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When noble and ignoble herd,

But let the century be paft, Are govern'd by a single word;

And we have taste and wit at lift; Though, like the royal Germandantes,

For at that period Moderns too It bears an hundred Chriftian names;

Just turn the corner of Virtù. As Genius, Fancy, Judgment, Gout,

But merit now has little claim Whim, Caprice, Je-ne-scai-quoi, Virtù

To any meed of present fame, Which appellations all describe

For tis not worth that gets you friends, Taste, and the modern tasteful tribe.

'Tis excellence that most offends. Now bricklay'rs, carpenters, and joiners,

If, Proteus-like, a GARRICK's art, With Chinese artists, and designers,

Shews taste and skill in every part ; Produce their schemes of alteration,

If, ever just to nature's plan, To work this wondrous reformation.

He is in all the very man, The useful dome, which secret stood,

E’en here shall Envy take her aim. Embosom'd in the yew-tree's wood,

write, and blame. The trav'ler with amazement fees

The JEALOUS WIFE, tho'chastly writ, A temple, Gothic, or Chinese,

With no parade of frippery wit, With many a bell, and tawdry rag on,

Shall set a scribbling, all at once, And crested with a sprawling dragon ;

Both giant wit, and pigmy dunce; A wooden arch is bent altride

While Critical Reviewers write, A ditch of water, four foot wide,

Who shew their teeth before they bite, With angles, curves, and zigzag lines,

And sacrifice each reputation, From Halfpenny's exact designs.

From wanton false imagination. In front, a level lawn is seen,

These observations, rather stale, Without a shrub upon the green,

May borrow spirit from a tale. Where Taste would want its first great law,

GENIUS, a bustling lad of parts, But for the skulking, ny ha-ha,

Who all things did by fits and starts, By whose miraculous assistance,

Nothing above him or below him, You gain a prospect two fields distance.

Who'd make a riot or a poem, And now from Hyde-Park Corner come

From excentricity of thought, The Gods of Athens, and of Rome.

Not always do the thing he ought ; Here squabby Cupids take their


But was it once his own election, With Venus, and the clumsy Graces :

Would bring all matters to perfection ;, Apollo there, with aim so clever,

Would act, design, engrave, write, paints Stretches his leaden bow for ever ;

But neither from the last constraint, And there without the pow'r to fly,

Who hated all pedantic schools, Stands fix'd a tip-toe Mercury.

And scorn'd the glofs of knowing fools, The villa thus completely grac'd,

That hold perfection all in all, All own that Thrifty has a Taste;

Yet treat it as mechanical. And Madam's female friends, and cousins,

And give the same sufficient rule With common-council-men, by dozens,

To make a poem, as a itool Flock every Sunday to the Seat,

From the first spring-time of his youth,
To stare about them and to eat.

Was downright worshipper of truth;
And with a free and liberal spirit,
His courtship paid to lady Merit.

Envy, a squint-ey'd, mere old maid,
Well known among the scribbliog trade ;

A hag, so very, very thin,
GENIUS, ENVY, AND TIME. Her bones peep'd through her bladder-skin;

Who could not for her soul abide

That folks shou'd praise, where she must chide,

Follow'd the youth where'er he went,
To mar each good and brave intent;

Would lies, and plots, and mischicf hatch, ADDRESSED TO WILLIAM HOGARTH, ESQ;

To ruin him and spoil the match.

Honour she held at bold defiance,

Talk'd much of Faerion, Gang, Alliance, N all profeffionary skill,

As if the real fons of taste There never was, nor ever will

Had clubb’d to lay a DESART waite. Be excellence, or exhibition,

In short, wherever GENIUS came, But fools are up in opposition ;

You'd find this Antiquated Dame ; Each letter'd, grave, pedantic dunce

Whate'er he did, where'er he went,
Wakes from his lethargy at once,

She follow'd only to torment;
Shrugs, shakes his head, and rubs his eyes, Callid MERIT by a thousand names,
And, being dull, looks wond'ruus wise,

Which decency or truth disclaims,
With folemn phiz, and critic scowl,

While all her business, toil, and care, The wisdom of his brother owl.

