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But to filence his clack, and to hide my difgrace,.
I'll give cornet P— a vice-treasurer's place.

No longer a cornet, no longer a slave,
No longer the terror and scourge of a knave;
He yields to C
-n, at By winks,
Now a patriot he rose, now a placeman he finks.

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In the van of dame Fortune behold him advance, With his place for a target, his tongue for a lance s But depriv'd of his place, ambition was croft, And the cornet's gay hours in a moment were loft.

Now behold him a bellowing patriot again,
Like Demofthenes, ftemming the torrent in vain.

See his eyes how they roll! hark his diction how strong!
Gods! how mellow his voice 1 his oration how long!

Thus oppos'd and oppofing, the fame tale he told, "As he ne'er had been bought, so he ne'er would be "fold;"

That his country (fine words!) was far dearer than

life!

Than the whole race of G

-lles, than Er his

wife.

How ftubborn the trials which patriots endure! Yet to conquer their whims, you must gild well the

lure;

For

For we all know 'tis fenfelefs, whate'er they may mut

ter,

To quarrel, like fools, with their bread and their butter.

To cut short my tale, and to close the last scene,
Like a storm when 'tis hufh'd, fee the patriot ferene;
In a twinkling behold a bright coronet rife,
How it ties up his tongue! how it dazzles his eyes

!

With the hoard of mad Pynfent, a penfion, a place, With a peerage, the badge of his lordship's disgrace; With a load of gold boxes, from boroughs and cities, With his bluft'ring speeches, and half-written ditties.

May he spend, yet unpity'd, the rest of his days, Unambitious of fway, undeferving of praise; Unhuzza'd by a mob, unendear'd to his friends, Ever rack'd by the gout, ever tortur'd by fiends!

Ye chronicle wits, minifterially wife,

Who to-morrow revere, what to-day ye despise;
Be
my fentence confirm'd-fince the die is now caft,
"That a CORONET damns ev'ry patriot at last,"

1

A TRIFLER,

AN

AN EPISTLE

TO A FRIEND IN THE COUNTRY *.

HAving heard that your doggrel's in mighty re

nown,

(For a great many people can read in this town)
And not without fome little cause to expect
Such flatt'ry, as goes to one's heart to reject:
I have dipp'd in the ftandish, intending to try
My right-hand at verfe-tho' the Mufe is but fhy.
You have heard of the wonderful works of one Pitt,
Who fo oft in DOM. COM. has brought forth a good
hit:

Lord! Sir, there was hardly a man of them all,
If he wrestled with Will, but was fure of a fall.
Since the days of Sir Richard †, renowned in fong,
No mortal has e'er been fo loud or fo long.
With large words and Latin, in patriot oration,
He led by the nose many heads of this nation;
And, t'enable his fpirits and purse to hold out,
He receiv'd a fine fnuff-box at ev'ry good bout;
The lid and the rims were all lacquer'd with gold,
And might, if they are not already, be fold;
Mr. deputy Hodges, and arms of the city,
I dare fay together look wonderful pretty.

*This epiftle has been afcribed to Chr. Anfty, efq;
Blackmore. See the Dunciad,

The

The deputy deals in profound allegory,

*

And holds in his hand a good key for history:
But as I was saying, or going to fay,

This Pitt was a marvellous man in his day :
He made us, like fo many bees in a hive,
Sweat and toil to pay taxes, that battle might thrive.
And really, dear friend, do but give him his due,
He made both the French and the Spaniards look
blue.

Our foldiers moft ardently pray'd for their foes,
And then beat their brains out, as all the world knows.
Our gen❜ral once chanc'd to be slaughter'd--and then
Pitt said he was forry-faid Beckford, Amen.

It would do your heart good, fhould you e'er conie

to town,

To hear how their parliament fpeeches go down:
There a party to fwallow, a party to pour,
So the gulpers ftand gaping for fenfe by the hour.
They're fure, honeft fouls! he can ne'er be in jeft,
Who harangues till he's hoarfe, and knocks oft on
his breaft.

In a winter or two, I fuppofe each oration,

Well chew'd, will again be spew'd out on the nation :
For the fubftance of matter continues the fame,
As Newton avers, tho it changes its name;

So for aught one can tell, e'en this letter of mine
May make, turn'd to profe, a young fenator fhine.

* Vide fpeeches of common-council.

Three

Three mighty great things are time, manner, and

place,

To give both our laws and ourselves a good face! But I top-for digreffions, when once they've the

rein,

Throw us off, tug as hard as we can at the mane.

A man that is gouty, or has a lame leg,
Elsewhere for felf-int'reft, may fet up to beg;
Not fo at Saint Stephen's- when cripples come
there,

All fubfcriptions requested, they folemnly fwear,'
Are for poor old Britannia, whose back is quite bare.
With one hand in flannel, and one on his fide,
He would gently begin, like an infantine tide;
And, as that by degrees all the bank overflows,
So from whispers he foon came to brawling and blows:
"Thofe Germans may fhift for themselves as they

like;

As long as Great Britain has round her a dyke
To defend her from harm, let her reft in content;

Not a man, not a fhilling, fhall from her be fent."
This doctrine was orthodox only a while,

For he has, Sir, a vaft variation of style.

Of late we have heard him rebuking his brother, For provoking pert boys to bepifs their own mother.

He

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