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In Gath, ah! never this dishonour name,

Ere broke the pitcher at the fountful heart, Nor in the streets of Askelon proclaim;

Or life's wheel shiver'd, and the soul depart, Lest the sad tidings of our country's woe

Then shall the dust to native earth be given, Cause triumph to the daughters of the foe.

The soul shall soar sublime, and wing its way to May Heav'n, Gilboa, on thy heights ne'er pour

Heaven.
The dew refreshing, or the fruitful shower;
Ne'er mav thy furrows give the golden seed,
Nor from tliy folds the fleecy victims bleed :

A GOOD WIFE.
There mighty men through fear their shields re-

sign'd, The shield of Saul was basely left behind.

FROM PROVERBS, Chapter xxxi. Thy bow, () Jonathan, oft strew'd the plain More precious far than rubies, who can find With carcasses of valiant heroes slain;

A wife embellished with a virtuous mind : Thy sword, O Saul, ne'er left its sheath in vain. In her securely, as his better part, Blest pair! whom love with sweetest concord tied, Her happy husband cheerful rests his heart : Whom glory join'd, and death cou'd not divide. With such a lovely partner of his toil Dreadful through all the war they muv'd along, His goods increase without the need of spoil. Swift as the eagle, as the lion strong. [drest | Bless'd in the friendship of his faithful wife, Weep, weep for Saul, ye maids, whose bounty He steers through all vicissitudes of life. Israel's fair daughters in the scarlet vest; Well pleas'd she labours, nor disdains to cull Who gave you gold and pearls your robes to The textile fax, or weave the twisted wool. deck,

Rich as the merchant ships that crowd the And rings and jewels for your hands and neck.

strands,
Thy prowess, much lov'd Jonathan, prov'd vain ; She reaps the harvest of remotest lands.
How are the mighty on the mountains slain ! Early she rises ere bright Phæbus shines,
To me, Jonathan, for ever dear,

And to her damsels separate tasks assigns :
Thy fate, alas! demands th' eternal tear:

Refresh'd with food her hinds renew their toil, Where can such faith, such piety be found ? And cheerful haste to cultivate the soil. Such pleasing converse with firm friendship If to her farm some field contiguous lies, bound?

With care she views it, and with prudence buys; Thy lore was wondrous, soothing all my care, And with the gains which Heaven to wisdom Passing the fond affection of the fair.

grants, How are the mighty on the mountains slain ! A vineyard of delicious grapes she plants. And all the instruments of battle vain! . Inur'd to toils she strength and sweetness joins,

Strength is the graceful girdle of her loins.

With joy her goodly merchandise she views, THE PICTURE OF OLD-AGE,

And oft till morn her pleasing work pursues.
The spindle twirls obedient to her tread,
Round rolls the wheel, and spins the ductile

Benignant from her ever-open door [thread. THE TWELFTII CHAPTER OF ECCLESIASTES.

She feeds the hungry, and relieves the poor. My son, attentive hear the voice of truth; Nor frost nor snow her family molest, Remember thy Creator in thy youth,

For all her household are in scarlet drest. Ere days of pale adversity appear,

Resplendent robes are by her husband worn, And age and sorrow fill the gloomy year,

Her limbs fine purple and rich silks adorn : When wearied with vexation thou shalt say, For wisdom fam’d, for probity renown'd, “No rest hy night I know, no joy by day;" He sits in council with bright honour crown'd. Ere the bright soul's enlighten'd pow'rs wax frail, To weave rich girdles is her softer care, [wear. Ere reason, memory, and fancy fail,

Which merchants buy, and mighty monarchs But care succeeds to care, and pain to pain, With strength and honour she herself arrays, As clonds orge clouds, returning after rain : And joy will bless her in the latter days. Ere yet the arms unnerv'd and feeble grow, Wise are her words, her ser se divinely strong, The weak legs tremble, and the loose knees bow; Por kindness is the tenour of her tongue. Ere yet the grinding of the teeth is o’er,

Fair rule and order in her mansion dwell, And the dim eyes behold the Sup no more; She eats with temperance what she earns so well. Ere yet the pallid lips forget to speak,