Was to depreciate, lye, compare, MODERNS! He hates the very name ;

To pull the Modest Maiden down, Your Antients have prescriptive claim :

And blast her fame to all the town.


The youth, inflam'd with conscious pride, Sure of success whene'er he tries, To Prince POSTERITY apply'd,

Should he forego the means to rise! Who gave his answer thưs in rhyme,

Suppose your watch a Graham make, By his chief minister Old Time.

Gold, if you will, for value's lake ; " Repine not at what peduóts say,

Its springs within in order due, " We'll bring thee forward on the way ;

No watch, when going, goes so true ; “ If wither'd ENVY Itrive to hurt

If ne'er wound up with proper care, • With lies, with impudence and dirt,

What service is it in the wear? " You only pay a common tax

Some genial spark of Phæbus' rays, Which fool, and knave, and dunče exacts. Perhaps within your bosum plays : " Be this thy comfort, this thy joy,

O how the puret rays aspire, “ Thy strength is in its prime, my boy,

If application fans the fire! " And every year the vigour grows,

Without it genius vainly tries, “ Impairs the credit of my foes.

Howe'er sometimes it seem to rise ! « Envy shall link, and be no more

Nay application will pretail, er Than what her NALÁDs were before ;

When briggart part and genius fail : * Mere excremental maggots, bred,

And now to lay my proof before ye, « In poet's toply-turvey head,

I here present you with a story. "i Born like a momentary fly,

In days of yore, when time was youngs « To flutter, bázz about, and die.

When birds convers'd as well as sung, " Yet, GENIUS, mark what i presage,

When use of speech was not confin'd, " Who look through ciery diftant age:

Merely to brutes of human kind; * Merit shall bless thee with her charms,

A forward Hare, of swiftness vain, “ FAME lift thy of pring in her arins,

The Genius of the neighb'ring plain, cd And stamp etetnity of grace

Wou'd oft deride the drudging croud : « On all thy numerous various race.

For Geniuses are ever proud. "" ROUBILLIAC, Wurton, names as high He'd boast, his flight 'twére vain to follow, i As Phidias of antiquity,

For dog and horse he'd beat them kollow's “ Shall strength, expression, manner give; Nay, it he put forth all his strength, 56 And make e'en marble breathe and live; Outstrip his brethren half a length. " While SIGISMUNDA's deep distress,

A Tortoise heard his vain oration, 66 Which looks the soul of wretchedrefs,

And vented thus his indignation. " When 1; with flow and soft'ning pen,

Oh Puss, it bodes thee dire disgracej “ Have gone v'er all the tints again,

When I defy thee to the race. * Shall urge a bold and proper claim

Come, 'tis e match, nay, no denial, 66 To level hálf the antient fame;

I lay my shell upon the trial. " While future ages yet unknown

'Twas done and gone, all fair, a bet; With critic air thall proudly owni

Judges prepar'd, and distance fet. " Thy HOGARTY first of every clime

The scamp'ring Hare outstrip the wind, " For humour keen, or Itrong sublime,

The creeping Tortoise ragg'd behind, « And hail Him from his, fire and spirit,

And scarce had pass'd a single pole, * The child of Genius and of MERIT."

When Puss had almost reach'd the goal:
Friend Tortoise, quoth the jeering Hares
Your burthen's more than you can bear,
To help your speed, it were all well
That I should ease you of your shell :

Jog on a little fafter pr’ythec,
THE HARE AND TORTOISE, 1957. I'll take a nap, and then be with thea

So said, so done, and safely sure,
For say, what conquest more secure?

Whene'er he wak'd (that's all that's in it
A F 1 L E

He could o'ertake him in a minute.

The tortoise heard his taunting jeera

But still resolv'd to perfevere,
ENIUS, bleft term, of meaning wide, Still draw'd along, as who should fay.
For fura no term fo misapply'd;

l'll win, like Fabius, by delay ; How many bear the sacred name;

On to the goal securely crept, That never felt a real fame!

While Puss unknowing soundly flept. Proud of the fpecious appellation,

The bets were won, the Hare awake Thus fools have chriften dinclination.

