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Who now the guinea-dropper's bait regards,
Trick'd by the sharper's dice, or juggler's cards?
Why should I warn thee ne'er to join the fray,
Where the sham quarrel interrupts the way?
Lives there in these our days so soft a clown,
Brav'd by the bully's oaths, or threatening frown?
I need not strict enjoin the pocket's care,
When from the crowded play thou lead'st the fair;
Who has not here or watch or snuff-box lost,
Or handkerchiefs that India's shuttle boast?
O! may thy virtue guard thee through the roads
Of Drury's mazy courts, and dark abodes!
The harlot's guileful paths, who nightly stand
Where Catherine-street descends into the Strand;
Say, vagrant Muse, their wiles and subtle arts,
To lure the strangers' unsuspecting hearts:
So shall our youth on healthful sinews tread,
And city cheeks grow warm with rural red.


'Tis she who nightly strolls with sauntering pace,
No stubborn stays her yielding shape embrace;
Beneath the lamp her tawdry ribbons glare,
The new-scour'd manteau, and the slattern air;
High-draggled petticoats her travels show,
And hollow cheeks with artful blushes glow;
With flattering sounds she soothes the credulous ear,
My noble captain! charmer! love! my dear!"
In riding-hood, near tavern-doors she plies,
Or muffled pinners hide her livid eyes.
With empty bandbox she delights to range,
And feigns a distant errand from the 'Change;
Nay, she will oft the Quaker's hood profane,
And trudge demure the rounds of Drury-lane.
She darts from sarsenet ambush wily leers,
Twitches thy sleeve, or with familiar airs
Her fan will pat thy cheek; these snares disdain,
Nor gaze behind thee, when she turns again.
I knew a yeoman, who, for thirst of gain,
To the great city drove, from Devon's plain,
His numerous lowing herd; his herds he sold,
And his deep leathern pocket bagg'd with gold.
Drawn by a fraudful nymph, he gaz'd, he sigh'd:
Unmindful of his home, and distant bride,
She leads the willing victim to his doom,
Through winding alleys to her cobweb room.
Thence through the street he reels from post to post,
Valiant with wine, nor knows his treasure lost.
The vagrant wretch th' assembled watchmen spies,
He waves his hanger, and their poles defies;
Deep in the round-house peut, all night he snores,
And the next morn in vain his fate deplores.

Ah, hapless swain! unus'd to pains and ills!
Canst thou forego roast-beef for nauseous pills?
How wilt thou lift to Heaven thy eyes and hands,
When the long scroll the surgeon's fees demands!
Or else (ye gods avert that worst disgrace!)
Thy ruin'd nose falls level with thy face!
Then shall thy wife thy loathsome kiss disdain,
And wholesome neighbours from thy mug refrain.
Yet there are watchmen, who with friendly light,
Will teach thy reeling steps to tread aright;
For sixpence will support thy helpless arm,
And home conduct thee, safe from nightly harm.

But, if they shake their lanterns, from afar
To call their brethren to confederate war,
When rakes resist their power; if hapless you
Should chance to wander with the scouring crew;
Though fortune yield thee captive, ne'er despair,
But seek the constable's considerate ear;
He will reverse the watchman's harsh decree,
Mov'd by the rhetoric of a silver fee.
Thus,would you gain some favourite courtier's word,
Fee not the petty clerks, but bribe my lord.

Now is the time that rakes their revels keep;
Kindiers of riot, enemies of sleep.

His scatter'd pence the flying nicker flings,
And with the copper shower the casement rings.
Who has not heard the Scowerer's midnight fame?
Who has not trembled at the Mohock's name?
Was there a watchman took his hourly rounds,
Safe from their blows, or new-invented wounds?
I pass their desperate deeds, and mischiefs done,
Where from Snowhill black steepy torrents run;
How matrons, hoop'd within the hogshead's womb,
Were tumbled furious thence; the rolling tomb
O'er the stones thunders, bounds from side to side:
So Regulus to save his country dy'd.

