The army ne'er can be difbanded.
I wish the King were fafely landed..
Ah! Friends! great changes threat the land';
All France and England at a stand!
There's Meroweis-mark! strange work!
And there's the Czar, and there's the Turk-
The Pope-An India merchant by
Cut fhort the fpeech with this reply:
All at a stand! You fee great changes;
Ah! Sir, you never faw the Ganges:
There dwell the nations of Quidnunkies,
(So Monomotapa calls monkies)
On either bank, from bough to bough,
They meet and chat (as we may now)
Whispers go round; they grin, they fhrug,
They bow, they fnarl, they scratch, they hug;
And just as chance or whim provoke them,
'They either bite their friends or ftroke them.
There have I feen fame active prig,
To fhew his parts, beftride a twig,
L-d, how the chatt'ring tribe admire!
Not that he's wifer, but he's higher:
All long to try the vent'rous thing,
(For pow'r is but to have one's fwing)
From fide to fide he fprings, he spurns,
And bangs his foes and friends by turns.
Thus as in giddy freaks he bounces,
Crack goes the twig, and in he flounces!
Down the fwift ftream the wretch is borne,
Never, ah! never to return!
Z-ds! what a fall had our dear brother?
Morbleu! cries one, and Damme! th' other;
The nations give a gen'ral fcreech,
None cocks his tail, none claws his breech;
Each trembles for the publick weal,
And for awhile forgets to steal.
Awhile all eyes, intent and steady,
Pursue him whirling down the eddy;
But out of mind when out of view,
Some other mounts the twig anew;
And bus nefs on each monkey fhore
Runs the fame track it went before.
IN IMITATION OF THE POLLIO OR VIRGIL.
YE fylvan Mufes! loftier strains recite ;
Not all in fhades and humble cotes delight.
Hark! the bells ring; along the diftant grounds
The driving gales convey the fwelling founds:
Th' attentive fwain, forgetful of his work,
With gaping wonder leans upon his fork.
What fudden news alarms the waking Morn;
To the glad Squire a hopeful heir is born.
Mourn, mourn, ye Stags! and all ye beafts of Chafe!
This hour deftruction brings on all your race.
See the pleas'd tenants duteous off'rings bear,
Turkeys, and geese, and grocer's sweetest ware;
With the new health the pond'rous tankard flows,
And old October reddens ev'ry nose.
Beagles and spaniels round his cradle ftand,
Kifs his moift lip, and gently lick his hand;
He joys to hear the fhrill horn's echoing sounds,
And learns to lifp the names of all the hounds.
With frothy ale to make his cup o'erflow,
Barley fhall in paternal acres grow;
The bee shall fip the fragrant dew from flow'rs,
To give metheglin for his morning hours;
For him the cluft'ring hop fhall climb the poles,
And his own orchard sparkle in his bowls.
His fire's exploits he now with wonder hears; 25 The monstrous tales indulge his greedy ears; How when youth strung his nerves and warm'd his He rode the mighty Nimrod of the plains.
He leads the staring infant thro' the hall-
Points out the horny spoils that grace the wall; 30
Tells how this flag thro' three whole counties fled,
What rivers fwam, where bay'd, and where he bled.
Now he the wonders of the fox repeats,
Defcribes the defp'rate chafe, and all his cheats;
How in one day beneath his furious fpeed
He tir'd fev'n courfers of the fleetest breed;
How high the pale he leapt, how wide the ditch,
When the hound tore the haunches of the witch*.
Thefe ftories, which defcend from fon to fon,
The forward boy fhall one day make his own.
Ah! too fond Mother! think the time draws nigh
That calls the darling from thy tender eye;
How fhall his fpirit brook the rigid rules,
And the long tyranny of grammar schools?
*The most common accident to sportsmen, to hunt a witch in the shape of a hare.
Let younger brothers o'er dull authors plod,
Lafh'd into Latin by the tingling rod:
No, let him never feel that smart disgrace;
Why should he wiser prove than all his race?
When rip'ning youth with down o'erfhades his chin,
And ev'ry female eye incites to fin,
The milkmaid (thoughtless of her future shame)
With smacking lip shall raise his guilty flame :
The dairy, barn, the hay-loft, and the grove,
Shall oft' be conscious of their stolen love.
But think, Prifcilla, on that dreadful time,
When pangs and watʼry qualms shall own thy crime;
How wilt thou tremble, when thy nipple 's preft,
To see the white drops bathe thy fwelling breast!
Nine moons fhall publickly divulge thy fhame,
And the young Squire forestal a father's name.
When twice twelve times the reaper's fweeping hand
With levell'd harvests has bestrown the land,
On fam'd St. Hubert's feaft, his winding horn
Shall cheer the joyful hound and wake the Morn:
This memorable day his eager speed
Shall urge with bloody heel the rifing steed.
O check the foamy bit! nor tempt thy fate;
Think on the murders of a five-bar gate!
Yet prodigal of life, the leap he tries:
Low in the dust his grov'lling honour lies:
Headlong he falls, and on the rugged stone
Distorts his neck, and cracks the collar-bone.
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