sweet
 
 PINDARIANA. 95 
 
 Sweet are the blufhcs and the fmiles of morn, 
 The fong of birds, and dew-befpangled thorn. 
 
 To fwains whofe hearts are perfedtly at eafe : 
 Sweet are the fplendors of the golden ray, 
 To fwains prepar'd to take their early way 
 
 To hill and vale, and wander where they pleafe. 
 
 But not to fwains the morning fmile is fweet, 
 Drefs'd out in irons — doom'd, ere noon, to greet 
 
 The rope and tree, that much their fpirits flurry ; 
 They fee, with very, very diff'rent eyes, 
 The fun in all his golden robes arife. 
 
 And wifli him not to travel in a hurry. 
 
 Sweet is the Parfon's note to fwains at church, 
 Who, luU'd to flumber, leave him in the lurch ; 
 
 Whom neither manners nor religion check : 
 Yet, ah ! moil terrible would be, I wot, 
 That Parfon's folemn admonition note 
 
 To thofe fame fwains with ropes about the neck.. 
 
 SONG.
 
 ^6 V> I N D A R 1 A N A, 
 
 SONG. 
 
 When bleeding Nature droops to die, 
 And begs from Heav'n th' eternal fleep, 
 
 Hard is the heart that cannot ligh, 
 
 And curs'd the eye that fcorns to weep. 
 
 How rich the tear by Pity fhed ! 
 
 How fweet her lighs for human woes ! 
 They pierce the manfions of the dead, 
 
 And foothe the fpedre's pale repofe. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 \J CRUEL Maid, adieu ! adieu ! 
 
 Thy lofs I ever fhall deplore ; 
 A thoufand griefs my path purfue. 
 
 And joy fhall gild that path no more. 
 
 Loft to the world — of hope bereft — 
 I view my fate with ftreaming eyes — 
 
 By Love forgot, by Friendship left, 
 By all defer ted but my fighs.
 
 PINDAR I A N A, 
 MODES OF COURTSHIP. 
 
 O Love, thy temple is a crowded Inn — 
 And, ah ! how various are thy ways to win ! 
 
 97 
 
 DEVONSHIRE-HOB's LOVE. 
 
 JoANNY, my dear, wut ha poor Hob ? 
 Vor I'm upon a coortin job — 
 
 Gadswunds ! Ifs leek thee, Joan ; 
 I'd fert vor thee — Ifs, that Ifs wud ; 
 Ifs love thee well, as pigs love mud, 
 
 Or dogs to gna a bone. 
 
 What thoff Ifs ban't fo hugeous fmurt, 
 Forfooth leek voaks that go to curt ; 
 
 Voakes zay I'm perty vitty ; 
 Lord, Joan, a man may be alive. 
 Ha a long pufs, and kep a wive. 
 
 That ne'er zeed Lundun zitty. 
 
 A man may ha the beft o' hearts, 
 Although no chitterlins to's fharts, 
 
 C c And
 
 98 PINDARIANA. 
 
 And lace that gentry uze ; 
 Thee'dft vend me honeft — Ifs, rert down,, 
 Altho' thee hadsn't got a gown, 
 
 Ner (lockings vath ner fhooze. 
 
 Now, joANNY, pr'ythee dant now bHfh ;, 
 Vor zich, Ifs wiidd'n gee a rifh ; 
 
 Daryt copy voakes o' town : 
 No, Joan, dant gee thy zel an air, 
 And ren and quat, juft leek a hare, 
 
 And think I'll hunt thee down. 
 
 No, that^s dam voalifli, le me zay ; 
 No — dant ren off, an heed away, 
 
 Leek paltiiges in ftubble : 
 No, no, the eafiefl means be beft ; 
 Ifs can't turmoil, an looze one's reft 3 
 
 Ifs can't avoard the trouble. 
 
 Now, Joan, beleek, thee waantft to knowr 
 About my houze-keppin and zo, 
 
 Bevore thee tak'ft the. noozc — 
 Why vlcfli an dumplin ev'ry day \ 
 But az vor Zwiday^ le me zay. 
 
 We'll ha a gud vat goozc. 
 
 Zumtimes
 
 PINDARIANA. 
 
 Zumtimes we'll ha a choice fquab-pie ; 
 And zum days we wull broil and vry, 
 
 And zum days roajiy ye Hut ; 
 An az vor Zyder, thee fliat guzzle, 
 Zo much, Joan, as Vvill tire thy muzzle, 
 
 Enow to fplet thy gut. 
 
 Now break thy meend, zay " dun, an dun 
 I'll make thee a good huiband, mun ; 
 
 And Joan, I'll love thee dearly ; 
 Ifs waant do leek our neighbour Flail, 
 That huffth his wive, and kickth her tail. 
 
 And draflith her juft leek barely. 
 
 Joan NY, Ifs now have broke my meend ; 
 Zo fpeak, an let the bifnefs eend, 
 
 And dant ftand fhilly fhally ; 
 But if thee wutt'n — Lord, lay't alone ; 
 Go, hang thy zel vor me, mun, Joan, 
 
 I'll curt'thy zefter Maliy, 
 
 90 
 
 TOM
 
 ICO PINDARIANA. 
 
 TOM AND DOLLY. 
 
 A STABLE CANTATA. 
 
 RECITATIVE. 
 
 Amidst his ftraw, as Tom, a ftable-fwain, 
 Did fweep and figh, but fwept and figh'd in vain ; 
 Dolly, the Cook, peep'd in upon her 'fquire, 
 And begg'd a wifp of ftraw to light her fire ; 
 Tom gave the wifp, and, leaning on his broom, 
 Thus woo'd the fquabby Nymph of bacon-bloom. 
 
 AIR. 
 
 O Dolly, not a horfe nor nag. 
 Of which my ftable loud may brag. 
 
 Can boaft a head like thine ; 
 Nor has a faddle got a fkin 
 So fleek as thy fweet cheek and chin, 
 
 Or doth fo nobly fhine. 
 
 But thou art off, 'tis plainly feen — 
 Yes, Dolly, I have loft the rein, 
 
 Thou mifchicvous contriver : 
 To gall, alack ! my panting heart, 
 I'm fure thou art rcfolv'd to part, 
 
 And marry Dick the Driver. ^ ,.
 
 PINDARIANA. loi 
 
 Well, Doll, I cannot bear it long ; 
 Love fticks into me like a prong, 
 
 And fets my fides a bleeding : 
 I tell thee, Dolly, without fibs, 
 Thou haft fo curricomb'd my ribs, 
 
 That I am off my feeding. 
 
 Queen of the dripping-pan, O fay, 
 How canft thou hear thy Thomas bray, 
 
 Nor one kind anfwer utter ? 
 How canft thou fee thy Stable-'Squire 
 Roaft at thine eyes, like beef at fire, 
 
 Nor melt away like butter ? 
 
 But thou art grown fo proud of late ; 
 Thou cutt'ft upon me like a plate ; 
 
 As fliort too as a cruft ; 
 And then, wixh/uch a fcornful eye, 
 Thy fhoulders rais'd by pride fo high, 
 
 All like a turkey trufs'd. 
 
 Sue, drive the Driving-dog away ; 
 Give my ftarv'd Love a lock of hay, 
 For I'm in woeful danger ; 
 
 D d But
 
 102 ■ PINDARIANA. 
 
 But if thou wilt not with me dwell, 
 Horfes, and faddles, all farewell, 
 Brooms, hay-loft, bin, and manger ' 
 
 RECITATIVE, 
 
 Tom having finifli'd in a difmal tone, 
 
 Wip'd his two dropping eyes, and gave a groan ; 
 
 Then, fighing, faid it was a cruel thing, 
 
 Thus like a difhclout his poor heart to wring. 
 
 The Nymph, as carelefs of the hole (how fhocking !) 
 
 In Tom's poor bleeding heart as in h.ti J}ocki/tg^ 
 
 Low curtfying to her folemn, iighing fwain, 
 
 Return' d, with equal fweetnefs fraught, the ftrain. 
 
 AIR. 
 
 Dear Thomas, I pity thy love ; 
 
 But, Thomas, thou wilt not expire ; 
 Like a ladle of dripping 'twill prove, 
 
 Thar I frequently fling on the fire. 
 
 It makes a moft wonderful blaze, 
 
 And frightens the chimney, no doubt ; 
 
 Sets the family all in amaze \ 
 
 But, Thomas, it quickly goes out. 
 
 Before
 
 PINDARIANA. io| 
 
 Before We were married a year, 
 
 Mighty Love, he would lofe all his forces ; 
 And the muiical tongue of thy Dear^ 
 
 Would yield to the neigh of thy horfes. 
 
 I believe that thou thinkeft fincere, 
 
 Thiifweet paffion would laft all thy life; 
 
 But too many can tell, with a tear. 
 
 They have thought the fame thing of a wife. 
 
 Too often we find, to our coft, 
 
 That the Passions are eafily cloy'd ; 
 That the objed which pleafes us fnoji. 
 
 Is the objeB that ne'er was e7tjoyd. 
 
 Love-matches may do very well,. 
 
 In worlds where folks never want meat ; 
 But in this, 'tis with forrow I tell, 
 
 We are looking for fomewhat to eat. 
 
 Dear Thomas, then let me alone 
 
 To my roafting, and boiling, and carving ; 
 
 I don't like to live on a l}om — 
 
 Lord ! nothing's more difmal t.\Y2inJiarving. 
 
 4 T©
 
 104 PINDARIANA, 
 
 To thy ftable then flick all thy life ; 
 
 'That will bring thee thy meat ev'ry day : 
 A houfeRill of brats, and a wife ! 
 
 What would they ? — why take it away. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 yj Nymph 1 of Fortune's fmiles, beware, 
 Nor heed the Syren's flatt'ring tongue j 
 
 She lures thee to the haunts of Care, 
 Where Sorrow pours a ceafelefs fong. 
 
 Ah ! what are all her piles of gold ? 
 
 Can thofe the hofts of Care controul ? 
 The fplendor which thine eyes behold, 
 
 Is not the funfliine of the foul. 
 
 To Love alone thy homage pay, 
 The Queen of ev'ry true delight : 
 
 Her fmiles with joy fhall gild thy day, 
 And blefs the vifions of the night.
 
 P I N D A R I A N A. ,05 
 
 SEA COURTSHIP. 
 
 Susan. 
 IVIadam ! Madam ! I have juft received a poetical Billl r- 
 Doux from my furious Sea-Caliban ; impudence and hu- 
 mility, refolution and vi^eaknefs, hope and defpair, forming 
 the fum total. Permit me to read it. 
 
 HAWSE Pv TO SUSAN. 
 
 Mifs Susan, I think it in vain 
 
 To groan any more for that face ; 
 Your behaviour hath prov'd it fo plain. 
 
 That to others I give up the chace. 
 
 Vefy wifely refolvdy Mr. Lieiitena?U. 
 
 About Love, I fliall make no more pother — 
 
 You know that I'm not very rich ; 
 Yet I'd man you as well as another, 
 
 And flick to your timbers like pitch. 
 
 Nice Jlicli'mg-plaijler indeed I 
 
 I am out in my reck'ning, 'tis clear. 
 
 As your frowns and your cruelties prove — 
 
 Since I thought to have anchor' d, my dear, 
 In your arms, that fv/cet harbour of love* 
 
 Very elegant^ tender^ and 7netaphorical ! 
 
 E e Since
 
 io6 P I N D A R I A N A. 
 
 And though you fo fcornful are grown, 
 
 Let juftice be done, by the Lord ! 
 You're a fmart little frigate, I own, 
 
 As a feaman would wilh for to board. 
 
 Thanliye^ Mr. Liente?ia7U (curtfies). 
 
 Yet, Susan, before we depart, 
 
 And I beg thou'lt not take it unkind. 
 
 Since your fneers have reftor'd me my hearty 
 If I give thee a piece of my mind. 
 
 By all jneans.^ Mr. Hawser. 
 
 Inftead of my tears and my fighs^ 
 
 Which you, laughing, calfd Love s water-gruel^ 
 Could guineas have rain'd from my eyes. 
 
 By G — thou hadll never been cruel. 
 
 hnpudent rogue ! 
 
 And yet, fhould the wind chop about, 
 
 And thy mouth ceafe this d-mn'd fqually weather, 
 Let us fend for old Thump-cushion* out, 
 
 And fwing in a hammock together. 
 
 Never ^ never ^ i?ideed, poor Jwain. 
 
 * The Piieft. 
 
 DAPHNE.
 
 P I N D A R I A N A. 
 
 DAPHNE, 
 
 OR THE 
 
 SONG OF THE SHEPHERDESS. 
 
 S^ AREWELL the beam of early day I 
 Cold on the eye the valley fades ; 
 
 The riv'let mourns upon its way, 
 
 And fpeftres feem to haunt the fhades. 
 
 Thefe eyes, alas ! no pleafure fee, 
 Since Colin's love is chang'd from 7He. 
 
 Adieu the crook he gave my hand ! 
 
 Adieu the flow'rs that deck my hair [ 
 Go, doves, and leave your Hlken band, 
 
 Since Daphne is no lonp;er fair. 
 Thefe eyes, &c» 
 
 Let nought by Daphne be polTeft — 
 
 The myrtle-w^reath that binds my brow j 
 
 The knot of love he gave my breaft. 
 Deep blufliing for his broken vow. 
 Thefe eyes, &c. 
 
 107 
 
 Let
 
 PINDARIANA. 
 
 Let all his tokens meet his eye — 
 From Daphne all his gifts depart; 
 
 And let me fend with thefe ^Jtgh, 
 To tell him of a broken heart. 
 Thefe eyes, &c. 
 
 MADRIGAL. 
 
 Ah ! fay not that the Bard grows old — 
 For what to me are paffing years ? 
 
 I feel not Age's p allied cold — 
 To-day like yefterday appears. 
 
 When Beauty beams, the world is gay ! 
 
 What mortal is not the?i alive ? 
 Thus kindling at its magic ray, 
 
 Fou7Jco?'e leaps back to twenty-jive. 
 
 ODE TO TWO MICE IN A TRAP. 
 
 So, Sir, and Madam, you at length are taken, 
 After your dances over cheefe and bacon. 
 And tafting ev'ry dainty in your way ; 
 
 Now
 
 PINDARIANA, 109 
 
 Now to my queftion, anfwer, if ye pleafe — 
 Speak, did ye 7?take the bacon or the cheefe ? 
 What fort of a defence d'ye fet up, pray ? 
 
 Thus at free coft to breakfaft, dine, and fup ! 
 E'en mild Judge Buller ought to hang you up. 
 
 So full of the fweet milk of human nature ! 
 What fort of fate, young people, fhould ye choofe ? 
 In purling ftreams your pretty mouths amufe, 
 
 Or feed the cat's fond jaws, that for ye water ? 
 
 I fee you are two lovers, by your eyes ; 
 I hear ye are two lovers by your fighs : 
 
 But what avail your looks, or what avail 
 Your fighs fo foft, or what indeed your tears, 
 Or what your parting agoriies and fears. 
 
 Since Death muft pay a viHt to your jail ? 
 
 Ay, you may kifs and pant, and pant and kifs, 
 And put your pretty nofes through the wire ; 
 
 Ay, peep away, fweet Sir, and gentle Mifs ; 
 
 No more the Moon fhall mark your am'rous fire, 
 
 Around the loaded pantry pour the ray, 
 
 And guide your gambols with her filver day. 
 
 Ff Your
 
 no PINDARIANJ. 
 
 Your prifon-QOor now, culprits, let me ope — 
 Now, now ! you're off I it is a lucky hop. 
 
 Ye'rc in the right on't, nimble nymph and fwain ; 
 Go, rogues — but if once more I catch you here !— — 
 What then ? what the?i ! — ^why then, I ftrongly fear. 
 
 Ye little robbers, you'll efcape again. 
 
 Thus let me imitate Judge Buller's deeds, 
 Beneath whofe fentence fcarce a felon bleeds ; 
 Who, as the fur of foxes trims his gown. 
 The hand of Mercy lines his heart with Down. 
 
 THE MISER AND THE DERVISE. 
 
 i HE Mifer Sherdi on his fick-bed lying. 
 Affrighted, groaning, wheezing, praying, fighing, 
 
 Expeding ev'ry hour to lofe his breath — 
 Enter a Dervise — " Holy Father, fay, 
 " As life feems parting from this fmful clay, 
 
 *' What can prefcrve me from the jaws of Death ?" 
 
 '■' A facrifice, dear fon — good joints of meat, 
 
 " Of lamb, and mutton, for the Priest and Poor ; 
 
 5 " Nay,
 
 PINDARIANA, 
 
 " Nay, from the Koran fhouldft thou lines repeat, 
 " Thofi li?ies may pojjibly thy health reftore." 
 
 " Thank ye, dear Father I you have faid enough j 
 " Your counfel has already giv'n me eafe : 
 
 " Now as my flieep are all a great way off, 
 " I'll quote our holy Koran, if you pleafe." 
 
 TO DELIA. 
 
 JL/ELiAj thou really doft not know thy worth — 
 Nature has made a very idle blunder. 
 
 To give thee rofes, lilies, and fo forth, 
 
 Eyes, dimples, merely to excite our wonder. 
 
 See other girls, of far inferior charms ! 
 
 Behold them fpreading through the world alarms. 
 
 With not one quarter of thy ammunition ; 
 Dark'ning the dangerous air with dreadful darts ; 
 Transfixing Lovers' livers, heads, and hearts, 
 
 Putting the beaux into a fad condition ; 
 
 Whilft thou, fo idle, mak'ft not Man thy game, 
 As though the creature were not worth thy aim. 
 
 But>
 
 ,12 P I N D A R I A N A. 
 
 But, Delia, come — on 7ne thy prowefs try; 
 Let loofe the lightnings of thy coal-black eye ; 
 
 Attack, purfue — I like the dangerous ftrife — 
 Sweet Nymph, 'tis ten to one thou lay'ft me low 
 Yet do not /'/// me, my dear generous foe, 
 
 But make me prisner to thy arms for life. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Where Fortune reigns in fplendid pride. 
 What madding thoufands crowd her fhrine ! 
 
 With fweet Simplicity their guide, 
 O Love, how few refort to th'me ! 
 
 Yet when of Fortune's fmile pofTefs'd, 
 The flgh for other days they pour ; 
 
 Some fecret forrow flings the breaft, 
 And languor-loaded crawls each hour. 
 
 But Love's pure joys unfullied laft ; 
 
 His vot'ries tafte a blifs fublime, 
 Sigh to regain the moments paft, 
 
 And wifli to clip the wings of Time.
 
 PINDAR 1 A N A. 
 
 1^3 
 
 Susan. 
 
 W HAT a pretty hurricane about our ears ! Well ! thank 
 Heaven, and our good old fliip, for his holding his head fo 
 long above water, we are not got down into Davy Jones's 
 locker. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 VJooD Lord ! when I think of the ftorm, 
 And, old Neptune, thy horrible fpleen,, 
 
 That endeavour'd to make of this form 
 A feaft for the fifli at nineteen I 
 
 It had giv'n my poor heart fome alarms,, 
 
 As well as fome giief to my fpark, 
 To have found, that, inftead of his arms,,. 
 
 I had fijl'd up the mouth oi 2i Jhark. 
 
 Dear Neptune, a Sweetheart is mine 
 
 Not a handfomer England pofTeffes : 
 
 Shouldft thou bury thefe limbs in thy brine,. 
 They will lofe a whole world of carefTes. 
 
 Oh, afford me one glance of my lover — 
 Oh, grant but one kifs from my fwain j 
 
 Thou fhalt drov/n me a thoufand times over, 
 If ever I trtiji thee again. 
 
 G g SONG.
 
 114 FINDARIANA. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 From me^ fince Hope hath wmg'd her way, 
 To yield to luckier fwains delight, 
 
 Ah ! will not Comfort lend a ray, 
 To gild my bofom's dreary night ? 
 
 Yes ! yes ! to foothe my burning bread, 
 As far from Delia's form I rove, 
 
 I'll boaft that once this heart was blefl. 
 And tell the ftory of my Love. 
 
 TO VENUS. : 
 
 \j Venus, wherefore is my figh - 
 
 To Delia's beauty breath'd in vain? 
 Ah ! why her cold and clouded eye. 
 
 That fun-like flione upon her fwain ? 
 
 A time there was, when thou wert kind. 
 
 And gav'ft fuccefs to ev'ry pray'r ; 
 When ev'ry figh was fure to find 
 
 A figh congenial from the Fair. 
 
 4 A time
 
 PINDAR IAN A. 115 
 
 A time there was, when Delia's breaft, 
 At all my griefs, with grief would glow ; 
 
 The Nymph would lull the florm to reft, 
 And foothe with ev'ry charm my woe. 
 