Where a dim gleam the paly lantern throws
O'er the mid pavement, heapy rubbish grows;
Or arched vaults their gaping jaws extend,
Or the dark caves to common-shores descend;
Oft by the winds extinct the signal lies,
Or smother'd in the glimmering socket dies,
Ere night has half roll'd round her ebon throne;
In the wide gulph the shatter'd coach o'erthrown
Sinks with the snorting steeds; the reins are broke,
And from the cracking axle flies the spoke.
So, when fam'd Eddystone's far-shooting ray,
That led the sailor through the stormy way,
Was from its rocky roots by billows torn,
And the high turret in the whirlwind borne;
Fleets bulg'd their sides against the craggy land,
And pitchy ruins blacken'd all the strand. [steed?
Who then through night would hire the harness'd
And who would choose the rattling wheel for speed?
But hark! distress with screaming voice draws

And wakes the slumbering street with cries of fire.
At first a glowing red inwraps the skies,
And borne by winds the scattering sparks arise;
From beam to beam the fierce contagion spreads;
The spiry flames now lift aloft their heads;
Through the burst sash a blazing deluge pours,
And splitting tiles descend in rattling showers;
Now with thick crowds th' enlighten'd pavement


The fireman sweats beneath his crooked arms;
A leathern casque his venturous head defends,
Boldly he climbs where thickest smoke ascends;
Mov'd by the mother's streaming eyes and prayers,
The helpless infant through the flame he bears,
With no less virtue, than through hostile fire
The Dardan hero bore his aged sire.

See forceful engines spout their levell'd streams,
To quench the blaze that runs along the beams;

The grappling hook plucks rafters from the walls,
And heaps on heaps the smoaky ruin falls;
Blown by strong winds, the fiery tempest roars,
Bears down new walls, and pours along the floors;
The Heavens are all a-blaze, the face of night
Is cover'd with a sanguine dreadful light.
'Twas such a light involv'd thy towers, O Rome!
The dire presage of mighty Cæsar's doom,
When the sun veil'd in rust his mourning head,
And frightful prodigies the skies o'erspread.
Hark! the drum thunders! far, ye crowds retire;
Behold! the ready match is tipt with fire,
The nitrous store is laid, the smutty train
With running blaze awakes the barrel'd grain;
Flames sudden wrap the walls; with sullen sound
The shatter'd pile sinks on the smoaky ground.
So, when the years shall have revolv'd the date,
Th' inevitable hour of Naples' fate,
Her sap'd foundations shall with thunders shake,
And heave and toss upon the suphurous lake;
Earth's womb at once the fiery flood shall rend,
And in th' abyss her plunging towers descend.

Consider, reader, what fatigues I've known,
The toils, the perils of the wintery town;
What riots seen, what bustling crowds I bore,
How oft I cross'd where carts and coaches roar;
Yet shall I bless my labours, if mankind
Their future safety from my dangers find.
Thus the bold traveller, inur'd to toil,
Whose steps have printed Asia's desert soil,
The barbarous Arabs' haunt; or shivering crost
Dark Greenland's mountains of eternal frost
Whom Providence in length of years restores
To the wish'd harbour of his native shores,
Sets forth his journals to the public view,
To caution, by his woes, the wandering crew.
And now complete my generous labours lie,
Finish'd, and ripe for immortality.


Death shall entomb in dust this mouldering frame,
But never reach th' eternal part, my fame.
When Wand G―,mighty names! are dead;
Or but at Chelsea under custards read;
When critics crazy bandboxes repair,
And tragedies, turn'd rockets, bounce in air;
High rais'd on Fleet-street posts, consign'd to fame,
This work shall shine, and walkers bless my name.



A Welcome from Greece.

Long hast thou, friend! been absent from my soil, Like patient Ithacus at siege of Troy;

I have been witness of thy six years toil,

Thy daily labours, and thy night's annoy, Lost to thy native land, with great turmoil,

On the wide sea, oft threatening to destroy: Methinks with thee I've trod Sigæan ground, And heard the shores of Hellespont resound.

