Sidor som bilder
PDF
ePub

"No, Sir," fays Johnson, " 'tis not fo,
That's your mistake, and I can fhew,
"An inftance if you doubt it;
"You Sir, who are near forty-eight,
"May much improve, 'tis not too late,
"I wish you'd set about it.”

Encourag'd thus to mend my faults,
I turn'd his counfel in my thoughts,
Which way I fhould apply it;
Learning and wit feem'd paft my reach,
For who can learn when none will teach?
And wit-I could not buy it.

Then come my friends, and try your skill,
You can inform me if you will,
(My books are at a distance)

With you I'll live and learn, and then,
Inftead of books, I fhall read men,
So lend me your affistance.

Dear Knight of Plympton, teach me how
To fuffer with unruffled brow,
And fmile ferene like thine;

The jeft uncouth, or truth fevere,
To fuch I'll turn my deafeft ear,
And calmly drink my wine.

Thou fay'ft, not only fkill is gain'd,
But genius too may be attain'd,
By ftudious imitation;

I'll

Thy temper mild, thy genius fine, copy till 1 make thee mine, By conftant application.

Sir Joshua Reynolds.

The art of pleafing, teach me Garrick,
Thou *, who revereft odes Pindaric,
A fecond time read o'er ;

Oh! cou'd we read thee backwards too,
Laft thirty years thou fhould't review,
And charm us thirty more.

If I have thoughts, and can't exprefs 'em
Gibbons fhall teach me how to drefs 'em
In terms felect and terfe ;
Jones teach me modefty and Greek,
Smith how to think, Burke how to speak,
And Beauclerc to converse.

Let Johnfon teach me how to place,
In faireft light each borrow'd

grace?
From him I'll learn to write;

Copy his clear familiar ftyle,
And from the roughness of his file,
Grow like himself-polite.

* Mr Garrick being asked to read Mr Cumberland's Odes, laughed immoderately, and affirmed, that fuch ftuff might as well be read backwards as forwards ; and the witty Rofcius accordingly read them in that manner, and wonderful to relate! produced the fame good fenfe and poetry as the fentimental author ever had genius to write.

D A,

DOR IND

TOWN ECLOGUE.

By Mr.

FITZPATRICK.

I

N that fad feafon when the hapless belle

With steps reluctant bids the town farewell:
When furly husbands doom th' unwilling fair
To quit St. James's for a purer air,

And, deaf to pity, from their much lov'd town
Relentless bear the beauteous exiles down

To difmal fhades, through lonely groves to ftray,
And figh the fummer live-long months away;
With all the bloom of youth and beauty grac'd,
One morn DORINDA, at her toilet plac'd,
With looks intent and penfive air furvey'd
The various charms her faithful glafs difplay'd;
Eyes, that might warm the frozen breaft of
age,
Or melt to tenderness the tyrant's rage;
Smiles, that enchanting with refiflefs art,
Stole unperceiv'd the heedlefs gazer's heart;

Dimples, where love conceal'd in ambush lay,
To aim his arrows at the deftin'd prey;
And lips that promis'd in each balmy kifs
Luxurious harvest of ambrofial blifs.

Mufing the fat, and watch'd each rising grace
That hed its luftre o'er her heav'nly face,
Till lab'ring grief her anxious filence broke,
And fighing thus the lovely mourner spoke :
Were charms like thefe by erring nature meant
For fober folitude and calm content?

Muft eyes fo bright be doom'd to waste their fires
On hungry parfons and unfeeling fquires;

Heav'n whofe decrees (if true what priefts have taught)
Are fram'd by juftice and with wisdom fraught,
Sure ne'er created fuch a form as this
For the dull purpose of domestic bliss.

Ah! no, thefe eyes were giv'n in courts to fhine,
Shall impious man then thwart the wise design?
A fhort-liv'd fway of fome few years at moft
Is all, alas! the brightest belle can boast
Ere yet the hand of all-devouring time
Lay wafte her graces, and deftroy her prime :
By flow degrees the feels her pow'r decay,
And younger beauties bear the palm away.
Whilft envious fate thus haftens to destroy
The fleeting period of all female joy,
Shall barb'rous hufbands whofe tyrannic rage
Nor pray'rs can mitigate, nor tears affuage)
E'en in those years while youth and beauty bloom,
To exile half her precious moments doom?
She goes like fome neglected flow'r to fade,
And waste her fweetnefs in the lonely shade,
Till winter (fo the pitying gods decree)
Returning fets th' impatient captive free:
Then fwift emerging from the dull retreat,
To town fhe flies, admiring crowds to meet :
Her happy hours glide on from morn to night,
One ceafelefs round of exquifite delight:
Balls, op'ras, concerts, Almacks, and Soho,
By turns attended, various joys bestow:

« FöregåendeFortsätt »