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And all the toys that phantasy pranks up That rock tbe stable-planted towers, and shake
Tamuse her focés withal.- l'hus they lash on The hoary monuments of ancient time
The spail-pac'd hyperborcan nights, till Heaven Down to their tinty bases; that engage
Hangs with a juster poize: when the murk clonds As they would tear the mountains from their
Roll'd up in heavy wreathes low-bellying, seem


[heads; To kiss the ground, and all the waste of snow And brush th' high Heavens with their woody Looks blue beneath 'em; till plump'd with Making the stout oaks bow.—But I forget bloating dropsy,

That sprightly Ver trips on old Winter's heel: Beyond the bounds and stretch of continence, Cease we these notes too tragic for the time, They burst at once ; down pours the hoarded Nor jar against great Nature's symphony; rain,

When eren the blustrous elements grow tunefal,
Washing the slippery winter from the hills, Or listen to the concert. Hark! how loud
And floating all the vallies. The fading scene The cuckoo wakes the solitary Food!
Melts like a lost enchantment or vain phantasm Soft sigh the winds as o'er the greens they stray,
That can no more abuse. Nature resumes And murmuring brooks within their channels
Iler old substantial shape; while from the waste

Of undistinguishing calamity,
Forests, and by their sides wide-skirted plains,
Houses and trees arise; and waters flow,

That froin their dark confinements bursting,

spurn Their brittle chains; huge sheets of loosen'd ice Float on their bosoms to the deep, and jarr

Last night I dreamt, And clatter as they pass; th'o'erjutting banks, Whate'er it may forebode it mores me strangely, As long unpractis'd to so steep a view,

That I was rapt into the raving deep; Seem to look dizzy on the moving pomp.

An old and reverend sire conducted me: Now ev'ry petty brook that crawl'd along, He plung'd into the bosom of the main, Railing its pebbles, mocks the river's rage, And bade me not to fear bot follow him. Like the proud frog i' the fable. The huge 1 followed: with impetuous speed we dir'd, Danube,

And heard the dashing thunder o'er our heads. While melting mountains rush into its lide, Many a slippery fathom down we sunk, Rolls with such headstrong and unreined course, Beneath all plummet's sound, and reach'd the As it would choke the Euxine's gulphy maw,

Bursting its crystal cerements. The breathing When there, I ask'd my venerable guide

If he could tell me where my sister was;
Of peace expir'd, that hush'd the deafning scenes He told me that she lay not far from thence
Of clam'rous indignation, ruffian war

Within the bosom of a flinty rock,
Rebels, and Nature stands at odds again: Where Neptune kept her for his paramour,
When the rous'd furies of the fighting winds Hid from the jealous Amphitrite's sight:
Torment the main; that swells its angry sides, And said he could conduct me to the place.
And churns the foam betwixt its flinty jaws; I beg'd he would. Through dreadful ways we
While through the savage dungeon of the night


(side, The horrid thunder growis. Th' ambitious waves 'Twixt rocks that frightfully lower'd on either Assault the skies, and from the bursting clouds Whence here and there the branching coral Drink the glib lightening; as if the seas


(gold and gems. Would quench ihe ever-burning fires of Heaven. O’er dead men's bones we walkd, o'er beaps of Straight from their slipp'ry pomp they madly Into a hideous kind of wilderness, plunge

Where stood a siern and prison-looking rock, And kiss the lowest pebbles. Wretched they

Daub'd with a mossy verdure all around,
That’midst such rude rexation of the deep The mockery of paint. As we drew near,
Guide a frail vessel! Better ice-bound still, Out sprung a hydra from a de: below,
'Ihan mock'd with liberty thus be resign'd A speckl'd fury; fearfully it hiss'd,
To the rough fortune of the fruward time; And roll'd its sea-green eyes so angrily
When Navigation all a-tiptoe stands

As it would kill with looking. My old guide
On such unsteady footing. Now they mount Against its sharp head hurl'd a rugged stone-
On the tall billow's top, and seem to jowi The curling monster rais'd a brazen shriek,
Against the stars; whence (dreadful entinence!) Wallow'd and died in fitful agonies.
They see with swimming eyes (enough to burry We gain'd the cave. Through woven adamant

I look'd, and saw my sister all alone. In endless vertigo the dizzy brain)

Einploy'd she seem'd in writing something sad, A gulph that swallows vision, with wide mouth So sad she look'd: her cheek was wond'rous wan, Steep-yawning to receive them; down they duck | Her mournfui locks like weary sedges hung. 'To the rugged bottom of the main, and view I call'd-she, turning, started when she saw me, The adamantine gates of raulted Hell:

And threw her head aside as if asham'd: Thence toss'd to light again: till burne adrift She wept, but would not speak--I call'd again i Against some icy mountain's bulging sides Still she was mute.-Then madly I addrest, They reel, and are no more.— Nor less by land With all the lion-siuews of despair, Ravage the winds, that in their wayward rage To break the flipty ribs that held me out ; Howl through the wide unhospitable glens; And with the struggling wak'd.