When thus the victor tortoise spake.
But yet fuppose a genius true,

Puss, tho' I own thy quicker parts,
Exempli gratiâ, me or you :

Things are not always done by startsy Whate'er he tries with due attention,

You may deride my aukward pace,
Rarely escapes his apprehension ;

But now and feady wins the racer
Surmounting ev'ry oppofition,
You'd swear he learnt by intuitiork
Shou'd he rely alone on partsy
And study therefore but by Martsy

For though I grant, you've made it well,
You've boil'd it, fir, as hot as hell.

Then raising high his cloven stumps
The Satyr (mote him on the rump.
“ Begone, thou double knave, or fool,
" With the same breath to warm and cool:
“ Friendship with such I never hold
“ Who're so damn'd hót, and so damn'd cold




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ORDS are, so Wollaston defines,

Of our ideas merely signs,
Which have a pow'r at will to vary:
As being vague and arbitrary.
Now damn'd for instance-all agreej
Damn'd the superlative degree ;

THE NIGHTINGALE, OWL, AND Means that alone, and nothing more,

However taken heretofore ;
Damn'd is a word can't stand alone,
Which has no meaning of its own;

But fignifies or bad or good
Just as its neighbour's

understood. Sxamples we may find enough. Damn'd high, damh'd low, damrid finė, damrid ADDRESSED TO DAVID GARRICK, ESQ.

ftuff. So fares it too with its relatian. I mean its substantive, damnation.

ON TAS REPORT OF HIS RITIRING FROM THE The wit with metaphors makes bold;

STAGB, DEC. 1760.
And tells you he's damnation cold ;
Perhaps, that metaphor forgot,
The self-fame wit's damnation hot.

YRITICKS, tiho like the scarecrows ftang
And here a fable I remember
Once in the middle of December,

And with severity of sense; When every mead in snow is lost,

Drive all imagination thence, And ev'ry river bound with frost,

Say that in truth lies all sublime, When families get all together,

Whether you write in prose or rhyme. And feelingly talk o'er the weather

And yet the truth may lose its gracey Whenpox on the descriptive rhymes

If blurted to a person's face ; In short it was the winter time,

Especially if what you speak It was a Pedlar's happy lots

Shou'd crimson o'er the glowing cheek! To fall into a Satyr's cot:

For when you throw that Naver o'er him, Shiv'ring with cold, and almoft frozë,

And tumble out your praise before hims With pearly drop upon his nose,

However just the application, His fingers' ends all pinch'd to deatd,

It looks a-squint at adulation. Me blew upon them with his breath.

I would be honest and sincere, "Friend, quoth the Satyr, what intends

But not a flatterer, or severe. " That blowing on thy fingers' ënds ?

Need I be surly, rough, uncouth, " It is to warm them thus I blow,

That folks may think I love the truth ! For they are froze as cold as snow.

And she, good dame, with Beauty's Queans * And to inclement has it been

Was not at all times naked feen: « I'm like a cake of ice within."

For every boy, with Prior, knows, Come, quoth the Satyr, comfort, man!

By accident she lost her cloaths, I'll cheer thy infide, if I can;

When Falthood stole them to disguise You're welcome in my homely cottage

Her misbegotten brood of lies, To a warm fire, and mess of pottage.

Why should the prudish Goddess dwell This faid, the Satyr, nothing loths

Down at the bottom of a well, A bowl prepar'd of fav'ry broth;

But that she is in piteous fright, Which with delight the Pedlar view'lg

Left, rising up to mortal sight, As smoaking on the board it stood.

The modest world should heer and Aout héra But, though the very steam arose

With not a rag of choaths about her? With grateful ardour to his nose;

Yet she might wear a proper dress One single fip he ventur'd nots

And keep her effence ne'erthelefs. The gruel was so wond'rous hot.

So Delia's bosom still will rise, What can be done? with gentle puff

And fascinate her lover's eyes,
He blows it, 'till it's cool enough.

Though round her ivory neck the drawe ji
Why how now, Pedlar, what's the manier The decent shadë of specious gauze.
Still at thy blowing ! quoth the Satyr.

