« ElőzőTovább »
Behold! the marble f buits turn pale,
The Il Faun no more his pipe shall play;
+ Where still the Richmonds live, Conversing lo! the Digbys seem,
The fons of honour grieve !
Sure, sounds of sad lament arise!
What deep distress that aspect wears !
Mine,-will I hide in tears.
1 The white busts in the hall.
§ A bust of one of the dukes of Richmond of a ruddy. complexion. | A figure of a piping Faun: his instrument is broke.
The bird held by a Ganymede to the Eagle, was destroyed by the servants of the present tenant: this figure is com- i panion to the Faun ; and stands in the hall,
+ The painting gallery, adorned with the portraits of the families of the Lenox's, Digby's, and Fox's.
| The mother of the present duke of Richmond, portrayed in widow's weeds.
THE STATE SEM A N.
BUTE loves arbitrary rule,
A rule which plays the devil;
A secondary evil.
Roars out for blood and Naughter ;
Ne'er thinks of an hereafter.
“ Tho' Britain be undone !"
Or maudlin bears his drum.
JENKINSON creeps a go-between,
A puppet mov'd by wire ;
An ev'ry thing for hire.
But here my muse must end;
Bid him 'call Bute his friend.
In law, one Jefferies rules alone,
Is mockery and pretence ;
And gives his law for sense.
Whose bus'ness 'tis to rattle ;
Or at the levee prattle.
What would these madmen have ?
Submit then to this shame?
Which kings pretend to reign.
WRITTEN SOME TIME SINCE BY DAVID GAR..
HERE Hermes, says Jove who with nectar was,
mellow, Go fetch me some clay---I will make an odd fel
low : Right and wrong shall be jumbled, ---much gold,
and some dross : Without cause be he pleas'd, without cause be he
cross ; Be sure as I work, to throw in contradictions, A great love of truth; yet a mind turn?d to fic
tions ; Now mix these ingredients, which warm'd in the
baking, Turn to Learning, and Gaming, Religion, and
Raking, With the love of a wench, let his writings be
chafte; Tip his tongue with strange matter, his
with fine taste, That the Rake and the Poet o'er all may prevail, Set fire to the head, and set fire to the tail :
For the joy of each sex on the world I'll bestow it: This Scholar, Rake, Christian, Dupe, Gamester,
and Poet, Thro' a mixture so odd, he shall merit great fame, And among brother mortals-be GOLDSMITH
his name! When on earth this strange meteor, no more
You Hermes shall fetch him,-to make us sport
E P I GR. A M.
SAYS epicure Quin! should the D-1 in H-II,
ON SEEING DUKE HUMPHRY AT ST. ALBAN's.
A Plague on Egypt's arts, I say!