ELEGIAC EXPOSTULATION TO AN UNFORTUNATE TAILOR. O THOU whose visionary bills unpaid, Long as thy measure, o'er my slumber stream; Whose goose, hot hissing through the midnight shade, Disturbs the transport of each softer dream! Why do imaginary needles wound? Why do thy shears cut short my fleeting joys? Oh! why, emerging from thy hell profound, The ghost of shreds and patches, awful rise? Once more look up, nor droop thy hanging head; Though doom'd by Fortune, since remotest time, Why mourn thy folly, why deplore thy fate, Reflect-didst thou e'er know a poet pay? Vain from thy shopboard the eternal sigh; Can sorrow fill this empty purse of mine? Ah me! so long with dire consumption pined, When shall that purse ill omen'd proudly swell Full as the sail that holds the favouring wind? Mysterious ministers of Money, tell! Fond man! while pausing o'er that gloomy page That tells thee what thou art in terms too plain, O'er the capacious ledger lose thy rage, Nor of unsettled debts again be vain. There lords and dukes and mighty princes lie, A common garment such as mortals wear Time ne'er shall rip one consecrated seam Of cloth, from Fancy's loom all superfine; Nor shall I cruel haunt thy softer dream, E'en when I dress thee in a suit divine. Let sage philosophy thy soul inform With strength heroic every ill to bear: Be patient then, and wise, nor meanly shrink DERMODY. TIZZY; OR JUDICIOUS PRECAUTION. COLONEL Patrick O'Blarney, as honest a teague As ever took snuff to repel pest or plague, Having got a French snuff-box of papier machée, Which to open required much pains, do you see, Always kept a bent sixpence at hand in his pocket, And call'd it his key by the which to unlock it; As, by niggling and wedging it under the lid, He came at his rappee, which was under it hid. But one day, when he wanted a pinch for a friend, He search'd for his tester, but all to no end, Till at last 'twixt the pocket and lining he found it; When in rage he cried, 'Arrah, the devil confound it! I'll engage you don't serve me the same trick again, shrug, [snug! While right went the rim down, 'So there you lie And, my hide and seek friend, I beg leave to re mind you, [find you.' That the next time I want ye I'll know where to ANONYMOUS. LIKE MASTER LIKE MAN. WHEN Euclio a snug fuddle chose, By the mere force of grave hob-nob, Bumpers flew faster still and faster; 'Master, my service!'- Thank ye, Bob!''Here's to ye, Robert!'-"Thank ye, master!' Such business, follow'd up so close, Soon brought them to the' end o'the tether; They pass'd their day; they took their dose; Stared, stutter'd, stagger'd, snored together. Thus bout, at home, succeeded bout; For there was no restraint before 'em; Strict turn and turn, abroad, to take, Soon after, Robert's day came round, When to a neighbouring peer's they sallied; Whose tap so free, whose ale so sound, With Robert's taste exactly tallied: But in the pith of all his pride, - A summons from his master caught him, And thus in soothing style besought him: 'Tis hard,' quoth Robert, ' to deny, And from my soul I pity you, sir; But what you ask is more than I, "Tis more than fate itself can do, sir. : 'Though mild as mother's milk it be, BISHOP. ODE, IN THE MANNER OF SAMUEL JOHNSON. Addressed to a Girl in the Temple. 1777. WHILE the calescent sanguine flood, When in your dim nocturnal rounds, Subvected in this lay. Satellite of the Paphian dame, Whose rays, though darken'd by thy fame, |