I hear it buzz'd about the table,
I blow to cool it, cries the Clown,

What can this lead to?. Sirs3 That I may get the liquor down •


When Birds allow'd the Eagles [way;
Ere Eagles turn'd to fowls of prey,
His Royal Majesty of Air
Took Mufick underneath his care ;
And, for his queen and court's delight;
Commanded concerts every night.
Here every Bird of Parts might enter,
The Nightingale was made Præcentor ;
Under whose cate and just direction,
Merit was sure to meet protection.
The Lark, the Blackbird, and the Robin
This concert always bore a bob in ;
The best performers all were in its
The Thrush, Canary-bird, and Linnets

But birds, alas ! are apt to aim
At things, to which they've smallest claim.
The staring Owl, with hideous hoot,
Offer'd his service for a flute.
The Cuckow needs would join the band ,
• The Thrush is but a paultry hand :
" And I can beft fupply that place,
" For I've a shake, a Twell, a grace.”

The Manager their suit preferr'd : Both tun'd their pipes, and both were heard ; . Yet each their several praises missid, For both were heard, and both were hiss'd.

The Cuckow hence, with rancour stirr'd, (A kind of periodic bird, Of nasty hue, and body scabby No would-be-play-wright half so shabby) Reviles, abuses, and defaines, Screams from a branch, and calls hard names, And Itrikes at Nightingale or Lark, Like Lisbon ruffians, in the dark.

The Owl harangues the gaping throng
On Pow'rs, and excellence of long,
« The Blackbird's note has lost its force ;
« The Nightingale is downright hoarse ;
“ The Linnet's harih; the Robin inrill;
« _The Sparrow has prodigious skill !”

At length they had what they defird:
The skilful Nightingale retir'd.
When Folly came, with wild Uproary
Ard ny was heard no more.

Garters yclept, and other trophies,
Which prove that man in love an oaf is,
According to appointment, came
To fee CÆCILIA, tuneful dame,
Whofe praise by Dryden's Ode is grow
Bright and immortal as his own ;
And who hath been for many years
The chief directress of the spheres.

Thomas, who rode behind the car,
And for å Aambeau held a ftar,
Who, in the honest way of trade,
Hath forg'd more horns, and cuckolds made,
Than Vulcan and his brawny dolts
Ever for Jove forg'd thunderbolts,

Slipt gently down and ran before 'em,
Ringing the bell with due decorum.

But, truth to say, I cannot tell
Whether it Knocker was or Bell,
(This for vertù an anecdote is,)
Which us'd to give CÆCILIA notice,
When my lady of the lky
Was come to bear her company.
But this I'm sure, be which it will,
Thomas perform'd his part with skill.

Methinks I hear the reader cry
His part with skill? why, You or I,
Or any body else, as well
As Thomas, sure, could ring a bell,
Nor did I ever hear before
Of skill in knocking at a door.

Poor low-liv'd creature! I suppose,
Nay, and am sure, you're one of those
Who, at what door soe'er they be,
Will always knock in the fame key.
Thinking that Bell and Knocker toa
Were found out nothing else to do,
But to inform the house, no doubt,
That there was somebody without,
Who, if they might such favour win,
Would rather chuse to be within.

But had our servants no more sense,
Lord! what must be the consequence ?
Error would error still pursue,
And strife and anarchy ensue,
Punctilio from her altar hurl'd,
Whence she declares unto the world
Whate'er by fancy, is decreed,
Through all her niceties must bleed.

For if there was not to be found
Some wholesome difference of found,
But the same rap foretold th' approach
Of him who walk'd, or rode in coach,
A poor relation now and then,
Might to my lord admittance gain,
When his good lord hip hop'd to see
Some rastal of his own degree ;
And, what is more unhappy ftill,
The stupid wretch who brings a bill,
Might pass through all the motley tribes
As free as one, who brings a bribe.

My lady too might pique her grace
With carriage stiff and formal face,
Which, the deceiv'd, had taken care
For some inferior to prepare ;
Or might some wretch from Lombard-Areer-
With greater ease and freedom meet,

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Than sense of honour will admit
Between my lady and a cit.

Those evils wisely to prevent,
And roor out care and discontent,
Ev'ry gay smart, who rides behind,
With rose and bag in taste refin'd,
Must mufick fully understand,
Have a nice ear and skilful hand;
At ev'ry turn be always found
A perfect connoisseur in found ;
Through all the gamut skilful fly
Varying his notes, now low, now high,
According as he shifts his place ;
Now hoarsely grumbling in the base,
Now turning tenor, and again
To treble raising his shrill strain;
So to declare, where'er he be,
His master's fortune and degree,
By the distinguishing address,
Which he'll upon the door express.

