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It once had got a stately wick,
When in its patent candlestick
.: The Revolution put.it: :
As white as wax we saw it shine
Thro’ two whole lengths of BRUNSWICK's liner

Till B-first dar'd to smut it.

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Since then-but wherefore tell the tale ?
Enough, that now it burneth pale,

And forely wastes its tallow :
Nay, if thy poet rightly weens,
(Tho' little skill'd in ways and means)

Its Save all is but Mallow.

that title, which, upon my honour, I believe, she has erroneountyy and not intentionally, forfeited."

I have only to add, that now, when the public is in poffeffion of my real name, it will not, I hope, fuffer any national prejudice to prevent it from receiving this my first lyrical attempt with its former candour. But I must needs say, that if this Ode docs not sell as well as Mr. CUMBERLAND's, I shall be apt to impute it, not to any inferiority of lyrical ordonance, but merely to its having bees written by a Scotchman.

Knightsbridge, May 6th, 1776.

IV. Come

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Come then, ingenious artist, come
And put thy finger and thy thumb

Into each polifh'd handle ;
On thee alone our hopes depend,
Thy King's, and eke thy Country's friend,

To trim Old England's candle.


But first we pray, for its relief,
Pluck from its wick each Tory thief,

It else must quickly rue it ;
* While N- and M-sputter there,
Thou'lt ne'er prevent, with all thy care,

The melting of the fuet.


There's Twitcher too, that old he-witch,
Sticks in its bole as black as pitch,

* These initials, like those in the Barns of Marriage publishcd between N. and M. may be fill’j up at the reader's plea. sure.

Vide Common Prayer Book.


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And makes a filthy pother ;
When curs'd with such a forry fiend,
And lighted too at either end,
'Twill soon be in a smother,

I fear me much, in such a plight,
Those tapers blest would lose their light,

Canadian fanes that deck ;
Which pious-*-ordains to blaze,
And gild with their establish'd rays,
Our Lady of Quebec.

§ His arms, thou hallow'd image! bless,
And surely thou canst do no less,

He is thy Faith's Defender;
Thou ow'st thy place to him alone,
As other Jacobites have done,
And not to the Pretender.

Haste then, and qualh the hot turmoil.
That flames in Boston's angry foil,

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Our ingenious Inventor's Snuffers are peculiarly calculated to remedy this evil, to which indeed all candles are more or less subject.

See the Patentee's Advertisement. $ It is humbly presumed, that the classical reader will here perceive a boldness of transition only to be equalled by PINDAR, and perhaps by HORACE in fome of his sublimer Odes.


And frights the mother-nation : Know, Lady! if its rage you stop, Pinchbeck shall send you, from his shop,

A most fuperb oblation.

His patent-snuffers, in a dishe
Of burnish'd gold; if more you wish,

His Cyclops shall bestir
Their brawny stumps, and for thy fake,
Of Pinchbeck's own mixt-metal make

A huge Extinguisher.


', thy zeal

To form the mass
Shall furnish that well-temper'd steel,

Thou didst at Minden brandish;
Nor yet shall G's reverend Dean,
Counting its worth, refuse, I ween,

His ponderous leaden standish,


Poor Doctor Johnson, I'm afraid,
Can give but metaphoric aid ;

Or, were they not, they pass'd with current ease,
Good seemings then were good realities :
No Senate had convey'd, by smuggling art, 15
Pow'r to the mob to play Cadogan's part ;
Now, thro' the land, that impious pow'r prevails,
All weigh their Sov'reign in their private fcales,
And find him wanting, all save me alone,
For, sad to say ! my glittering orbs are gone.
But ill beseems a poet to repent,
Lightly they came, and full as lightly went.
Peace to their manes ! may they never feel
Some keen Scotch banker's unrelenting steel ;
While I again the Muse's fickle bring
To cut down Dunces, wherefoe'er they spring,
Bind in poetic fheaves the plenteous crop,
And stack my full ear'd load in Almon's shop.
For now, my Muse, thy fame is fixt as fate,
Tremble, ye Fools I scorn, ye Knaves I hate ; 30
I know the vigour of thy eagle wings,
I know thy ftrains can pierce the ear of Kings.
Did China's monarch here in Britain doze,
And was, like western Kings, a King of Prose,



Verse 16. Cadogan's part.] Master of the Mint.

Verse 19. And find him wanting.] Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting. Daniel, chap. 8. v. 27. Verse 34. A King of Profe.] Kien-Long, the present


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