And sought all physic that the shops bestow;

And still new leaches and new drugs would RAISED TO ACCOUNT FOR THE LATE RETURN


'Twas hard to hit her humour bigh or low, The Sun went down in wrath ;

For sometimes she would langl and someThe skies foam'd brass, and soon th' unchained

tines cry, winds

Sometimes would waxen wroth; and all she Burst from the howling dungeon of the north :

knew not why.
And rais'd such high delirium on the main,
Such angry clainour; while such boiling waves Fast by her side a listless virgin pin'd,
Flash'd on the peevish eye of moody night,

With aching head and squeamish heartIt look'd as if the seas would scald the Heavens.


(kind, Still louder chid the winds, th' enchafed surge

Pale, bloated, cold, she seem'd to hate manStill answer'd louder; and when the sickly morn But lov'd, in secret all forbidden things. Peep'd ruefully through the blotted thick-brow'd And here the Tertian shook his chilling wings. east

And here the Gout, half tiger haif a snake, To view the ruinous havoc of the dark,

Rag'd with an hundred teeth, an hundred The stately towers of Athens seem'd to stand

stings. On hollow foam tide-wbipt; the ships that lay

These and a thousand furies more did shake Scorning the blast within the marble arms Those weary realms, and kept ease-loving men Of the sea-cbid Portumnus, danc'd like corks

Upon th' enraged deep, kicking each other;
And some were dash'd to fragments in this fray
Against the harbour's rocky chest. The sea

So roard, so madly rag'd, so proudly swellid,

JOHN WILKES, OF AYL.ESBURY, As it would thunder full into the streets, And steep the tall Cecropjan battlements In foaming brine. The airy citadel,

Escap'd from London now four moons, and Perch'd like an eagleon a high-brow'd rock,

more, Shook the salt water from its stubborn sides

I greet gay Wilkes from Fulda's wasted shore, With eager quaking; the Cyclades appear'd Where cloth'd with wood a hundred hills ascend, Like ducking cormorants--Such a mutiny Where Nature many a paradise has plann'd : Out-clamour'd all tradition, and gain'd belief A land that, e'en amid contending arms, To ranting prodigies of heretofure,

Late srnil'd with culture, and luxuriant charms Seven days it storin'd, &c.

But now the hostile scythe bas bar'd her soil,
And her sad peasants starve for all their toil.
What news to day?--I ask you not what

rogue, AN IMITATION OF SPENSER. What paltry imp of fortune 's now in vogne;

What forward blundering fool was last preferr'd, WRITTEN AT MR. THOMSON'S DESIRE, TO BE By mere pretence distinguish'd from the fierd;

SERTED INTO THE CASTLE OP INDOLENCE. With what new cheat the gaping town was smit; Full many a fiend did haunt this house of rest, What stuff for winter the two Booths have mixt;

What crazy scribbler reigns the present wit ; And made of passive wights an easy prey.

What bouncing mimic grows a Roscins next. Here Lethargy with deadly sleep opprest,

Wave all such news: I've seen too much, my Stretch'd on his back, a mighty lubbard lay,

friend, Hearing his sides; and snored night and day. To stir him from bis traunce it was not eath,

To stare at any wonders of that kind. And his half-open'd eye he shut straightway :

News, none have 1: you know I never had; He led I ween the softest way to death,

I never long'd the day's dull lye to spread ; And taught withouten pain or strife to yield the More in the secrets of the great than I ;

I left to gossips that sweet luxury, breath.

To nurses, midwives, all the slippery train, 'Of limbs enormous, but withal unsound,

That swallow all, and bring up all again :
Soft-swoln and pale, here lay the Hydropsie; Or did I e'er a brief event relate,
Unwieldly man, with belly monstrous round

You found it soon at length in the Gazette.
For ever fed with watery supply ;

Now for the weather-This is England still For still he drank, and yet he still was dry. For aught I find, as good, and quite as ill. And here a moping mystery did sit,

Even now the pond'rous rain perpetual falls, Mother of Spleen, in robes of various dye: Drowns every camp, and crowds our hospitals. She calld herself the Hypochondriac Pit,

This soaking deluge all franie, And frantic seem'd to some, to others seemn'd a Dilutes my sense, and suffocates my fame

'Tis that which makes these present lines so tame.