 Yet, Venus, wherefoe'er fhe flies, 
 
 To Delia all thy bliffes give: 
 In mey 2. Jingle fhepherd dies, 
 
 In her, behold, a thoufafid live / 
 
 EPITAPH. 
 
 O THOU, remov'd from this world's ftrife, 
 Whofe relicks here below are laid, 
 
 May Peace, who watch' d thy harmlefs life, 
 In death proted thy gentle Shade I 
 
 Yet not alone around thy bier. 
 
 Thy Children's fighs unfeign'd afcend ; 
 The mourner Pity drops a tear, 
 
 And Virtue weeps a vanifh'd friend* 
 
 ODE
 
 ii6 P I N D A R I A N A, 
 
 ODE TO A COUNTRY HOYDEN. 
 
 Uear Dolly, ftay thy fcampering jcints one minute, 
 And let me afk thee, mad-cap Girl, a queftion — 
 
 Somewhat of confequence there may be in it. 
 That, probably^ may'nt fuit thine high digeilion. 
 
 Pray what's the meaning of the prefent glee ? 
 
 To ride a nannygoat, or afs, or pig ? 
 Or mount an ox, or ride an apple-tree, 
 
 And on the dancing limb enjoy a jig ? 
 
 Perhaps thou art infedled with an itch 
 
 To plague a poor old Crone, baptiz'd a Witch \ 
 
 To fmoke her in her hovel — kill her cats, 
 Or lock her in, and rob her garden's peas, 
 Kick down the lame old granny's hive of bees. 
 
 And break her windows in, with flones and bats. 
 
 Perchance, to rob an orchard thou may' ft long. 
 Or neighbour's hen's-neft of its eggs, or young ; 
 
 Nay, fteal the mother-hen to boot : 
 Perchance thou haften'ft, fond of vulgar joys. 
 To tumble on the haycocks with the boys. 
 
 And let them take, at will, the fvveet falute. 
 
 Thou
 
 117 
 
 PINDARIANA, 
 
 Thou makefl: a long face, and anfwer'ft thus — 
 " Lord, then about a t}'ifle what a fufs ! 
 
 '* As though a body might not ride a pig, 
 " Or nannygoat indeed, or ox, good me ! 
 " Or our old Neddy*, or an apple-tree, 
 
 " Juft for one's health to have a little jig ! 
 
 " Or where's the mighty harm, upon my word, 
 ** In taking a few eggs, or chicks, or hen ? 
 
 " The farmers can't be ruin'd by't, good Lord ! 
 " Papa fays that they're all fubftantial men. 
 
 *' Or where's the harm to ride upon a gate ? 
 " Tofrtub one fo, indeed, ^itfuch a rate ! 
 " I've tumbled from the trees upon the ftones, 
 " And never broke, in all my life, my bones : 
 *' See, Sir, I have not one black fpot about me ! 
 " 'Tis cruel, then, for nothing, thus to flout me. 
 
 *' Or where's the mighty crime, I wonder, pray, 
 *' With Coufin Dick to tumble on the hay ? 
 " Juft like a Baby with her Doll you treat one ! 
 " Marry con\e up I why, Coufin Dick won't eat one ! 
 
 H h " And 
 
 * A name frequently given to a Jack-afs.
 
 ii8 P I N D A R I A N A. 
 
 " And then, forfooth, what mighty harm Vv'ould come, 
 
 " In having bits of fun with Coufin Tom ?" 
 
 DoLLV, thy artlefs anfwers force my fmile — 
 I readily beHeve thee void of guile ; 
 
 My lovely girl, I think thou mean'ft no harm : 
 Bui: had I daughters jull like thee^ let loofe, 
 I verily fhould think myfelf a goofe, 
 
 To mark each colt-like lafs without alai'm. 
 
 Doll, get thee home, and tell Mai7ia^ fo 7nildy 
 So fearful that ^. frown would liill her child, 
 
 That not evn birch to kill that child is able ; 
 And tell thy Father, a fond fool, from me^ 
 To look a little fharper after thee. 
 
 Clip thy wild tongue, and tie thee to the table. 
 
 THE GRAVE OF EURIPIDES: 
 
 AN ELEGY. 
 Supfiojed to be fpoken on the Spot. 
 
 \J THOU, whofe deeply-pidur'd fcenes of woe 
 
 From Grecian eyes c6uld force the pitying fhow'r I 
 
 Permit a Stranger's figh unfcign'd to flow — 
 
 Indulge his hand to ftrew the fweeteft flow'r. 
 
 5 I know
 
 P I N D A R I A N A. ug 
 
 I know I fhall not by thy Shade be fcorn'd, 
 
 Who boaft my birth from Albion's free domain ; 
 Where Nature's foul, like i/jine, in Shakespeare mourn'd, 
 
 Where Milton's genius pour'd th' immortal ftrain. 
 
 Yet lo, a race of this degenerate age, 
 
 Som of thofe Sages, Heroes, Bards, whofe name 
 
 Gave fplendor to the fair hiftoric page, 
 Forgets the glory of the Grecian name. 
 
 I mark you. Son of Athens, with a Ugh ! 
 
 Of Pow'r, of Ignorance,, the abjed flave* — - 
 Fear on his cheek, and mis'ry in his eye, 
 
 He wanders near thee, heedlefs of thy grave ! 
 
 Where Is thy fame ? In Greece no more divine, 
 It pours on Albion's ifle the radiant day ; 
 
 There, with a noon-tide luftre may it fnine, 
 And gild my country with unclouded ray ! 
 
 Each night retiring, as I whifper peace. 
 
 With each adieu, the tear will fleal away ; 
 To think that Thou the fong of Gods fhouldft ceafe, 
 
 And, dying, mingle with the meaneft clay. 
 
 Though 
 
 * The prefent inhabitants of Greece fully anfwer this defcription.
 
 12© PINDARIANJ. 
 
 Though Greece forgets thee, yet on Fancy's wing 
 From diPiant Albion will I oft return ; 
 
 Crown thy cold fod with all the blooms of Spring, 
 And envy the rich earth that holds thy urn. 
 
 SONG TO CYNTHIA. 
 
 1 HE Youth by Love and Hope betray'd, 
 
 Who breathes his ardent vows in vain, 
 Learns to forget the fcornful Maid, 
 And bravely breaks her galling chain. 
 
 ^' Farewell (he cries) a fruitlefs flame ; 
 
 " A Nymph lefs cruel let me find ; 
 *' The world holds many a blooming Dame ; 
 
 " An equal Chloe may be kind." 
 
 But, ah ! how hard the Lover's fate, 
 Who feels the triumph of thine eye ! 
 
 What Virgin fhall his fires abate, 
 
 And foothe his bofom's hopelefs figh ? 
 
 For, lo ! the Loves, to make thee fair. 
 Agreed with ev'ry charm to part ; 
 
 And all the Virtues too declare. 
 
 They robb'd their own^ to grace thy heart.
 
 PINDARIANA. i 
 
 HYMN TO LOVE. 
 
 k5ouL of the world, and efl'ence of delight, 
 Of tJjee I think by day, and dream by night, 
 
 For I'm a bachelor — a good old maid ! 
 Yet Jiowj O Love, a pretty woman's fmiles 
 Could make me dance at leaft a dozen miles, 
 
 Without a ftick indeed, or horfe's aid. 
 
 Such rapture from thy bloom, each moment feels ! 
 Such mercury thou putteft in one's heels ! 
 
 Did Jove prize charming wo7na7i^ juft like me. 
 Of charming woman, we (liould find a dearth ; 
 
 In beauty^ what a defert there would be ! 
 
 Scarce one fweet female to delight our earth. 
 
 And then, O Cynthia, whom thefe eyes adore ; 
 
 Whofe form, and face, and mind, no rival know ; 
 Yes, thou fair Maid, to that untravell'd fhore, 
 
 To charm the Thunderer, wouldft be doom'd to go; 
 And leave, alas ! thy fighing fhepherd here, 
 Who never wants a Muse when thou art near. 
 
 And
 
 122 P I N D A R I yi N A. 
 
 And now to thee^ O Love, again I turn — 
 How canft thou hear an earthly Angel mourn ? 
 A vidim to the vultures of Despair ! 
 A witlefs vidim to the villain's fnare ! 
 
 How fee vile Man^ her virtue undermine, 
 And bid the faireft form of Nature, pine ? 
 
 Why fuffereft Thou her bofom's foftefl: iigh ? 
 How canft thou, unreveng'd, furvey the Maid ; 
 Hear her fouFs grief, behold her beauty fade ; 
 
 Nay, horror ! the poor lamb-like vi<5lim die ? 
 
 Lo, poor deferted Julia ! once hov/ fair ; 
 With cheek fo wan and pale, and fcatter'd hair ; 
 
 Her gentle heart by Love's mad tempefl torn ! 
 She runs, flie flops, and wildly flares around ! 
 Now nails the eye of thought into the ground ! 
 
 Now, drown'd in tears, fhe lifts its beam forlorn ; 
 
 Pale as the moon, amidft the midnight florm, 
 When rains and driving clouds her face deform 1 
 
 She grafps the earth — the fod, her fingers tear — 
 Now wearied, difappointed, to the fkies 
 She lifts her lids of woe, and plaintive fighs, 
 
 (Soul-piercing found !) " Alas, he is not here !" 
 
 Rich
 
 P I N D A R 1 A N A. 
 
 123 
 
 Rich pearls of forrow from their fountains Pcray, 
 And drop (too precious for the ground !) away. 
 
 " How could he, cruel, give my heart a blov/ ?" 
 She moans — now fits upon the bank and finp-s ; 
 
 Oft breaks her dirge with lengthen'd lighs of woe. 
 And, pauling, mutters incoherent things. 
 
 Now plucking lilies from the fod, fhe cries, 
 
 " Sweet flow'rs, I once was innocent Y\]<.Qyou ; 
 
 " The tear, alas ! a ftranger to thefe eyes — 
 
 " Nor blufh my cheek, nor wound my bofom knew." 
 
 Now with a fmile, and now with melting wail, 
 She whifp'ring tells of Colin's Love the tale. 
 
 Again her mind is on the wing ! {^a^ ftarts ! 
 Hope to her eyes, her eagle-beam imparts ! 
 
 Sudden fhe fprings from earth — " He's there, he's there — 
 
 *' I fee him pafs the flood — dear Colin, dear 1 
 
 " Thy Julia calls thee — 'tis thy Julia, ftay — 
 
 " Thy Julia calls thee — wherefore hafle away ? 
 
 " Thy Julia loves thee — do not, cruel, fly; 
 
 " Stay, or thy Julia's heart with grief will die — 
 
 ^ *' If
 
 .124 P I N D A R I A N yl. 
 
 '• If dringfr urge, that danger let me fliare ; 
 
 " Thou muft not live nnwatch'd by Julia's care." 
 
 Sweet wretch ! in vain her feet the phantom chacc ! 
 
 Wildly fhe plunges 'mid the torrent's roar — 
 She fhrieks ! her arms her fancied Love embrace, 
 
 She grafps the gulph — ah ! foon to grafp no more. 
 
 Loft Maid ! in vain the fhepherds try tofavc! 
 Breath'd is her fpirit in the whelming v/ave ! 
 No longer doom'd Life's bitter cup to tafte, 
 Behold her hours of woe for ever paft ! 
 
 Deaf to the fong of Flatt'ry, now, her ear ! 
 Deaf to a Demon s whifpers once fo dear ! 
 
 Cold too the bofom of the once warm maid ! 
 The heart that fv/cll'd with Love's delicious fighs, 
 Still, in its filent cell of darknefs lies. 
 
 And dim her eyes in Death's eternal fhade. 
 Thofe orbs that fparkling bade a world adore, 
 Ah, doom'd to fparkle, and X.o flream no more ! 
 
 Lo, on the bank her pale limbs ftretch'd along, 
 Amidft the forrows of a rural throng ! 
 A fight to ftrikc the voice of Rapture mute, 
 And wake the tefidcreji firing of Pity's lute ! 
 
 Thee,
 
 PINDARIANA. 125 
 
 Thee, thee, her murd'rcr, Vengeance foon fKall find, 
 Sure blood-hound, trace thee in the weeping wind ; 
 Purfue thee where the Desert grins with death: 
 For not to ma?i again fhalt thou return — 
 A (hrinking world thy Cain-like form (hall fpurn, 
 And kneeling curfe thee with its keeneft breath. 
 
 Smote and unburied, {hall thy carcafe lie : 
 Afar, affrighted fhall the vultures fly ; 
 
 Of fiends like thee, a breathlefs fiend, afraid ; 
 And lo, the frowning Genius of the gloom 
 Shall fhun the Solitude that hails thy doom, 
 
 And bid each favage feek a dijlant fhade. 
 
 ODE. 
 
 1 IS 2iflrange world we live in — but 'twill 7?tend — 
 As ev'ry body fays, " the world grows wifer ;" 
 Yet certain follies ne'er will have an end, 
 Of which I am a wonderful defpifer. 
 
 Is it not cruel, when, with all his flame. 
 
 Genius performs a work, a man fhould bawl, 
 
 ** To afk much for this trifle were a fhame ; 
 " I know the fellow took 710 pains at all. 
 
 K k *' Poets
 
 126 FINDARIANA. 
 
 *' Poets work nimbly^ fiimbly^ now-a-days : 
 
 *' Give a good penny's-worth, good Master Bays."" 
 
 I dare fay the fad Bookfeller, a L— e, 
 
 Or L~K N, pour'd fuch unhallovv'd founds 
 
 On Milton's fhrinking ear, with lips profane, 
 
 Who bought th' immortal Work iox jiftee7i 'pounds /* 
 
 Too many a ragged Brother of the Lay, 
 
 Too many a. fair Hiftoria7t^ never doubt it. 
 
 Have heard a Bookfeller fo cruel fay, 
 
 " Pray, Sir," or " Ma'am, how long were you about it I*" 
 
 Thou Beaft ! amid the fons of Wisdom plac'd. 
 Who, times of old, as well as modern, grac'd, 
 
 Couldft thou not catch a portion of their fire ? 
 Rolls not thine eye upon their works each day ? 
 And canft thou, from them, nothing bear away. 
 
 To lift thy hog-like foul above the mire? 
 
 Sore troubled by the tooth-ach, Lubin ran 
 To get the murd'rer of his quiet, drawn ; 
 
 An Artift in an inftant whips it out — 
 *' Well, Master Snag — h^e ? what has I to pay?" 
 '* A fiiilling" — " Zounds ! a iliilling do ye zay ?" 
 
 With a long ftaring face replies the Lout. 
 
 " Lord ! 
 
 * The price aftoally given for the Paradifc LoR !
 
 P I N D A R I A N A, 
 "■ Lord ! why Ize did not veel it — 'twas nort in it ; 
 *' You knows ye wern't about it half a minute : 
 
 *' To gee zo much Ize curfedly unwilling — 
 *' Lord ! vor a tooth, but yefterday old Slop 
 " Did drag me by the head about his fhop 
 
 *' T/jree timesy poor man, and on/y ax'ciaJJji//in<r" 
 
 127 
 
 SONG. 
 
 XI ow chang'd is my Celadon's heart I 
 How alter' d each look of the fwain I 
 
 Now fuUen he wifhes to part, 
 
 Who call'd me the pride of the plain. 
 
 Of late, with what ardour he ftrove 
 Ev'ry hour that was mine^ to beguile ! 
 
 How he griev'd if I doubted his love ! 
 And how bleft if he gain'd but a fmile ! 
 
 To me^ he devoted his days ; 
 
 And raptur'd on me was his tongue ; 
 Thus, Morning arofe on his praife, 
 
 And Evening went down on his fong. 
 
 Let
 
 128 PINDARIANA. 
 
 Let me ftcal to the defer t, and die, 
 Nor wound with reproaches his ears ; 
 
 My reproof {hall be only a figh — 
 
 My complaint f but X.\\Qjtle?7ce of tears » 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 
 Oee Clodio, happy in his own dear fenfe ! 
 
 And, hark ! the world cries, " Coxcomb in th' excefs :' 
 Now let me undertake the Fop's defence — 
 
 What man could ever be content with lefs P 
 
 ANACREONTIC. 
 TO SYLVIA. 
 
 JT.OW canft thou fmile at my defpair, 
 And bid me ot/jer nymphs adore ? 
 
 Shew me a girl but haf io fair, 
 And I will trouble thee no more. 
 
 Hide then that neck and lip and eye, 
 Since thus rcfolv'd to fliun purfuit ; 
 
 For Love will follow, like the fly, 
 That always feeks th^fairefi fruit.
 
 P I N D A R I A N A. 
 
 129 
 
 L I S E T T A. 
 
 In the name of the great God of Love, how fliall I difpofe 
 of myfelf ? Which of my fwains muft wear the willow ? 
 
 O Virgins, tell me how to choofe. 
 
 For I'm a novice on it — 
 Poor Colin at a dijiance wooes, 
 
 And fends his foul in fonnet \ 
 
 While Lubin, to no forms a flave. 
 
 Won't ftay to write for blifles ; 
 But prints upon my mouth, the knave. 
 
 His wiflies with his kiffes. 
 
 -If Lubin feize a rude embrace, 
 
 And I begin to clatter ; 
 The rogue flares gravely in my face. 
 
 And afks me what's the matter ? 
 
 Of kiffes lately he ftole three — 
 
 I fhriek'd with might and main : 
 " Since ye don't like them," pert quoth he, 
 
 " Lord ! take them back again." 
 
 LI. "No,
 
 130 PINDARIANA. 
 
 " No, no, I won't," fays I " keep ofF, 
 
 '' They pleafe me iiiuch^^'' I fwore — 
 *' Oh, is it fo ?" ciy'd he, " enough ; 
 
 *' Then, Mifs, you wifh for wors." 
 
 Poor Colin turns, if I but frown, 
 All white as any fleece is ! 
 
 LuBiN would giv^e me a green gown. 
 And rummage me to pieces. 
 
 The one^ fo meek and complailant, 
 All filence, awe, and wonder ; 
 
 The other^ impudence and rant. 
 And boifl'rous as the thunder. 
 
 This begs to prefs my finger's tip. 
 
 So bafhful is my lover ; 
 That favage. bounces on my lip, 
 
 And kifles it all over. 
 
 O Modesty, thou art fo fweet ! , 
 Not wild, and bold, and teafing ; 
 
 And yet, each Sifter Nymph I meet 
 Thinks boldnefs 7iot u?ipleajmg. 
 
 This
 
 PINDARIANA, 13I 
 
 This is a wicked world ! — O dear ! 
 
 And wickednefs is in me — 
 Though Modesty's fo fweet, I fear 
 
 That Impudence will win 7ne. 
 
 CORIN's PROFESSION, 
 
 O R 
 
 THE SONG OF CONSTANCY. 
 
 JNow, Joan, we are manied — and now, let me fay, 
 Though both are in youth, yet that youth will decay ; 
 In our journey through life, my dear Joan, I fuppofe 
 We fhall oft meet a bramble, and fometimes a rofe. 
 
 When a cloud on this forehead fhall darken my day,. 
 Thy funfhine of fweetnefs muft fmile it away ; 
 And when the dull vapour fhall dwell upon thine. 
 To chafe it, the labour and triumph be mine. 
 
 Let us wifh not for wealth, to devour and confume ; 
 For luxury's but a fliort road to the tomb : 
 Let us figh not for grandeur, for truft me, my Joan, 
 The keeneft of cares owes its birth to a throne, 
 
 5 Thou
 
 132 PINDARIANA. 
 
 Thou fhalt milk our one cow ; and if fortune purfuc. 
 
 In good time, with her bleffing, my Joan may milk two- 
 
 I will till our fmall field, whilfl thy prattle and fong 
 
 Shall charm as I drive the bright ploughfhare along. 
 
 When finifh'd the day, by the fire we'll regale, 
 And treat a good neighbour at eve with our ale ; 
 For Joan, who would wifh iox felf only to live ? 
 One blefTmg of life, my dear girl, is to give. 
 
 E'en the red-breaft and wren fhall not feek us in vain, 
 Whilft thou haft a crumb, or thy Cor in a grain ; 
 Not only their fongs will they pour from the grove. 
 But yield, by example, fweet leflbns of love. 
 
 Though thy beauty muft fade, yet thy youth I'll remember ; 
 That thy May was my own, when thou fheweft Dece7nber% 
 And when Age to my head fhall his winter impart, 
 The fummer of Love fhall refide in my heart. 
 
 ODE TO UGLINESS. 
 
 Uaughter of Hecate, thou'rt undone ! 
 
 Joy to my foul, thine empire falls : 
 No more, thou hobbling, envious Crone^ 
 
 Thy pow'r the female world appalls. Wth
 
 PINDARIANA, 
 
 ^ZZ 
 
 With fmiles the Queen of Love appears ; 
 
 No longer trembling for the Graces : 
 No more thy rude attack fhe fears, 
 
 On faultlefs forms, and faireft faces. 
 