Thomas, whom I have nam'd before
As ringing at CÆCILIA's door,
Was perfect master of this art,
And vers'd alike in ev'ry part:
So that Cæcilia knew, before
Her footman came unto the door,
And in due form had told her so,
That Madam VENUS was below.

The doors immediate open flew,
The GODDESS, without more ado,
Displaying beauty's thousand airs
Skim'd through the bredl, and trip'd up Atairs.

CÆCILIA met her with a smile
Of great delight, when all the while
If her false heart could have been seen,
She wish'd she had at Cyprus been.

But ladies, skill'd in forms and arts
Don't in their faces wear their hearts,
And thofe above like those below,
Deal frequently in outside show,
And always to keep up parade,
Have a smile by them ready-made.

The forms, which ladies when they meet
Must for good-manners' sake repeat,
As humble servant, how d’you do,
And in return, pray how are you?
Enrich'd at ev'ry proper space
With due integuments of lace,
As Madam ; Grace, and Goddeship,
Which we for brevity shall skip,
Happily past, in elbow-chair
At length our ladies seated are.

Indiff'rent subjects first they chuse,
And talk of weather and the news.
That done, they fit upon the itate,
And snarl at the decrees of fate,
Invectives against Jove are hurld,
And They alone should rule the world,

Dull politicks at length they quit,
And by ill-nature shew their wit;
For hand in hand, too well we know,
These intimates are said to go,
So that where either doth preside

T'other's existence is implied.
The man of wit, fo men decree,
Must without doubt ill-natured be;
And the ill-natur'd scarce forgets
To rank himself among the wits.

Malicious VENUS, who by rote
Had ev'ry little anecdote,
And most minutely could advance
Each interesting circumstance,
Which unto all intrigues related,
Since Jupiter the world created,
Display'd her eloquence with pride,
Hinted, observ'd, enlarg'd, applied ;
And not the reader to detain
With things impertinent and vain,
She did, as ladies do on earth
Who cannot bear a rival's worth,
In such a way each tale rehearse
As good made bad, and bad made worse:

CÆCILIA too, with faint-like air,
But lately come from evening pray'r,
Who knew her duty, as a saint,
Always to pray, and not to faint,
And, rain or thine, her church ne'er milt,
Prude, dovetee, and methodist,
With equal zeal the cause promoted,
Misconstru'd things, and words misquoted,
Misrepresented, misapplied,
And, inspiration being her guide,
The very heart of man dislected,
And to his principles objected.
Thus, amongst us, the sanctified,
In all the spirituals of pride,
Whose honest consciences ne'er rested,
Till, of carnalities diverted,
They knew and felt themselves t'inherit
A double portion of the spirit :
Who from one church to t'other roam,
Whilst their poor children starve at home,
Confid'ring they may claim the care
Of Providence, who sent them there,
And therefore certainly is tied
To see their ev'ry want supplied ;
Who unto preachers give away,
That which their creditors should pay,
And hold that chosen vessels must
Be generous before they're just.
And that their charity this way
Shall bind o'er heaven their debts to pay,
And serve their temp'ral turn, no doubt,
Better than if they'd put it out,
Whilst nought hereafter can prevent,
Their sure reward of cent. per cent,
Who honeft labour fcorn, and say
None need to work who love to pray,
For heav'n will satisfy their cravings,
By sending of Elijah's ravens,
Or rain down, when their spirits fail,
A dish of manna, or a quail;
Who from Moorfields to Tottenham Court
In furious fits of zeal resort,
Praise what they do not understand,
Turn up the eye, stretch out the hand,
Melt into tears, whilft- -blows
The twang of nonsense through his nose,
Or deals in speculation,

Or -hums his congregation,
Or- -talks with the lord of hosts,

with pillars and with posts ;
Who ftri&tly watch, left Satan Thou’d,
Roaring like lion for his food,
Ensnare their feet his fatal trap in,
And their poor souls be taken napping :

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