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 POEMS 
 
 ON 
 
 SEVERAL OCCASIONS.
 
 POEMS 
 
 SEVERAL OCCASIONS* 
 
 
 CONSISTING 
 
 Of 
 
 ELEGIES 
 
 
 
 MISCELLANIES 
 
 u 
 
 
 
 tf 
 
 EPISTLES, 
 
 i 
 
 
 SCOTTISH PIECES. 
 
 By Wm. FARQUHAR. 
 
 CursM be the Verfe, how well foc'er it flow, 
 Which tends to make one worthy man my foe, 
 Gives Virtue fcandar, Innocence a feat, 
 Or from the foft-ey'd Virgin fteals a tear. 
 
 Pope. 
 
 ^EDINBURGH : 
 
 PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, 
 
 1794*
 
 Cntereti in @>tattoner# Jpail
 
 i75 
 
 P 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 THE Author of the following Poems had re. 
 folved to allow his performance to appear without 
 any Dedication ; hut being, on his arrival at Edin- 
 burgh, ftrongly imprejfed with the public fpirited 
 exertions of the Noble Band of Gentlemen, who have 
 armed and embodied themf elves, infupport of the Go. 
 vernment and the Laws of their Country ; he has 
 prefumed, on the prefent occajion, to exprefs his high 
 fenfe of their Worth, by infcribing his performance 
 to them, fully affured, that he could no where 'meet 
 with more Honourable Patronage, 
 
 ^>? Cf*Or
 
 TO THE RICHT HONOURABLE 
 
 SIR JAMES STIRLING, BARONET, 
 
 LORD PROVOST AND LORD LIEUTENANT 
 or 
 
 THE CITY OF EDINBURGH, 
 
 AND 
 
 COLONEL 
 
 OF 
 
 THE EDINBURGH VOLUNTEERS : 
 
 AND TO 
 
 THE OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN 
 
 WHO COMPOSE 
 
 THAT HONOURABLE AND PATRIOTIC BAND. 
 
 My Lord and Gentlemen, 
 
 Impressed with a deep fenfe of your 
 exalted and worthy behaviour, permit an hum- 
 ble Author to lay his little Performance at your 
 feet, with the foHd hope that you would accept 
 of it, as an expreffion of his moil profound and 
 fincere admiration, of that Noble Ardour which 
 has called forth your exertions, in behalf of the 
 neareft and dearefl Privileges of Society. 
 
 To do juftice to your merit, is furely an ar- 
 duous undertaking ; but it affords, at the fame 
 time, a pleafing reflection to the Author of this 
 piece, to behold fo many of the moft worthy of 
 the Citizens of Edinburgh, refolutely {landing 
 np in defence of true and genuine Liberty, in
 
 ( iv ) 
 
 opposition to that mad and tyrannic Political 
 Frenzy, which has dared to arrogate the facred 
 title of Freedom, and which miileads its follow- 
 ers and fupporters into the mazes of Anarchy 
 and Ruin. 
 
 That Britain may ftill be preferved from the 
 direful effects of fuch Political Frenzy ; and that 
 the fubjects of our Gracious Sovereign, may imi- 
 tate the mining example of Pa'criotifm and Pu- 
 blic Spirit, which you, Gentlemen, have exhibi- 
 ted to their view, is the Author's molt fincere 
 and ardent wifli. 
 
 Senfible of the many and great advantages 
 which mull accrue to him and his performance, 
 by the honour of having your names prefixed to 
 it, permit him, Gentlemen, to exprefs his moil 
 fincere wiflies, that Heaven may invariably fmile 
 upon you, and promote your happinefs in every 
 refpedt ; and that it may blefs and profper your 
 efforts, in fupport of Public and Private Peace 
 and Happinefs, as well as the Profperity of Socie- 
 ty at large, and of every Individual in particular* 
 
 I AM, 
 
 WITH THE MOST UNFEIGNED RESPECT, 
 
 MY LORD AND GENTLEMEN, 
 
 Your moft Devoted, 
 
 And moft Obedient Servant, 
 
 EniNlUUGH, ^ 
 
 Nov. 3. 1754. $ 
 
 W. FARQUHAR.
 
 AN ADDRESS 
 
 TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 SIR JAMES STIRLING, BARONET, 
 
 . LORD PROVOST AND LORD LIEUTENANT 
 
 OF 
 
 THE CITY OF EDINBURGH, 
 
 AMD 
 
 COLONEL 
 
 OP 
 
 THE EDINBURGH VOLUNTEERS: 
 
 AND TO 
 
 THE OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN 
 
 WHO COMPOSE 
 
 THAT HONOURABLE AND PATRIOTIC HAND. 
 
 A. youthful Bard at your tribunal lays 
 
 His humble drains, and thus fubmiffive prays ; 
 
 That you with influence kind would overfhade, 
 
 And fave from critic rage, his harmlefs head ; 
 
 For unprotected, at your feet he bows, 
 
 Nor Patron, Friend, nor InterceiTor knows. 
 
 When griefs on griefs tumultuous would arife, 
 And ftream in briny torrents from his eyes, 
 The gentle Mufe he courted, to aflwage 
 Their dreadful conflict, and to calm their rage - ?
 