Did I not see thee when thou first set'st sail To seek adventures fair in Homer's land? Did I not see thy sinking spirits fail,

And wish thy bark had never left the strand? Ev'n in mid ocean often didst thou quail,

And oft lift up thy holy eye and hand, Praying the virgin dear, and saintly choir, Back to the port to bring thy bark entire.

Cheer up, my friend! thy dangers now are o'er;
Methinks-nay, sure the rising coasts appear;
Hark! how the guns salute from either shore,
As thy trim vessel cuts the Thames so fair:
Shouts answering shouts from Kent and Essex roar,
And bells break loud through every gust of air:
Bonfires do blaze, and bones and cleavers ring,
As at the coming of some mighty king.

Now pass we Gravesend with a friendly wind,
And Tilbury's white fort, and long Blackwall;
Greenwich, where dwells the friend of human kind,
More visited than or her park or hall.
Withers the good, and (with him ever join'd)

Facetious Disney, greet thee first of all:

I see his chimney smoke, and hear him say, Duke! that's the room for Pope, and that for Gay

Come in, my friends! here shall ye dine and lie, And here shall breakfast, and here dine again; And sup and breakfast on (if ye comply),

For I have still some dozens of champaign: His voice still lessens as the ship sails by; He waves his hand to bring us back in vain; For now I see, I see proud London's spires; Greenwich is lost, and Deptford dock retires.

Oh, what a concourse swarms on yonder quay!
The sky re-echoes with new shouts of joy;
By all this show, I ween, 'tis Lord Mayor's-day;
I hear the voice of trumpet and hautboy.—
No, now I see them near.-Oh, these are they

Who come in crowds to welcome thee from Troy. Hail to the bard, whom long as lost we mourn'd; From siege, from battle, and from storm, return'd!

Of goodly dames, and courteous knights, I view
The silken petticoat, and broider'd vest;
Yea peers, and mighty dukes, with ribbands blue
(True blue, fair emblem of unstained breast).
Others I see, as noble and more true,

By no court-badge distinguish'd from the rest:
First see I Methuen, of sincerest mind,
As Arthur grave, as soft as womankind.

What lady's that, to whom he gently bends? [eyes:
Who knows not her? ah! those are Wortley's
How art thou honour'd, number'd with her friends!
For she distinguishes the good and wise.
The sweet-tongu'd Murray near her side attends;
Now to my heart the glance of Howard flies;
Now Harvey, fair of face, I mark full well,
With thee, youth's youngest daughter, sweet Lepell.

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Arbuthnot there I see, in physic's art,
As Galen learn'd, or famed Hippocrate;
Whose company drives sorrow from the heart,
As all disease his medicines dissipate :
Kneller amid the triumph bears his part,

Who could (were mankind lost) a new create:
What can th' extent of his vast soul confine?
A painter, critic, engineer, divine!


Thee Jervas hails, robust and debonair,
Now have [we] conquer'd Homer, friends, he
Darteneuf, grave joker, joyous Ford is there,

And wondering Maine, so fat with laughing eyes, (Gay, Maine, and Cheney, boon companions dear,

Gay fat, Maine fatter, Cheney huge of size) Yea Dennis, Gildon (hearing thou hast riches), And honest, hatless Cromwell, with red breeches.

Carleton and Chandos thy arrival grace;

Hanmer, whose eloquence th' unbiass'd sways; Harley, whose goodness opens in his face,

And shows his heart the seat where virtue stays. Ned Blount advances next, with busy pace,

In haste, but sauntering, hearty in his ways: I see the friendly Carylls come by dozens, [sins. Their wives, their uncles, daughters, sons, and cou

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William, who high upon the yard

Rock'd with the billows to and fro, Soon as her well-known voice he heard,

He sigh'd and cast his eyes below:

The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands, And (quick as lightning) on the deck he stands.

