« 이전계속 »
With salt box, pepper box, and kettle,
Joyous to breakfast they sat round,
Nor were asham'd to eat a pound.
These were the manners, these the ways,
Each damsel ow'd her bloom and glee,
To wholesome elbow-grease, and me,
Thus where the Fates send you, they send
Flagitious times, which ne'er will mend,
'Till some philosopher can find,
A scrubbing-brush to scour the mind.”
ATAWDRY tea-pot, a-la-mode,
High in an elegant beaufet,
Wat's honour, did your lordship say:
The lime tree and sweet-scented bay,
Which certain bee, if rightly known, (The sole reward of many a lay)
Wou'd prove no better than a drone; And all the poets of the wing,
There are (but I shall name no names, Who sweetly without salary sing,
I never love to kindle flames) Attract at once his observation,
A pack of rogues with crimes grown callous, Peopling thy wilds, Imagination!
Who greatly wou'd adorn the gallows; “ Sweet Nature, who this turf bedews,
That with the wasps, for paltry gold,
Yet you'll be great your subjects free,
If the whole thing be left to me." O infinite benignity !
Thus, like the waters of the ocean, She smiles, but not alone on me;
His tongue had run in ceaseless motion, On hill, on dale, on lake, on lawn,
Had not the queen ta'en up in wrath, Like Celia when her picture's drawn ;
This thing of folly and of froth. Assuming countless charms and airs,
“ Impertinent and witless meddler, "Till Hayman's matchless art despairs,
Thou smattering, empty, noisy pedler! Pausing like me he dreads to fall
By vanity, thou bladder blown, From the divine original.”
To be the football of the town. More had he said—but in there came
O happy England, land of freedom, A lout-Squire Booby was bis name.
Replete with statesmen, if she need 'em, The bard, who at a distant view
Where war is way'd by Sue or Nell, The busy prattling blockhead knew,
And Jobson is a Machiavel! Retir'd into a secret nook,
Tell Hardwick that his judgment fails, And thence his observations took.
Show Justice how to hold her scales.Vex'd be cou'd find no man to tea“,
To fire the soul at once, and please, The squire 'gan chattering to the bees,
Teach Murray and Demosthenes; And pertly with officious mien,
Say Vane is not by goodness grac'd, He thus address'd their bumming queen :
And wants humanity and taste.“ Madam, be not in any terrours ;
Thu' Pelham with Mæcenas vies, I only come t'amend your errours ;
Tell Fame she's false, and Trutlı she lies ; My friendship briefly to display,
And then return, thou verbal Hector, And put you in a better way.
And give the bees another lecture.” Cease, madam, (if I may advise)
This said, the portal she unbarr'd, To carry honey on your thighs,
Calling the bees upon their guard, Employ ('tis better, I aver)
And set at once about his ears Old Grub, the fairies' coach-maker;
Ten thousand of her grenadiers.-For he who has sufficient art
Some on his lips and palate hung, To make a coach, may make a cart.
And the offending member stung. To these you'll yoke some sixteen bees,
“ Just” (says the bard from out the grot) Who will dispatch your work with ease ;
“Just, though severe, is your sad lot, And come and
Who think, and talk, and live in vain, .
Of sweet society the bane. Ma'am, architecture you're not shill'd in,
Business misplac'd is a mere jest,
And active idleness at best.”
THE CITIZEN AND THE RED LION And know each author Ilay fist on,
I LOVE my friend—but love my ease,
To company however prone, To help the honey manufacture.
At times all men wou'd be alone. I hear for war you are preparing,
Free from each interruption rude, Which I should like to have a sbare in :
Or what is meant by solitude. Yet though the enemy be landing,
My villa lies within the bills, 'Tis wrong to heep an army standing.
So- like a theatre it fills : If you'll ensure me from ibe laws,
To me my kind acquaintance stray, P'll write a painphlet in your cause.
And Sunday proves no sabbath day; I vow, I am concern'd to see
Yet many a friend and near relation, Your want of state-economy.
Make up a glorious congregation ; Of nothing living I pronounce ill,
They crowd by dozens and by dozens, But I don't like your privy-council.