Rich in good works her children call her blest, The gums are toothless, and the voice is weak; And thus her husband speaks his inmost breast: Restless he rises when the lark he hears,

“ To Eve's fair daughters various virtues fall, Yet sweetest music fails to charm his ears. But thou, lov'd charmer, hast excell'd them all." A stone, or hillock, turns his giddy brain,

Smiles oft are fraudful, beauty soon decays,
Appall’d with fear he totters o'er the plain; But the good woman shall inherit praise.
And as the almond-tree white fow'rs displays, To her, ( grateful, sweet requital give!
His head grows boary with the length of days; Her name, her honour shall for ever live,
As leanness in the grasshopper prevails,
So shrinks his body, and his stomach fails;
Doom'd to the grave his last long home to go,
The mourners march along with solemn woe :
Ere yet life's silver cord be snapt in twain,
Ere broke the golden bowl that holds the brain,

PARAPHRASED FROM THE SEVEN

FIRST VERSES OF

NATHAN'S PARABLE.

The seer then sooth'd him with this calm reply; 11. SAMUEL, Chap. xii.

Thy sin is pardon'd, and thou shall not die."

Thus may we clearly see each secret sin, To Israel's king thus spoke the holy seer: Warn’d by the faithful monitor within :

O mighly monarch, fam'd for wisdom, hear Thus may we, blest with bounteous grace froin While to my lord a tale of woe I tell:

Heaven,
Two men, O king, in one fair city dwell;

Like Judah's king repent, and be forgiven.
The one is friendless, and exceeding poor,
The other rich, and boastful of his store:
Large herds of oxen in his pastures feed,
And flocks unnumber'd whiten every mead.

TAE SONG OF DEBORAH.
The poor man's stock was only one ewe-lamb
Of snowy fleece, weau'd lately from its dam;

Lend, Oye princes, to my song an ear,
He bought it with what treasure he could spare, Ye mighty rulers of the nations, bear,
Ev'n all his wealth, and 'twas his only care;

While to ihe Lord the notes of praise I sing, Nurs’d by his hand, and with his children bred, To Israel's God, the everlasting king. With them it wanton'd, and with them it fed;

When from aerial Seir, it dread array, Of his own mess it eat without control,

From Edom when th’ Almighty took his way, And drank the bererage of his milky bowl; “ On Cherub, and on Cherubim he rode," (God: Then lightly-sportful skipt, and, tir'd with play, The trembling Earth proclaim'd th' approach of Dear as a daughter in his bosom lay.

The heavens dissolv’d, the clouds in copious A traveller of no ignoble fame,

rains

[plains : By chance conducted, to the rich mari came;

Pour'd their black stores, and delug'd all the Yet from his herds he could not spare an ox

The rent rocks shiver'd on that awful day, To treat him, nor a wether from his flocks, And mountains melted like soft wax away. But took by cruel force, and kill'd and drest In Shamgar's days, in Jael's hapless reign, The poor man's lamb to feed his pamper'd guest." Kow were the princes, and the people slain? The monarch paus’d-then made this stern When Sisera, terrific with his hosts, reply

Pour'd dire destruction on pale Judah's coasts ; locens'd: “I swear by God that rules the sky, The cities no inhabitants contain'd; The man that did this thing shall surely die: The public ways unoccupied remain’d; The lamb fourfold he likewise shail restore, The travellers through dreary deserts stray'd, To recompense the friendless and the poor: Or pensive wander'd in the lonely glade, Because his heart no soft compassion felt, Till, sent by Heaven, 1, Deborah, arose At other's woe unknowing how to melt.” To rule and rescue Israel from their foes.