 Beauty will never lofc her prime, 
 
 Nor mourn her loffes, as of yore ! 
 Defeated too thy brother Time, 
 
 The God of wrinkle, wounds no more. 
 
 See Age difplay her iv'ry rows ! 
 
 Her lip preferves its purple bloom ! 
 Her bofom heaves with Alpine fnows, 
 
 And kifles breathe the rich perfume ! 
 
 The furrow'd cheek, and hoary head, 
 
 No longer now; as ufual, greet ; 
 And, what our Grandmothers all dread, 
 
 The nofe and chin no longer meet. 
 
 Time's pow'r, the good old Grannies b7'avc^ 
 
 And, ogling, dart their am'rous fire ; 
 Decline with graces to the grave. 
 
 And with the blufh of health, expire ! 
 
 M m THE
 
 34 
 
 PINDARIA'NA, 
 
 THE TRAVELLER AND JUPITER. 
 
 W HAT wicked thoufands fooner would affront 
 
 (Such is of fin the wonderful incrcafe) 
 The Heav'n's Eternal Ruler — fie upon't — 
 
 Than one poor brainlefs Justice of the Peace, 
 
 Or Country 'Squire, who nothing knows but doxies. 
 Hares, Ads of Parliament, hounds, horfes, foxes 1 
 
 Nay, further — which fliould fcarcely be repeated — 
 (And, oh ! that groundlefs were the Poet's fears !) 
 
 God by his own fad fervants is 'wo'rfe treated^ 
 JVorfe than our Country Gentlemen by theirs. 
 
 Afk of the Bilhops elfe, whofe humble fouls 
 Sweet Mercy melts, and Charity controuls. 
 
 To cheat the Dev'l, at times, I've no objedion ; 
 Not Heavfi ! 'tis fuch a vilkmious ?-efleBio?i ! 
 
 A certain Traveller, in ancient days. 
 
 When Gods and Goddeffes were thick as hops, 
 
 Wiiliing, as he was beating the highways, 
 For fomewhat dainty to amufe his chops ; 
 
 Knelt
 
 PINDARIANA. 135 
 
 Knelt down to Jupiter, and thus began : 
 " O Jupiter, as I'm an honcll man, 
 
 " I'll keep my word, if thou wilt grant my pray'r ; 
 *' Amidft my travels, let n\Q. fo?nethi?ig find — 
 " Little or much, good, bad, of any kind, 
 
 " I vow to thee, thy Godfhip ^^^^fhall fhare." 
 
 Then with grave fandlity he thump'd his craw ; 
 Much as to fay, " Great Jove, my word's a law." 
 
 He had not walk'd a mile, before he found 
 
 A handfome bag of filberts on the ground ; 
 
 At fight of which, his lips with rapture fmacking. 
 
 Plumb down he fquats, and falls at once to cracking. 
 
 To cut my fiory fiiort, he crack'd and eat, 
 From ev'ry nut, each atom of the meat ; 
 
 When gravely gathering up the fhells, he cries, 
 " JovE, facred have I kept my word — for, fee, 
 ** The better half indeed I leave to thee^ 
 
 " Th^ pells, O mighty Ruler of the ikies. 
 
 " There are they all, great Jove — furvey 'em : 
 " Shouldft thou fufped my honour — weigh 'ejnV 
 
 A SONG.
 
 1^6 PINDARIANA, 
 
 SONG. 
 
 1 HE wretch, O let me never know, 
 Who turns from Pity's tearful eye ; 
 Who melts not at the dirge of Woe, 
 But bids the foul renew its ligh ! 
 
 O fay not with the voice of fcorn, 
 " The lilies of thy neck are fled, 
 
 " Thine eyes their vanifh'd radiance mourn, 
 " The rofes of thy cheek are dead." 
 
 Too cruel Youth, with tears I own. 
 
 The rofe and lily's fad decay ; 
 And forrowing wifli for thee alo7ie^ 
 
 Their tranflent bloom a longer day. 
 
 Yet though thine eyes no longer trace 
 The healthful blufh of former charms ; 
 
 Remember that each lucklefs grace, 
 O Colin, faded in thy anns I
 
 17 
 
 P I N D A R I A N yl. 
 ODE 
 
 TO MY GOOD FRIEND, 
 
 THE MOST MERCIFUL JUDGE . 
 
 \J , whofey^/r heart fo full of love, 
 
 Melts, fnow-like, on the viAim void of hope ; 
 
 Whofe confcience ftretches like the foftefl: glove, 
 To fave the fighing culprit from the rope ! 
 
 To thee., in Virtue's ftoutefl armour, ftrong, 
 
 Permit xhy friend and Bard to pour the fong. 
 
 O let us drag they^^^ of 7nan to day, 
 And hang them like thy rats^ upon our lay, 
 Murd'rers that ftrike the cheek of Horror pale ! 
 Whofe morals give contagion to 2. jail. 
 
 Illumin'd, ah ! too oft by Fortune's rays, 
 
 A pigmy wretch is fhewn in yon huge Houfef ; 
 
 Juft as the folar microfcope difplays 
 A mite, a flea, a bug, a dirty loufe. 
 
 A Judge may rife, defpiling Nature's groan ; 
 A villain, in damnation funk fo deep ; 
 
 * Hereby hangs a pretty little tale, 
 t Weftminfter Hall. 
 
 N n That
 
 138 PINDARIANjI, 
 
 That Vice, black Vice, fliall ne'er be idle known. 
 But when the fur-clad monfter falls afleep ! 
 
 Juft as the hackney-coachmen curfe aloud 
 Kind Sol, who diflipates a threatening cloud, 
 Dark-hov'ring, wifhing much his power to fhow, 
 And bid his deluge drown the world below ; 
 
 Juft as the reftlefs demon of the night 
 Lours on the maiden blufti of orient light, 
 
 And ikulks into the charnel's murky fnade ; 
 A Judge may rife, whofe fcowl fliall curfe the fmile 
 Of Justice, who fo long has bleft our Ifle, 
 
 And ftrike with ruffian fift, the heav'nly Maid. 
 
 Where is the Judge, in 7nurder only brave, 
 Whofe foul delights to feed the gaping grave ; 
 Who on the convict's pale cheek feafts his eyes ; 
 Whofe heart-felt founds are Hope's expiring flghs ? 
 
 Where is the happy Patron of the rope, 
 Whofe eyes onfeas of blood would gladly ope 5 
 
 Frcfli hecatombs of carnage, every morn ; 
 Whofe ear could live on Virtue's deepeft groan; 
 Stretch ev'n to pai?ty to catch her laft faint moan, 
 
 Poor writliing wretch, by every torture torn ? 
 
 There'
 
 P I N D A R 1 A N A. 
 
 39 
 
 There's no fuch damned Judge — but let me fay, 
 So foul a fpirit may difgrace the day. 
 
 Where is the Judge, who, 'midft his flirinking vale. 
 
 Walks forth, ah ! not to hear the turtle's tale ; 
 
 But with a happy, keen, and fparkling eye, 
 
 To fee the kite with fury fweep the fky ; 
 
 Now in his iron talons bear along, 
 
 The lark which charm'd the feafon with his fong ? 
 
 To fuch Dame Nature never yet gave birth — 
 'Bxitfuch a mifcreant vile, may curfe the earth- 
 Where is the Judge, who courts the gloom of night ; 
 Charm'd with the owl's and bat's and beetle's flight. 
 
 And fees with joy the fped:red band pafs by ; 
 With rapture liftens to their piteous wail. 
 Now follows hard to catch the mournful tale. 
 
 And forrov/s when the phantoms 'fcape his eye ? 
 
 A Judge, like this, to bid poor Nature mourn. 
 Was never jy^/, thank heav'n ! but may be born. 
 
 Where is the Judge who walks the foaming fliore 
 At midnight, 'midft the ruthlefs tempeft's roar. 
 
 When Fate and Horror ride the thund'ring Deep ; 
 
 5 Who,
 
 I40 PINDARIANA. 
 
 Who, for the cormorant's broad pinion fighs, 
 To mingle with the tumult of the fkies, 
 
 And join the whirlwind's wild refiftlefs fweep ; 
 
 To hover o'er the darken'd fcene of death, 
 And triumph in the feaman's fhrieking breath ; 
 
 Charm'd with each mountain furge, for life that raves; 
 Charm'd as the arm of Fate, with cruel fhock, 
 Heaves the huge veffel on the groaning rock, 
 
 And rends it piece-meal, 'midfl a world of waves ? 
 
 *' There's no fuch man, nor ever was," you cry : 
 
 Sweet Judge ! dear dove-like ! fo fay /. 
 
 But 7?tay there not a dev'l like this appear ? 
 Life deals in monfters much too oft, I fear ! 
 
 O Devon, parent of immortal men, 
 
 O fhould thy beauteous bofom prove a den, 
 
 To hold and fuckle fuch an Imp of fhame ; 
 Know, to the Poet though thou gavefl birth, 
 With foul-felt ardour will I wifh thy death. 
 
 Renounce thy blafted foil, and change my name. 
 
 SYLVIA. 
 
 «i
 
 P I N D A R I A N yl. 141 
 
 SYLVIA. 
 
 Uashwood, I diflike your jokes on Matrimony: you 
 poffefs too much fenfc to treat with fo much levity a ftatc 
 which the firft Philofophers hold facred. But your jeft 
 muft not be fpared, though ruin be the confequence. After 
 all your pretty profeffions, I am not 7iow certain that your 
 paflion is fincere — how am I to be convinced ? 
 
 D A s H w o o D. 
 Fie, fie, thou charming infidel ! — liften. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Dear girl, I'm up to ears in love ! 
 The fa6l, a thoufand follies prove ; 
 
 Yes, yes, I feel the dart ! 
 Well ! now I'm wounded, give the cure ; 
 Thou'rt not a cruel girl, I'm fure, 
 
 So try to eafe the fmart. 
 
 " Lord blefs us ! it is all a lie," 
 1 hear thee with emotion cry, 
 
 " I'm fure there's nothing in't:" 
 
 O o Indeed
 
 142 P I N DAP. I A N A. 
 
 Indeed there is, Vm fore afraid. 
 Nay, take the fymptoms, fceptic Maid, 
 That make it plain as print. 
 
 The inftant that I fee thee coming, 
 
 Tvly heart againft my ribs keeps drumming, 
 
 As if to caper out ; 
 To make his conge at thy feet, 
 Pronounce himfelf thy Have fo fweet, 
 
 And fight for thee, foj^out. 
 
 From thofe dear Hps, deHcious blifs. 
 If fancy coxcombs freal a kifs, 
 
 My eyes fo jealous roll : 
 Afide, I call the puppies names. 
 My heart is ^tna-like in flames, 
 
 Confuming to a coal. 
 
 I cannot bear to be ah:e ; 
 
 I yawn, I figh, I gape, I groan, 
 
 And writhe as if with pain : 
 Now on a fudden fcize a book, 
 Tuft half a minute in it look. 
 
 Then fiincf it down again. 
 
 Now
 
 PINDARIANA, 143 
 
 Now ruminating wild, I walk, 
 Nod to myfelf, and fmilc, and talk ; 
 
 Now hunt for fomething loft ; 
 Now fit, jump up — now ftare, now wink, 
 On fome deep problem feem to think — 
 
 Now vacant as a poft. 
 
 Now feize the violin, and fcratch 
 A half a glee, or half a catch ; 
 
 Now fnatch the brufh, and paint : 
 Now fling it down, and feize the flute, 
 Now hum an air divine, now hoot.^ 
 
 To make poor Music faint. 
 
 Now full refolv'd to vifit thee, 
 And take a fecial cup of tea, 
 
 And give my heart a plafter ; 
 I draw my watch, not over cool, 
 Call him a little limping fool, 
 
 And bid him travel fafter. 
 
 Now buftling round the room, here, there, 
 I try to find my hat, and fwear, 
 And wiQi him damn'd, and dead ; 
 
 Now
 
 144 F I N D A R I A N A. 
 
 Nov/ raging from my inmoil foul, 
 I roar, " What thief my hat hath flole ?" 
 Then find it on my head. 
 
 Nay, nay, I'd marry thee, my dear— 
 Love's fymptoms now too plain appear ; 
 
 There's nobody can mifs it : 
 Yet if thefe fymptoms are not love, 
 And this the pafiion fail to prove, 
 
 Why, what the devil is it ? 
 
 O that I did not love thee, girl. 
 
 And that my head, in this wild whirl, 
 
 Could keep a little fteady ! 
 But 'tis in vain, alas ! to preach ; 
 Like drowning boys, I've loft my reach ; 
 
 My fenfe is gone already. 
 
 Yet, Sylvia, know, t\\Q fingk elf 
 Has only oiie to ferve — viz. Self; 
 
 But v/hen he takes a ivife, 
 A hu?2dred maflers then appear ; 
 And what is very hard, my dear, 
 
 His flavery lafts/(?r Ife.
 
 PINDARIANA. 
 
 HS 
 
 HYMN TO ADVERSITY. 
 
 1 HUs fung the Bard of old, and deem'd no fool, 
 
 " Sweet are the ufes of Adversity j" 
 A Dame who kicketh from your rump your ftool, 
 And, favage, fhoweth not one grain of mercy t'ye ; 
 
 Bids all your fancied-deareft friends turn tail ; 
 Greets with wir'd whips, and blejfes with a jaiL 
 
 Mistress of this wifdom-teaching pain, 
 With Pill'ry, Gibbet, Famine, in thy train, 
 
 Go knock, God blefs thee, knock at others'' doors ; 
 By all my fav'rite Gods of profe and rhyme, 
 
 1 feel not thy philofophy fublime — 
 
 Go, feek the zealot who thy ftripes implores. 
 
 Go, thunder on a7tother\ houfe thy ftrife ; 
 Snatch from a hufband's happy arms a wife ; 
 
 Blot from his foul each glimm'ring ray of hope ; 
 Rack all his lovely daughters with difeafe ; 
 Poifon his fons, and, more thy rage to pleafe, 
 
 Prefent the fainting father with a rope. 
 
 P p But
 
 1.46 P I N D A R I A N A, 
 
 But let me keep wife, children, peace, and land, 
 And learn thy leflbns all Tit feco7id hand. 
 
 My tafte is dull — yes, vaftly dull indeed ! 
 
 I hate to fee a brother mortal bleed — 
 I hate to hear a gentle Nature groan. 
 
 And, Goddess, more efpecially my awju 
 
 Yes, yes, Heav'n knows, my tafte is more conjifid ; 
 
 Prefers the Zephyr to the howling wi?id ; 
 
 Prefers too, fuch my ftar's unlucky blunder. 
 
 One hours bright calm, to mo?iths of cloud and thunder. 
 
 Thou pofiibly mayft be a good phyfician, 
 But cert is doft not know my weak conditmi, 
 Blifters, and fcarifying, and fpare diet, 
 Would fet my nervous fyftem in a riot ; 
 Rich cordial drafts would anfwer beft, I trow. 
 Made up by Messieurs Hammersly and Co. 
 
 Thine iron fcourge would really a6l in vain, 
 So apt am I to make wry mouths at pain j 
 
 At difappointmcnt much inclin'd to moan. 
 Whenever then, O Goddess, things we fee. 
 That with one's nature fo nmch difagree, 
 
 Methinks 'twere better they were let alone. 
 
 To
 
 PINDARJylNA. 147 
 
 To tumble from a houfe, or from a tow'r, 
 And break a lucklefs brace of legs and arms, 
 
 Would make one look moft mifer ably four \ 
 
 Yet are there men, who deem all thefe ?io harms. 
 
 Theny^^i^ them, Goddess — foufe them on the ftones. 
 And for their goodly comfort, crack their bones. 
 
 If in a TC'^//-fluff'd coach, w^//-overfet, 
 A broken leg and thigh and arm I get, 
 
 I am not, I confcfs, of that pure leaven. 
 To crawl out on my hands and knees, and fay, 
 Grace-like, " For what I have receiv'd this day, 
 
 *' I humbly thank thee, O moft gracious Heav'n." 
 
 O Miftrefs of the terrifying mien. 
 
 The boatfwain's deep-ton'd voice and brawny arm, 
 O be not within leagues of Peter feen ; 
 
 Thy cat-o' -nine-tails cannot, cannot chann. 
 
 A ftupid fcholar. Goddess, I (hall be; 
 Thy converfations are too deep for jjie. 
 
 Yes, Madam, you are too fublime a Dame 
 
 For Peter's company, I fpeak with fhame — 
 
 A little winnins; we^tch contenteth me, 
 
 'Clefd
 
 14S PINDARIANA. 
 
 ''Ckf.d Fortune, a good-natur'd fmiling lafs, 
 Who conftant lights my pipe, and fills my glafs, 
 And makes my ev'ry day 2, jubilee. 
 
 This is the fweet companion for my money ; 
 
 Such is the little Syren I defire — 
 Thou art all gall, and Ihe all milk and honey ; 
 
 'Tis at a dijlajtce I muft thee admire. 
 
 A hawk-like appetite, and empty platters, 
 
 The bleak wind whiftling through a coat in tatters, 
 
 The flight of fancied friends, a foe's abufes, 
 Are thi?igs for which my bowels do not yearn ; 
 For rot me. Madam, if I can difcern 
 
 One atom of their feveral earthly ufcs. 
 
 Morality may wear a ruftle fliirt, 
 
 I really think, and not his confcience hurt — 
 
 Morality may alfo like nice picking ; 
 For fince the great All-wise has giv'n us fowls, 
 Mankind were certainly a fet of owls, 
 
 To dare to place damnation in a chicken. 
 
 Morality, I ween, may go well dreft ; 
 
 Keep a good fire, and live upon the bejl ; 
 
 4. Throw
 
 P I N D A R I A N A. 
 
 Throw by his wheel-barrow, and keep a carriage 
 Vifit the Op'ra, Mafquerade, and Play ; 
 Drink Claret, Burgundy, Champagne, Tokay ; 
 
 Get fifty thoufand with a girl in marriage. 
 
 To eat from fplendid plate, or homely manger, 
 Methinks the foul is juft in equal danger. 
 
 Befides, 'tis late^ O Goddess, in the day — 
 I'm not a fubjed fit for thee to flay ; 
 
 To fpcak the truth, my nerves too 7iicely feel — 
 Go, fearch the motley mixture of mankind ; 
 Some young enthufiaft wild, thou foon mayfl; find. 
 
 Proud of thy whips, and glad to grace thy wheel. 
 
 So great for my own perfon is my love. 
 
 And hard thy leffons, I can't nozv begin 'em — ■ 
 
 Befides, as I have hinted jujl abo-ve^ 
 
 I'd rather read of battles than be m'em. 
 
 [49 
 
 SONG TO SAPPHO. 
 
 At length, O faired Nymph, farewell ! 
 Let fighs alone my pafiion tell ; 
 With tears I quit thy arms : . 
 
 Q^q Adieu
 
 I50 
 
 PINDARIAN^. 
 
 Adieu each eve of pure delight ; 
 Adieu each morn with rapture bright ; 
 Adieu thy brighter charms ! 
 
 V/here'er by Fate condemn' d to ftray, 
 Where Phosbus pours the golden day, 
 
 Or fleeps beneath the wave. 
 Thine image will my path purfue, 
 And ever prefent on my view, 
 
 Detain me ftill a flave. 
 
 In vain I roam — I ftrive in vain 
 
 To break, O beauteous Maid, thy chain ! 
 
 Yet why my fetters part ? 
 Ev'n now thy fighs, my fighs approve ; 
 Ev'n now thy love, returns my love, 
 
 And yields me heart for heart ! 
 
 INVOCATION TO ST. CECILIA. 
 ON A LADY SINGING. 
 
 JDescend, O Goddess, from thy fphcre, 
 
 And liften to a British Maid ; 
 A fweeter Sappho warbles here. 
 
 Than charm'd of yore the Lefbian fhade. 
 
 Yet
 
 PINDARIANA. 
 
 Yet not like Sappho's mourns her ftrain, 
 Alas ! with Love's defponding figh ; 
 
 To Delia's beauty bows each Twain, 
 And owns the triumph of her eye. 
 
 '51 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A MUSICAL FRIEND. 
 
 A PASTORAL ELEGY. 
 
 How blefb were the Nymphs and the Swains, 
 
 When Lycidas join'd in the fong ; 
 The chief, and the pride of the plains. 
 
 Who led all the Pleasures along ! 
 
 Of late J not a valley was fair. 
 
 Not a grove gave a mufical found ; 
 The breeze feem'd a figh of defpair, 
 
 And Pity fat mute on the ground. 
 
 But Nature (how fudden the change !) 
 At the prefence of Lycidas fmil'd — 
 
 Health was feen through the valley to range, 
 And an Eden fprung up from the wild ! 
 