And bring me all their country cousins. There is, I know, a certain bee,
Though cringing landlords on the road, (Wou'd he was from the ministry)
Whu tind for man and horse abode;
Though gilded grapes to sign-post chain'd, The lion thank'd him for his proffer,
And if a vacancy should offer,
Declar'd he had too just a notion, Though jolly Bacchus calls them in ;
To be averse to such promotion. Nas—though my landlady wou'd trust 'em, The citizen drove off with joy, Pilgarlic's sure of all the custom ;
“ For London-Ball--for London-hoy." And his whole house is like a fair,
Content to bed he went his way,
And is no bankrupt to this day.
THE HERALD AND HUSBAND-MAN.
Nobilitas sula est atque unica virtus.
JUVENAL. Wife, daughter, pug, all crouded in, To meet at country house their kin.
with friend Juvenal agree, Thro' Brentford, to fair Twickenham's bow'rs, Virtue's the true nobility; The ungreas'd grumbling axle scow'rs,
Has of herself sufficient charms, To pass in rural sweels a day,
Altho' without a coat of arms. Bat there's a lion in the way :
Honestus does not know the rules, This lion a most furious elf,
Concerning Or and Fez, and Gules, Hung up to represent himself,
Yet sets the wond'ring eye to gaze on, Redden'd with rage, and shouk bis mane, Such deeds no herald e'er could blaze on. And roar'd, and roard, and roar'd again.
Tawdry achievements out of place, Wond'rous, tho’ painted on a board,
Do but augment a fool's disgrace; He roard, and roard, and roar'd, and roard. A coward is a double jest, * Fool!” (says the majesty of beasts)
Who has a lion for his crest; " At whose expense a legion feasts,
And things are come to such a pass, Fre to yourself, you those pursue,
Two horses may support an ass; Who're eating up your cakes and you;
And on a gamester or buffoon, Walk in, walk in, (so prudence votes)
A moral mottu's a lampoon. And give poor Ball a feed of oats,
An honest rustic having done Look to yourself, and as for ma'm,
His master's work 'wixt sun and sun, Coax her to take a little dram;
Retir'd to dress a little spot, Let Miss and Pug with cakes be fed,
Adjoining to his homely cot, Then, honest man, go back to bed ;
Where pl as'd, in miniature, he found You're better, and you're cheaper there,
His landlord's culniary ground, Where are no hangers on to fear.
Some herbs that feed, and some that heal, Go buy friend Newbery's new Panthcon,
The winter's medicine or meal. And con the tale of poor Acteon,
The sage, which in his garden seen, Horn'd by Diana, and o'erpower'd,
No man need ever die ' I ween; And by the dons he fed devour'd.
The marjoram comely to behold, What be receiv'd froin charity,
With thyme, and ruddiest marygold, Lepiness perhaps may give to thee;
And mint and pennyroyal sweet, And tho' your spouse my lecture scorns,
To deck the cottage windows meet, Beware his fate, beware his horns."
And baum, that yields a finer juice * Sir," says the Cit, (who made a stand, Than all that China can produce; And struk'd his forehead with his band)
With carrots red, and turnips white, “ By your grim gravity and grace,
And leeks, Cadwallader's delight; Yos greatly wou'd become the mace.
And all the savory crop that vie This kind advice I gladly take,
To please the palate and the eye. Drax'r, bring the dram, and bring a cake, Thus, as intent, he did survey With good brown beer that's brisk and humming." His plot, a Herald came that way, « A coming, sir! a coming, coming!"
A man of great escutcheon'd knowledge, The Cit then took a hearty draught,
And member of the motley college. And shook his jolly sides and laugh'd,
Heedless the peasant pass'd he by, Then to the king of beasts he bow'd,
Indulging this soliloquy; And thus bis gratitnde arow'd.
“Ye gods! what an enormons space, " Sir, for your sapient oration,
'Twixt man and man does Nature place; I owe the greatest obligation.
While some by deels of honour rise, You stand expos’d to sun, and show'r,
To such a height, as far out-vies I know Jack Ellis of the Tow'r;
The visible diurnal sphere; By bim you soon may gain renown,
While others, like this rustic here, He'll show your highness to the town;
Grope in the groveling ground content,
Without or lineage or descent,
'Cur moriatur homo, cui salvia crescit in He'll send his man to clean your coat.
horto? VOL. XVI.