The parching east wind still pursues ine too--A lady was she whimsical and proud,

Is there no climate where this fiend peer Yet oft thro' fear her pride would crouchen

flew ? low.

By Heaven, it slays Japan, perhaps Pern! She felt or fancied in her fluttering mood It blasts all Earth with its enveroin'd breith,

All the diseases that the spitals knjw, That scatters discord, rage, diseases, death.





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'Twas the first plague that burst Pandora's chest,
And with a liviai smile sow'd all arouad the rest.
Heaven guard my friend from every plague 'Tis strange how blindly we from Nature

that flies,
Still grant him health, whence all the pleasures The only creatures we that miss their way!
But oft diseases from slow causes creep. [rise. “ To erris human,” man's prerogative,
And in this doctrine as (thank Heaven) I'm deep, Who'as too much sense by Nature's laws to live:

Wiser than Nature he must thwart ber plan,
And ever will be spoiling, where he can.
'Tis well he cannot ocean change to cream,

Nor earth to a gilded cake; not e'en could tame
Mean time excuse me that I slily snatch Niagara's steep abyss to crawl down stairs',
The only theme in which I shine your match. Or dress in roses the dire Cordelliers :

You study early: some indulge at night, But what be can he does : well can be trim
Their prudish Muse steals in by candle-light; A charming spot into a childish whim;
Shy as the Athenian bard, she shuns the day, Can every generous gift of Nature spoil,
And finds December genial more than May. And rates their merits by his cost and toil.
But happier you who court the early Sun, Whate'er the land, whate'er the seas produce,
For morning visits no debauch draw on,

Of perfect texture, and exalted juice,
Nor so the spirits, health, or sight impair, He pampers, or to fulsome fat, or drains,
As those that pass in the raw midnight air. Refines and bleaches, till no taste remains

The task of breakfast o'er ; that peevish, pale,
That lounging, yawning, most ungenial meal;
Rush out, before these fools rush in to worry ye, Enough to fatten fools, or drive the dray,
Whose business is to be idle in a hurry,

But plagues and death to those of finer clay.
Who kill your time as frankly as their own, No corner else, 'tis not to be denied,
And feel no civil bints e'er to be gone.

Of all our isle so rankly is snpplied
These flies all fairly fung, whene'er the house, With gruss productions, and adulterate fare,
Your country's business, or your friend's, al. As our renown'd abode, whose name I spare.

They cram all poultry, that the hungry fox
Rush out, enjoy the fields and the fresh air; Would loathe to touch them; e'en their boasted
Ride, walk, or drive, the weather foul or fair.

Yet in the torrid months I would reverse Sometimes is glutted so with unctuous spoil,
This method, leave behind both prose and verse; That what seems beef is rather rape-seed oil
With the grey dawn the hills and forest roam, D'ye ye know what brawn is -- th' unbappy
And wait the sultry noon embower'd at home,

beast !
While every rural sound improves the breeze, He stands eternal, and is doom'd to feast
The railing stream, the busy rooks, and murmur | Till--but the nauseous process I forbear
of the bees.

Only, beware of brawn--besure, beware!
You'll hardly choose these cheerful jaunts Yet brawn has taste-it has ; their veal has none,

Save what the butcher's breath inspires alone;
Except when some deep scheme is carrying on. Just Heaven one day may send them bail for
With you at Chelsea oft may I behold

wheat, The hopeful bud of sense her bloom unfold, Who spoil all veal because it should be white. With you I'd walk to *

"Tis hard to say of what compounded paste To rich, insipid Hackney, if you will :

Their bread is wrought, for it betrays no taste, With you no matter where, while we're together, Whether 'tis flour and chalk, or chalk and flour, I scorn no spot on Earth, and curse no weather. Shell'd and refin'd till it has taste no more;

When dinner comes, amid the various feast, But if the lump be white, and a bite enough,
That crowns your genial board, where every No matter how insipid, dry or tough.

