Thus coupled together life's journey they pass'd, | An Inscription over a Gentleman's Chimney- last; Thus tir'd and weary, I've finished my course, And glad it is bed-time, and things are no worse. Epitaph on an honest Sailor. WHETHER Sailor or not, for a moment avast! Poor Tom's mizen top-sail is laid to the mast; He'll never turn out, or more heave the lead, He's now all aback, nor will sails shoot ahead; He ever was brisk, and, and though now gone to wreck, [upon deck. When he hears the last whistle he'll jump The Consultation. THREE Doctors, met in consultation, Proceed with great deliberation; The case was desperate, all agreed, But what of that? they must be fee'd; They write then, as 'twas fit they should, But for their own, not patient's good; Consulting wisely, don't mistake, Sir, Not what to give, but what to take, Sir. On a Landlord drunk. LANDLORD, with thee now even is the wine; [thine. For thou hast pierc'd his hogs-head, and he A Rhapsody. As I walk'd by myself, I said to myself, Then I said to myself, and thus answer'd myself, To-day and To-morrow. TO-DAY man's dress'd in gold and silver Wrapp'd in a shroud before to-morrow night; To-morrow, no command, no house at all; Free with that, and free with me; The Character. AN easy mien, engaging in address, [press, Looks which at once each winning grace exA life where love and truth are ever join'd, A nature ever great and ever kind, A wisdom solid, and a judgement clear, The smile indulgent, and a soul sincere; Meek without meanness, gentle and humane; Fond of improving, but yet never vain; So justly good, so faithful to his friend, Ever obliging, cautious to offend; A mind where gen'rous pity stands confess'd, Ready to ease and succour the distress'd: If these respect and admiration raise, They surely must demand our greatest praise; In one bright view th' accomplish'd youth we see, These virtues all are thine-and thou art he. Poverty and Poetry. "Twas sung of old, how one Amphion Could by his verses tame a lion, And by his strange enchanting tunes Make bears and wolves dance rigadoons; His songs could call the timber down, And form it into house or town. But it is plain, now in these times, No house is rais'd by poets' rhymes; They for themselves can only rear A few old castles in the air. Poor are the Brethren of the Bays, Down from high strains to ekes and ayes: The muses too are virgins yet, And may be till they portions get. Yet still the doating rhymer dreams, And sings of Helicon's bright streams: But Helicon, for all his clatter, Yields nothing but insipid water! Yet, even athirst, he sweetly sings Of Nectar and Elysian springs. The grave physician, who by physic, Like death, dispatches him that is sick, Pursues a sure and thriving trade; Though patients die, the doctor's paid: Licens'd to kill, he gains a palace For what another mounts a gallows. In shady groves the muses play, And love in flow'ry meads to stray; Pleas'd with a bleaky barren ground, Where rip'ning fruits are never found. But then, some say, you purchase fame, Thus soldiers, who in many battles Get bangs and blows, and God knows what On Bribery. A POOR man once a judge besought The judger of the laws. My friend, quoth he, thy cause is good; A hog well-fed this churl presents, Poor man, quoth he, I thee forgot, [else, Vain wishes! vain pray'rs! to the wind they are given, For death comes relentless, and takes him to heaven. At little misfortunes we're soberly sad, But it's time, now we've lost all our wits, to run mad. Magni stat Nominis Umbra. BISHOP. PROUD as a peer, poor as a bard, A footsome Spaniard late one night Up sprung the host from his bed-side, Open the chamber-window flew: "Who's there? What boisterous hand," he "Makes at my gate this loud ado?" [cried, "Here is," the stately Spaniard said, "Don Lopez, Rodriguez, Alonzo, Pedrillo, Gusman, Alvarade, Jago, Miguel, Alphonso, Antonio, Diego"-" Hold! hold! hold!" An authentic receipt from an English_lord's [spice, cook ; Mix suet, milk, eggs, sugar, meal, fruit and Of such numbers, such measure, and weight, and such price; Drop a spoonful of brandy to quicken the mess, And boil it for so many hours, more or less. These directions were tried, but when tried, had no good in, 'Twas all wash, and all squash, but 'twas not English pudding; And monsieur, in a pet, sent a second request For the cook that prescrib'd, to assist when 'twas drest, Who, of course, to comply with his honor's beseeching, Like an old cook of Colbrook, march'd into the kitchen. The French cooks, when they saw him, talk'd loud and talk'd long, They were sure all was right, he could find nothing wrong; Till, just as the mixture was rais'd to the pot, "Hold your hands! hold your hands!" scream'd astonish'd John Trot: "Don't you see you want one thing, like fools as you are?" "Vone ting, Sare! Vat ting, Sare?"—"A pudding-cloth, Sare!" Quod petis hic est. No plate had John and Joan to hoard, John swallow'd first a moderate sup; John often urg'd her to drink fair, When John found all remonstrance vain, And where the angel stood so plain, Joan saw the horns, Joan saw the tail, "Oh! John," she said, “am I to blame? I can't, in conscience, stop: For sure 'twould be a burning shame The Decanter. O THOU, that high thy head dost bear, With round smooth neck, and simple ear, With well-turn'd narrow mouth, from whence Flow streams of noblest eloquence: 'Tis thou that fir'st the bard divine, Sacred to Phoebus and the nine; That mirth and soft delight canst move Sacred to Venus and to Love; Yet, spite of all thy virtues rare, Thou'rt not a boon companion fair; Thou'rt full of wine when thirsty I, And when I'm drunk, then thou art dry. Latin Learning of little Use*. YOUR venerable chaplain once, Train'd here the scholar, lash'd the dunce, To profit by his well-known care, His child a butcher brought; And all the needful to prepare, A dictionary bought. Before a week its course had run, The butcher came again: "Take back your book, give back my son," He cried with might and main. "Larning!" 'tis money thrown Such larning to procure; The book don't show, the boy can't say, What's Latin-for a skewer." away, More's meant than meets the Ear. WHEN doctors, twenty years ago, A bodkin-sword's diminutive stump, Nothing new under the Sun. THERE's nothing new beneath the sun, So ancient wits' decisions run: But wit no match for facts is; For I know things, and so do you, Though everlasting, ever new! What think you, Sirs, of taxes? Ancient and Modern Poets distinguished. "Twixt those poets of old, and our poets of late, One perpetual distinction holds true : The new, in a twinkling, are all out of date, The old-will for ever be new! The Power of Verse. READ! read! the thread-bare poet cries, Poet! thy boast would seem more true, Spoken at Merchant Taylors' School. The Progress of Wigs. WHEN Charles the First the sceptre bore, Each grave divine, I trow, A silken cap all sable wore, With nine straight hairs below. The Restoration's jovial day Chang'd, with the men, the mode, In Anna's reign, from general view These too incurr'd, by lapse of years, Though new their taste, while they adopt The frizz'd, the curl'd, the bald, the cropt, Have all their claim to praise. The Effect of Pulpit Eloquence. A VETERAN gambler, in a tempest caught, Once in his life a church's shelter sought, Where many a hint pathetically grave, On life's precarious lot the preacher gave. The sermon ended, and the storm all spent, Home trudg'd old Cog-die, reasoning as he [declar'd, "Strict truth," quoth he, "this rev'rend sage I feel conviction, and will be prepar'd; Nor e'er henceforth, since life thus steals away, Give credit for a bet-beyond a day!" went. Case in the Constitutional Court. A FARMER, as records report, And charming was the sound! |