One's credit, however, of courfe will grow better;
Here enters the footman, and brings me a letter.
"Dear Sir! I receiv'd your obliging epistle,
Your fame is fecure-bid the critics go whistle.
I read over with wonder the poem you fent me;
And I must speak your praises, no foul fhall prevent me.
The audience, believe me, cry'd out ev'ry line
Was strong, was affecting, was just, was divine;
All pregnant, as gold is, with worth, weight, and beauty,
And to hide fuch a genius was-far from your duty.
I foresee that the court will be hugely delighted:
Sir RICHARD, for much a lefs genius, was knighted.
Adieu, my good friend, and for high life prepare ye;
I cou'd fay much more, but you're modeft, I spare ye.'
Quite fir'd with the flatt'ry, I call for my paper,
And waste that, and health, and my time, and my taper:
I fcribble 'till morn, when with wrath no small store,
Comes my old friend the mercer, and raps at my door.
"Ah! friend, 'tis but idle to make fuch a pother,
Fate, fate has ordain'd us, to plague one another."

Written at an Inn at HENLEY.

T

O thee, fair freedom! I retire

From flattery, cards, and dice, and din;

Nor art thou found in mansions higher

Than the low cott, or humble inn.

'Tis here with boundless pow'r I reign;
And ev'ry health which I begin,
Converts dull port to bright champaigne ;
Such freedom crowns it, at an inn.

I fly from pomp, I fly from plate!

I fly from falsehood's fpecious grin ! Freedom I love, and form I hate,

And chufe my lodgings at an inn.

Here, waiter! take my fordid ore,

Which lacqueys elfe might hope to win;

It buys, what courts have not in store;
It buys me freedom, at an inn.

Whoe'er has travell'd life's dull round,
Where'er his stages may have been,
May figh to think he still has found
The warmest welcome, at an inn.

A SIMILE.

A SIMILE.

W

HAT village but has fometime seen
The clumfy fhape, the frightful mien,
Tremendous claws, and fhagged hair,
Of that grim brute yclip'd a bear?
He from his dam, the learn'd agree,
Receiv'd the curious form you fee;
Who with her plaftic tongue alone,
Produc'd a vifage-like her own.-
And thus they hint, in mystic fashion,
The pow'rful force of education *-
Perhaps yon crowd of swains is viewing
E'en now, the ftrange exploits of Bruin;
Who plays his antics, roars aloud;
The wonder of a gaping crowd!

So have I known an aukward lad,
Whose birth has made a parish glad,
Forbid, for fear of sense, to roam,
And taught by kind mamma at home;
Who gives him many a well-try'd rule,
With ways and means-to play the fool.
In fense the fame, in ftature higher,
He fhines, ere long, a rural fquire,
Pours forth unwitty jokes, and fwears,

And bawls, and drinks, but chiefly ftares

Q3

* Of a fond matron's education.

His

Carouze, and laugh, at his expence ;
And deem the pastime I'm relating,
To be as pleasant, as bear-baiting.

The CHARMS of PRECEDEnce.

66

A TAL E.

IR, will you please to walk before ?"

SIR,

No, pray Sir--you are next the door.--
-"Upon mine honour, I'll not fstir-"
Sir, I'm at home, confider, Sir-
"Excufe me, Sir, I'll not go first”—
Well, if I must be rude, I must-
But yet I wish I cou'd evade it-
'Tis ftrangely clownish, be perfuaded-
Go forward, cits! go forward fquires!
Nor fcruple each, what each admires.
Life fquares not, friends, with your proceeding;
It flies, while you display your breeding;
Such breeding as one's granam preaches,
Or fome old dancing-mafter teaches.
O for fome rude tumultuous fellow,
Half crazy, or, at least, half-mellow,
To come behind you unawares,
And fairly push you both down stairs!
But death's at hand-let me advise ye,
Go forward, friends! or he'll furprise ye.

Befides,

1

T

Do ye not flatter, lye, forswear,
And daily cheat, and weekly pray,
And all for this-to lead the way?

Such is my theme, which means to prove,
That, tho' we drink, or game, or love,
As that or this is moft in fashion,
Precedence is our ruling paffion.
When college-students take degrees,
And pay the beadle's endless fees,
What moves that fcientific body,
But the first cutting at a gawdy?

And whence fuch fhoals, in bare conditions,
That starve and languifh as phyficians,
Content to trudge the streets, and stare at
The fat apothecary's chariot?

But that, in CHARLOT's chamber (fee
MOLIERE'S Medecin malgre lui)
The leach, howe'er his fortunes vary,
Still walks before the apothecary.

FLAVIA in vain has wit and charms,
And all that fhines, and all that warms;
In vain all human race adore her,
For-lady MARY ranks before her.

OCELIA, gentle CELIA! tell us,
You who are neither vain, nor jealous!
The fofteft breast, the mildest mien!
Wou'd you not feel fome little spleen,