Right well she knew each temper to defcry;
To thwart the proud, and the fubmifs to raise;
Some with vile copper prize exalt on high,

And some entice with pittance small of praise;
And other fome with baleful sprig fhe 'frays:
Ev'n abfent, fhe the reins of pow'r doth hold,
While with quaint arts the giddy crowd she sways;
Forewarn'd, if little bird their pranks behold,
"Twill whisper in her ear, and all the scene unfold.

Lo now with ftate fhe utters the command! Eftfoons the urchins to their tasks repair; Their books of stature small they take in hand, Which with pellucid horn fecured are; To fave from finger wet the letters fair: The work fo gay, that on their back is seen, St. GEORGE's high atchievements does declare; On which thilk wight that has y-gazing been, Kens the forth-coming rod, unpleafing fight, I ween!

Ah luckless he, and born beneath the beam

Of evil ftar! it irks me whilst I write !

*

As erft the bard by MULLA's filver stream,'

Oft, as he told of deadly dolorous plight,
Sigh'd as he fung, and did in tears indite.

For brandishing the rod, fhe doth begin
To loose the brogues, the stripling's late delight!
And down they drop; appears his dainty skin,
Fair as the furry coat of whiteft ermilin.

Z 2

O ruth

SPENSER

O ruthful scene! when from a nook obfcure,
His little fifter doth his peril fee:

All playful as the fate, fhe grows demure;
She finds full foon her wonted spirits flee;
She meditates a pray'r to fet him free:
Nor gentle pardon could this dame deny,
(If gentle pardon could with dames agree)
To her fad grief that fwells in either eye,
And wrings her fo that all for pity she could dye.

Nor longer can fhe now her fhrieks command;
And hardly fhe forbears, thro' aweful fear,
To rushen forth, and, with prefumptuous hand,
To stay harsh juftice in its mid career.

On thee fhe calls, on thee her parent dear!
(Ah! too remote to ward the shameful blow!)
She fees no kind domeftic vifage near,
And foon a flood of tears begins to flow;
And gives a loofe at last to unavailing woe.

But ah! what pen his piteous plight may trace? Or what device his loud laments explain? The form uncouth of his difguifed face? The pallid hue that dyes his looks amain? The plenteous fhow'r that does his cheek diftain? When he, in abject wife, implores the dame, Ne hopeth aught of sweet reprieve to gain; Or when from high fhe levels well her aim, And,thro'thethatch, hiscrieseach fallingstroke proclaim.

The

The other tribe, aghaft, with fore difmay,
Attend, and conn their tasks with mickle care:
By turns, aftony'd, ev'ry twig furvey,

And, from their fellow's hateful wounds, beware; Knowing, I wift, how each the fame may fhare; Till fear has taught them a performance meet, And to the well-known cheft the dame repair; Whence oft with fugar'd cates fhe doth 'em greet, And ginger-bread y-rare; now, certes, doubly sweet!

See to their feats they hye with merry glee,
And in befeemly order fitten there;
All but the wight of bum y-galled, he
Abhorreth bench and stool, and fourm, and chair;
(This hand in mouth y-fix'd, that rends his hair ;)
And eke with fnubs profound, and heaving breast,
Convulfions intermitting! does declare

His grievous wrong; his dame's unjust behest; And scorns her offer'd love, and shuns to be carefs'd.

His face befprent with liquid crystal shines, His blooming face that feems a purple flow'r, Which low to earth its drooping head declines, All smear'd and fully'd by a vernal show'r. O the hard bofoms of defpotic pow'r! All, all, but fhe, the author of his shame, All, all, but fhe, regret this mournful hour: Yet hence the youth, and hence the flow'r, fhall claim, If so I deem aright, tranfcending worth and fame.

Behind fome door, in melancholy thought, Mindlefs of food, he, dreary caitiff! pines; Ne for his fellow's joyaunce careth aught, But to the wind all merriment refigns; And deems it shame, if he to peace inclines; And many a fullen look afcance is fent, Which for his dame's annoyance he designs; And still the more to pleasure him she's bent, The more doth he, perverse, her haviour past resent,

Ah me! how much I fear left pride it be ! But if that pride it be, which thus infpires, Beware, ye dames, with nice discernment fee, Ye quench not too the fparks of nobler fires: Ah! better far than all the mufes' lyres, All coward arts, is valour's gen'rous heat; The firm fixt breaft which fit and right requires, Like VERNON'S patriot foul; more justly great Than craft that pimps for ill, or flow'ry falfe deceit,

Yet nurs'd with skill, what dazling fruits appear!
Ev'n now fagacious forefight points to show
A little bench of heedlefs bishops here,
And there a chancellour in embryo,

Or bard fublime, if bard may e'er be fo,

AS MILTON, SHAKESPEAR, names that ne'er shall dye! Tho' now he crawl along the ground fo low, Nor weeting how the mufe fhou'd foar on high, Wifheth, poor starv'ling elf! his paper-kite may fly.

And

And this perhaps, who, cens'ring the defign,
Low lays the house which that of cards doth build,
Shall DENNIS be! if rigid fates incline,

And many an epic to his rage fhall yield,
And many a poet quit th' Aonian field;
And, four'd by age, profound he fhall appear,
As he who now with 'fdainful fury thrill'd
Surveys mine work; and levels many a fneer,
Andfurlshiswrinklyfront, andcries, "What ftuffishere?"

But now DAN PHOEBUS gains the middle skie, And liberty unbars her prifon-door; And like a rushing torrent out they fly, And now the graffy cirque han cover'd o'er With boist'rous revel-rout and wild uproar; A thousand ways in wanton rings they run, Heav'n fhield their fhort-liv'd paftimes, I implore! For well may freedom, erst so dearly won, Appear to British elf more gladfome than the fun.

Enjoy, poor imps! enjoy your sportive trade;
And chafe gay flies, and cull the fairest flow'rs
For when my bones in grafs-green fods are laid;.
For never may ye taste more careless hours
In knightly castles, or in ladies bow'rs.
O vain to feek delight in earthly thing!

But most in courts where proud ambition tow'rs; Deluded wight! who weens fair peace can spring Beneath the pompous dome of kefar or of king.