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A B A L L A D.

OCCASIONED BY THE ENLARGING OF THE HOUSE

OF OFFICE AT THE DOF D-SEAT IN
SUSSEX, FOR THE ACCOMMODATION OF THREE
LADIES AT ONCE, VIZ:

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THE Graces were play-fellows never asunder,

As Horace and all the old poets agree ;
This being once granted, why then 'tis no wonder,
That, whene'er you see one, you always see

three,
In bed, and at table,

Still inseparable,
No mortal, or God, e'er to part them was able:
Nay, e'en to do that which goddesses do,
If one had occasion, still went t'other two.

So, in Suffex, three nymphs, or three graces, choose

either,
O were I but Horace their praises to tell !
From morning to evening were always together,
And did, as they say, that same thing in a quill :

In

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In the park, or the grove,

Below, or above,
Not an inch e'er a one from the other would move ;
One only thing grieved and vexed their souls,
Where there should have been three, there were

but two holes.

With curt'sy full low to the prince of the place,

In terms the most moving they jointly petition,
By all that is facred beseeching his grace,
To have some regard on their helpless condition.

The paper be read,

And nodding his head,
Send for Smart to come over this moment, he said,
For fure in the world there is no reason why,
When two friends are fitting, the third should

stand by.

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The chalk.pit was dug, and mortar was made,
And bricks without number from Hampness there

came,
When our architect too, who well knew his trade,
Made by one fingle fabric immortal his name:

Then prithee give o'er,

Think of builders no more,
Throw thy plummet, and trowel, and hod out of door;
So had done, without question, both Archer and Van,
Had they had the honour to furnish the plan.

Now,

Now, all you who these three of your zeal would

convince, And defire that in pain they may never be long, Congratulate them, and give thanks to the prince, By clearing your voices, and aiding my song:

For now when they're fat,

They may fing, laugh, and chat,
Yet all under one, without hindrance do that ;
And at the same time their friendship improve
By what we all count the beginning of love.

FROM THE SPANISH,

BY

MR.

GA R RICK.

FOR me my fair a wreathe has wove,

Where rival flowers in union meet ; As oft she kiss'd the gift of love,

Her breath gave fweetness to the sweet,

A bee within a damask rose

Had crept, the nectar'd dew to fip; But leffer sweets the thief foregoes,

And fixes on Louisa's lip.

There, tasting all the bloom of spring,

Wak'd by the ripening breath of May, Th' ungrateful spoiler left his sting,

And with the honey flew away.

AN OLD PROPHECY IN GOTHIC CHARACTERS,

FOUND UPON STONE IN THE RUBBISH OF THE NEW BUILDINGS (AT BATH) APRIL 1, 1769. WRITTEN ON OCCASION OF THE DISPUTES RELATING TO THE MASTER OF THE CEREMONIES, ON THE DEATH OF MR. DERRICK.

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IN the same year when fix and nine,
To one and seven their forces join ;
When priests, who preach and pray for peace,
With rancour fell the feuds increase;
And tho' they combat, play the devil,
That good may rise from rev'rend evil :
When Bristol smugglers shall invade
Their neighbour's rights, and hurt fair trade :
When money gives an unknown crew,
To judge of what they never knew,
Το

prate and vote for men and measures,
And chuse a master for our pleasures ;
Then shall the realm be topsy turvy,
And those command who ought to serve ye ;
Order and decency retreat,
And anarchy shall fill the street,
Shalt all her hellish uproar bring,
E'en to the palace of the king.

MERLIN, JUN.

MR.

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THRO’ev'ry part, of grief or mirth,
To which the mimic stage gives birth,
I rie'er as yet, with truth could tell,
Where most your yarious pow'rs excel.
Sometimes amidst the laughing scene,
Blithe comedy, with jocund mien,
By you in livelier colours drest,
With transport clafp'd you to her breast :
As uft the buskin'd muse appear'd,
With awful brow her fceptre rear'd ;
Recounted all

your
laurels

won,
And claim'd you for her darling son.
Thus each contending goddess strove,
And each the fairest garland wove.

But which fair nymph could justly boast
Her beauties had engag'd you most,
I doubted much ; 'till, t'other day,
Kind Fortune threw me in your way ;
Where, 'midst the friendly joys that wait
+ Philander's hospitable gate,
Freedom and genuine mirth I found,
Sporting the jovial board around.

* Author of the New Bath Guide,

+ Rigby:

'Twas

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