“ Thou art the man,'' reply'd the holy seer, Those patriot warriors of immortal fame, • Thus saith the Lord, the God of Israel, bear: Who sav'd their country all my favour claim: A king thou art, anointed at my call,

Yejndges, speak, ye shepherd swains, rehearse O'er Israel; and I rescued thee from Saul; Jehovah's praise in never-dying verse, An gave thee all thy master's servants lives, Awake, awake; raise, Deborah, thy voice, His large possessions, and his numerous wives: And in loud numbers bid the lyre rejoice: Was that too little? Could'st thou more require? Raise to the Lord of Heaven thy grateful song, I would have given thee all thy heart's desire. Who gave the weak dominion o'er the strong. Then wherefore didst thou God's comman,lment The tribes of Israel sent their mighty men, Committing this great evil in his sight? (slight, That wield the falchion, or that guide the pen. Lo! thou hast robb'd Uriah of his wife,

Gilead, Oh shame! by fountful Jordan lay, Defil'd bis bed, and then destroy®d his life, Dan in his ships, and Asher in his bay: Hast slain him with the adversary's sword : Their bleating flocks (ignoble care!) withheld Now therefore hear the judgment of the Lord, The tribes of Reubeu from the tented field: And lock this awful sentence in thy heart; But chiefs intrepid to the conflict came, • The sword shall never from thy house depart, Heroes that fought for empire and for fame: For thou hast rubb'd Uriah of his wife,

lu Taanach where Megiddo's streams are rollid, Defil'd his bed, and then destroy'd his life.' There fought the monarchs resolutely bold. Thus saith the Lord, nor thou his words despise, Heav'n's thunders to our foes destruction The power of evil in thy house shall rise,

wrought, Lo! I will take thy wives before thine eyes; The stars 'gainst Sisera conspiring fought. Thy concubines shall be in triumph led,

The river Kishon swept away the slain, The Sun shall see them in thy neighbours bed : Kishon, that antient river, to the main. Thou didst it secret—this thing shall be done For ever bless'd be Jael's honour'd name ! Before all Israel, and before the Sun."

For ever written in the rolls of fame! Aghast, convict the mighty monarch stood, He ask'd refreshment from the limpid ware, And from his eyes streain'd sorrow in a flood; The milky beverage to the chief she gave : Aud while a sigh repentant heav'd his breast, He drank, he slept extended on the floor, He thus the anguishi of his soul exprest: (sword, She smote the warrior, and he wak’d no more: “Thy words are sharper than the two-edg'd | Low at her feet he bow'd bis nail-pierc'd head; For I, alas! have sinn'd against the Lord.” Low at her feet he bow'd, he fell, he lay down Stung with remorse he iourn'd his past of

dead. fence

The hero's mother, anxious for his stay, With bitter tears, and heart-sprung penitence. Thus, fondly sighing, chid his long delay:

“What hopes, what fears my tortur'd bosom A genius form'd in every light to shine, feels!

A well bred scholar, and a sage divine;
Alas! why linger thus his chariot-wheels? An orator in every art refin’d,l
Some captive maid, distinguish'd for her charms, To teach, to animate and mend mankind :
Perchance detains the conqueror in her arms : The wise and good approv'd the life he led,
Perchance his mules, rich laden from afar, And, as they lov'd him living, mourn him dead.
Move slowly with the plunder of the war.”

1747,
Ah, wretched mother! all thy hopes are vain,
Thy son, alas! lies breathless on the plain,
Vanquish'd by Israel's sons, and by a woman

ON MRS. FOUNTAYNE,
slajn.

DAUGHTER OF THOMAS WHICHICOT ESQ. AND WIFE

10 THE DEAN OF YORK; WHO DIED IN CHILD-BED,

JULY 1750. ATAT. 19.
EPITAPHS.

Jp e'er thy bosom swell’d with grief sincere,
Oh let your once-lov'd friend inscribe the stone, View this sad shrine, and pour the pitying tear:
And, with domestic sorrows, mix his own! Here Fountayne lies, in whom all charms com-

POPE.

bin'd,
All that e'er grac'd, or dignified her kind.

Farewel, bright pattern of unblemish'd youth,
ON A VERY GOOD WOMAN. Of mildest merit, modesty, and truth !