Hail, Heraldry! mysterious art,
Thou to thy doom, old boy, art fated, Bright patroness of all desert,
To morrow—and thou shalt be baited." Mankind would on a level lie,
The deed was done-curse on the wrong! And undistinguisb'd live and die;
Bloody description, hold thy tongue.-Depriv'd of thy illustrious aid,
Victorious yet the ball return'd, Such! so momentous is our trade."
And with stern silence inly mourn'd. “Sir,” says the clown, “why sure you joke,” A vet’ran, brave, majestic cock, (And kept on digging as he spoke)
Who serv'd for hour glass, guard, and clock, “ And prate not to extort conviction,
Who crow'd the mansion's first relief, But merrily by way of fiction.
Alike from goblin aud from thief; Say, do your manuscripts attest,
Whose youth escap'd the Christmas skillet, What was old father Adam's crest;
Whose vigour brav'd the Shrovetide billet, Did he a nobler coat receive
Had just return'd in wounds and pain, In right of marrying Mrs. Eve;
Triumphant from the barbarous train. Or had supporters when he kiss'd her,
By riv'let's brink, with trees o'ergrown, On dexter side, and side sinister;
He heard bis fellow sufferer's moan; Or was his motto, prithee speak,
And greatly scorning wounds and smart, English, French, Latin, Welch, or Greek ; Gave bim three cheers with all his heart. Or was he not, without a lye,
“Rise, neighbour, from that pensive attitude, Just such a nobleman as I ?
Brave witness of vile man's ingratitude; Virtue, which great defects can stifle,
And let us both with spur and horn, May beam distinction on a trifle ;
The cruel reasoning monster scorn. And honour, with her native charms,
Methinks at every dawn of day, May beautify a coat of arms;
When first I chant my blithsome lay, Realities somewhat will thrive,
Methinks I hear from out the sky,
All will be better by and by ;
Who deviates from his Maker's plan;
And thus bis fellow servants uses, Health's on my countenance impress’d,
Shall greatly, and yet justly want, And sweet content's diy daily guest,
The mercy he refus'd to grant; My fame alone I build on this,
And (while his heart his conscience purges) And Garter King at Arms may kiss."
Shall wish to be the brute he scourges.”
HUMBLY ADDRESSED TO THR HISSERS AND CAT
CALLERS ATTENDING BOTH HOUSES.
A STORY OF A COCK AND A BULL. THE SNAKE, THE GOOSE, AND
When ruld by truth and nature's ways,
When just to blame, yet fix'd to praise, Who dares the contrary advance,
As votary of the Delphic god,
I reverence the critic's rod;
I hold all critics but as one;
For though they class themselves with art, Wou'd we'd a little unore humanity;
And each man takes a different part; Too far, I fear, I've drove the jest,
Yet whatsoe'er they praise and blame; So leave to cock and bull the rest.
They in their motives are the same, A bull, who'd listen'd to the vows
Forth as she waddled in the brake, Of above fifteen hundred cows;
A grey goose stumbled on a snake, And serv'd his master fresh and fresh,
And took th'occasion to abuse her, With hecatombs of special flesh,
And of rank plagiarism accuse her. Like to an hermit or a dervise,
“ 'Twas I," quoth she, “in every vale, (Grown old and feeble in the service)
First hiss'd the noisy nightingale; Now left the meadow's green parade,
And boldly cavill'd at each note, And sought a solitary shade.
"That twitter'd in the woodlark's throat: The cows proclaim'd in mournful-lowing, I, who sublime and more than mortal, The bull's deficiency in wooing,
Must stoop to enter at the portal, And to their disappointed master,
Have ever been the first to show All told the terrible disaster.
My bate to every thing that's lɔw; “ Is this the case" (quoth Hodge) “O rare! While thou, mean mimic of my manner, But hold, to morrow is the fair.
(Without inlisting to my banner)
THE BAG-WIG AND THE TOBACCO.
Darist in thy grov'liog situation,
The snake enrag'd, reply'd, “Know, madam,
MRS. ABIGAIL AND THE DUMB
With frowning brow, and aspect low'ring,
'll set thee gadding on thy castors.”
" Bak'd dirt! that with intrusion rude
“Why, what's the matter, Goodman Swagget,
CÁRE AND GENEROSITY.