How gaudy all the gilding fhews!
It puts one's eyes out as it goes.
What a rich glare of various hues!
What shining yellows, fcarlets, blues!
It must have cost a heavy price;
'Tis like a mountain drawn by mice.

MRS. BROWN.

So painted, gilded, and fo large,

210

Bless me! 'tis like my lord mayor's barge.
And fo it is-look how it reels!

215

"Tis nothing elfe-a barge on wheels.

MAN.

Large! it can't pafs St. James's gate,
So big the coach, the arch fo ftrait.
It might be made to rumble thro',
And pass as other coaches do,
Could they a body-coachman get
So most prepofterously fit,

Who'd undertake (and no rare thing)
Without a head, to drive the king.

MRS. SCOT.

Lard! what are those two ugly things

220

225

There with their hands upon the fprings,

Filthy, as ever eyes beheld,

With naked breasts, and faces fwell'd?

What could the faucy maker mean,

To put fuch things to fright the QUEEN?

230

VOL. II.

MAN.

Oh! they are Gods, Ma'am, which you see,

Of the Marine Society.

Tritons, which in the ocean dwell,

And only rife to blow their fhell.

MRS. SCOT.

Gods, d'ye call those filthy men?

235

Why don't they go to fea again?
Pray, tell me, fir, you understand,
What do thefe Tritons do on land?

MRS. BROWN.

And what are they? thofe hindmost things,
Men, fish, and birds, with flesh, fcales, wings? 240

MAN.

Oh, they are Gods too, like the others,

All of one family and brothers,
Creatures, which feldom come a-fhore,

Nor feen about the King before.

For Show, they wear the yellow Hue,

Their proper colour is True-blue.

MRS. SCOT.

Lord blefs us! what's this noife about?

Lord, what a tumult and a rout!

How the folks holla, hifs, and hoot!

245

Well-Heav'n preferve the EARL OF BUTZ! 250

I cannot stay, indeed, not I,

If there's a riot I fhall die.

Let's make for any house we can,
Do-give us fhelter, honeft man.

MRS. BROWN.

I wonder'd where you was, my dear,
I thought I should have died with fear.
This noise and racketing and hurry
Has put my nerves in fuch a flurry!
I could not think where you was got,
I thought I'd loft you, Mrs. Scot;
Where's Mrs. Tape, and Mr. Grin?
Lard, I'm fo glad we're all got in.

255

260

SWELL the clarion, sweep the ftring,
Blow into rage the Mufe's fires !
All thy anfwers, Eccho, bring,

Let wood and dale, let rock and valley ring,
'Tis Madness felf infpires.

Hail, awful Madness, hail!

Thy realm extends, thy powers prevail, Far as the Voyager spreads his 'ventrous fail. Nor beft nor wifeft are exempt from thee; Folly Folly's only free.

Hark!

To the aftonished ear

The gale conveys a strange tumultuous found.

They now approach, they now appear,—
Phrenzy leads her Chorus near,

And Demons dance around.

Pride-Ambition idly vain,

Revenge, and Malice fwell her train,

* Born 1743; dyed 1779.

5

10

15

Devotion warped-Affection croft

Hope in Disappointment loft

And injured Merit with a downcast eye,

(Hurt by neglect) flow stalking heedless by.

Loud the fhouts of Madness rise,

Various voices, various cries,-
Mirth unmeaning— causeless moans,

20

Burfts of laughter,-heart-felt groans— 25

All seem to pierce the skies.

Rough as the wintry wave, that roars

On Thule's defart shores,

Wild raving to the unfeeling air,

The fetter'd Maniac foams along,

30

(Rage the burthen of his jarring fong)

In rage he grinds his teeth, and rends his streaming

hair.

No pleafing memory left-forgotten quite
All former fcenes of dear delight,

Connubial love-parental joy

35

No fympathies like these his foul employ, --But all is dark within, all furious black Despair.

Not fo the love-lorn maid,

By too much tenderness betrayed;