The worm of Grief had never prey'd
On the forsaken love-sick maid:
Nor had she mourn'd a hapless flame,
Nor dash'd on rocks her tender frame.

LOVE ELEGY.

IN IMITATION OF TIBULLUS.

WHERE now are all my flattering dreams of joy?

Monimia, give my soul her wonted rest; Since first thy beauty fix'd my roving eye,

Heart-gnawing cares corrode my pensive breast. Let happy lovers fly where pleasures call,

With festive songs beguile the fleeting hour; Lead beauty through the mazes of the ball,

Or press her, wanton, in love's. roseate bower. For me, no more I'll range the' empurpled mead,

Where shepherds pipe, and virgins dance around, Nor wander through the woodbine’s fragrant shade, To hear the music of the

grove

resound. I'll seek some lonely church, or dreary hall,

Where fancy paints the glimmering taper blue, Where damps hang mouldering on the ivied wall,

And sheeted ghosts drink up the midnight dew: There, leagued with hopeless anguish and despair,

Awhile in silence o'er my fate repine:
Then, with a long farewell to Love and Care,

To kindred dust my weary limbs consign.
Wilt thou, Monimia, shed a gracious tear

On the cold grave where all my sorrows rest ? Strew vernal flowers, applaud my love sincere,

And bid the turf lie easy on my breast ?

Sed podice levi
Cæduntur tumidæ medico ridente Mariscæ.-
O Proceres ! censore opus est an haruspice nobis ?

JUVENAL.
nam quis
Peccandi finem posuit sibi ? quando recepit
Ejectum semel attrita de fronte ruborem ?

IBID.

A D V IC E.

A Satire.

POET -FRIEND

POET.

ENOUGH, enough; all this we knew before;
'Tis infamous, I grant it, to be poor:
And who so much to sense and glory lost,
Will hug the curse that not one joy can boast !
From the pale hag, 0! could I once break loose;
Divorced, all hell shall not retie the noose!
Not with more care shall H- avoid his wife,
Not Copel fly swifter, lashing for his life,
Than I to leave the meagre fiend behind.

FRIEND.
Exert your talents; Nature, ever kind,
Enough for happiness bestows on all;
'Tis sloth or pride that finds her gifts too small-
Why sleeps the Muse P-is there no room for praise,

When such bright names in constellation blaze ? i General Cope was famous for an expeditious retreat, though not quite so deliberate as that of the ten thousand Greeks from Persia; having unfortunately forgotten to bring his army along with him.

2

When

sage

Newcastle, abstinently great, Neglects his food to cater for the state; And Grafton, towering Atlas of the throne, So well rewards a genius like his own: Granville3 and Bathu illustrious, need I name, For sober dignity and spotless fame; Or Pitt, the unshaken Abdiel,“ yet unsung: Thy candour, Cho'm'dly! and thy truth, 0 Younge!

POET.
The' advice is good; the question only, whether
These names and virtues ever dwelt together?
But what of that? the more the bard shall claim,
Who can create as well as cherish fame.
But one thing more,-how loud must I repeat,
To rouse the engaged attention of the great,
Amused, perhaps, with —'s prolific bum,

C-
Or wrapt amidst the transports of a drum ;6
While the grim porter watches every door,
Stern foe to tradesmen, poets, and the poor.
The' Hesperian dragon not more fierce and fell,
Nor the gaunt, growling janitor of hell.

E'en Atticus (so wills the voice of fate)
Enshrines in clouded majesty his state;
Nor to the adoring crowd vouchsafes regard,
Though priests adore, and every priest a bard.
Shall I then follow with the venal tribe,
And on the threshold the base mongrel bribe ?
Bribe him, to feast my mute-imploring eye,
With some proud lord, who smiles a gracious lie!
A lie to captivate my heedless youth,
Degrade my talents, and debauch my truth;
While, fool'd with hope, revolves my joyless day,
And friends, and fame, and fortune fleet away;
Till, scandal, indigence, and scorn my lot,
The dreary gaol entombs me, where I rot!
Is there, ye varnish'd ruffians of the state!
Not one, among the millions whom ye cheat,
Who, while he totters on the brink of woe,
Dares, ere he falls, attempt the avenging blow ?
A steady blow! his languid soul to feast,
And rid his country of one curse at least !

FRIEND What! turn assassin ?

POET,

Let the assassin bleed:
My fearless verse shall justify the deed,
'Tis he, who lures the' unpractised mind astray,
Then leaves the wretch to misery a prey;
Perverts the race of virtue just begun,
And stabs the public in her ruin'd son,

FRIEND.

Heavens, how you rail! the man's consumed by spite !
If Lockman's fate attends you, when you write;
Let prudence more propitious arts inspire:
The lower still you crawl, you'll climb the higher.
Go, then, with every supple virtue stored,
And thrive, the favour'd valet of my

The' ascent is easy, and the prospect clear,
From the smirch'd scullion to the embroider'd peer.
The' ambitious drudge preferr'd, postillion rides;
Advanced again, the chair benighted guides;
Here doom'd, if nature strung his sinewy frame,
The slave, perhaps, of some insatiate dame;
But if exempted from the' Herculean toil,
A fairer field awaits him, rich with spoil;
There shall he shine with mingling honours bright,
His master's pathic, pimp, and parasite;
Then strut a captain, if his wish be war,
And

grasp, in hope, a truncheon and a star:
Or if the sweets of peace his soul allure,
Bask at his ease in some warm sinecure;
His fate in consul, clerk, or agent vary,
Or cross the seas, an envoy's secretary:
Composed of falsehood, ignorance, and pride,
A prostrate sycophant shall rise a L-d:
And, won from kennels to the impure embrace,
Accomplish'a Warren triumphs o'er disgrace.

POET.
Eternal infamy his name surround,
Who planted first that vice on British ground !
A vice that spite of sense and nature reigns,
And poisons genial love, and manhood stains !
Pollio! the pride of science and its shame,
The Muse weeps o'er thee, while she brands thy name!
Abhorrent views that prostituted groom,
The' indecent grotto and polluted dome !
There only may the spurious passion glow,
Where not one laur. 1 decks the caitiff's brow,
Obscene with crimts avow'd, of every dye,
Corruption, lust, oppression, perjury:
Let Chardin' with a chaplet round his head,