Did Hospitality, with open face,

And winning smile, cheer the deserted sight
That else had languish'd for the blest return
Of beauteous day, to dissipate the clouds
Of endless night, and superstition wild,
That constant hover o'er the dark abode.
O happy Lothian! Happy thrice her sons!
Who ne'er yet ventur'd from the southern shore
To tempt Misfortune on the Fifan coast;
Again with thee we dwell and taste thy joys,
Where Sorrow reigns not, and where ev'ry gale
Is fraught with fullness, blest with living hope,
That fears no canker from the year's-decay.

BENEATH what cheerful region of the sky
Shall Wit, shall Humour, and the Muses fly?
For our's, a cold, inhospitable clime,
Refuses quarter to the Muse and Rhime;
If on her brows an envy'd laurel springs,
They shake its foliage, crop her growing wings,
That with the plumes of virtue wisely soar,
And all the follies of the age explore.
But should old Grub her rankest venom pour,
And ev'ry virtue with a vice deflow'r,
Her verse is sacred, Justices agree,-
Ev'n Justice Fielding signs the wise decree.

Let fortune-dealers, wise predictors! tell From what bright planet Justice Fielding fell; Augusta trembles at the awful name; The darling tongue of Liberty is tame, Basely confin'd by him in Newgate chains, Nor dare exclaim how harshly Fielding reigns. In days when ev'ry mercer has his scale To tell what pieces lack, how few prevail! I wonder not the low-born menial trade By partial Justice has aside been laid: For she gives no discount for Virtue worn, Her aged joints are without mercy torn.

In vain, O GAY! thy muse explor'd the way Of Yore to banish the Italian lay,

Gave homely numbers sweet, tho' warmly strong;
The British chorus blest the happy song:
Thy manly voice and Albion's then were heard,
Felt by her sons, and by her sons rever'd:
Eunuchs, not men, now bear aloft the palm,
And o'er our senses pour lethargic balm.

The Stage the truest mirror is of life;
Our passions there revolve in active strife;
Each character is there display'd to view;
Each hates his own, tho' well assur'd 'tis true.
No marvel then that all the world should own,
In Peachum's treach'ry Justice Fielding known,
Since thieves so common are, and, Justice you
Thieves to the gallows for reward pursue.

Had GAY by writing rous'd the stealing trade, You'd been less active to suppress your bread; For, trust me! when a robber loses ground, You lose your living with your forty pound. 'Twas Woman first that snatch'd the luring bait,

The tempter taught her to transgress and eat; Tho' wrong the deed, her quick compunction told,

She banish'd ADAM from an age of gold.

When women now transgress fair Virtue's rules,

Men are their pupils, and the stews their schools;

From simple wh-d-m greater sins began To shoot, to bloom, to center all in man; Footpads on Hounslow flourish here to-day, The next old Tyburn sweeps them all away; For woman's faults, the cause of ev'ry wrong! Men robb'd and murder'd, thieves at Tyburn strung.

In panting breasts to raise the fond alarm, Make females in the cause of Virtue warm, GAY has compar'd them to the summer flow'r, The boast and glory of an idle hour;

When cropt it falls, shrinks, withers, and de

cays,

And to oblivion dark consigns its days.

M

Hath this a pow'r to win the female heart Back from its vice, from virtue ne'er to part; If so the wayward virgin will restore, And murders, rapes, and plunders be no more. These were the lays of him who virtue knew, Rever'd her dictates, and practis'd them too; No idle theorist in her stainless ways, He gave the parent Goddess all his days.

O Queensberry! his best and earliest friend, ALL that his wit or learning could command; Best of patrons! the Muse's only pride! Still in her pageant shalt thou first preside; No idle pomp that riches can procure, Sprung at a start, and faded in an hour, But pageant, lasting as the uncropt bay, That verdant triumphs with the Muse of GAY.