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And then sail back, amid the cannon's roar, --
Such is thy pow'r, O Goddess of the song,
550. I write in metre, what he thinks in prose; So fall my song, undisciplin'd by art, Find a sure patron in each English heart. If this it's fate, let all the frippery things Be-plac'd, be-pension'd, and be-starr'd by Kings, 6o Frown on the page, and with fastidious eye, Like old young Fannius, call it blasphemy,.
The noble per
Verse 52. Nor like Mac- Homer.) See; if the reader thinks it worth while, a late translation of the Iliad.
Verse 62. Like old young Fannius.) sonage here alluded to, being asked to read the Heroic Epif-' tle, said, “ No, it was as bad as blasphemy."
Ibid. Fannius.) Before I sent the MS to the press, I discovered, that an accidental blot had made all but the first syllable of this name illegible. I was doubtful,' therefore, whether to print it Fannius or Fannia. After much deliberation, I thought it best to use the masculine termination. If I have done wrong, I ask pardon, not only of the Author, but the Lady:
Let these prefer a levee's harmless talk,
Verse 76. And break the black asperity of fate.)
« Si qua fata aspera rumpas, Tu Marcellus eris."
Whate'er his fame or fate, on this depend ; He is, and means to be his country's friend. 'Tis but to try his strength that now he sports With Chinese gardens, and with Chinese courts :90 But if that country claim a graver strain, If real danger threat fair Freedom's reign, If hireling P**rs, in prostitution bold, Sell her as cheaply as themselves they sold ; Or they, who honour'd by the People's choice, 95 Against that people lift their rebel voice, And basely crouching for their paltry pay, Vote the best birthright of her sons away, Permit a nation's in-born wealth to fly In mean, unkinzly prodigality; Nor, e'er they give, ask how the sums were spento So quickly squander'd, tho' so lately lent If this they dare, the thunder of his song, Rolling in deep-ton'd energy along, Shall strike, with Truth's dead bolt, each misa creant's name,
105 Who, dead to duty, senseless e’en to shame, Betray'd his country. Yes, ye faithless crew, His Muse's vengeance shall your crimes pursue, Stretch you on satire's rack, and bid you
lie Fit garbage for the hell-hound, Infamy.
ODE YO MR. PINCHBECK, UPON HIS NEWLY-INVENTED PATENT CANDLE-SNUFFERS. BY MALCOLM M'GRE. GOR, ESQ; AUTHOR OF THE HEROIC EPISTLE TO SIR WILLIAM CHAMBERS, AND THE HEROIC POSTSCRIPT I
Quousque ergo fruftrà pascemus ignigenum iftum ?
Apuleii Met. Lib. 7. Why should a Patent be granted to this Candle-Snuffer in
These lyric lines to view ;
| A D V ERTI SEM EN T.
Ever since my first publication, the curiosity, not to say anxiety, of the world concerning my name, has been so great, that it has frequently given me pain to conceal what the world will now see it was not possible in my power to discover,
In short, I had no name, till the royal favour lately reftored my very antient and honourable clan to its priftine title and honours. I was therefore in the same deplorable case with a certain nameless lady, whom I have long had the honour to call my neighbour, and who, 1 fincerely hope, will:
It once had got a stately wick,
The Revolution put it:
Till Bfiri dar'd to smut it.
Since then--but wherefore tell the tale ?
And forely wastes its tallow:
Its Save-all is but shallow:
soon, by the same favour, be restored to that title, which, upon my honour, I believe, she has erroneously, and not intentionally forfeited.
I have only to add, that now, when the public is in por-session of my real name, it will not, I hope, suffer any national prejudice to prevent it from receiving this my first lyrical attempt with its former caudour. But I must needs say, that if this Ode does 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 been written by a Scotchman,
Knightsbridge, May 6th, 1776,