So the sweet lark, high pois'd in air,

Shuts close his pinions to his breast
(If chance his mate's shrill call he hear),

And drops at once into her nest.
The noblest captain in the British fleet
Might envy William's lip those kisses sweet.

O Susan, Susan, lovely dear,

My vows shall ever true remain; Let me kiss off that falling tear;

We only part to meet again.

Change, as ye list, ye winds; my heart shall be
The faithful compass that still points to thee.

Believe not what the landmen say,

Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind.
They'll tell thee, sailors, when away,
In every port a mistress find:

Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so,
For thou art present wheresoe'er I go.

If to fair India's coast we sail,

Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright,
Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale,
Thy skin is ivory so white.

Thus every beauteous object that I view,
Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue.
Though battle call me from thy arms,

Let not my pretty Susan mourn;
Though cannons roar, yet, safe from harms,
William shall to his dear return.
Love turns aside the balls that round me fly,
Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye.
The boatswain gave the dreadful word,
The sails their swelling bosom spread;
No longer must she stay aboard:

They kiss'd, she sigh'd, he hung his head. Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land: Adieu! she cries; and wav'd her lily hand.


To be placed under the Picture of SIR RICHARD BLACKMORE, England's Arch-Poet, containing a complete Catalogue of his Works.

See who ne'er was nor will be half read:
Who first sang Arthur, than sang Alfred,
Prais'd great Eliza in God's anger,
Till all true Englishmen cry'd, Hang her!
Made William's virtues wipe the bare a-
And hang'd up Marlborough in arras;
Then, hiss'd from earth, grew heavenly quite;
Made every reader curse the light:
Maul'd human wit in one thick satire,
Next in three books spoil'd human nature;

Undid creation at a jirk,

And of redemption made damn'd work. Then took his Muse at once and dipt her Full in the middle of the Scripture.

What wonders there the man, grown old, did?
Sternhold himself, he out-Sternholded.
Made David seem so mad and freakish,

All thought him just what thought king Achish.
No mortal read his Solomon,

But judg'd Re'boam his own son.
Moses he serv'd as Moses Pharoah,
And Deborah, as she Sise-rah:
Made Jeremy full sore to cry,

And Job himself curse God and die.

What punishment all this must follow?
Shall Arthur use him like King Tollo?
Shall David as Uriah slay him?
Or dext'rous Deborah Sisera-him?
Or shall Eliza lay a plot,

To treat him like her sister Scot?
Shall William dub his better end,
Or Marlborough serve him like a friend?
No!-none of these!-Heaven spare his life!
But send him, honest Job, thy wife!



As Jupiter's all-seeing eye

Survey'd the worlds beneath the sky,
From this small speck of earth were sent
Murmurs and sounds of discontent;
For every thing alive complain'd,
That he the hardest life sustain'd.

Jove calls his eagle. At the word,
Before him stands the royal bird.
The bird, obedient, from heaven's height,
Downward directs his rapid flight;
Then cited every living thing,
To hear the mandates of his king.


Ungrateful creatures! whence arise These murmurs which offend the skies? Why this disorder? say the cause; For just are Jove's eternal laws. Let each his discontent reveal; To yon sour dog I first appeal."

"Hard is my lot, (the hound replies ;) On what fleet nerves the greyhound flies! While I, with weary step and slow, O'er plains, and vales, and mountains, go. The morning sees my chase begun, Nor ends it till the setting sun."

"When (says the greyhound) I pursue, My game is lost, or caught in view; Beyond my sight the prey's secure ; The hound is slow but always sure; And, had I his sagacious scent, Jove ne'er had heard my discontent." The lion crav'd the fox's art; The fox the lion's force and heart: The cock implor'd the pigeon's flight,

Whose wings were rapid, strong, and light:
The pigeon strength of wing despis'd,
And the cock's matchless valour priz'd.
The fishes wish'd to graze the plain;
The beasts, to skim beneath the main.
Thus, envious of another's state,
Each blam'd the partial hand of fate.

