THE CLOWN'S REPLY.

JOHN TROTT was desired by two witty peers,
To tell them the reason why asses had ears,

66

"An't please you,” quoth John, I'm not given to letters,
Nor do I pretend to know more than my betters;
Howe'er from this time I shall ne'er see your graces,
As I hope to be sav'd! without thinking on asses.'
Edinburgh, 1753.

STANZAS ON WOMAN.

WHEN lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray-
What charm can soothe her melancholy?
What art can wash her guilt away?

The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance to her lover,
And wring his bosom-is, to die.

STANZAS

ON THE TAKING OF QUEBEC.

AMIDST the clamour of exulting joys,

Which triumph forces from the patriot heart.
Grief dares to mingle her soul-piercing voice,
And quells the raptures which from pleasure start.

O WOLFE, to thee a streaming flood of woe
Sighing we pay, and think e'en conquest dear;
Quebec in vain shall teach our breasts to glow,
Whilst thy sad fate extorts the heart-wrung tear.

Alive, the foe thy dreadful vigour fled,

And saw thee fall with joy-pronouncing eyes; Yet they shall know thou conquerest, though dead; Since from thy tomb a thousand heroes rise.

DESCRIPTION OF AN AUTHOR'S BED-
CHAMBER.

WHERE the Red Lion, staring o'er the way,
Invites the passing stranger that can pay-
Where Calvert's butt, and Parson's black champagne,
Regale the drabs and bloods of Drury-lane-
There in a lonely room, from bailiffs snug,
The Muse found Scroggen stretch'd beneath a rug.
A window, patch'd with paper, lent a ray
That dimly show'd the state in which he lay:
The sanded floor that grits beneath the tread;
The humid wall with paltry pictures spread;
The royal game of goose was there in view,
And the twelve rules the royal martyr drew;
The seasons, framed with listing, found a place,
And brave prince William showed his lamp-black face
The morn was cold-he views with keen desire
The rusty grate, unconscious of a fire;

With beer and milk arrears the frieze was scored,
And five crack'd tea-cups dress'd the chimney-board;
A night-cap deck'd his brows instead of bay,
A cap by night-a stocking all the day!

SONG

INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SUNG IN THE COMEDY OF SHE

STOOPS TO CONQUER.' ADAPTED TO THE IRISH AIR,

66

THE HUMOURS OF BALLY MAGUIRY."

AH me! when shall I marry me?

Lovers are plenty, but fail to relieve me.

He, fond youth, that could carry me,
Offers to love, but means to deceive me.

But I will rally and combat the ruiner:

Not a look, not a smile, shall my passion discover; She that gives all to the false one pursuing her, Makes but a penitent, and loses a lover.

EPITAPH

ON THOMAS PARNELL.

THIS tomb, inscribed to gentle Parnell's name,
May speak our gratitude, but not his fame.
What heart but feels his sweetly-moral lay,
That leads to truth through pleasure's flowery way!
Celestial themes confess'd his tuneful aid;
And Heaven, that lent him genius, was repaid.
Needless to him the tribute we bestow-
The transitory breath of fame below;

More lasting rapture from his works shall rise,
While converts thank their poet in the skies.

EPITAPH

ON EDWARD PURDON.1

HERE lies poor Ned Purdon, from misery freed,
Who long was a bookseller's hack;

He led such a damnable life in this world-
I don't think he'll wish to come back.

AN ELEGY ON THAT GLORY OF HER SEX,

MRS. MARY BLAIZE.

GOOD people all, with one accord,
Lament for Madam Blaize,
Who never wanted a good word
From those who spoke her praise.

The needy seldom pass'd her door,
And always found her kind;
She freely lent to all the poor

Who left a pledge behind.

1 Edward Purdon was educated at Trinity College, Dublin, but having wasted his patrimony, he enlisted as a foot soldier. Growing tired of that employment, he obtained his discharge, and became a ⚫cribbler in the newspapers. He translated Voltaire's Henriade.

She strove the neighbourhood to please
With manners wondrous winning,
And never follow'd wicked ways-
Unless when she was sinning.

At church, in silks and satins new,
With hoop of monstrous size,
She never slumber'd in her
pew-
But when she shut her eyes.

Her love was sought, I do aver,

By twenty beaux and more;
The king himself has follow'd her-
When she has walk'd before.

But now her wealth and finery fled,
Her hangers-on cut short all;
The doctors found, when she was dead-
Her last disorder mortal.

Let us lament, in sorrow sore,

For Kent-street well may say,

That, had she liv'd a twelvemonth more→
She had not died to-day.

A MADRIGAL.

IMITATED FROM THE FRENCH OF SAINT PAVIN.

WEEPING, murmuring, complaining,
Lost to every gay delight-
Myra, too sincere for feigning,

Fears the approaching bridal night.

Yet why impair thy bright perfection?
Or dim thy beauty with a tear?
Had Myra follow'd my direction,
She long had wanted cause of fear.

In all my Enna's beauties blest,
Amidst profusion still I pine;
For though she gives me up her breast,
Its panting tenant is not mine.

A PROLOGUE,

SPOKEN BY THE POET LABERIUS, A ROMAN KNIGHT.

From the Latin, preserved by Macrobius.2

WHAT! no way left to shun th' inglorious stage,
And save from infamy my sinking age?
Scarce half alive, oppress'd with many a year,
What in the name of dotage drives me here?
A time there was, when glory was my guide-
Nor force nor fraud could turn my steps aside;
Unaw'd by power, and unappall'd by fear,
With honest thrift I held my honour dear:
But this vile hour disperses all my store,
And all my hoard of honour is no more-
For, ah! too partial to my life's decline,
Cæsar persuades, submission must be mine!
Him I obey, whom heaven itself obeys;
Hopeless of pleasing, yet inclin'd to please.
Here then at once I welcome every shame,
And cancel at threescore a life of fame;
No more my titles shall my children tell;
The old buffoon will fit my name as well;
This day beyond its term my fate extends,
For life is ended when our honour ends.

1 J. Decimus Laberius was a Roman knight famous for his talents in writing pantomimes. Julius Cæsar compelled him to act one of his cha. racters on the stage; the poet, with great reluctance, consented, but showed his resentment during the acting of the piece, by throwing severe aspersions on Cæsar, and warning the audience against his tyranny. Laberius was sixty years old when this occurrence took place. He seems to have had no alternative left, and acted in obedience to the commands of the dictator, who wished to make the Romans forget their civil dissensions amidst the amusements of scenic exhibitions. The office of comedian was regarded at Rome as disgraceful for a freeman, above all for a knight. Laberius, in thus assuming a revolting character, addressed to the audience a justification of his conduct in this prologue, which may be regarded as one of the finest monuments of Roman literature, and makes us deeply regret the loss of his mimes. But a few fragments of his poetry remain.

2 This translation was first printed in one, of Goldsmith's earliest works, "The present State of Learning in Europe," 12mo, 1759.