 The throftle was heard in the fliade ; 
 
 The linnet enliven'd the grove, ^^^
 
 152 P I N D A R I A N A, 
 
 And Echo, long banifli'd, fweet Maid, 
 Return d with her ftories of Love. 
 
 Yes, each fcene at his prefence was glad, 
 That fo lately with forrow was rent ; 
 
 And the voice of the Mourner fo fad. 
 Was loft in the fongs of Content.. 
 
 Juft able to crawl o'er the ftyle. 
 
 And doom'd, ah ! to labour no more, 
 
 Age would crawl from his cot with a fmilc, 
 And a blefling to leave at his door. 
 
 But the Shepherd for ever is gone — 
 
 Hark ! his knell, how it faddens the gale ! 
 
 Joy dies, and our paftimes are flown : 
 Fate envies the fmiles of our vale.. 
 
 Now let Mirth from each hamlet retire 
 To the region of filence and gloom : 
 
 Sure his death muft our forrow infpire. 
 Since the Virtues will weep at his tomb.
 
 PINDARIANA, 153 
 
 APOLLO TO THE ANACREONTIC SOCIETY, 
 
 AT THE CROWN AND ANCHOR. 
 
 Y E fons of Anacreon, liften awhile ; 
 
 'Tis Apollo, your friend, that fends greeting — 
 Of your pleafures, we Gods are in love with th&Jiyk^ 
 
 And are mad to be down at your meeting. 
 
 Father Jove with your founds is fo wond'roufly pleas'd, 
 That he fwears at ouv Jlats and o\xv Jljarps ; 
 
 With the fquawls of each Muse he'll no longer be teaz'd, 
 So commands me to break up their harps. 
 
 He has quite put a ftop to poor Momus's fun, 
 
 And forbid his jeux cf efprit to flow ; 
 Thus our club is knock'd up, becaufe we're outdone 
 
 By the mirth of you mortals below. 
 
 Then accept my petition — a v/ifli moil fmcere ; 
 
 Let me join as the Laureate your throng ; 
 Though I cannot, like Incledon, ravifh your ear, 
 
 I can give you a pretty good fong. 
 
 As for example : 
 
 Rr SONG
 
 154 PINDARIAN A, 
 
 SONG BY APOLLO. 
 
 A p-x on all forrow — on happinefs feize — 
 
 Care, avaunt ! nor our pleafures alloy ; 
 Since Jove has giv'n paflions and objedls to pleafe. 
 
 The meaning is. Mortals enjoy, 
 
 Jove's a God of ten thoufand — the Monarch, I know, 
 
 Loves his bottle, girl, fong, and a jeft ; 
 Has a monftrous regard for choice fpirits below, 
 
 And is charm'd when his creatures are blefl. 
 
 But he's vex'd when a fool takes it into his head. 
 That he's lojl^ if he meddles with, pleafure ', 
 
 And thinks, too, the fellow confounded ill-bredy_ 
 To refiife when he offers the treafure. 
 
 When a Zealot has turn'd up the whites of his eyes, 
 
 With long phiz, and a puritan ftrain, 
 I have fcen the God laugh, and in fun, from the fkies, 
 
 Make up mouths at the blockhead again. - 
 
 Then pufh round the bottle — let each give his fong j 
 
 Wit, Humour, and Friendfhip attend us ; 
 
 And whilfl for enjoyment our pafllons are ftrong, 
 
 Let us afk not his Gods hip to ?ne7id us. 
 
 Thus
 
 PINDARIANA, 155 
 
 Thus we'll revel, till Morning peeps into our glafs, 
 
 Tlien to fcenes of new rapture remove ; 
 To embrace with devotion a wife or a lafs, 
 
 And be bleft; on the bofom of Love. 
 
 ODE TO A HANDSOME WIDOW. 
 
 Oee yonder cloud, that mopes with mournful (hade. 
 Black ! black, as though it never would be bright 1 
 
 Sol, like a bridegroom comes, a jovial blade, 
 
 Clafps her with warmth, and lo, her darknefs, Light ! 
 
 The drefs of Cloud foon alters ! for, behold, 
 
 Her gloomy Sables change to pink and gold I 
 
 Daughter of forrow, thus perchatmce 'twill be, 
 If I miftake not Nature, foon with thez. 
 
 Pale as the pale rain-loaded lily's look. 
 And languid as the willow o'er the brook. 
 
 Exalt once more that drooping form to joy ; 
 Too long the lute of Woe, v/ith dying found. 
 And melting lullaby thine eye hath drown' d ; 
 
 The trump of Rapture fhould his voice employ ; 
 
 5 The
 
 156 PINDARIANA. 
 
 The fprightly Fiddle roufe his fifter Dance, 
 
 And bid thy cold heart glow with Love's romance.' 
 
 Thy lifted eyes too eloquently mourn, 
 
 Deep-fwimming in the iilent fount of tears ! 
 
 And then thy voice fo mufically lorn, 
 Acculing Fate's too criiel^ cruel flieers, 
 
 Wakes all the foft emotions of my heart. 
 
 That fympathiling fain would iJiirth impart. 
 
 But grief for Spoufes lafts not Ladies long ; 
 
 Yet very poignant! — yes, though y7jor/, \i^Jlro?ig, 
 
 When firil the beft of hulbands breathes his laft : 
 And if his all be left them ! — what a ftorm 
 Of fighs and tears their beauty to deform ! 
 
 Grief feems as ever \iQ would ride the blaft. 
 
 Ytt foon^ 'tis faid, the winds of Woe are ftill ; 
 And tears, from torreiUs^ fink 2i prattling rill. 
 
 Think v/jiat a pair of fparkling eyes are thi^ie. 
 And do not drown their Cupids in the brine ; 
 
 And think too on thy pretty dimpled cheek — 
 Think of thy flaxen hair, whofe beauties flow 
 In broad luxuriance o'er thy breafl of fnow ; 
 
 And think too of that foft and polifh'd neck. 
 
 Think
 
 PINDARIANA. iS7 
 
 Think of thy lips, that kiffes can impart, 
 So ready from their ruby beds to ftart ! 
 
 Thus fpeak thofe lips, *' We wi// be kifs'd again." 
 And in the fame fwcet fafcinating ftrain. 
 
 Thy polifh'd bofom fays, " I will be prefs'd j" 
 And then thy cheek, the lovelieft of our Ifle, 
 Exclaims, " I wi// refume the cheerful fmile, 
 
 " My hloom pal/ make fome future lover bleft." 
 
 O liften to thy locks from falhion hurl'd — 
 
 " We ivi// look chriftian-like — we wil/ be curl'd ; 
 
 " We wi// not imitate a cow's ftrait tail :" 
 And then thy all-fubduing taper waift. 
 So full of rich delires, and then fo c/)ajle. 
 
 While others are fo marvelloufly yr<3:/7— - 
 *' I wil/ be clafp'd by fome fmart fwain, I fay, 
 ** Not, like a cabbage-ftalk, be flung away." 
 
 Thy heart too fpeaks ! " Though nowy alas ! forlorn, 
 " There feems no reafon for ete?yta/ flghing : 
 
 *< Owl-like, a Uitk let me mope and mourn, 
 *< But not be ever fwelling, groaning, dying." 
 
 S s Hark !
 
 158 PINDARIANJ. 
 
 Hark ! from thy hand, which thou doft wretched wring— 
 
 " Give me" (a finger cries) " another ring." 
 
 Oh ! canft thou hear it on fuch wifhes dwTll, 
 
 And not indulge it with the bagatelle f 
 
 Daughter of Grief, then hamper not thy charms, 
 Who, really grown rebellious, pant for arms -, 
 
 Give way then to the roving mutineers — 
 And ftiouldft thou fay, " Lord ! who will take 'em in?"^ 
 Truft me, 77/ entertain 'em, ev'ry^^/^ — 
 
 My bofom's open to the pretty Dears. 
 
 ODE, 
 
 Peter defcantetb on the precarioiifncfs of Life, loiJJ.'eth to be at bh 
 own difpofal, and jhoiveth no objcStion to an emendation o/'Nature, 
 
 Ah ! this our world's a world of fid milhaps ; 
 Befet with Death's uncomfortable traps ! 
 
 Hard fqueez'd we fometimes get away to groa?i : 
 Now half the body's in the fpiteful gin. 
 And now th' unlucky tail, to make us grin, 
 
 So that wx dare not call our fouls our own. 
 
 r I do
 
 PINDAR I A N A. 
 I do not like entails — I hate controul — 
 Jove ! give mc t\ic fee fimple of my foul; 
 Around this fyftem let me range at eafe, 
 To flay, or quit it, whenfoe'er I pleafe. 
 
 Amid the wonders of Creation's field. 
 Strange ! that Existence fhould to t?vjles yield I 
 
 Behold that promifing Herculean Boy : 
 A Zephyr on his inr:int cradle blows ; 
 Lo ! out at once Life';] little candle soes. 
 
 The flame too of a parent's hope and joy. 
 
 Thus fhall the poor mean folitary worm 
 Kill, in the acorn's kind protecting cell, 
 
 The fmali oak-embryo, that had mock'd the fiorm,. 
 And fmil'd upon the fulphur'd flafh of hell ; 
 
 Had pufh'd its roots v/here Earth's deep centre lies, 
 
 And with its tow'ring branches brav'd the fkies. 
 
 'Tis 2.Jirange world we live in, to be fure ; 
 A world of wounds, I fear, without a cure ! 
 
 Dame Nature feems a fad unnat'ral Mother : 
 Methinks 'tis hard, one animal fhould die. 
 Groan out his laft, and eve?- clofe his eye, 
 
 To treat with life and rofy health another. 
 
 159 
 
 'Tis
 
 i^o P I N D A R I yl N Jl. 
 
 'Tis flrange indeed ! yet true, though pafling ftrange ; 
 
 Where'er the foot or eye of man can range, 
 
 This munching, mad, devouring fyftem reigns ! 
 O could our mortal palate feed on rofes. 
 As on their dainty effence, feed our nofes. 
 
 This world were then a pleafurable fcene. 
 
 'Tis murder, murder, now, from morn to night ! 
 Xook at a fimple aft that yields delight — 
 
 The Ploughman toiling through his fallow'd ground 
 Happy he turns the glebe for vegetation — - 
 Yet in this aft how many a harmlefs nation 
 
 Of worms, poor reptiles, feel the grinding wound ! 
 AVhilft rooks, and crows, and magpies, hop behind. 
 Alert and greedy, gobbling all they find ! 
 
 That 'tis a ^W world cannot be contended — 
 I wifh 'twere mended.
 
 PINDARIANA. ,6i 
 
 OSGAR's PRAYER. 
 
 Jc^LFRiD, the beautiful daughter of Osgar, was a captive 
 amongft the Druids, and deligned as a facrifice to the 
 Gods. — Amidfl a ftorm of thunder and lightning, he goes 
 to the Druid mountain, in order to procure, by his fup- 
 plications and an offer of his own life on the altar, his 
 daughter's liberty. 
 
 Osgar. 
 Yc winds, that warring thus, around me rage, 
 
 Ceafe your rude thunders on the wretch who dies ; 
 Poor is the triumph o'er defponding Age, 
 
 Whofe energy is only in his fighs ! 
 
 Ye forked lightnings that around me flame, 
 
 Ye mark two languid eyes, that weep and pray ; 
 
 Once, once, Hke you, high-kindling fhone their beam, 
 'Till Time, and dark Misfortune, dimm'd their ray. 
 
 Forbear, alas ! to thwart my way forlorn, 
 
 Wet with the falling tears of fondeft love ; 
 For life^ I hear a captive Daughter mourn, 
 
 And court compaflion from the Druid grove. 
 
 T t Mv
 
 i62 PINDARIANA. 
 
 My feebly bending form, and fcanty hair. 
 
 Grown white with grief, my tender caufe fhould plead ; 
 Wake a fmall pity on my deep defpair, 
 
 And bid the Druids ftay the bloody deed. 
 
 If, on their hearts, my forrows nought avail, 
 
 What, without Elfrid, life, poor life, endears ?" 
 
 Then kill me — then 'tis Mercy lulls the wail. 
 Of one who counts the moments by his tears.. 
 
 Tq the Druids. 
 
 Seers of high knowledge, lo, a grief-worn man, 
 
 Whofe only daughter is his foul's delight I 
 For her a father woe-begone and wan. 
 
 With horror darkens e'en the fhade of night. 
 
 Fathers of virtue, why this long delay ? 
 
 O lead your willing vidlim to the fhrine : 
 Quick let me clofe thefe eyes upon the day, 
 
 That, Elfrid, light may beam for years on thine. 
 
 Hafte with the knife of flite, ye Druid bands ; 
 
 And thus, my daughter's prifon-door unbar : 
 
 Forbear to bind with cords my wither'd hands — 
 
 To flruggle^ were with Elfrid's life to war. 
 
 Her
 
 PIT^DARIANA, 
 
 ,63 
 
 Her eye will drop a pearl on Oscar's tomb ; 
 
 Her fighs be balm where'er my urn is laid— 
 Thofe let her give, and I will blefs my doom> 
 
 I afk no happier offering to my Shade. 
 
 Fathers of knowledge, why this long delay ? 
 
 Speak, am I not a viSiijn for yon fphere ? 
 When from your holy mandates did I ftray, 
 
 And drew from Virtue's wounded eye the tear ?' 
 
 When did I ceafe your temples to adore ? 
 
 Or view'd unaw'd the Druid's ancient fire ; 
 Thefe rocks, thefe Idols, I confefs'd their pow'r, 
 
 And rev'rent fung their wonders to my lyre. 
 
 When was the faith of Osgar known to fail ? 
 
 What injur'd fpirits of my flights complain ? 
 What fpedre, 'midft the thunders of the gale, 
 
 On Osgar mournful call'd, and call'd in vain I 
 
 Have I not walk'd with many a (heeted ghoft, 
 'Midft the dread fdence of the midnight gloom ; 
 
 On moonlight mountains met the haggard hoft, 
 How wild ! with all their horrors from the tomb ? 
 
 Sliiunk
 
 i64 PINDARIANA. 
 
 Shrunk Penury, as crawling from the grave, 
 
 Ne'er left with forrowing downcaft eye my door : 
 
 Thanks to the Gods, who wealth to Osgar gave, 
 And taught its happy worth, to help the Poor. 
 
 A daughter's virtues are my only boaft ! 
 
 A fweet fimplicity, unfpoil'd by art : 
 Lo, v/ith my Elfrid's life, a 'world is loft ! 
 
 All, all forfakes me, but a breaking heart. 
 
 O fpare the terrors of a blamelefs Maid ; 
 
 And let my fufferings her dear days prolong : 
 O ! be thefe limbs along your altar laid ; 
 
 O'er bleeding Osgar hymn the vidlim's fong. 
 
 The flgh that wafts the parting foul away, 
 Retires from others with unwilling flight — 
 
 Withyiy, 7?iy fpirit Ihall defert its clay. 
 And blefs you Druids for the cruel rite. 
 
 Let not my Elf rid fee my blood-ftain'd hair. 
 
 Nor cheek fo pale, which favcs her precious breath ; 
 
 A fcene fo fad, her gentle nature fpare : 
 
 Her wounded heart, fo foft, would weep to death. 
 
 4 Yet
 
 PINDARIANA. i6 
 
 Yet would my Elfrid fee no frown appear, 
 
 As fuUen, forrowing for the lofs of life : 
 I'll teach my languid cheek ^.fmik to wear. 
 
 And fhow its triumph in the tender ftrife. 
 
 Enough of woe, her drooping ftrength will prove^ 
 When cold beneath the lonely turf I lie ; 
 
 The bleeding hift'ry of a parent's love, 
 Will often dim the cryftal of her eye. 
 
 Ye Gods ! when dead, permit my ghoft to roam^ 
 
 Peace to her turtle bofom to impart ; 
 To guard from pining thought her tender bloom, 
 
 And fnatch from Woe's o'erwhelming floods her heart. 
 
 Thus, thus, attendant be my watchful fhade, 
 Till Fate, commanding, feal her dove-like eye; 
 
 Then let me fondly clafp my darling Maid, 
 And add another glory to your fky. 
 
 O deal the blow, and Elfrid's form releafe ! — 
 He faid^the melting Druids heard his pray'r ; 
 
 Rever'd his virtues, bade him go in peace. 
 And to a father's fondnefs gave the Fair. 
 
 U u DELIA
 
 i66 PINDARIANJ, 
 
 D E L I A : 
 
 A PASTORAL ELEGY. 
 
 Lo, the pride of the village is dead ! 
 
 Lo, the bloom of our vale is no more ! 
 Now Sorrow fits dumb in the fhade, 
 
 Where Rapture oft carol'd before. 
 
 Like the Morn, fhe enliven'd the groves ; 
 
 Like the Summer, gave life to the fwain ; 
 For her fmile was the feat of the Loves, 
 
 And her voice the fweet fong of the plain ! 
 
 O Delia,, divine is thy name ? 
 
 Thy merits we all fhall revere ; 
 We fhall dwell with delight on thy fame. 
 
 And think of thy lofs with a tear. 
 
 Ev'n our children fhall lifp in thy praife ! 
 
 Their Inflrudlrefs fhall Innocence bej 
 Who their little ambition fhall raife, 
 
 To refemble a Fair-one like Thee., 
 
 5 Though
 
 PINDARIANA. 167 
 
 Though lodg'd in a Church-yard fo drear, 
 
 Which the yew-tree furrounds with its gloom ; 
 Thy virtue -.■..fwi fhall appear, 
 
 And thy graces h^Jiowrs on thy tomb. 
 
 MADRIGAL, 
 
 iriow fweet is every fhepherd's fbng f 
 How fair the vows that load his tongue I 
 His foul v/ith every figh expires, 
 His bofom flames with furious fires ! 
 
 This ev'ry day v^z feejn to fee ; 
 
 But when will Love and Truth agree ? 
 
 When fpiders, for the harmlefs fly. 
 In filent ambufli ceafe to lie ; 
 When foxes keen with poultry play^ 
 And from the lambkin run away ; 
 Then may the world with wonder fee. 
 That Love and Truth at laft agree. 
 
 SONG,
 
 i68 !> I N D A R I A N A, 
 
 SONG, BY SYLVIA. 
 
 Wh e n firft my Shepherd told his tale, 
 
 He droop' d and languifh'd, look'd and ligh'd ; 
 
 *' Good Heav'n," thought I, and then turn'd pale, 
 " How often men for love have died P' 
 
 Then pond'ring well, thought I again^ 
 " 'Tis pity kill fo fweet a fwain !" 
 
 Withy^^c^ a warmth my hand he preft, 
 My heart was fill'd with wild alarms, 
 
 That bouncing, bouncing at my bread, 
 Cry'd, " Take poor Colin to your arms.*' 
 
 And then my tongue began its ftrain, 
 
 " 'Tis pity kill fo fweet a fwain !" 
 
 Now Wishes rife, his caufe to plead. 
 
 The mutineers, in faucy bands, 
 And roar, " For fhame to flrike him dead, 
 
 And have a 7niirder on your hands !" 
 " Wishes, you're right," quoth I, *' 'tis plain— 
 '-'- What then ? What then ! \favd the fwain."
 
 PINDARIANA, 169 
 
 ODE TO THE SUN. 
 
 THOU, bright Ruler of the day, 
 To whom unnumber'd millions pray, 
 
 And, kneeling, deem thee all divine ; 
 Eternal foe of inky Night, 
 Who putteft all her imps to flight, 
 
 Receive the Poet's grateful line. 
 
 1 own I love thy early beam, 
 
 That gilds the hill and vale and ftream, 
 And trees and cots and rural fpires j 
 
 And, happy, 'mid the vallies' fong, 
 
 I liften to the minftrel throng, 
 
 A.nd, thankful, hail thy genial fires. 
 
 Yet lo, the Lords of this huge place* 
 Care not three ftraws for thy bright face. 
 
 Nay, thy rich lamp with curfes load ; 
 When thou gett'ft up, they go to bed ; 
 And when the night-cap's on thy head, 
 
 T'hey flare, and flit like owls abroad. 
 
 London. 
 X X Yes,
 
 P I N D A R I A N A, 
 
 Yes, yes, indeed they oft proteft 
 That thou'rt a moft intruding beaft ; 
 
 And io, in triumph thus they fay, 
 " Behold our Navy, Britain's pride ! 
 *' From pole to pole our vefTels glide, 
 
 ** And fail as fafe by night as day. 
 
 ^' Want we a fruit, of flavour fine?" 
 Exclaim the Great — " behold, the pine 
 
 " Is better warm'd by coal and tan : 
 " Not ev'n to one exotic plant 
 " The fun a perfed tafte can grant — 
 
 " Deny the flubborn fad, who can ?'* 
 
 The Footmen too, with winking eyes, 
 Abufe thy journey up the fkies ; 
 
 Mejfteurs Poftillions, Mefdames Cooks- 
 Content to lie a-bed all day, 
 They hate, alas ! thy rifing ray, 
 
 And curfe thy all-obferving looks. 
 