The bird of heaven then cry'd aloud;
"Jove bids disperse the murmuring crowd;
The god rejects your idle prayers.
Would ye, rebellious mutineers!
Entirely change your name and nature,
And be the very envy'd creature?
What! silent all, and none consent?
Be happy, then, and learn content;
Nor imitate the restless mind,
And proud ambition, of mankind."


The wind was high, the window shakes,
With sudden start the miser wakes;
Along the silent room he stalks,
Looks back, and trembles as he walks.
Each lock and every bolt he tries,
In every creek and corner pries;
Then opes the chest with treasure stor❜d,
And stands in rapture o'er his hoard.
But now, with sudden qualms possest,
He wrings his hands, he beats his breast,
By conscience stung, he wildly stares,
And thus his guilty soul declares:

"Had the deep earth her stores cónfin'd,
This heart had known sweet peace of mind.
But virtue's sold. Good gods! what price
Can recompense the pangs of vice!
O bane of good! seducing cheat!
Can man, weak man, thy power defeat ?
Gold banish'd honour from the mind,
And only left the name behind;
Gold sow'd the world with every ill ;
Gold taught the murderer's sword to kill :
'Twas gold instructed coward-hearts
In treachery's more pernicious arts.
Who can recount the mischiefs o'er?
Virtue resides on earth no more!"
He spoke, and sigh'd. In angry mood
Plutus, his god, before him stood.
The miser, trembling, lock'd his chest:
The vision frown'd, and thus address'd:
"Whence is this vile ungrateful rant,
Each sordid rascal's daily cant?
Did I, base wretch! corrupt mankind?
The fault's in thy rapacious mind.
Because my blessings are abus'd,
Must I be censur'd, curs'd, accus'd?
Ev'n virtue's self by knaves is made
A cloak to carry on the trade;

And power (when lodg'd in their possession)
Grows tyranny, and rank oppression.
Thus, when the villain crams his chest,
Gold is the canker of the breast;

'Tis avarice, insolence, and pride,

And every shocking vice beside;
But, when to virtuous hands 'tis given,
It blesses, like the dews of heaven:
Like heaven, it hears the orphan's cries,
And wipes the tears from widows' eyes.
Their crimes on gold shall misers lay,
Who pawn'd their sordid souls for pay?
Let bravos, then, when blood is spilt,
Upbraid the passive sword with guilt.”

A lion, tir'd with state-affairs,
Quite sick of pomp, and worn with cares,
Resolv'd (remote from noise and strife)
In peace to pass his latter life.

It was proclaim'd; the day was set;
Behold the general council met.
The fox was viceroy nam'd. The crowd
To the new regent humbly bow'd.
Wolves, bears, and mighty tigers bend,
And strive who most shall condescend.
He straight assumes a solemn grace,
Collects his wisdom in his face.
The crowd admire his wit, his sense;
Each word hath weight and consequence.
The flatterer all his art displays:
He who hath power is sure of praise.
A fox stept forth before the rest,
And thus the servile throng addrest:

"How vast his talents, born to rule,
And train'd in virtue's honest school!
What clemency his temper sways!
How uncorrupt are all his ways!
Beneath his conduct and command,
Rapine shall cease to waste the land.
His brain hath stratagem and art;
Prudence and mercy rule his heart.
What blessings must attend the nation
Under this good administration."

He said. A goose who distant stood,
Harangu'd apart the cackling brood:
"Whene'er I hear a knave commend,
He bids me shun his worthy friend.
What praise! what mighty commendation!
But 'twas a fox who spoke th' oration.
Foxes this government may prize,
As gentle, plentiful and wise;
If they enjoy the sweets, 'tis plain
We geese must feel a tyrant reign.
What havoc now shall thin our race,
When every petty clerk in place,
To prove his taste, and seem polite,
Will feed on geese both noon and night!"

THE MONKEY WHO HAD SEEN THE WORLD. A monkey, to reform the times, Resolv'd to visit foreign climes; For men in distant regions roam, To bring politer manners home. So forth he fares, all toil defies: Misfortune serves to make us wise.

At length the treacherous snare was laid;

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