Death snatch'd thy sweetness in the genial hour, Could marble know what virtue's buried here, Just when thy stem put forth its infant flower: This monument would scarce refuse a tear, Still blooms the tender flower; as oft we see But mourn, so early snatch'd from mortal life, Fair branches budding from the lifeless tree. The tencerest parent, and the dearest wife, Bless'd with sweet temper, and of soul so even, She seem'd a copy of the saints in Heaven,

ON A YOUNG GENTLEMAN,

WHO DIED FOR LOVE.

ON A YOUNG GENTLEMAN
WHO DIED A. D. 1743, ÆTA'T, 15.

IN A CHURCH IN CHESHIRE.

When age, all patient, and without regret,
Lies down in peace, and pays the general debt,
'Tis weakness most unmanly to deplore
The death of those who relish life no more.
But when fair youth, that every promise gave,
Sheds his sweet blossom in the blasting grave,
All eyes o'erflow with many a streaming tear,
And each sad bosom heaves the sigh sincere.

If modest merit ever claim'd thy tear,
Behold this inonument, and shed it here:
Here every blooming virtue beam'd in one,
The friend, the lover, and the duteous son,
Bless'd youth ! whose bosom nature form'd to

glow
With purest flame the heart of man can know,
Go, where bright angels heavenly raptures

prove,
And melt in visions of seraphic love.

1751.

ON A WORTHY FRIEND

WHO WAS ACCOMPLISHED IN THE SISTER ARTS OF

MUSIC AND PAINTING.

Ou born in liberal studies to excel,
Thou friendly, candid, virtuous mind, farewel!
To speak thy praise all cloquence is faint,
Except the style's expressive as thy paint :
Unles, th’ enliven'd numbers sweetly flow,
As when thy music gave the soul to glow :
Unless the Muses polish every line,
And draw the good man with a warmth divine,
Serenely pious, with the gentlest mind,
Through life contented, and in deaih resign'd.

ON JAMES FOX, ESQ.

1754.
P.

Eace to the noblest, most ingenuous mind,
In wisdom's philosophic school refin'd,
The friend of man; to pride alone a foe;
Whose heart humane would melt at others woe.
Oft bas he made the breast of anguish gay,
And sigh’d, like Titus, when he lost a day.
All vice he lash'd, or in the rich or great,
But prais'd mild merit in the meanest state.
Calin and serene in virtue's paths he trod,
Lov'd mercy, and walk'd humbly with his God.

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ON THE REV. MR. COOKSON,

OF BOOKS, PARTRIDGES, AND

SNUFF.

VICAR OF LEEDS.

Wraprin cold clay beneath this marble lies
What once was generous, eloquent, and wise;

I've sent you, dear Nanny, a basket of stuff,
Some books, and some birds, with a paper of

snuff:

ON THE MARRIAGE OF A COBLER AND A CHIMNEY

SWEEPER.

HORSE.

more.

The present is trilling, yet still you will find
Some food for the body as well as the mind.

EPITILALAMIUM
To tell you their uses there is not much need
The birds you will roast, and the books you may

read,
And as for the paper of snuff, I suppose Ye sable sweepers, and ye coblers all,
You are very well satisfied that's for your nose. Sons of the chimney, masters of the stall,
My respects to all friends, as a favour I ask it,

Whether ye deal in smearing soot, or leather, And I hope you'll remember to send back the

Hail to the day that joins your trades together. basket.

Huzza, my jolly coblers ! and huzza, September 1744.

My sable sweepers! Hail the joyous day.
Immortal fame, O coblers, ye derive

From Crispin, a good cobler when alive,
AN ELEGY

Who kept hisstall at Hockley in the Hole,

With nut-brown beer encouraging his soul : ON THE DEATH OF DOBBIN, THE BUTTERWOMAN's A bonnet blue he wore upon his head,

His pose was copper, and his jerkin red ; The death of faithful Dobbin I deplore;

For conjurer and astrologer he past, Dame Joll's brown horse, old Dobbin, is no

And mended understandings to his last.

Huzza, my jolly coblers ! and huzza, The cruel Fates have snapt bis vital thread,

My sable sweepers! Hail the joyous day. And gammer Jolt bewails old Dobbin dead.

