THE PORTRAIT.

Written by Mr. LEMOINE.

Be the wretch with gold poffeft;
Let the fot with wine be bleft;
Laurell'd let ambition be,
Give me dear Variety.

Would you lafting pleasures tafte,
Such as ne'er can cloy nor wafte;
From folly, care, and difcord, free;
Seek them in Variety.

All ye powers of joy and mirth,
Bring your choicest treafures forth;
Mufic, fong, and dance, and glee,
Blended with Variety.

But when love demands the theme,
Then I quite avert my scheme;
Nancy's heart's enough for me,
Tho' my name's Variety.

SONG 720.

reclin'd,

Seek rapt'rous joys to obtain ;

Let me picture happiness far more refin'd,
Where beauty and innocence reign.

My Laura's the fpot where thofe jewels unite,
In her ev'ry virtue's display'd;
Peace, order, and harmony, ftrongly invite
All eyes to adore the fair maid.
Tho' angelic beauties encircle her face;
Tho' her eyes are the index of love;
Tho' her delicate features display ev'ry grace,
And her fhape would an anchorite move:
Tho' more than enchantment poffeffes her voice;
Tho' her tongue foft perfuafion can beat;
Tho' her outward perfections make nature
rejoice,

And pale envy consume to a ghost:

Yet her mental attractions no pen can unfold, No tongue can her virtues display; Defcription, tho' glowing, feems lifeless and cold,

And fails her leaft worth to difplay. Good-humour eternally reigns o'er her mind, Which brightens the charms of her face; Whilft wit, void of malice, by reason refin'd, Enlivens each personal grace.

Wine infpires the jovial fong;
Care fhall never dare control,
White liquor can our mirth prolong.

Come, ye youths, who figh and pine
For fome filly fickle fair;
Come, and drown in sparkling wine,
All your folly, all your care.

Ye wretches on whom fortune frowns,
Whom duns and creditors befet,
Good ftore of wine will troubles drown,

Come drink yourselves quite out of debt.
Ye husbands who have scolding wives,
Come here, and leave the threws at home;
With Comus lead more happy lives,
Come, hafte away, O! pr'ythee, come.

SONG 721.

WHILST I am caroufing to chear up my foul, Oh! how I triumph to fee a full bowl! This is the treasure,

The only pleafure,

The bleffing that makes me rejoice and fing.
Thus while I am drinking,
Free from dull thinking,
Then I am greater than the greatest king.

SONG 722.

MY Sylvia is the blitheft lafs

That ever trod the downy grafs, Or grac'd the rural plain; Her modeft air, and gentle mien, More fweet, more fair, than beauty's queen, Are prais'd by ev'ry fwain.

Her fparkling eyes, like diamonds bright;
Each winning charm does there unite

With features fair and gay;
Her voice is fofter than the thrush,
That fweetly warbles on the bush,
And hails return of day.

When he had refted him awhile,
In play, and game, and fport,
He faid he would
go prove himfelf
In fome advent'rous fort.
He armed rode in foreft wide,
Who told him of adventures great,
And met a damfel fair,
Whereto he gave good ear.

Such would I find, quoth Lancelot;
For that caufe came I hither..

Thou feemft, quoth fhe, a knight full good,
And I will bring thee thither.

Whereas a mighty knight doth dwell,

That now is of great fame; Therefore tell me what wight thou art,

And what may be thy name.

My name is Lancelot du Lake.
Quoth the, It likes me then;
Here dwells a knight who never was
Yet match'd with any man;

Who has in prifon threefcore knights
And four, that he did wound:
Knights of King Arthur's court they be,
And of his table round.

She brought him to a river fide,
And alfo to a tree;
Whereon a copper bafon hung,
And many fhields to fee.

He ftruck fo hard, the bafon broke;
And Tarquin foon he fpy'd :
Who drove a horfe before him fast,
Whereon a knight lay ty'd.

Sir Knight, then faid Sir Lancelot,

Bring me that horfe-load hither;
And lay him down, and let him rest;
We'll try our force together:

For, as I understand, thou haft,
So far as thou art able,
Done great defpite and fhame unto
The knights of the round-table,
If thou be of the table round,
Quoth Tarquin speedily,
Both thee and all thy fellowship
I utterly defy.

That's over much, quoth Lancelot ;

Defend thee by and by.

They fet their fpears unto their feeds,
And each at other fly.

They couch'd their fpears, (their horses ran
As though there had been thunder)
And truck them each amidft their fhields,
Wherewith they broke in funder.

Their horfes backs brake under them,
The knights were both astound:
To avoid their horfes they made haste,
And light upon the ground.

They took them to their fhields full faft,
Their fwords they drew out then,
With mighty strokes moft eagerly..
Each at the other ran.

They wounded were, and bied full fore,
For breath they both did stand;
And leaning on their fwords awhile,
Quoth Tarquin, Hold thy hand,

And tell to me what I fhall ask.

Say on, quoth Lancelot, tho'.