 Vex'd to their houfes to be driv'n. 
 The Great retire from routs, their heav'n, 
 And break up in a horrid pafTion, 
 
 And
 
 TINDARIANA, lyi 
 
 And cry, " In times of old ^ indeed, 
 *< The tajlelefs world a fun might need, 
 " But now the fool is out of fafhion. 
 
 ** About his bufinefs let him go, 
 " And light on other fyftems throw, 
 
 " Vulgar s ! that never wax-lights handle 1 
 " Nay, while a ?nutton-V\^t remains, 
 " A fun with us no credit gains, 
 
 " But yields to ^vvjfarthmg candle'^ 
 
 THE QUEEN OF FRANCE TO HER CHILDREN, 
 
 *Jufl before her Execution^, 
 AN ELEGIAC BALLAD, 
 
 1* ROM my prlfon with joy could I go. 
 And with fmiles meet the favage decree, 
 
 "Were it only to fleep from my woe. 
 Since the 2;rave holds no terrors for 7m, 
 
 But fromjj'(7/<f, O my children, to part ! 
 Oh ! a coward I melt at my doom ; 
 
 3 J'''
 
 172 PINDARIANA, 
 
 Te draw me to earth, and my heart 
 
 Sighs for life, and fhrinks back from the tomb, 
 
 Lift, lift not to Calumny's lie, 
 
 For I know not of guilt and its fears ; 
 
 And when at my fate ye will figh, 
 My ghoft fhall rejoice in your tears. 
 
 In bleflings, ah ! take my laft breath ! 
 
 Dear babes of my bofom, adieu ! 
 May the cloud be difpers'd by my death, 
 
 And open a funfliine iov you ! 
 
 TO A LADY, 
 
 WHO WISHED NOT TO BE ADMIRED. 
 
 Ah, foolifti Delia ! fince you hate 
 
 That people of your charms fhould prate ^ 
 
 Give me that face, that air divine. 
 And in exchange accept of mine. 
 
 Thus fhall I gain my heart's deftre, 
 And fct a raptur'd world on fire — 
 
 Toiill too be pleas'd, (no longer doubt ye) 
 As folks won't fiiy one word about ye. 
 
 SONG.
 
 P I N D A R I A N A. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 ^7Z 
 
 Uear Phillida, do not my pafllon defpife ; 
 Ah ! wherefore difdain all my vows and my fighs ? 
 Can cruelty dwell with the dove ? 
 
 Phillida, think not I mean to deceive ; 
 Whatever I tell thee, with fafety believe 5 
 
 For Truth is the daughter of Love. 
 
 Of beauty and grace thou haft got fuch a ftore ; 
 The eye that beholds thee, at once muft adore ; 
 
 Nor wifh from thine altar to rove : 
 Diftruft not, I beg thee, the pow'r of thy fmile ; 
 The Swain who now wooes thee, is void of all guile ; 
 
 And Truth is the daughter of Love. 
 
 Yet, Phillida, let me confefs in thine ear, 
 
 1 would ily from thy charms, which fo much I revere, 
 
 But their magic forbids me to move : 
 And yet, as iftconjiancy governs the Fair, 
 Perhaps thou mayfty;/?//^, and thus end my defpair ;, 
 
 Hope too is the daughter of Love. 
 
 Y y OD]
 
 174 P I N D A R I A N A, 
 
 ODE ON FRENCH TASTE. 
 
 1 I s laughable to fee a Frenchman fvvell ; 
 Proud of his tragic Idol, Pierre Corneille, 
 
 Baptiz'd, y^r/ooM, le Grand! 
 But our fop neighbours fee things with, flrange eyes ! 
 Alas ! Sublimity ne'er left her fkies, 
 
 To take a Fi'-enchman by the hand. 
 
 It is, indeed, a very different Dame — 
 
 A meretricious, noify Lafs, I ween ; 
 A bouncing Giantefs, with eyes of flame, 
 
 And fuch a daring and Medufa mien I 
 
 Trick' d out in flaunting lace, and fliiff" brocade, 
 With cabbage-rofes loaded, glaring, vaft ! 
 
 Such is the Frenchman's fong-infpiring Maid ; 
 The name of this bold Brobdignag, Bombast. 
 
 Sublimity's a fweet, majeftic Fair ; 
 
 So Ample in her form, and fpeech, and paces ; 
 So elegant her manners and her air — 
 
 A Juno drefs'd by all the eafy Graces. 
 
 TO
 
 I7J 
 
 PI N D yd R I A N A. 
 
 TO TIME. 
 
 AN ANACREONTIC. 
 
 C>oME hither — pr'ythee hafte, old Time, 
 And fee what joys amongft us reign ; 
 
 The bottle, Music, girls, and rhime, 
 
 And Friendship's foul, delight the fcene. 
 
 Then hither pr'ythee. Time, repair, 
 
 And tafte the pleafures, Gods fhouldy^^^r^. 
 
 The Tufcan juice profufely flows ; 
 
 We fing of Love, and Delia's charms; 
 When Morning warns us to repofe, 
 
 We clafp a fav'rite in our arms. 
 
 Then hither &c. 
 
 Ah, could our joys for ever laft ! 
 But, Time, thy minutes fly too fall : 
 Yet wouldft thou pafs one evening here, 
 Thou'dPc make each /jour a thoufa?td year. 
 
 Then hither, &c. 
 
 SONG.
 
 176 F I N D A R I A N A. 
 
 SONG.. 
 
 Ye gentil 'Squires, give over fighs, 
 To gain regard in ladies' eyes, 
 
 And make them doat upon ye ; 
 For Love has long been kick'd to door, 
 Becaufe the little God is poor — 
 
 Who's welcome without money ? 
 
 Try, ge?uil Sirs, a different fcheme ; 
 For truly 'tis an idle dream 
 
 To woo with words of honey : 
 Change (if ye wifti their hearts to fix) 
 Tour hearts into a coach aiid fix^ 
 
 And coin your fighs to 7?i07iey / 
 
 TO THE NIGHTINGALE. 
 
 Lone Minstrel of the moonlight hour. 
 Who charm'ft the filent lift'ning plain, 
 
 A haplefs Pilgrim treads thy bow'r, 
 To hear thy folitary ftrain. 
 
 How foothing is the fong of woe, 
 
 To mcy whom Love hath doom'd to pine ! 
 For, 'mid thofe founds that plaintive flow, 
 
 I hear my forrov/s mix with th'me.
 
 P I N D A R I A N yl. lyj 
 
 DINAH, OR MY LADY's HOUSEKEEPER. 
 
 Just forty-five, was Miftrefs Dinah's age, 
 My Lady's Houfekeeper — ftiff, dry, and fage. 
 
 Quoting old proverbs oft, with much formaUty : 
 A pair of flannel cheeks compos'd her face ; 
 Red were her eyes, her nofe of fnipe-bill race. 
 
 Which took a deal of fnuff, of Scottifli quality. 
 
 Her fmall prim mouth bore many a hairy fprig, 
 Refembling much the briftles on a pig : 
 She likewife held a handfome length of chin, 
 Tapering away to (harpnefs like a pin. 
 
 Her teeth fo yellow much decay befpake. 
 As every other tooth her mouth had fled ; 
 
 Thus, when fhe grinn'd, they feem'd a garden-rake, 
 Or flieep's bones planted round a flow'ret bed. 
 
 Her hair (^ckfd carrots by the Wits) was red, 
 Sleek comb'd upon a roll around her head ; 
 Moreover comb'd up very clofe behind — 
 No wanton ringlets waving in the wind I 
 
 Z z Upon
 
 378 P / A^ D A R I J.N A. 
 
 Upon her head a rmall mob-cap fhe plac'd, 
 
 Of lawn fo ftiff, with large flow'r'd ribbon grac'd, 
 
 Tclept a knot and bridle^ in a bow, 
 
 Of fcarlct flaming, her long chin below. 
 
 A goodly formal handkerchief of lawn, 
 
 Around her fcraggy neck, with parchment fkin. 
 
 Was fair and fmooth,. with ftarch preciiion drawn, 
 So that no prying eye might peep within. 
 
 Yet had it peep'd, it had efpied no fwell. 
 No lovely fwell — no more than on a cat ; 
 
 For, lo ! Vv'as Dinah's neck (I grieve to tell) 
 As any tombilone, or a flounder, flat. 
 
 Now on this handkerchief fo fl:arch and white, 
 Was pinn'd a Barcelona, black and tight. 
 
 A large broad-banded apron, rather fliort, 
 Surrounded her long waift, with formal port. 
 
 On week-days were black worfted mittens worn ; 
 Black filk, on Sundays, did her arms adorn. 
 
 Long, very long, was Miftrefs Dinah's waift ; 
 The ftiff ftay high befDrc, for reajom chajie ; 
 
 t; A fcarlet
 
 PINDARIANA. 
 
 A fcarlet petticoat ilie gave to view — 
 With a broad plaited back fhe wore a gown, 
 Of ftuff, of yellow oft, and oft of brown, 
 
 And oft a damaik, well beflow'r'd with blue. 
 Moreover, this fame damafk gown, or fluff, 
 Had a large fleeve, and a long ruffle cuff*. 
 
 Black worfted ftockings on her legs fhe wore ; 
 Black leather fhoes too, which fmall buckles bore, 
 Compos'd of fhining filver, alfo fquare, 
 Holding a pretty antiquated air. 
 
 Shrill was her voice, that whiftled through her beard ; 
 And tunes, at times, were moft difcordant heard, 
 
 Harfh grating on poor John the Footman's ear ; 
 HarlTi grating on the ears of Houfe-maids too, 
 Poftillion eke J who curs'd her for a fhrew, 
 
 And Kitchen-wench, whom Mis'ry taught to Jwear, 
 
 All, all but Jehu, felt her pow'rful tongue, 
 Whofe happier ear was footh'd by Jweeter fong> 
 
 No company but Jehu's did fhe keep, 
 
 In horfe-flefh, and a coach, profoundly deep ; 
 
 My Lady's Coachman, ftout, and young, and ruddy ; 
 
 Great, 
 
 179
 
 i8o PIN DA R I A N A. 
 
 Great friends were they ! — full oft indeed together, 
 They walk'd, regardlefs of the wind and weather, 
 So pleas'd each other's happinefs to fiudy. 
 
 For Friendship, to a Zephyr finks "^ Jlorm — 
 Turns to ^ pigmy ^ Danger's giant form — 
 
 Nought cafts a dread on Friendship's fteady eye 
 Thus did the couple feek the darkefi grove. 
 Where Silence, and fweet Meditation, rove; 
 
 Where Sol, intrulive, was forbid to p7y. 
 
 Greatly in fentcnces did flie delight, 
 So pious ! putting people in the right ; 
 
 And often in the pray'r-book would fhe look — 
 Where 7natrimo7iy was much thumb'd indeed, 
 Becaufe fhe oft'neft here God's word did read, 
 
 The fweetell page in all the bleffed book. 
 
 All on the Bible too did Dinah pore, 
 Where chafte Susanna nearly was a wh — , 
 
 By wicked Elders almoft overcome : 
 King David's adions too did Dinah read, 
 A Man of God's own heart — but call'd indeed, 
 
 A wicked fornicating rogue hy fome. 
 
 Of
 
 P I ISl D A R I A N A. i8i 
 
 Of Solomon, admir'd flie much the Song ; 
 Could read the Monarch's wifdoin all day long — 
 And where' s the wonder ! lo, the gallant Jew, 
 Of mortal hearts, the great queen PafTion knew ; 
 Thus fung he of the fparrow and the dove, 
 And pour'd inftrudion through the voice of Love. 
 
 John Bunyan read fhe too, and Kempis Tom, 
 Who plainly {hew'd the way to kingdom-come. 
 
 So modeft was {he, fhe got turn'd away 
 Susan the kitchen-wench, for harmlefs play 
 
 With Dick the Driver — likewife harmlefs Dick, 
 Becaufe he took from Susan's lips a kifs, 
 Becaufe too, Susan gave him up the blifs, 
 
 Without a fcream, a faint-fit, or a kick. 
 
 If John the Footman's eye on Lucy leer'd, 
 
 My Lady's Maid, fhe watch'd him like a cat ; 
 And if the flighteft word of Love fhe heard, 
 Quick in the fire indeed was all the fat — 
 OiT were the couple trundled — man and maid- 
 Jon n for a rogue, and Lucy for a jade. 
 
 A aa If
 
 rS2 PINDAR I A N A. 
 
 l\ e'er ilie heard of fome forfakcn Lafs, 
 
 Who loft, by dire mishap, her maiden fame, 
 
 At once £he call'd her trollop, minx of brafs, 
 Strumj^et, and ev'ry coarfe opprobrious name. 
 
 Small was the mercy Dinah kept in ftore 
 For fmful flefii — x\\z Jmalkft for a wh — . 
 
 So 7nodeft Dinah 1 if flie faw two cats 
 Ogling and pawing with their pretty pats, 
 
 Kifling and fquinting love, with frifking hops ; 
 Fir'd at the adlion, what would Dinah do ? 
 Slip down her hand, and flily take her fhoe, 
 
 Then launch in thunder at their am'rous chops. 
 
 With pigeons 'twas the lame, and other birds — 
 All who made love, came in for bitter words ; 
 Poor fimple fouls, amidft the genial ray. 
 Whom fimple Nature call'd to fimple play ; 
 But Dinah call'd it vile adulteratioUy 
 A wicked, impudent abomination. 
 
 It happen'd on a day, that grievous cries, 
 By Dinah pour'd, created great furprife — 
 111, very ill, in bed, alas ! flie lay : 
 
 A dreadful
 
 PINDARIANA, ,83 
 
 A dreadful Colic — her good Lady wept, 
 Gave her rich cordials — to her bedfide crept, 
 When Dinah begg'd that fhe would go away. 
 
 Down went my Lady to the parlour ftrait, 
 Fearful that Dinah foon would yield to fate ; 
 And full of forrow as my Lady went,. 
 Sighs for her Maid's recov'ry, back, fhe fent. 
 
 Lo, Dodlor Pestle comes to yield relief — 
 He feels her pulfe — is folemn, fage, and brief;, 
 
 Prefcribeth for the Colic — nought avails ; 
 On Dinah, lo, the dire diforder gains ; 
 Stronger and fafter flow the colic pains, 
 
 Fear, trembling, palenefs, ev'ry foul aflails. 
 
 " Poor Dinah !" fighs each mouth around the room,. 
 Join'd to a length'ning face of dread and gloom. 
 
 At laft, poor Dinah pours a death-like groan — 
 A ghoftly terror feizeth ev'ry one : 
 
 My Lady hears the cry, alas ! below— r- 
 She fends for Dodor Pestle — Pestle ftrait 
 Runs to my Lady — ^" Dodtor, what's her fate ? 
 
 " Speak, is it death, dear Dodor, yes, or no ?" 
 
 3 "Not
 
 iS4 PINDARIANA. 
 
 " Not deathy but ///I', (cries Pestle) forc'd that fquawl ; 
 ** A little Jehu's come to light, that's all." 
 
 TO C H L O E. 
 
 L^ET Sorrow feek her native night. 
 
 For why fhould mortals court the tear ? 
 
 Joy, Joy Ihould wing each moment's flight. 
 And Echo nought but rapture hear. 
 
 I'll gather wifdom from the dove, 
 And make my life a life of love. 
 
 While Youth fits fparkling in thine eyes, 
 And lips are rich with many a kifs ; 
 
 Aloud the voice of Nature cries, 
 
 " I form'd thofe charms alone for blifs : 
 
 " Go, Nymph, learn wifdom from my dove, 
 
 " And be thy life a life pf love."
 
 PINDARIANA, 185 
 
 THE YOUNG FLY, AND THE OLD SPIDER, 
 A FABLE. 
 
 In this original and beautiful fable, the Poet alludeth to 
 the arts of Men, who, by flattery, &c. are conftantly 
 laying fnares for Innocence. The Bard, moreover, fheweth, 
 that Prudence may fmile at the machinations of a great 
 rogue. 
 
 Frefli was the breath of morn — the bufy breeze, 
 As Poets tell us, whifper'd through the trees. 
 
 And fwept the dew-clad blooms with wing fo light ; 
 Phogbus got up, and made a blazing fire, 
 That gilded every country houfe and fpire. 
 
 And fmiling, put on his beft looks fo bright. 
 
 On this fair morn, a Spider who had fet. 
 To catch a breakfaft, his old waving net, 
 
 With curious art upon a fpangled thorn ; 
 At length, with gravely-fquinting longing eye. 
 Near him efpied a pretty plump young fly, 
 
 Humming her little orifons to morn. 
 
 B b b " Good
 
 J 86 PINDARIANA. 
 
 " Good morrow, dear Mifs Fly," quoth gallant Grim — 
 
 " Good morrow. Sir," reply' d Mifs Fly to him — 
 
 *' Walk in, Mifs, pray, and fee what I'm about :" 
 " I'm much oblig'd t'ye. Sir," Mifs Fly rejoin'd, 
 " My eyes are both fo very good, I find, 
 
 *' That I can plainly fee the whole, without.'" 
 
 " Fine weather, Mifs" — *' Yes, very very fine," 
 
 Quoth Mifs — " prodigious fine indeed :" 
 '* But why fo coy?" quoth Grim, " that you decline 
 ' " To put within my bovv'r your pretty head?" 
 
 " 'Tis fimply this," 
 
 Quoth cautious Mifs, 
 " I fear you'd like my pretty head fo well, 
 " You'd keep it for yourfelf. Sir — who can tell ?" 
 
 " Then let me fqueeze your lovely hand, my dear, 
 *' And prove that all your dread is foolilh, vain."— 
 
 " I've a fore finger. Sir, nay more, I fear 
 *' You really would not let it go again." 
 
 *' Poh, poh, child, pray difmifs your idle dread ; 
 *' I would not hurt a hair of that fweet head — 
 
 " Well, then, with one kind kifs oi frk7tdjhip meet me :" 
 4 " La,
 
 PINDARIANA, 187 
 
 " La, Sir," (quoth Mifs, with feeming artlefs tongue) 
 " I fear o\xx falutation would be lo7ig \ 
 
 " So lovingy too, I fear that you would eat me.'' 
 
 So faying, with a fmile {he left the rogue. 
 
 To weave more lines of death, and plan for prog. 
 
 MADRIGAL. 
 
 When Love and Truth together play'd, 
 So chearful was the Shepherd's fong ! 
 
 How happy, too, the rural Maid ! 
 
 How light the minutes wing'd along ! 
 
 But Love has left the lighing vale, 
 
 And Truth no longer tells her tale. 
 
 Sly ftealing, fee, from fcene to fcene, 
 The watchful Jealousy appear; 
 
 And pale Distrust with troubled mien. 
 The rolling eye, and lift'ning ear ! 
 
 For Love has left the fighing vale, 
 
 And Truth no longer tells her tale. 
 
 Ah!
 
 l88 PINDARIANA. 
 
 Ah ! iliall we fee no more the hour, 
 That wafted rapture on its wing ? 
 
 With murmurs fhall the riv'let pour, 
 That prattled from its cryftal fpring ? 
 
 Yes, yes, while Love for fakes the vale, 
 
 And Truth no longer tells her tale. 
 
 TO C H L O E. 
 
 Jr ivE thoufand years have roU'd away. 
 And yet, ten thoufand blockheads fay, 
 
 *' O Pleafure, thou'rt the devil :" 
 While Nature bids them joy embrace. 
 They fling the blefling in her face ; 
 
 Now this is moft uncivil I 
 
 But I'm not one of thofe, (thank heav'n !) 
 Ingratitude was never giv'n 
 
 To my good heart I'm fure : 
 Would Chloe yield a thoufand kifles. 
 Upon my knees I'd feize the blifles, 
 
 And beg a thoufand more. 
 
 ODE
 
 PINDARIANA. 189 
 
 ODE TO A COUNTRY 'SQJJIRE, 
 
 ON THE EVE OF HIS MARRIAGE. 
 
 VJREAT 'Squire ! you're now upon the eve of marriage, 
 And, O great 'Squire, I know you are a hog ; 
 
 Indeed fo fad a brute in all your carriage, 
 You'll freely give your wife up for a dog. 
 
 This day will yield a Fair-one to your arms, 
 Whofe dow'r are all the Virtues, and her charms. 
 
 Forc'd by the frown of Poverty to wed, 
 With deep regret, I fee th' unwilling Fair 
 
 Dragg'd from her Lover, to thy hated bed — »- 
 Sold by a cruel Parent to Despair : 
 
 See her deck'd out by garifh, idle Art, 
 To captivate thy vulgar, favage heart. 
 
