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A certain high priest could explain,*

How the soul is but nerve at the most ; And how Milton had glands in his brain,

That secreted the Paradise Lost. And sure, it is what they deserve,

Of such theories if I aver it, They are not even dictates of nerve,

But mere muddy suggestions of claret.

Our Holland Philosophers say, Gin

Is the true philosophical drink,
As it made Doctor H--y imagine

That to shake is the same as to think.t
For, while drunkenness throbb'd in his brain,

The sturdy materialist chose (О fye!)
To believe its vibrations not pain,

But wisdom, and downright philosophy.

Ye
sages,

who shine in my verse,
On my labours with gratitude think,

* Dr. L. Bp. of C. is probably the person here alluded to. He was a zealous materialist.

+ He resolved Perception and Thinking into vibrations, and (what he called) vibratiuncles of the brain.

Which condemn not the faults they rehearse, But impute all

your

sin to your drink. In drink, poets, philosophers, mob, err;

Then excuse, if my satire e'er nips ye: When I praise, think me prudent and sober,

If I blame, be assured I am tipsy,

FASHION.

A DIALOGUE.

“CONSIDER, my good friend, the value”-
I have consider'd, Sir, I tell you,
And, preach and practise what you will,
I scorn'd them once, and scorn them still.
Pray, matters it to me or you,
How this and that man ties his queue,
If cloth or silk he choose to put on,
Or wear a white or yellow button?
Shall then submissive Virtue truckle
To imitate each fellow's buckle ;
And must a numbscull be adored,
Because it styles itself a lord ?
In this the benefit which one (hark ye)
Expects to find in a free monarchy;
That honest, rough, bold Britons must,
Sprawling, like spaniel dogs, in dust,
The toes of every titled cub lick ?-
Then, hey for Sparta and republick!

“ You poets think it only—a jest, eh ! “ To cut and slash at peers and majesty! “ When did I ever say a Briton Must creep, like pointer, hands and feet on? ? “ I only said, what I suppose 6. You know, and every body knows, 6. That in their forms of etiquette, 6. The small must copy from the great ; “ Must learn their passions and their fancies, How this lord laughs, and that duke dances. “ For, as a frugal housewife gathers “ Clippings of silk, and gaudy feathers, “ Which will by length of time prepare A covering for an easy chair : Even thus, from the great world, our beaus • Pick shreds of swearing and bon mots ; “ Which, when they o'er their souls have wrought 'em, “ Hide Honesty's black leather bottom; “ And a new covering we behold “ Where every single patch is old."

And what, if I be not inclin'd
To clap a cover on my mind,
Nor shreds of tarnish'd wit revere,
Because they faunted on a peer?

don't wear,

Although as relicks fools adore them,
Rags are but rags, whoever wore them.

“ No doubt, Sir, you, a man of letters,
“ Are bound to bellow at your betters !
• No clothes are neat, no thoughts are wise,
" Which
you

which

you despise ! “ Go, scream and cringe to your Apollo; 6 What others follow'd I must follow, “ The grave man's care, the gay man's passion, “The lady's every thing—the fashion."

I never would affirm, my friend,
(To see how folks misapprehend !)
That a good action grows a worse one,
For being done by any person.
I never will avoid the rabble
When right, because, they're fashionable :
I only am not borne along,
For fashion's sake, if they be wrong.

“ Yes ; sapient, philosophick wight, “ You follow fashion where 'tis right ! 66 And

pray,

has
any

mortal seen you yet • Make a neat bow, or walk a minuet? - As much, I tell you, as a spire “ Is more esteem'd for being higher,

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