Thou art, quoth Tarquin, the best knight That ever I know:

And like a knight, that I did hate;

So that thou be not he,

⚫ I will deliver all the reft,

And eke accord with thee.

That is well faid, quoth Lancelot;
But fince it must be fo,

What knight is that thou hateft thus;

I pray thee to me how?

His name is Lancelot du Lake,
He flew my brother dear;
Him I fufpect of all the reft;
I would I had him here!

Thy wish thou haft, but yet unknown,
I am Lancelot du Lake,

Now knight of Arthur's table round;
King Haud s fon of Schuwake;
And I defire thee do thy work.
Ho, ho, quoth Tarquin tho',
One of us two fhall end our lives
Before that we do go.

If thou be Lancelot du Lake,

Then welcome shalt thou be ; Wherefore fee thou thyleif defend, For now defy I thee.

They buckled then together fo,

Like unto wild boars sufning,

And with their fwords and thields they ran At one another flashing:

The ground befprinkled was with blood;
Tarquin began to yield;

For he gave back for weariness,
And low did bear his fhield.

This foon Sir Lancelot efpy'd,
He leapt upon him then,

He pull'd him down upon his knee,

And rushing off his helm,

Forthwith he ftruck his neck in two;
And, when he had fo done,
From prifon threescore knights and four
Deliver'd every one.

PLUTUS, vain is all your vaunting,
Wit muft life with blifs fupply;
Gold, alas! fhould wit be wanting,
Would not find a joy to buy.
Wit, alone, creates the bleffing
Which exchang'd for gold you fhare;
Sterling gold, alone, poffeffing,
What has man but gloom and care?
Wit, of ev'ry art devifer,

Ev'ry paffion can controul;
Can to pity move the mifer,

Can with mirth dilate the foul.
Gold itfelf, on wit depending,
Thence derives it's utmost power;
Folly all profufely spending,
Folly hoarding all, is poor.

SONG 7320

WHILE on my Colin's knee I fit,

Lur'd by thy voice, charm'd with thy wit,
My panting heart true meafure beats,
And gladly ev'ry figh repeats:
Ingh with joy, that thou may'ft fee'
I fympathize in all with thee.

No matter how the ice was broke,
Or whether you or I first spoke;
Who only baiter love for love,
The niceness of the paffion prove;
For oft ingratitude we give,
And fometimes gen'roully receive.

Level'd by love, let neither try,
To fix fuperiority;

Since all the kind, the fond conteft,
Of whether you or I love beft,
Like heedlefs touching a wrong key,
But jais the found of harmony.

SONG 733.

THE month of September
I well fhall remember,
On account of the flames and the fire,
With which Juliet the nun,

Full of frolic and fun,

Singeld the heart of the am'rous friar.

The force of her kiffes,

And meiting carefies, I'll with pleafure and extafy own; For most certain it is, That one balmy kifs From her lips, would enliven a floné.

CHEVAUX DE FRIZE CAPS.

NO longer let war be ufurp'd by the men,

Nor let them campaign it again and again; For the ladies have robb'd em, and now, when they please,

Can fight with their weapons, the Chevaux de Frize.

No longer it's needful to follow commanders, To America, Germany, France, or to Flanders; Walk but the Mall, and each nymph that one fees,

Can teach us the ufe of the Chevaux de Frize.

By the maxim of armies, indeed, we must own, They've been hitherto us'd as defenfive alone; But the ladies, not govern'd by maxims like

thefe,

Both attack and defend with their Chevaux de Frize.

Befides, in the field, it must not be forgot, These warlike machines were fix'd on the fpot; But the ladies (fo little their practice agrees) All carry about them their Chevaux de Frize.

Thus fatally arm'd at all points to annoy; Before, or behind, on each fide they deftroy: No fafe-guard in diftance; they kill us with ease,

If we dare but to look at their Chevaux de Frize.

I

Lothe that I did love,

In youth that I thought fweet,
As time requires; for my behove
Methinks they are not meet..
My lufts they do me leave,

My fancies all are fied;'
And tract of time begins to weave
Grey hairs upon my head.
For age with ftealing steps,

Hath claw'd me with his crutch,
And lufty youth away he leaps,

As there had been none fuch.
My mufe doth not delight

Me, as she did before;
My hand and pen are not in plight,
As they have been of yore.

For reafon me denies

All youthly idle rime;
And day by day to me the cries,
Leave off these toys in time.
The wrinkles in my brow,

The furrows in my face,

Say, Limping age will lodge him now,

Where youth muft give him place. The harbinger of death,

To me I fee him ride;

The cough, the cold, the gasping breath, Doth bid me to provide

A pikeaxe and a spade,

And eke a fhrouding sheet, A house of clay for to be made For fuch a guest most meet. Methinks I hear the clerk,

That knolls the careful knell, And bids me leave my weary work,

Ere nature me compel.

My keepers knit the knot,

That youth doth laugh to fcorn,