 And live a Tyrant's JIave — a fervile wife ! 
 How like the vidim lamb, in ribbons dreft, 
 Led from its vale and fport, fo lately bleft, 
 
 To lofe its fweetly-inoffenfive life ! 
 
 Now, 'Squire, I'll tell you how 'twill be ere long 
 
 (O could the thunder of the Poet's fong, 
 
 C c c ' Preventing,
 
 igo P 1 N D A K J A N A. 
 
 Preventing, dafli thine iron cheek with (liame 1) 
 Thou'lt quarrel with her virtues, peerlefs beauty ! 
 Bid her " like fpaniels, underftand her duty ;" 
 
 Upbraid her with the want of isoealth and name. 
 
 Wilt fay fhe came a beggar to thy houfe ; 
 
 That through mere charity thou took'ft her in ; 
 Tell her fhe " crawls about thee like a loufe, 
 
 *' Eternally a torment to thy fkin." 
 
 How dares thy fancy nurfe the lying thought ; 
 
 How durft, alas 1 thy villain tongue declare. 
 That, when to thee the beauteous Maid was brought, 
 
 Thy offer'd hand with honour cloath'd the Fair ? 
 
 Know, with the virtues of the charming Maid, 
 Know, with her beauties thou'rt too well repaid ; 
 
 Evn by a /mile, that all our envy draws : 
 Ah ! when fhe yieldeth to thy lips her kifs, 
 And bofom yields thee, (too fublime a blifs !) 
 
 The lucklefs Virgin barters ^^;/^j hv Jiraws. 
 
 At length thou'lt leave her for a we?ich — thy Cook j 
 She will enjoy thy cafh, and love-clad look ; 
 The turnfpit-baftards, to thine eye be dear — 
 
 4 Thy
 
 PINDARIANA. 191 
 
 Thy Wife, with fvveetnefs bordering on divine, 
 Pale wretch ! in fecret folitude fhall pine, 
 Mourn to the wind, and drop the filent tear. 
 
 To heav'n, for help, {he lifts the brimfull eye ! 
 
 Kind Heav'n refumes the gift its bounty gave— 
 With happy heart thou hear' ft her parting ftgh, 
 
 And drunken, madding, danceft o'er her grave. 
 
 Thy Cook-wench foon becomes thy proper mate, 
 
 And leaves thee foon for lads who clean thy ftables ; 
 
 Nofes thee, pulls thine ears, and pounds thy pate, 
 And, with much juftice, on thee tur?ts the tables. 
 
 Ma'am Cook fhall oft contrive to fee th.tQ Jkippmg, 
 To hide thee from her rage, from room to room ; 
 
 Urg'd by a ladle-full of broth or drippings 
 Or by th-cjlrong perfuafmis of the broo7n. 
 
 To plague a little more thine aching head, 
 And keep thee, mournful devil, upon thorns ; 
 
 Shall take thy own Poftillion to her bed, 
 
 And, threat'ning, dare thee once to mention honn. 
 
 THE
 
 1^2 PINDARIANA, 
 
 THE COMPLAINT OF MIRZA, 
 
 T O 
 
 SELIMA, HIS MISTRESS. 
 \_From the Perjiati.'] 
 
 W HERE is the Nymph of Sardi's green domain, 
 The Nymph, whom every Bard of Perfia Ungs ? 
 
 To find the wand'rer out, and foothe my pain, 
 Sweet bird of morn, to Mirza lend thy wings. 
 
 But wherefore feek the Nymph of Sardi's vale, 
 Who fullen flies where Horar's waters roll ; 
 
 Scorns all my plaints, that mourn along the gale, 
 And fcorns the furge of grief, that finks my foul ? 
 
 Ah ! can that cheek where Beauty's fummer dwells. 
 Retain a fmile, whilft Mirza's forrows flow ? 
 
 Ah ! can that heart, that every foftnefs fwells. 
 Forbear to heave on Mirza's fongs of woe ? 
 
 Come, like the morn, pure virgin of delight, 
 
 And, blufliing, chafe the cloud of Mirza's fears: 
 
 Come, like the fun upon the dews of night, 
 And with thy radiance, fmilc away my tears.
 
 PINDARIANA, 193 
 
 HAWKING, A BALLAD, 
 
 Made at Falconers Hall, Yorkshire. 
 
 V^oME, fportfmen, away — the morning how fair ! 
 To the wolds, to the wolds, let us quickly repair ; 
 Bold Thunder* and Lightning* are mad for the game. 
 And DEATHf and the DEViLf arc both in a flame. 
 
 See, Backers:!:, a Kite ! — a mere fpeck in the fky — 
 Zounds 1 out with the owl — lo, he catches his eye — 
 Down he comes with a fweep — be unhooded each Hawk ; 
 Very foon will they both to the Ge72tlema7i talk. 
 
 They're at him — he's off — now they're o'er him again: 
 Ah ! that was a ftroke — fee ! he drops to the plain — 
 They rake him — they tear him — he flutters, he cries, 
 He fl:ruggles, he turns up his talons, and dies. 
 
 See, a Magpie ! let fly — how he flutters and fliambles ! 
 How he chatters, poor rogue! now he darts to the brambles : 
 Out again — overtaken — his fpirits now flag — 
 Flip ! he gives up the ghoft — good night Mifter Mag. 
 
 * Names of two Hawks. f Names of Hawks. 
 
 X The Head Falconer. 
 
 D d d . Lo,
 
 194 PINDARIANA. 
 
 Lo, a Heron ! let loofe — how he pokes his long neck. 
 And darts, with what vengeance, but vainly, his beak ! 
 Egad, he fliifts well — now he feels a death- wound, 
 And, with Thunder and Lightning, rolls tumbling to 
 ground. 
 
 Thus we Falconers fport — now homewards we ftray, 
 To fight o'er the bottle, the wars of the day : 
 And in honour, at night, of the chace and its charms. 
 Sink fweetly to reft, with a Dove in our arms. 
 
 ODE TO HEALTH. 
 
 Peter protejleth againjl Phyfic. 
 
 OWEET Nymph, of rofy cheek and fprightly mien, 
 Who, vagrant, playful, on the hills art feen, 
 
 E'er Sol illumines the grey world below ; 
 Now, doe-like, fkipping wild from vale to vale, 
 Enamour'd of the rills and frefh'ning gale. 
 
 From whofe mild wing the ftreams of fragrance flow. 
 
 O 1 'midft thofe hills and vales contented ftray — 
 Thou wilt be ruin'd if thou com'ft away — 
 
 3 Dodors
 
 PINDARIANA. 195 
 
 Dodors too much like man-traps lie in wait — 
 They'll tell thee, beauteous Nymph, ten thoufand lies. 
 That they can mend thy bloom, and fparkling eyes — 
 
 Avoid, avoid, my dear, the dangerous bait. 
 
 Like the Ji?~Ji woodcock of the year. 
 The inftant that he dares appear, 
 
 The country's up to kill him — dog and gun ! 
 So when thou {howeft. Nymph, thy rofy face, 
 I fee at once an iEfculapian chace ; 
 
 And, oh ! if caught, thou wilt not find it fun, 
 
 Lo, this proclaims he vendeth at his fhop 
 Rich immortality in his dear drop j 
 Another dire impoftor, bawling louder, 
 Swears that it lodges only in his powder, 
 
 Thefe raggamuffins have the name of ^ack, 
 Prepar'd to put thy beauties on the rack — 
 
 But then, the Regulars ! — ay, what are they ? 
 The Regulars, my love, are Gentleme7t, 
 Whom very juftly nine in ten, 
 
 I with an eye of no fmall dread furvey. 
 
 The Regulars in phyfic, I'm afraid. 
 
 And all th' //Tegulars who ply the trade, 
 
 Are
 
 1^6 P I N DA R I A N A. 
 
 Are juft like men that form an army ; 
 Whichever at you lifts his gun, alas ! 
 Will foon convince you what muft come to pafs — 
 
 The fhot will very comfortably wan?iye. 
 
 Indeed, the only diff'rence will be this. 
 Nor Quack nor Regular the mark will 7mfs ; 
 
 The art of killing they are all fo pat in : 
 On broken Englifli, fate by that you feek ; 
 By this^ upon the wings of mongrel Greek, 
 And pye-bald Latin. 
 
 Then once more let me bid thee, blooming Lass, 
 To keep, like Babylon's great King, at grafsy 
 
 And thou wilt find it not an idle notion : 
 'Tis fair, that I fhould try to fave thy life — 
 And know that Death is never half fo r//^. 
 
 As when the country fwarms with pill and potiotu 
 
 O blooming Wand'rer of the breezy hills. 
 Beware then of thofe potions and thofe pills — 
 
 Be kiffes all thy phyfic, rofe-lipp'd Health ; 
 Kiffes, my eafy Jiojlrum^ ne'er are rife. 
 For ever pregnant, lovely Nymph, with life, 
 
 KnAfweeter when they are enjoy 'd hy Jlealth, 
 
 I've
 
 P I N D A R I A N A, 197 
 
 I've built a neat fnng cottage on the plain — 
 Pr'ythee drop in fomc evening on thy fivai?i. 
 
 TO C H L O E. 
 
 V>HLOE, I live, and live for thee alone 'y 
 
 Truft me, there's nought worth living for, befide : 
 
 Nought for thine ab fence, Chloe, can atone. 
 
 Though PHoeBus fhines, and Nature pours her pride. 
 
 Lo, full of innocence the lambkins bleat ; 
 
 The brooks in fweeteft murmurs purl along ; 
 The lark's, the linnet's voices too, are fvveet — 
 
 But what are thefe to Chloe's tuneful tongue? 
 
 With ev'ry balm, the breath of Zephyr blows; 
 
 But thine can yield a thoufand times more blilTes : 
 I own the fragrance of the blufliing rofe. 
 
 But, ah ! how faint to balm of Chloe's kiffes ! 
 
 Ye Gods ! I mark thy frown, and fcornful eye, 
 And now thy bridling chin of fcorn I fee : 
 
 And now I hear thee, fo contemptuous, cry, 
 *' What are my kilTes, faucy Swain, to thee?" 
 
 E e e True,
 
 J98 FINDARIANA, 
 
 True, deareft Chloe — yet each kifs divine, 
 Which dwell eth on thy lips To very teazing, 
 
 Would quickly change its nature were it 7ni?ic, 
 And rapf?'ous prove — -fuperlathely pleajitig / 
 
 Love is a generous God, and 'tis his pleafure 
 To fee the gold he gives, in circulatmi — 
 
 Then ceafe to hoard fuch qua?ttities of treafure, 
 And be afraid to put him in a pajfton. 
 
 Thy beauties iliould the angry God dividey 
 
 And throw amongft thy fex, 'twould be alarming \ 
 
 And not a little mortify thy pride, 
 
 To meet, dear Chloe, ev'ry woman charming. 
 
 ODE. 
 
 Peter praifeth Conjlancy. 
 
 i h' unfteady mind is my abomination ; 
 I curfe the whiffling and inconftant paffion : 
 
 From me, dear Constancy, don't, don't depart — 
 1 love the cooing turtle and her mate — 
 The Proteus Mutability I hate — 
 
 A Demon when he holds the human heart ; 
 
 4 A flutt'ring
 
 PINDARIAN^. 199 
 
 A flutt'ring flraw, to wander fo iiicliii'd j 
 Keeping the company of ev'ry wind. 
 
 Old cuftoms Lt us not exchange for new ; 
 They fit fo eafy — ^juft like an old flioe : 
 And let us not, as though from Wisdom's fchools. 
 Fancy our forefathers were arrant fools. 
 
 E'en in religious matters^ folks love cha?ig2 ; 
 Scheming new roads to heav'n, they wildly range ;, 
 
 Hunting with nofes all fo keen, about : 
 / like an honeft conftancy in fouls, 
 In fpite of interejl^ that our race controuls. 
 
 Turning, like pudding-bags, men infide out. 
 
 In Ireland, not long {ince, th' unlucky Cattle, 
 And that fad plague, call'd Murrain, had a battle ; 
 
 When Murrain prov'd a mofl vidorious foe — 
 For Ram and Ewe, 'Squire Bull, and Madam Cow,. 
 And lufty Mister Boar, and Mistress Sow, 
 
 Were by this rogue in multitudes laid \o\\\ 
 
 Numbers indeed relign'd their breath, 
 To fill the gaping tombs of death. 
 
 Now in the Parifh, midft the Murrain's rage. 
 
 Which all the Farrier's fkill could not afTuage, r • ^ 1
 
 200 P I N D A R I A N J. 
 
 Liv'd a good Priefl — Father M' Shane ; 
 Famous afar for wonder-working pray'rs ; 
 Minding not {ins one pin, though thick as hares, 
 
 Safe were the fouls of the profane ! 
 
 One Sunday he defir'd to fay his maffes, 
 Amidft the field — where beafls of various clafTes, 
 
 Infeded by this Murrain, might appear : 
 His congregation foUow'd, to be fure ; 
 Bull, Cow, Pig, Sheep, furrounded him. for cure. 
 
 Yielding his mafles an attentive ear. 
 
 What happen'd ? Difappointed was the Devil, 
 Father M' Shane's good prayers deflroy'd the evil ; 
 Bull, Cow, and Sheep, fo hungry, graz'd the plains, 
 And Pigs, half famidi'd, fell upon the grains. 
 
 In fhort, their healths and appetites return'd — 
 
 Father M' Shane, what? laugh'd, while Satan mourn'd. 
 
 Proud of his deed, the holy Father went 
 To a rich Proteftant, with good intent. 
 
 To make the Murrain from his cattle fly : 
 ** Father M' Shane," the Farmer cry'd in fcorn, 
 " My cattle all were Chiirch-of-Etiglafid born, 
 
 " And in that holy faith they all fhall die."
 
 PINDARIANA, 201 
 
 A LITTLE SKETCH 
 
 OFACERTAIN 
 
 MOSr MERCIFUL AND LITTLE JUDGE. 
 
 Hmic tu, Romanc, caveto ; 
 
 H'lC n'lgcr eji ■ 
 
 JLo, that ^<?-periwigg'd black Knave in fcarlet, 
 The robes deep blufhing for their Mafter's foul ; 
 
 With what folemnity he fits, the varlet ! 
 With what fublimity his eye-balls roll ! 
 
 With what a grave pompofity he blows 
 
 What has been often pull'd — his mean pug-nofe ! 
 
 With what a fandity pronouncing death / 
 How pleas'd in fecret fwells the fatal breath ! 
 Religion-cloath'd, each fentence moves along, 
 While thirft for murder prompts the villain's tongue. 
 
 Look at this Judge — this fellow, out of court ! 
 
 The very firft in Roguery's hawk-ey'd fchool I 
 A knave, committing crimes oi evry fort\ 
 
 To whom. Hypocrisy's an arrant fool, 
 
 ** There's no fuch Man^'" the world exclaims. — That's true; 
 But fuch a Mojtfter^ ev'ry day we view. 
 
 Fff SIR
 
 202 P I N D A R I A N A. 
 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 Is it not aftonifning that the life of fo great a Man as 
 Sir JoHUA Reynolds fhould not have been written ? A 
 Painter who poflelleci more of the charming art than almofb 
 any fingle Profeffor that ever exifted. 
 
 But Fame proclaimeth Mr. James Boswell to be big 
 with the biography of this celebrated Artift, and ready to 
 link into the ftraw ! 
 
 See Johnson's angry ghoft, ye Gods, arife ! 
 He drops his nether lip, and rolls his eyes ; 
 
 And roars, " O Bozzv, Bozzy, fpare the dead I 
 " Raife not thy biographic guillotine ; 
 '' Decapitate no more with that machine, 
 
 "Nor frighten Horror with 2.fecond head : 
 
 " From Reynolds' neck, the pond'rous weapon keep : 
 " Ceafe, Anthj-opophagus^ to murder fleep !" 
 
 There is a wonderful energy, as well as fonorous fubli- 
 mity in this polyfyllabic cxprcffion of the Ghoft of our 
 immortal Moralift and Lexicographer, not obvious to the 
 minora fider a of literature. The word A7ithropophagiis is a 
 derivative from the Greek, fignifying Man-eater ; and Mr. 
 
 ^ James
 
 PINDARIANA. 203 
 
 James Boswell having regaled mofl plentifully on the 
 carcafe of Dr. Johnson, and meaning to make as hearty 
 a meal on the body of Sir Joshua Reynolds, furnifheth the 
 perturbed Spe<?cre with an appellative of fortunate propriety. 
 
 Johnson and Reynolds, lo, for ever loft! 
 Of no great man has Bozzy now to boaft ; 
 
 Of no rich table now can Bozzy brag : 
 Indeed, like faded Beauties, he will fay, 
 " Envy muft own Fve had my pining day." — 
 
 What wert thou ? — an illuminated rag ! 
 
 But what's become of boaftful Bozzy now ? 
 Deep funk in mournful folitude art thou ! 
 Amidfl; thy fmall tin-box, fo drear and dark, 
 No courted Genius cafts a lucky fpark ! 
 Nothing to gild thy folitary tinder. 
 Save the rude flint and fteel of Peter Pindar. 
 
 AN EPITAPH ON A FRIEND. 
 
 1 H^uGH here in death thy relicks lie, 
 Thy worth fhall live in Mem'ry's eye; 
 
 Who
 
 .04 PINDARIANA, 
 
 Wlio oft at Night's pale noon fhall ftray, 
 To bathe with tears thy lonely clay. 
 
 Here Pity too, in weeds forlorn, 
 Shall, mingling fighs, be heard to mourn ; 
 With Genius drooping o'er thy tomb. 
 In forrow for a Brother's doom. 
 
 ODE ON THE CHOLERIC CHARACTER. 
 
 Peter rcprehendetb Rational Creatures, y^r their viohit Anger 
 againji Inanimates. 
 
 JriAPPY the man whofe heart of fuch a fort is, 
 As holds more butter-milk than aqua-fortis ! 
 
 But, lord 1 how paffionate are certain folk I 
 How like the fea, refleding ev'ry form, 
 So placid 1 — the next inftant in a ftorm, 
 
 Dafliing againft the inoffenfive rock ; 
 
 Mounting towards the fkies with fuch a thunder, 
 As though it wifh'd (the lev'ler !) to bring under 
 Sun, moon, and ftars, and tear them into tatters — 
 Such paflions verily are ferious matters. 
 
 Men
 
 PINDARIANA, 
 Men in morality fhould ne'er be idle, 
 But for thofe pafiions make a ftrong curb bridle. 
 
 When lofty man doth quarrel with a pin, 
 In ma7^ refidcs the folly or the fin — 
 
 Not in the brafs^ by which his finger's fpitted — ► 
 For with a fmall philofophy we find, 
 That, as a pin is not endow'd with mind, 
 
 Of malice call'd prepenfe. Pin (lands acquitted : 
 
 Thus then his aukwardnefs mull bear the blame. 
 And thus to perfecute the pin's a fliame. 
 Many inanimates, as well as pins. 
 Suffer for others' fooleries and fins» 
 
 How oft a drunken blockhead damns a poft, 
 That overturns him, breaks his fliins, or head ; 
 
 Whofe eyes fhould certainly have view'd the coall, 
 And have avoided this fame poft fo dread ; 
 
 Whereas he fhould have fpar'd his idle cries, 
 And only damn'd his own two blinUng eyes, 
 
 A little Welchman, Welchman-like indeed. 
 Hot as Chian, that is to fay — 
 
 G g g A Bacheh
 
 2o5 PINDARIANA, 
 
 A Bachelor — and therefore ev'ry Need, 
 Was, for fubfiftence, forc'd to hhn to pray: 
 
 This Bachelor, to fatisfy withall 
 
 His gullet, 
 Put into a fmall pot — indeed too fmall, 
 
 A Pullet, 
 
 The Pullet's legs were not to be confin'd ; 
 
 So out they pok'd themfelves, fo fleek and white : 
 The Welchman curs'd her legs, with wicked mind, 
 
 And pufli'd them in again, with monft'rous fpite. 
 
 The Pullet liking not the Pot's embrace, 
 So very warm — indeed a nat'ral cafe, 
 
 Pok'd forth her fhrinking legs aga'm^ fo fair ; 
 With feeming much uneafinefs, in troth, 
 Objeding to her element of broth. 
 
 And wiiliing much to take a little air. 
 
 The Cambro-Briton waxing red and hot, 
 
 And highly yo^;;;/;?^ too,^juft like the pot, 
 
 Ran to the legs, and fhov'd them in once more ; 
 
 But, lo ! his oaths and labour all were vain ; 
 
 Out pok'd the Pullet's boiling legs again ; 
 
 Which put the Welchman's paflions in a roarl 
 
 4 What
 
 PINDARIANA. 207 
 
 What will not mortals, urg'd by rage and fin, do ? 
 
 Mad at defeat, and with a dev'lifh fcowl. 
 
 He feizes with ferocity the fowl, 
 And, full of vengeance, whirls her out at window. 
 