Sly Jobson, though he never learn'd in France, From stony Cudham down to watery Cray,

Not only mended shoes, but taught to dance; This honest horse brought butter every day, So when he'd worn his pupils' soles quite out, Fresh butter meet to mix with nicest rolis, With leading of the booby bears about, And sometimes eggs, and sometimes geese and He soon repair'd the damage with his awl, fowls ;

And brought convenient custom to his stall. And though this horse to stand had ne'er a leg,

Huzza, my jolly cublers ! and huzza, He never dropt a goose, or broke an egg.

My sable sweepers! Hail the joyous day. Ye maids of Cray, your butter'd rolls deplore,

Nor less distinguish'd is your noble line, Darne Jolt's brown horse, old Dobbin, is no

Ye sweepers, sprung from pedigree divine !

Your ancient ancestor, whose name was Smut, Oft did the 'squire that keeps the great hall-Work'd at the forge, with Vulcan, in bis hut. honse,

Once as the limping god was hammering out Invite the willing vicar to a gnose ;

Those tongs that pinch'd the Devil by the snout, For goose could make his kindred Muse aspire Smut chanc'd to jest upon his awkward frame, From earth to air, from water to the fire; Which chai'd the bickering blacksmith into But now, alas! his towering spirit's ned,

fame; His muse is founder'd, for poor Dobbin's dead. He horld his hammer at the joker's head, Last Friday was a luckless day, I wot,

Which sure had left him on the pavement dead, For Friday last lean Dobbin went to pot;

But Smut was nimble, and, to shun the stroke, No drinks could cherish, no prescriptions save;

Sheer up the chimney went, like wreaths of Inc- n's hound he found a living grave:

smoke; Weep all, and all (except saçi dogs) deplore, Happy to find so snng a hole to creep in, Dame Jolt's brown horse, old Dobbin, is no

And since that time he took to chimney-sweeping.

Huzza, my jolly sweepers ! hail the day! Sculk, Rernard, seulk in the securest grounds,

My jolly coblers! roar aloud huzza. Now Dobbio hunts thee in the shape of hounds :

And you, meet couple, memorable match, I ate sure but slow be march'd as fout could fall, May live with comfort in your cot of thatch; Sme to march slow whene'er he march'd at all; While venal members sell their venal friends, Now fiecter than the pinions ofthe wind,

The cobler brings all soles to serve his ends. He leaves the huntsmen, and the hunt behind,

And as the fair miss Danae sate smiling, Pursues thee o'er the hills, and down the steep,

Co see the gold come pattering through the tiling, Through the rongh copse, wide woods, and waters Our sweeper joys to see the chimney drop her deep,

Meat, drink, and clothing, in a shower of copper. Along th' unbounded plain, along the lea,

Huzza, my jolly coblers ! and huzza, But has no pullet, and no goose for thee.

My sable sweepers ! Hail the joyous day.
Yer'ngs, ve foxes, howl for Dobbin dead,
Norihou, O Mnse, disdain the tear to shed;

Te maids of Cray, your butter'd rolls deplore,
Dame Jolt's brown horse, old Dobbin, is no THE SMOKING DOCTOR'S SOLILO-

QUY OVER HIS PIPE.

more.

more.

To

more.

Dulce tubo, genitos haurire & reddere fumos.
EMERCING awful through a cloud of smoke,
The tall lean doctor snapt his box and spoke:

THE WOMEN ALL TELL

more.

“ Though scorn'd by fribbles all bedanbid with

WOMAN:
I value not their censures of a puff, [snuff,
Who, ifkind Heav'n had furnish'd'em with brains,

A BALLAD.
Would into pipes convert their taper canes,
Be sick that nauseous nostril-dust to see,

BEING A CONTRAST TO
And substitute tobacco for rappee.

