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Delusion all!-a specious cheat!
And cursed the fond deceit.
At courts I've tried, where splendour shone, Where
pomp and gilded cares reside, 'Midst endless hurry, endless pride,
But there thou wast unknown.
Yet in the captive's dreary cell, Lodged with a long experienced sage, With the famed Chiron' of the stage
The goddess deign'd to dwell.
Integrity and truth serene
’Midst perfidy and pain.
A soul like his, disrobed of guile,
Can greet her with a smile.
SOME BUSSES BEING FITTED OUT
FOR THE HERRING FISHERY. O’ER the green waves, where Britain boasts her
sway, Round the wide waste of our long slighted sea, Let the glad tale in sacred accents swell, Let babbling tritons to the seagods tell
He had been thirty years prompter at the London Theatre. • Britain's at last grown conscious of her shame; Britain awakes her ravish'd rights to claim; Britain ! -see pale Batavians trembling at the
name.' Abash'd-confounded-let the dull Mynheer No more between our sacred banks appear. Shall the dull Dutch exult in our disgrace, Rifle our wedded waves before our face? Feast on the joys of our luxuriant spouse, And plant upon old Albion's chalky brows? No,Britains! no-George and your Genius smile, And new-born beauties rise propitious to your isle!
DAVID HUME, ESQ.
PARTICULARLY ADMIRED IN A COMPANY OF PETITS
Did rocks and trees in ancient days
Round tuneful Orpheus throng,
And sensible of song?
With true pathetic fire,
beaux admire !
ON GOLD. BEAUTY's a bauble, a trifle in price!
"Tis glass, or 'tis something as glaring; But set it in gold—'tis so wonderful nice,
That a prince should be proud in the wearing.
How feeble the transport when passion is gone!
How pall'd when the honey-moon's over! When kissing-and cooing—and toying are done,
'Tis gold must enliven the lover.
ON ALDERMAN W
THE HISTORY OF HIS LIFE.
That he was born it cannot be denied.
AN ELEGY ON HIS DEATH. That Fate would not grant a reprieve,
'Tis true we have cause to lament; Yet, faith, 'tis a folly to grieve,
So e'en let us all be content.
(When he mingled with shadows so grim) These words may be every day read,
• Here lies the late Alderman Whim.'
MELODY. LightSOME as convey'd by sparrows,
Love and Beauty cross'd the plains, Flights of little pointed arrows
Love dispatch'd among the swains: But so much our shepherds dread him
(Spoiler of their peace profound), Swift as scudding fawns they fled him,
Frighted, though they felt no wound.
Now the wanton god grown slyer,
And for each fond mischief ripe, Comes disguised in Pan's attire,
Tuning sweet an oaten pipe: Echo, by the winding river,
Doubles his delusive strains; While the boy conceals his quiver,
From the slow-returning swains. As Palemon, unsuspecting,
Praised the sly musician's art, Love his light disguise rejecting,
Lodged an arrow in his heart: Cupid will enforce our duty,
Shepherds, and would have you taught, Those who, timid, fly from Beauty,
May by Melody be caught.
Seeking for objects that deserved their care, Virtue set forth, with two selected friends,
Talent refined, and Reputation fair.
Talent first spoke:- My gentle comrades, say, Where each of you may probably be found, Should accident divide us on the
way. • If torn (she added) from my loved allies,
A friendly patronage I hope to find Where the Fine Arts from cultivation rise,
And the sweet Muse hath harmonized mankind.'
Says Virtue, ' Did Sincerity appear,
Or meek eyed Charity among the great; Could I find courtiers from corruption clear,
'Tis among these I'd seek for my retreat. • Could I find patriots for the public weal
Assiduous, and without their selfish views; Could I find priests of undissembled zeal, 'Tis
residence I'd choose. • In glittering domes let Luxury reside;
I must be found in some sequester'd cell, Far from the paths of Avarice or Pride,
Where homebred Happiness delights to dwell.' · Ye may be traced, my gentle friends, 'tis true,
But who (says Reputation) can explore My slippery steps ?-Keep, keep me in your view, If I'm once lost
you 'll never find me more.'
ON THE HOUSE AT MAVIS-BANK, NEAR EDINBURGH.
SITUATED IN A GROVE.
Parva domus ! nemorosa quies!
Şis tu, quoque nostris Hospitium, laribus, subsidiumque diu! Flora tuas ornet postes, Pomonaque mensas! Conferat ut varias fertilis hortus opes ! Et volucres pictæ cingentes voce canora, Retia sola canent quæ sibi tendit amor! Floriferi colles, dulces mihi sæpe
recessus Dent, atque hospitibus gaudia plena meis!