 TO MISS HARRINGTON, OF BATH, 
 
 " Alas, alas, I've loft a day 1" 
 Good Titus once was heard to fay, 
 
 And forely, forely to repent it — 
 What was it made the Emp'ror groan ? 
 I'd give a good round fum, I own. 
 
 To be inform' d how 'twas he fpent it. 
 
 Dear Titus, quickly leave thy tomb ; 
 Enter of Harrington the room, 
 
 Whom Music and each Grace reveres— 
 I'll anfwer for't, thou wilt not fay, 
 " Alas, alas, I've loft a day ;" 
 
 But, "Gods! Vv(i ^ownd five hundred years n 
 
 ANACREON
 
 2o8 r I N D A R I A N A, 
 
 ANACREON TO HIS LYRE. 
 
 Se72t to a Lady. 
 
 r AiN would I ftrike the harp to Kings, 
 And give to war the founding firings ; 
 But, lo ! the chords rebellious prove, 
 And tremble with the notes of love. 
 
 In vain I quarrel with my lyre, 
 
 In vain I change the rebel wire ; 
 
 Boldly I flrike to war again. 
 
 But love prevails through all the ftrain. 
 
 Oh ! fmce not mafter of the fhell. 
 Ye Kings, and fons of war, farewell ; 
 And fince the Loves the fong require, 
 To Venus I refign the lyre. 
 
 'Twas thus, O Nymph, with attic tongue, 
 The gay Anacreon pour'd the fong, 
 
 A Bard belov'd by ?7ie ; 
 And who the Poet's harp can blame ? 
 Perhaps old Greece could boaft a DaiMEj 
 
 With every grace like tbee^
 
 PINDARIANA. 209 
 
 ODE. 
 
 Peter modejily, delicately j a7id tenderly ^ pleadeth agamjl the exceffive 
 Damages lately given for certain illegal Liberties in Love-matters. 
 
 J\ Man may, in the cold dim eve of life, 
 By way of fun-fliine, take a pretty wife, 
 
 To warm him, as King David did of yore* ; 
 Kifs her neat little finger, pat her cheek, 
 
 Toy with the fnowy beauties of her neck 
 
 No more ! 
 Preventing thus each Rake of flefh and fin 
 From impudently ftepping in. 
 
 Thus toying, mumbling, chuckling, the old fool, 
 Who wanteth much the birch of Cupid's fchool, 
 
 Experts his wife, fo foft, and fo divine, 
 To fancy ev'ry fublunary blifs 
 In ev'ry toying monkey-trick, and kifs. 
 
 And round his neck, her arms with rapture twine;. 
 
 Juft like the fragrant pea, with blooms fo thick, 
 That -curls her tendrils round a rotten ftick ! 
 
 * Here is a flagrant error of the Lyric Bard. It was not a ivife, but a pair 
 of pretty black-eyed Uebre'W lajfes, whom the Monarch chofe for his loving 
 companions, 
 
 H h h Eor.
 
 2IO PINDARIANA. 
 
 For hhfz to raife his hedge, and bar his gate, 
 Is nat'ral — fad is trefpafs on th' eftate : 
 For who, alas ! can fit with filent eafe. 
 And fee a neighbour's pig among his peas ? 
 
 But why fliould be afraid of horns. 
 
 Who married a poor fqueal, ftarv'd cat, for jnoney ? 
 
 Fleav'ns ! what fliould put the Judge's breech on thorns ? 
 Where, for the wafps, alas ! is Madam's honey ? 
 
 'Tis fweetnefs tempts the infeds from the fkies ; 
 Gall needeth not a flapper for the flies. 
 
 So furious is this Judge againfl: Crim. Con. 
 That poor Adultery is jufl: undone : 
 Afraid to write, or fqueeze, or wink his eye, 
 Nay, waft the foul's foft wiflies on a flgh ! 
 
 Woe to the wicked C(9r;;//-factors now ! 
 
 Ten, twenty, thirty, forty thoufand pounds. 
 For hmi to pay, who milks liis ncighboin-'s cow ; 
 
 Stealing by night fo flily to his grounds! 
 
 *' O 'tis fo vile, fo wicked an aff'air ! 
 
 " Dreadful a neighbour's honour to enfnare — 
 
 " Take his dear fpoufe without his leave, indeed ! 
 
 " What !
 
 PINDARIANA. 211 
 
 *' What ! of his bofom ftcal the tender wife ! 
 *' The pigeon to his feet, prolonging life, 
 " Of linking age the fweet fupporting reed ! 
 
 " O that the law would make fuch doings death /" 
 Thus roars the jealous Judge, with thund'ring breath. 
 
 O ! rave not thus with anger pale, 
 
 But let thy fav rite Justice hold the fcale : 
 What though we muft condem?z the fmuggled blifs ; 
 Ten thoiifand pou7ids are too much for a hfs. 
 
 THE ADDRESS OF THE FAIRIES 
 
 T O T H E 
 
 LADIES OF R , IN CORNWALL: 
 
 Left on the Dial-plate in the Garden. 
 
 1 E gentle Maids of Camborne's Druid vale, 
 
 Admir'd and lov'd by all our elfin train ; 
 Your worth with wonder and delight we hail. 
 
 And pen, unfeen, {ox you the tuneful ftrain. 
 
 ^ Beneath
 
 213 PINDARIANyl, 
 
 Beneath thefe oaks our happy court we keep, 
 
 When Midnight rules the world with folemn fway ; 
 
 While jjw/j forgetful, fink to filent fleep. 
 
 We, blithfome, gambol 'mid the moonlight ray. 
 
 Sweet is the fpot where Innocence is (qqw — 
 Dear is the valley where the Virtues dwell : 
 
 By fuch allur'd, we trip this dewy green, 
 Far from the found of Riot's favage yell. 
 
 Health, rofe-lipp'd Health, fliall crown your cryftal rill. 
 And bid with ev'ry balm your Zephyrs blow ; 
 
 Unceafing fong fhall charm the echoing hill, 
 And Plenty robe with bloom, the vale below. 
 
 Thus wirig'd with joy fliall glide your golden hours. 
 Till for yon fkies ye bid the world adieu ; 
 
 And when at laft ye leave thefe blifsful bow'rs, 
 Your little weeping yr/Vw^j- v/ill wander too. 
 
 Oberon, 
 Puck, 
 
 Blossom, 
 Mab, &c. 
 
 TO
 
 PINDARIANA. 213 
 
 TO CHARLOTTE, ON NEW-YEAR's DAY. 
 
 Jdehold another year fucceed ! 
 
 But, Charlotte, thou haft nought to dread, 
 
 Since Time will ev'ry beauty fpare : 
 Time knows what's perfeB, and well knows, 
 'T would take him ages to compofe 
 
 Another Damfel half fo fair. 
 
 TO CYNTHIA. 
 
 V^YNTHiA, I own my heart is loft, 
 And dare confefs it with a boaft ; 
 
 It does a credit to my fighs ; 
 For who like thee difplays a face, 
 Or who like thee abounds with grace, 
 
 Or fports like thee a pair of eyes ? 
 
 But, ah ! 'tis folly to complain, 
 Becaufe I hear no fighs again, 
 
 A foft, a fweet return for mine: 
 Love is a Rogue^ who bade me gaze ; 
 And when he faw my bofom blaze, 
 
 Refus'd to raife a fpark in thi?ie, 
 
 I i i HYMN
 
 214 PINDARIAN^, 
 
 HYMN TO SILENCE. 
 
 \J Silence, to our earth by Wisdom giv'n, 
 
 Yet from t\iQ fajhionable circles driv'n 
 
 To breathing Zephyrs, and the limpid ftream, 
 
 Whofe murmurs fvveetly foothe the Ihepherd's dreamy 
 
 For thee I often ligh, but figh in vain. 
 
 When Folly ftuns me with her noify train. 
 
 Oh ! how I wifli thy prefence, when the 'Squire 
 
 Impertinently burfts into my room ; 
 Hallooing from the kennel's howl and mire. 
 
 And cafting o'er my day, a midnight gloom. 
 
 Yet if his fifter Phil, comes giggling in, 
 
 And talks of fafliions, op'ra, ball, and play ; 
 
 Methinks, my ears can bear the varied din, 
 
 Which forceth thee, mute Maid, to run away^. 
 
 Yet 'tis not long I wifh thee thus apart ; 
 
 So much thy prefence glads, at Wnes^ my heart — 
 
 For when I clafp the Nymph, fo fair and young, 
 And fteal a fweet acquaintance with her //jo, 
 I wifh thcc in the room at once to fkip. 
 
 And gently take poffefTion of her to7igue. 
 
 CECILIA.
 
 PINDARIANA, 215 
 
 CECILIA. 
 
 V>EciLiA, as 'twas Chriftmas time, 
 Refolving on a flight fublinie, 
 
 Prepar'd to pafs her holidays in heav'n : 
 The Goddess then brufh'd up her wings, 
 Pick'd up her trinkets, her beft things. 
 
 Her harp, and fongs, and pen, by Phoebus giv'n. 
 
 When in rufli'd Music—" Madam, no, 
 " Indeed you mujl not, Jh all not go" — 
 
 " Poh! hold thy tongue (the Goddess cry'd) thou 
 Ninny ;. 
 **^ Think'ft thou I'll quit dear Bath, my pride, 
 *'* And not an equal charm provide ? 
 
 " Thou ftupid creature, to forget Rauzz'mi.'" 
 
 SONG* 
 
 Ah, Delia 1 I will not complain, 
 
 That another is bleft in thy charms ; 
 
 Yet allow me to e?ivy the Swain, 
 
 Whom Delia can take to her arms. 
 
 4 I confefs
 
 2i6 PINDARIANA. 
 
 I confefs that no merit is mine- 
 That of Delia I ought to defpair : 
 
 Since thy virtues, dear Maid, are divine, 
 And thy form Hke an Angel's fo fair. 
 
 On Fate let me fix all the blame, 
 Who fliow'd me thy form of defire ; 
 
 When I caught from thy beauty a flame, 
 That only with life can expire. 
 
 Yet, Delia, before I depart. 
 Ah ! do not 07te favour deny ; 
 
 Though Fortune denies me thy hearty 
 Let thy pity accept of its 
 
 MADRIGAL. 
 
 OwEET Girl, the man's a downright fool. 
 That afks for conftancy in love — 
 
 Variety's a charming fchool : 
 
 How nat'ral for the heart to rove ! 
 
 A form like thine can never cloy — 
 And, lo, thy graces, what a plenty ! 
 
 Then tell me, why fhould 07ie enjoy 
 The beauties that fuffifc for twenty P
 
 PINDARIANA, 217 
 
 AN APOLOGY FOR INCONSTANCY. 
 
 TO P H I L L I S. 
 
 " Jliow 'tis thou governed above, 
 " I know not verily, O Love ; 
 " But, to my grief, this truth I know, 
 ** That Folly leads thy dance below.'''' 
 
 'Twas thus I fpleenful cry'd, when firft my heart 
 From thy black fparklers felt the flinging dart : 
 
 In difmal crape I drefs'd up many a ballad ; 
 Mad at four looks, I look'd for nought but fmile. 
 Not dreaming once that vinegar and oil 
 
 Produc'd a fine efFedt upon a fallad. 
 
 My wary wifdom now is on its guard, 
 And ev'ry day, I, Peter, am prepar'd 
 
 To catch my little Syren out of humour : 
 A difappointment at a ball perchance, 
 Not (landing up \\iz foremojl in a dance, 
 
 Which forms a feafl for wide-mouth'd Madam Rumour^ 
 May give thee fidgets, put thee out of forts — 
 What flighted Lady loveth fuch reports ? 
 
 K k k Grant
 
 2i8 PINDARIANA. 
 
 Grant that thine eyes, with fullcn clouds o'ercaft, 
 
 Let fall, alas 1 a hearty fnow'r of rain — 
 Soon will tliofe funs (for long it cannot laft) 
 
 Peep out with radiance on the world again. 
 When, lo ! their beams will feem a great deal brighter, 
 My fpirits alfo dancing ten times lighter. 
 
 Life is too niaukiili, if 'tis ^Xwiys fweet ; 
 
 At times, a difappointment is a treat. 
 
 Some fcout this dodtrine — Pflia ! the vapid affes ! 
 
 Lord, drown them in a hogfhead of molaffes. 
 
 When Majesty was in a monflrous paffion. 
 And grimly Thurlow thunder'd out d-mnation, 
 And Leeds and Hawksb'ry join'd their jowls together, 
 Brewing, like witches of Macbeth, foul weather ; 
 
 I cannot truly fiy my heart was light : 
 Indeed the Bard found fomething like a fright; 
 
 Indeed I trembled at the gathering gloom ; 
 But when the cloud fo harmlcfs pafs'd away. 
 My fpirits all fo frolickfome and gay. 
 
 To dance their jig, had fcarcely elbow-room. 
 I laugh'd at each dark terrifying mien. 
 And mock'd the dread that rufli'd through ev'ry vein. 
 
 Yet,
 
 P I N D A R I A N yl. 219 
 
 Yet, is it poflible, ye tuneful Nine, 
 
 (Doubtlefs the thought the great Apollo fhocks) 
 That verfes vended by a Bard divine, 
 
 Can put his facred legs into the flocks ? 
 Yes ! and his facred head into the pillory ; 
 So fay the law archives of Lent and Hilary. 
 
 Some, Moderation kick, like fools, to door> 
 And wifh their paffions always in a roa?\ 
 Ah ! would thofe madmen wifely time employ. 
 They ought to be ecofiomijis of joy. 
 
 Too frequent and too violent a motion, 
 
 Will tear the beft machinery to pieces ; 
 This do6trine to young mafters is 2i potion^ 
 
 A naufeous potion too to love-fick Mijfes, 
 
 Beyond th' extravagance of rhyme. 
 Beyond the flight of thought fublime, 
 
 I chace not blifles thus beyond all meafure — 
 Rapture's a fiery hunter to beftride; 
 Indeed I wifh not fnadman-like to ride, 
 
 But calm on that fweet filley, chriften'd Pleasure. 
 
 Phillis, I will not always have thy fmile ; 
 At times, I'll give thee liberty to pout : 
 
 vSuch
 
 220 PINDARIANA. 
 
 Such is my plan, the minutes to beguile ; 
 
 Sometimes in heav'n, my love, and fometimes out* 
 Variety affords a zeft to life — 
 But, mum ! — we muft not fay this to a wife. 
 
 HYMN TO LIFE. 
 
 A ARENT of Pleasure, and of many a groan, 
 1 fhould be loath to part with thee, I own, 
 
 Dear Life 1 
 To tell the truth, I'd rather lafe a wife^ 
 Should Heav'n e'er deem me worthy of pofTefllng 
 That beft, that moft invaluable blefling. 
 
 Some people talk of thee with irmch. fang-froidy 
 As one too pitiful to be enjoy' d ; 
 
 But thou'rt a moft delightful girl with me — 
 A hundred thoufand pretty things are thine ; 
 Indeed, of golden treafure thou'rt a mine, 
 
 Thy manners greatly with my heart agree. 
 
 I love thy fweet acquaintance from my heart ; 
 Will make a bargain with thee not to part, 
 
 4 Till
 
 P I N D A R 1 A N A. ^ 
 
 Till Fate fliall ftrike our fyftem ofF its hinges : 
 Confenting to a little gout fometimes, 
 That fpoils my appetite to meat and rhimes, 
 Thofe very fharp memento-mori twinges. 
 
 I thank thee that thou brought'ft me into being; 
 The things of this our world are well worth feeing^ 
 
 And, let me add moreover, well worth feeling ; 
 Then what the dev'l would people have, 
 Thefe gloomy hunters of the grave, 
 
 -For ever fighing, groaning, canting, kneeling ? 
 
 I cannot rife from thee as from a feaft, 
 
 As Horace fays, uti convivafatur — -1 
 
 No fuch matter : 
 I'll anfwer for myfelf at leaft. 
 
 No, when it comes that thou and I muft part, 
 Life, I fhall leave thee with a Tighing heart ; 
 Leave the warm precinds of the cheerful day, 
 TVith. ling' ring longing looks, fays Gray. 
 
 Some wifh they never had been born, how odd! 
 To fee the handy works of God, 
 In fun, and moon, and ftarry fky ; 
 
 L 1 1 Though
 
 222 P I N D A R I A N A. 
 
 Though laft, not leaft, to fee fweet Woman's chaiins^ 
 
 Nay more, to clafp them in our arms, 
 
 And pour the foul in love's delicious figh. 
 Is well worth coming for, I'm fure, 
 Suppofmg that thou gav'ft us nothing more. 
 
 Yet, thus furrounded, Life, dear Life, I'm ihi?iey 
 And could I always call thee mi?ie, 
 
 I would not quickly bid this world farewell : 
 But whether here, or long, or fhort my ftay, 
 I'll keep in mind, for ev'ry day. 
 
 An old French motto, Vive la bagatelle ! 
 
 Before us Heav'n hath plac'd the tear and fmile ^ 
 Each may be won with very trifling toil — 
 
 But if there be in nature fuch a mule, 
 Who, willing with misfortune to be curft, 
 ghould, like an ideot, madly choofe the firft,. 
 
 In God's name let him fuffer like a fool. 
 
 Misfortunes are this lott'ry world's fad blanks ; 
 Prefents, in my opinion, not worth thanks : 
 The Pleasures are the twenty-thoufand prizes. 
 Which nothing but a downright afs defpifes. 
 
 ODE
 
 ^ I N DA R J A N A. 
 
 ODE TO ADMIRAL HOTHAM. 
 
 1 HRicE happy man, on whom Dundas and Pitt,^ 
 With all the energy of human wit, 
 
 And all the pow'rs ofTacred truth befide, 
 Have lavifh'd the wild torrent of their praife, 
 Deck'd thy bald head with Glory's brighteft rays \ 
 
 Hafte from thy veffel with unwounded hide ^ 
 
 Thy vejfel^ which, like thee, 'mid War's alarmj, 
 And mighty danger, met no mighty harm. 
 
 Great Tar, at once thy courfe for England fhape ^ 
 England, broad ftaring, quite upon the gape, 
 To meet the Victor, by whofe arm, Dundas 
 Declares what ma?'vlous things have come to pafs \ 
 
 Yet as we bear thee through the flreets along. 
 Amid the dunning fhout, and howling fong ; 
 
 Suppofe a Patriot Sage fhould crofs thy way, 
 And, claiming filence, afk in manly tone, 
 "What for thefe honours, Hotham, haft thou done?' 
 
 Hotham ! now what the devil wilt thou fay ? 
 
 FROM
 
 224 PINDARIANJ. 
 
 FROM THE PERSIAN OF EMIR JOHAD. 
 
 TO THE BUTTERFLY. 
 
 Sweet child of fummer, who from flow'r to flowV, 
 To Up each odour, fport'ft on filken wing ; 
 
 I greet thy prefence 'mid the golden hour, 
 
 Whilft with the birds the vales of Serdi ringr 
 
 i fee thee perching on each rofe's bloom ; 
 
 From fragrance thus to fragrance wont to glide ; 
 Now from the tender vi'let waft perfume ; 
 
 Now fix'd upon the lily's fnowy pride. 
 
 Though bled art thou — my blifs is greater ftill:; 
 
 I kifs the bofom of the brightefl Fair ! 
 The charms of Ad el all my fenfes fill ; 
 
 And whilft thofe charms I prefs, her love I fhare. 
 
 But thou a mutual pafTion canft not know; 
 
 No fond endearments can return to thee — 
 Whilft I, belov'd, with conftant rapture glow — 
 
 Sweet child of fummer, come and envy me.
 
 flNDARIANA, 225 
 
 ODE TO THE LION SHIP OF WAR, 
 
 On her Return with the Embajfy from China. 
 
 JL/EAR Lion, welcome from thy monkey trip ; 
 Glad is the Bard to fee thee, thou good Ship ; 
 Thy mournful enfign, half way down the ftaff, 
 Provokes (I fear me much) a general laugh ! 
 
 What fad long phizzes thou haft now on board ! 
 A high and mighty difappointed Lord ! 
 And lo, a difappointed doughty Knight, 
 Whofe buds of hope have felt a horrid blight. 
 
 Say, wert thou not a/ham d to put thy prow 
 
 Where Britons, dog-like, learnt to crawl and bow ; 
 
 Where Eajiern Majefty, as hift'ry fings. 
 
 Looks down with fmiles of fcorn on Wefier7i Kings ? 
 