ME I'M FALSE TO MY LASS." I less regard the rage of female railingsSome ladies have their waters, and their failings: No longer let whimsical songsters compare Though when grey prudence comes, and youth The merits of wine with the charms of the fair; is past,

I appeal to the men to determine between They'll learn to smoke (or I am deceiv'l) at last! A tun-bellied Bacchus, and beauty's fair queen. Peace to the beanx, and every scented belle, The pleasures of drinking henceforth I resign, Who cry 'Tobacco has an odious smell :'

For though there is mirth, yet there's madness To men of sense I speak, and own with pleasure,

in wine; That smoking sooths my studies and my leisure; Then let not false sparkles our senses beguile, It aids my eyes, inspires my mind to think, 'Tis the mention of Chloe that makes the glass And is a calm companion when I drink.

smile. At home how sweetly does a pipe engage

Her beauties with rapture my fancy inspire, My senge to relish Tully's moral page! Or Hom 'r's Heaven-aspiring Muse divine,

And the more I behold her, the more I admire; And puffing measure each sonorous line!

But the charms of her temper and mind I adore; But if to Tom's I strav to read the Daily,

These virtues shall bless me when beauty's no Or at the tavern spend my erening gaily, My pipe still adds, as the mild minutes pass, How happy our days when with love we engage, Charins to the toast, and Aarour to the glass. l'is the transport of youth, 'tis the comfort of Biest Indian leaf! what raptures I inhale

age; From each light breath of thy ambrosial gale! But what are the joys of the bottle or bowl? Thou giv'st the soldier courage, to the hind Wine tickles the taste, love enraptures the soul. Repose, to captives sacred peace of mind;

Let the men of all nations, but Italy, prove Can'st wealth on merchants, state on king s be- The blessings that wait upon beauty and love: And to physicians only art a foe. (stow, But in boosing, alas! one unfortunate hout Thou sav'st, when pestilence spreads far and wide, will rob us of vigour, and leave us the gout. From that dread plague, and every plague beside.

A sot, as he riots in liquor, will cry, Though by thy fumes the teeth are blacken'd o'er,

“ The longer I drink, the more thirsty am I,” Thy ashes scour them wbiter than before

From this fair confession, 'tis plain, my good () with abundant riches amply blest,

friend, He, who can buy one ounce of Freeman's best! You're a toper eternal, and drink to no end. If in this fob my well-fill’d box I feel, (steel, Your big-bellied bottle may ravish your eye, In that my short pipe, touchwood, flint, and But how foolish you'll look when your bottle is Gold I regard not, I can live without;

(spring, I carry every requisite about.

Sweet pleasure from woman still flows like a Whether my stomach calls for drink or meat, Nay the Stoics must own it-She is the best Whether the cold affects me, or the heat,

thing. The weed of India answers the demand, And is the pleasing remedy at hand.

Yet some praises to wine we may justly afford, O aublest proof of nature's genial power!

For a time it will make one as great as a lord; weed more precious than the choicest flower!

But woman for ever gives transport to man, Thy vapours bland through every state engage,

And I'll stand by the ladies as long as I can. · Charm us when young, and solace us in age; Adorn when fortune showers her golden store, And breathe kind comfort when she smiles no

THE BROWN JUG:
Tranqnil at home they lull with sweet content,

A SONG.
Abroad they give us no impediment;
But, mild associates, tend us night and day,
And if we travel cheer us on our way;
In town or country soft repose incite,

Dear Tom, this brown jug that now foams with And puff us up with exquisite delight.”

mild ale,

(In which I will drink to sweet Nan of the Vale) * In allusion to that fine passage in Tully. Was once Toby Fillpot, a thirsty old soul Hæc studia adolescentiam alunt, senectutem As e'er drank á bottle, or fathom'd a bowl ; oblectant ; secundas res ornant, adversis perfu- In boosing about 'twas his praise to excel, gium et solatium præbent; delectant domi, non And among jolly topers he bore off the bell. impediunt foris ; peruoctant nobiscum, peregri- It chanc'd as in dog-days he sat at his ease nantur, rusticantur.

In his flow'r-woven arbour as gay as you please,
With a friend and a pipe puffing sorrows away,
And witu honest old stingo was soaking his clay,

dry !

more:

IMITATED FROM THE LATIN OF HIERONYMUS

AMALTHEUS.

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