In salt itself the sapid savour fails,
Or grave, or gay, is happy, and at home, Burnt alumn for the love of white prevails :
And none e'er sigh'd for the mind's elbow-room; While tasteless cole-seed we for mustard swal-
I warn you still to make your chief repast
On one plain dish, and trifle with the rest. 'Tis void of zest indeed—but still 'tis yellow,

Parsnip, or parsley-root, the rogues will soon

Scrape for horse-radish, and 't will pass unknown,
Beef, in a fever, if your stomach crave it, For by the colour, not the taste, we prove all,
Ox-cheek, or mawkish cod, be sure you have it. As hens will sit on chalk, if 'tis but oval.
For still the constitution, even the case,

I must with caution the cook's reign inrade,
Directs the stomach ; this informs the taste ; Hot as the fire, and hasty from his trade,
And what the taste in her capricious fits
Coyly, or even indifferently admits,
The peevish stomach, or disdains to toil,
Or indolently works to vapid chyle.
This instinct of the taste so seldom errs,
That if you love, yet smart for cuenmbers,
Or plumbs of bad repute, you'll likely find · Vide Chatsworth, 1753.
'Twas for you separated what Nature joind, · Les Cordelleiras des Andes are a chain of
The spicy kernel here, and there the rind. bills which run through South-America.


A cook of genius, bid him roast a hare, Where Hell in Heaven's name holds her impious By all that's hot and horrible would swear,

court, Parch native dryness ! zounds, that's not the And the grape bleeds out that black poison, port; thing

Sad poison to themselves, to us still worse, But stew him, and he might half dine a king. Brewd and rebrew'd, a double, treble, curse. His gen'rous broth I should almost prefer

Toss'd in the crowd of various rules, I find To turtle soup, though turtle travels far. Still sume material business left behind :

You think me nice perhaps: yet I could dine
On roasted rabbit; or fat turkey and chine ;
Or fulsome haslet ; or most drily cram

The fig, the gooseberry, beyond all grapes,
My throat with tasteless fillet and wet ham: Mellower to eat, as rich to drink perhaps.
But let me ne'er of mutton-saddle eat,

But pleasures of this kind are best enjoy'd, That solid phantom, that most specious cheat ; Beneath the tree, or by the fountain side, Yet loin is passable, he was no fool

Ere the quick soul, and dewy bloom exbale, Who said the half is better than the whole: And vainly melt into the thankless gale.

Who from the full meal yield to natural rest, But I have cook'd and carv'd enough and A short repose ; 'tis strange how soon you'll more,

find We come to drinking next. 'Till dinner's o'er, A second morn rise cheerful on your mind : I would all claret, even champaigu forbear;

Besides it softly, kindly, sooths away Give me fresh water-bless me with small-beer. The saddest hour to some that damps the day. But still whate'er you drink with cautious lip But if you're coy to sleep, before you spread Approach, survey, and e'er you swallow, sip; Some easy-trotting poet's lioes-you're dead For often, o defend all honest throats!

At once : even these may hasten your repose, The reeling wasp on the drench'd borage floats. Now rapid verse, now halting nearer prose; I've known a dame, sage else as a divine,

There smooth, here rough, wbat I suppose you'd For brandy whip off ipecacuan wine;

chuse, And I'm as sure amid your careless glee, As men of taste hate sameness in the Muse: You'll swallow port one time for cote-rotie. Yes, I'd adjourn all drinking lill’tis late, But you aware of that Lethean flood,

And then indulge, but at a moderate rate. Will scarce repeat the dose-forbid you should! By Heaven not * * * with all his genial wit, "Tis such a deadly foe to all that's bright, Should ever tempt me after twelve to sit 'Twould soun encumber e'en your fancy's flight : You laugh-at noon you say: I mean at night, And if 'tis true what some wise preacher says,

1 long to read your name once more again, That we our gen'rous ancestors disgrace,

But while at Cassel, all such longing's vain. The fault from this pernicious fountain flows,

Yet Cassel else no sad retreat I find, Hence half our follies, half our crimes and woes;

While good and amiable Gayot 3 is my friend, And ere our maudlin genius mounts again,

Generous and plain, the friend of human-kind; 'Twill cause a sea of claret and champaign

Who scorns the little-minded's partial view; Of this retarding glue to rinse the nation's One you would love, one that would relish you. brain.

With him sometimes I sup, and often dine, The mud-fed carp refines amid the springs,

And find his presence cordial more than wine. And time and burgundy might do great things :

There lively, genial, friendly, Goy and I But health and pleasure we for trade despise,

Touch glasses oft to one whose company For Portugal's grudg'd gold our genius dies.

Would—but what's this? - Farewell—within two O hapless race! O land to be bewail'd!

hours With murders, treasons, horrid deaths appal'd;

We march for Hoxter—ever, ever yours. Where dark-red skies with livid thunders frown,

3 Mons. de Gayot, fils, conseiller d'estat, et While Earth convulsive shakes her cities down;

intendant de l'armée Françoise en Allemagne,

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