 Ah me ! 'tis univerfally allow'd 
 
 That Eaftcrn Monarchs are prodigious proud ; 
 
 Unlike the humble Monarchs of the Weft — - 
 Such kind and pliable and gentle creatures ! 
 So placid, of their fouls, and fweet, the features ; 
 
 Where nought but Virtue is a welcome gueft, 
 
 M m m Your
 
 226 VINDARIANA. 
 
 Your Eaftern Defpots, in their lofty ftatioiij 
 Exped the cenfer of rich adulation 
 
 To burn for ever underneath their nofes : 
 This incenfe boafts a certain opiate pow'r ; 
 Whofe pleafant, ftupefying, plenteous fhow'rj 
 
 The optics of the underftanding clofes ; 
 
 Producing, too, a charming gaudy dream, 
 In which Kings think they hold the world's efteem ; 
 Think, too, the confcience found, though full of holes, 
 And virtues, thick as herrings, in their fouls, 
 
 O Flatt'ry, thou attendant on Inanity, 
 
 Thou meat, drink, clothes, and furniture of Vanity, 
 
 'Tis cruel to attack 2i feeble head'. 
 Yes, cruel — likewife let me add, Z-pmne — 
 Who never makeft mention of its name, 
 
 Poor, eafy, gaping cuckoo, when 'tis dead. 
 
 Once more to thee^ O Lion, to return — 
 A fubjed form'd to bid all England mourn ! 
 
 O think upon thy Britons, how difgrac'd, 
 As to the palace of Jehol they rac'd. 
 
 So
 
 PINDARIANA. 227 
 
 So fhabbily, fo tawdrily array'd !* 
 The natives, with horfc-laughs, the tribe remarking ; f 
 While, grunting, kicking, braying, howling, barking, J 
 
 Hogs, dogs, and affes, join'd the cavalcade ! 
 
 Not Staunton, with his Doftor's gown and cap, 
 Could from the populace obtain one clap ; 
 Nor poor Macartney, with his ftar and ribbon! — 
 Child-like, he might as well have had a bib on ! 
 
 Ah me ! before ye fail'd, a friend, 
 I told ye all how things would end.|| 
 
 * " I cannot but add to the obftacles which we received fronn the curiofity 
 of the Chinefe people, fome fmall degree of mortification at the kind of im- 
 preffion our appearance feemed to mal<.e on them : for they no fooner obtained 
 a fight of any of us, than they univerfally burfl: out into loud fhouts of laughter.'" 
 Vide Anderson's Narrative of the Britilh Embally to China. 
 
 -j- Mr. Anderson fuppofcs the clothes for ihs/iiite of the Ambaflador were 
 fecond-hand things purchafed from the fervants of the French Ambaflador 
 Luzerne, or from the Play-houfes — perhaps from Monmouth- ftreet. 
 
 J " We found ourfelves (fays Mr. Anderson) intermingled with a cohort 
 of pigs, afles, and dogs, which broke our ranks, fuch as they were, and put 
 us into irrecoverable confufion. All formality of procelTion, therefore, was 
 at an end ; and the AmbafTador's palanquin was fo far advanced before us, 
 as to make a \kt\c/mari running neceflfary to overtake it," 
 
 il See my Epiftle to Lord Macartney, in which I prophefied fomewhat 
 more than came topafs, as the Embafly was bondjide not literally /o^^^i; but, 
 fays Anderson, " we entered Pekin like paupers, we remained in it like 
 prifoners, and we quitted it like vagrants." 
 
 4 Tell
 
 228 PINDARIANA. 
 
 Tell me, who plann'd this filly expedition ? 
 That brain was furely in a mad condition : 
 
 Say, was it Avarice, the lean old Jade, 
 Who, though half Afia's gems her corpfe illume, 
 (Sol's radiance on a melancholy tomb) 
 
 Can join with Meanness in her dirtied trade? 
 
 Who told our King, the embaffy would thrive, 
 Muft be the moft egregious fool alive- 
 God mend that Courtier's head, or rather trafh-pot !- 
 Perhaps he cry'd, " Upon the rich Hindoo 
 *' Your glorious Majefty has caft its fhoe, 
 " And China next, my Liege, muft be your wajh-pot.'' 
 
 ODE TO A BUTTERFLY. 
 
 Child of the fummer's golden hour. 
 Who, happy, rov'ft from flow'r to flow'r. 
 
 Now fportive winnowing 'mid th' expanfe of air ; 
 O welcome to my little field ! 
 Each leaf of fragrance may it yield ! 
 
 Yes, dwell with me, and Nature's bounty fhare. 
 
 No
 
 P I N D A R 1 A N A. 219 
 
 No black Sir Joseph* with his net, 
 
 And Jon AS f, whehn'd with duft and fweat, 
 
 Shall rudely chafe thee far from my protedion ; 
 Wild-leaping ev'ry fence and ditch ; 
 So rank the Virtuofo itch, 
 
 For making a rare butterfly coUedion. 
 
 Yet round thy paper-gibbet, laud would ?i.oWj 
 Amid the Knight's brave breakfafts in Soho ; 
 
 With rapture fliown to toaft-and-muffin Sages : 
 With thee too, would the royal Journals ring ; 
 And ev'n thy pretty mealy painted wing 
 
 Employ defcription fweet, for fifty pages ! 
 
 Yet what, alas ! is praife to people deadf 
 A panegyric on a lump of lead — 
 
 Precifely fo ! 
 Ye Gods, then, let me all my praifes hear — 
 For verily 'tis wifdom to prefer 
 
 One grain above ground^ to a pound below* 
 
 Rare Child of iEther, pr'ythee then agree 
 
 To choofe the offer'd field, and dwell with me : 
 
 * Banks. f Jonas Dryandcr, the Knight's ^b^ ^uo ncn. 
 
 N n n Here
 
 230 PINDARIANjI. 
 
 Here will I mark thee, 'mid thy meals, how chafte 1 
 So bufy on the flow'rs of golden hue. 
 And filver daifies moift with morning dew. 
 
 How innocent, how fimple thy repaft ! 
 
 Ah ! diff 'rent far, from Us who grofsly lave 
 Our lips in beef and mutton's fanguine wave ! 
 
 Whilft TVe, a race barbarian, cruel, Jlay — 
 From hog, too, form the dinners of the day — 
 
 From hog, that lodg'd of yore the Imps of evil* I 
 Intrepid He who ventur'd thus to dine ! 
 Methinks the man who dreamt of eating yw/;/^, 
 
 Muft really next have thought of eating deviL 
 
 ODE ON MODERATION. 
 
 " ooME folks are mad, and do not know it," 
 ^^ysfome one — I forget the Poet ; 
 
 And verily the Bard was in the right. 
 Wild as a puppy chafing butterflies. 
 The world hunts Transport with keen nofe and eyes ; 
 
 Deceitful Lafs, who often proves a bite ! 
 
 * The hiftory of the herd of fwine is univerfally known as well as believed. 
 
 4 The
 
 PINDARIANA, 231 
 
 The calm, cool, philofophic hour ; 
 
 The purling brook, the woodbine bow'r ; 
 
 The grove's, the valley's fweet and limplc fong; 
 Morn's virgin bluih, and Evening's fetting ray, 
 On more than half the world are thrown awaj^ 
 
 Whofe joys muft like a whirlwind pour along. 
 
 Calmly let J7ie begin and end Life's chapter ; 
 Ne'er panting for a hurricane of rapture : 
 
 Calm let jne walk — not riotous and jumping :■ 
 With due decorum, let my heart 
 Perform a fober, quiet part, 
 
 Not at the ribs be ever bumping, bumping. 
 
 Rapture's a Charger — often breaks his girt. 
 Runs off, and flings his rider in the dirt. 
 
 Lo, when for Gretna Green the couple ftart. 
 
 Love plays his gambols through each throbbing heart : 
 
 Squeezing mA hugging, kifllng on they go ; 
 Wild, from the chaife, they poke their heads to John, 
 " Make hafte, dear John, drive on, drive on, drive on — - 
 
 '' Lord ! lord ! your horfes are fo very flow 1" ^ 
 
 And whilft, for Gretna Green, each turtle fighs. 
 The Blacksmith* feems an Angel in their eyes. 
 
 * Alfo a Divine, who gains a comfortable maintenance by making matri- 
 monial chains as well as horre-fhoes. 
 
 But
 
 232 PINDARIANJ. 
 
 But when this Blacksmith has perform'd his part, 
 
 PoiTeiTion quells the tumults of the heart ; 
 
 The heart with foaming blifs no more boils over ! 
 Now leifurely into the chaife they get ! 
 They afk no John to drive, no horfe to fweat ; 
 
 No eye's keen fparkle fhows the burning lover ; 
 
 No kifles 'midft the jolting road they fnap ; 
 
 CiELiA now takes a comfortable nap : 
 
 Down on her cheeks, her locks difhevelVd flow ; 
 
 Not vaftly fmooth, but much like locks of hay ; 
 Her cap not much refembling Alpine fnow, 
 
 Shook from her rolling wearied head away. 
 
 The Youth too, with his noddle on his breaft ; 
 
 His hair all carelefs, much in hay-like trim j 
 As though fweet wedlock's joys had loft their zeft ; 
 
 As though a dull indifference damn'd the whim ; 
 With mouth half fhut, that heavy feems to fay, 
 '* The devil take the Blacksmith and the day, 
 " Who tied me to that trollop, now my wife, 
 " Juft like a jack-afs to a poft, for life /"
 
 PINDAR I AN A, 233 
 
 TFIE PRAISE OF ANECDOTE. 
 
 Jdlessed be the Retailers of Anecdote, who afford fo 
 much pleafant and light food to the mind. Bleffed more 
 particularly be Master John Nichols, compiler of thc; 
 Magazine of qua7itity^ and eh his wonderful coadjutor 
 Doctor (not Mijler) Richard Gough, who fo often giveth 
 that old devourer Time a vomit, to make him difgorge 
 
 A furbelow of good Queen Bess's tail ; 
 
 A taylor's thimble, and a rufty nail. 
 
 Important is the moft trivial Anecdote of an extraordinary 
 perfon ; and when confecrated by Age, it becomes in- 
 valuable. 
 
 Thus of himfelf fayeth the celebrated Monfieur Menage, 
 one of my great precurfors in Ana^ who, if I may be in the 
 fafhion of alliteration, could give dignity to a dunghill, 
 grace to a gutter, prettinefs to a pigftye, honour to a horfe- 
 pond, and majefty to a moufe. " When I boarded at 
 Angers," fays this extraordinary man, " the Miftrefs of the 
 houfe quarrelled with the Maid for the lofs of a pound of 
 butter, which, by fome means or other, had fneaked out 
 of the way. The girl declared that the cat eat every bit 
 O o o of
 
 234 PINDARIANA. 
 
 of it. The incredulous miftrefs fwore it was falfe ; and, 
 to be convinced, fhe put the cat into a pair of fcales ; 
 when, lo ! the animal, to the maid's confufion, weighed 
 only three quarters of a pound !" 
 
 " It is a fortunate thing (fays Monfieur Menage, in 
 another place) to be acquainted with celebrated people." 
 The fmalleft anecdote of a man of confequence, adds a gem 
 to the treafures of Hiftory. Adopting this idea, I fhall 
 from time to time communicate to my readers, pretty little 
 ftories of Great People. To begin with his prefent Grace 
 of Leeds, who is Mufician, Politician, and Poet — 
 
 'Twas in that feafon of the year, 
 When Oratorios fweet appear. 
 
 And human warblers, all divinely fing ; 
 Unlike the little birds, I wot. 
 Who clofe in froft and fnow the throat. 
 
 And chant in fummer only, and the fpring ; 
 that, being in the Green Room of Covent Garden, I 
 ftumbled on his Grace of Leeds, who, notwithftanding 
 his having been the burthen of one of my merry fongs, vo- 
 luntarily and fmilingly addreffed the Bard., that is to fay, 
 me, the Lyric Peter, O nOIHTHS. The unexpedednefs 
 of the falutc, produced a palpitation, mixed with a quantity 
 of reverence. " When was you in Cornwall laft ?" faid 
 
 his
 
 PINDARIANyl. 235 
 
 his Grace, with a fimper. " About two years iince," re- 
 plied I — " pray when was your Grace in thar province ?" 
 " Laft year," anfwercd the Duke. " The Duchcfs ac- 
 companied your Grace, I prcrume?" quoth I, in a pretty, 
 tender, unprefuming, and winning tone. " She did,'' re- 
 joined his Grace, with the moft affable fmile, and concili- 
 ating manner. " Godolphin is wildly iituatcd," quoth I. 
 " If I miftake not, Cornwall was made the fcene of the 
 diablenes of the old Spanifh and Italian writers of ro- 
 mance." " Hem, hem," rejoined the Duke, with a fmile 
 and a nod, which feemed to 7m, though intended as tones 
 and lignals of affent, to imply more ignorance than know- 
 ledge, which every Great Man is too great to confefs. 
 His Grace now turned the difcourfe to Shakefpeare, and 
 Dryden, and Pope, and fome more modern authors, with a 
 pretty volubility, and fome critical remark, which, though 
 not in the true fpirit of Longinus, was really not con- 
 temptible ; for the Duke is a bit of a Poet ; witnefs an un- 
 fortunate Prologue or two, and fome fortunate amatory 
 ftanzas, that won the heart of the Duchefs. Part of the 
 natural hiftory of a Poet is a defultory difpoHtion, leaping 
 from earth to heaven in his frenzy. Here the co7werfe of 
 the prop'^iition took place ; for, after a fublime quotation 
 from Shaliefpeare, the Duke abruptly defcended to the 
 4. humbler
 
 236 P 1 N D A li I A N A. 
 
 humbler Tubjed oF hb Jiofe ! ! ! " How came you, Sir, in 
 your Ode, to attack my nofe?" This was a thundering 
 queflion; for thou knoweft. Reader, if thou haft perufed all 
 my lyrical lucubrations, that his Grace's probofcis has been 
 the fubjed of a poetical fmile. " My Lord Duke," an- 
 fwered I, *' when your Grace, Lord Hawkefbury, Lord 
 Thurlow, Lord Sidney, and others, your colleagues in 
 Adminiftration, took it into your heads to attack me, I 
 thought a poor Poet had a right to the laws of retaliation. 
 But why attack my 7iofe, Sir, why attack my nofe?" The 
 converfation now took a turn to his Grace's knowledge of 
 the Poets^ from which he made many quotations, and fpoke 
 tliem with propriety : — on a fudden he quitted the claffics, 
 and reverted to his favourite and wounded feature — " But 
 why attack my nofe P is there any thing uncommon in my 
 nofef'' I anfwered, that, at the time I mentioned it, I was 
 not certain whether he had a 7iofe or no, as its exiftence 
 was only fancied from report \ but that I kneiso his Grace 
 had poiver^ and meant to employ it againft me with hojlility. 
 This anfwer produced no reply. The Duke ftood mute 
 and iimpering for a few minutes, and then broke out on a 
 fudden, " I will introduce ye to the Duchefs." We im- 
 mediately quitted the Green Room arm in arm, and re- 
 paired to a Stage-box, that held her Grace and Sifter, 
 
 Mife
 
 PINDARIANA. 237 
 
 Mifs Anguish. The introdudlion was refpedful, folcmn, 
 and awful — when, behold, the Duke, unable to quit his 
 favourite topic, turned the folemnity of the meeting into 
 farce. — " My love," (quoth the Duke to the Duchefs) " I 
 have been afking the Do6lor what provoked him to attack 
 nvfnofer'' Then turning to me, " Pray, Dodor, what pro- 
 voked you to attack my nofe ?" Driven to the neceflity 
 of a compliment, I replied, that *' had I feen his Grace's 
 nofc before I wrote the Odes, I fhould mod certainly have 
 compofed a panegyric on it inftead of a fatire^ as the nofe 
 was really a very good nofe indeed." The ladies fmiled, 
 the Duke was pleafed ; I leaned over the box, to fliew the 
 audience into what good company Fortune had thrown me. 
 The converfation grew more cheerful — feveral ingenious 
 impromptus were exchanged. At length I took my leave, 
 with a profound bow of thanks for the honours I had re- 
 ceived. His Grace returned my bow ; the ladies alfo moft 
 condefcendingly bowed to my bow ; and forth 1 went, with 
 exultation, to communicate this fudden peripetia or change 
 of fortune to all my acquaintances. 
 
 Gentle Reader, 
 Wouldft thou not have imagined that the war hatchet 
 was buried for ever ? Such was my too credulous opinion ; 
 P p p but
 
 238 PINDARIANA. 
 
 but fronti nulla fdesl The very next public dinner his 
 Grace gave, what did he? He exhibited a ludicrous ac- 
 count of our interview ; applauded his own amazing mag- 
 nanimity, wit, and condefceniion, and laughed at the Poet. 
 Dafhed from the pinnacle of my ambition, for I exped:ed 
 a high place in Adminiftration, and mortified by the dif- 
 appointment, I fat me down, and in the true fpirit of fur- 
 row wrote the following pathetic ftanzas. 
 
 THE SONG OF DISAPPOINTMENT : 
 
 AN ELEGIAC BALLAD. 
 
 JrloPE whifper'd fine things in my ear ; 
 
 I belicv'd her, though trick is her trade : 
 She told me that Fortune was near, 
 
 Who had always behav'd like a jade. 
 
 Great names, little people aflound — 
 
 How 'witching the title. Your Grace ! — 
 
 My Lord Duke, Lady Duchefs, what found ! 
 Big with honour, and dinner, and place. 
 
 4 In
 
 P I N D A R I yl N A, 
 111 fancy I join'd the Duke's table, 
 
 Where his Grace fo inftriidively chats ; 
 Defpifing my garret, that ftahle. 
 
 My joint-ftool, and my penn'orth of fprats. 
 
 In fancy I jok'd with his Grace, 
 And felt a huge torrent of blifs— 
 
 Then I flatter' d the Duchefs's face, 
 And whifper'd love-ftories to Mifs.* 
 
 In fancy his Grace I beheld, 
 
 Heard his mouth with found criticifm ope ; 
 That mouth moft delicioufly fwell'd 
 
 With quotations from Dryden an.d Pope, 
 
 In fancy I heard him aloud 
 
 Read his prologue fo fweet to his guefts ; 
 Saw wonderment flare from the croud. 
 
 And rapture burft wild from their breafts. 
 
 Now I heard him delightfully thrum ; 
 
 Now in praife of old muflc a raver ; 
 Now Handel's huge choruses hum ; 
 
 Now a critic on crotchet and quaver. 
 
 * Mifs Anguifh. 
 
 239 
 
 In
 
 240 PINDARIANA. 
 
 In fancy a bonfire I blaz'd ; 
 
 At my wit heard them call out " encore ;** 
 While the room with aftonifhment gaz'd, 
 
 Prepar'd ev'ry moment to roar. 
 
 But the Duke has fecreted his face ; 
 
 To the Bard what a terrible blow ! 
 And gone are the fmiles of her Grace, 
 
 And the fmiles of each Anguish al-fo. 
 
 But I'm not deluded alone ; 
 
 To another he fadly behav'd : 
 Dodtor Jackson, by promifes won, 
 
 Cut his curls from his pate, and was {hav'd. 
 
 Though the Do£lor look'd fmart with his locks, 
 Sublime too, and fwarthy, and big ; 
 
 He was told, when a Bifliop, his flocks 
 Would exped lifull bujhel of wig. 
 
 A wig was accordingly bought, 
 As a cauliflow'r large, and as fair ; 
 
 Where the barber too, blcft with good thought. 
 Wove religion and pomp in each hair. 
 
 In
 
 PINDARIANA. 241 
 
 In fKort, 'twas fo folemn a quizy 
 
 So form'd for concerns of the foul ; 
 People fcarce could decide on its phiz, 
 
 Which look'd wifeft, the caxon or jowl. 
 
 But after this grand operation 
 
 Of clipping and wigging, I trow. 
 Sore baulk' d was poor C<?/z's* exaltation, 
 
 But why — none with certainty know. 
 
 Some thought Heavjt with the wig was difpleas'd ; 
 
 But people may think as they lift: 
 Others faid (with malicioufnefs feiz'd) 
 
 Heav'n hated the pride of the Prieft. 
 
 So the Dodor no Bifhop was made, 
 
 Nor at prefent a Bifhop is he j 
 And it alfo may fafely be faid, 
 
 That a Bifhop he never will be. 
 
 But the Duke too is thwarted, I ween ; 
 Who looks up like a hawk to the Crown ; 
 
 * Con, /. e. Confequential Jackfon— a conftanc appellative beaowed on him 
 at the Univerfity of Oxford. ■ ; 
 
 Q.^ q But,
 
 242 PINDARIANA, 
 
 But, alas ! our good King and good Queen 
 Have never vouchfaf 'd to look down. 
 
 Now to Duke and to Duchefs adieu ; 
 
 Adieu to my honours like-wife ; 
 The vifion departs from my view, 
 
 And Hope, the falfe flatterer, flies. 
 
 My teeth too are robb'd of fweet picking ; 
 
 Ah teeth, to good eating attach'd ! 
 And thus have I counted my chicken, 
 
 Poor blockhead, before they were hatch'd. 
 
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