 ( vi ) 
 
 Then would his cheeks a languid fmile difplay, 
 While 'crofs his face joy fhot a glimmering ray, 
 Ah ! foon extinguifh'd in fuperior gloom, 
 When back his mind recoii'd, and met its doom. 
 His features now a brighter fmile illumes, 
 While on your favour fondly he prefumes, 
 To raife from dark obfcurity his name, 
 And point his way, to honour, wealth, and fame. 
 
 See, fair Edina's Patriotic Bands 
 Benevolently ftretch their friendly hands, 
 Gently to chear an unknown friendlefs Bard, 
 His lays protect, and his fond toils reward ; 
 To brighter profpects kindly bid him foar, 
 While, by their fmiles, misfortune is no more. 
 Pleas'd with his honeft, tho' unpolifli'd Mufe, 
 With generous friendfliip they promote his views. 
 Rife then, my Mufe, thy humble tribute pay, 
 Alas ! 'tis all thou can'ft, a grateful lay ! 
 
 When horrid Faction Freedom's guife affum'd, 
 And, boldly daring, with rude force prefum'd 
 To fhake the pillars which fupport the State ; 
 To fpread vile Difcord, and promote dire Hate 
 When men, forgetting Reafon's rightful fway, 
 Tumultuous Paffion only would obey ; 
 When the wild notions of a Madman's brain, 
 Led fimple fools all order to difdain ; 
 To fpurn at Jullice, and contemn the Law ; 
 To loofe each band which held fierce vice in awe ;
 
 ( vii J 
 
 Co fcorn Religion, Virtue to defpife, 
 And wildly court Equality and Vice. 
 Then, nobly bold, to fave a finking land, 
 All voluntary came Edina's Band ; 
 Their breafts oppofing to the furious tide, 
 Fadlion and Difcord fled on every fide ; 
 The field they leave, their Leaders they forfake* 
 And in their Country's mercy refuge take. 
 The ftorm difpell'd, Britannia's Genius fmiles, 
 Gladly reviewing all her Patriot files ; 
 Each bread She fvvells, with ardour to maintain 
 Their Country's glory, and bright Freedom's 
 reign. 
 While gloomy war his horrid front extends 
 O'er Britain's Ifle, and gentle Commerce bends 
 Beneath his iron hand ; fhould Trade decay, 
 And all her treafures feem to wafte away, 
 Yet happier times fhall come, when balmy peace 
 Shall huih dire war, and bid wild Difcord ceafe; 
 Then to the winds {hall Commerce fpread her fail, 
 And Trade and Induftry again prevail; 
 Britannia's glory fhall afrefh revive, 
 And every fhock of adverfe fate furvive ; 
 To lateft ages fhall her glorious name, 
 Be loud re founded by immortal fame ; 
 Then Art, awakening, fhall her toils renew, 
 And bid new wonders rife to human view ;
 
 ( viii ) 
 
 Then fhall the Mufe fome Poet's breaft infpire, 
 In Britain's praife to tune the founding lyre ; 
 To fing her triumphs, her bright ads difplay, 
 Where'er the fun difpenfes chearing day. 
 Aided by Phoebus and the gentle Mufe, 
 Your Patriot deeds the Poet fhall diffnfe, 
 And juftly tell to lateft times your fame, 
 And load with honours due your worthy Name, 
 Who thus have boldly dar'd rude war's alarms, 
 And in your Country's caufe are found in arms.
 
 THE PREFACE. 
 
 I 
 
 T would beboth unneceffary and mean, 
 in the Author of the following Poems, 
 to endeavour to conceal from the Public 
 the motives which have induced him to 
 appear in print : And he defpifes the con- 
 duct of thofe, who endeavour to befpeak 
 the favour of the Public, by the hackneyed 
 method of alleging, that they have pu- 
 bliihed their Performances at the earneft 
 and repeated requeft of Friends. 
 
 Neither vanity, nor the defire of praife, 
 have influenced him on the prefent occa- 
 lion ; but a laudable wiih of endeavour- 
 ing to do juftice to fome claims on him, 
 which he had no other means of fatisfy- 
 ing. 
 
 Having thus difclofed his motives in 
 the prefent Publication, he hopes that 
 the Public will, with its accuftomed ge- 
 nerofity, enable him to carry his views 
 into execution. 
 
 He allures thofe who have fubfcribed 
 for this Performance, that it can at leail
 
 t.vi ) 
 
 challenge the merit of being friendly, oil 
 every occafion, to the interefts of Virtue* 
 
 What other excellence it pofTefTes, rauft 
 be determined by the voice of the Public, 
 to whofe decifion its Author has fubmit- 
 ted it. 
 
 If there are, either in the language, or 
 the fentiments of thefe Poems, any great 
 faults, the candid part of my Readers, 
 will impute thefe to the inexperience of 
 their Author, and will be more ready to 
 palliate or excufe theim when they are in- 
 formed, that he has not as yet completed 
 his twenty-third year ; and that by far 
 the greater number of thefe Pieces were 
 compofed between the fixteenth and eigh- 
 teenth years of his age. Indeed, they 
 were written to foothe the langour of a 
 vacant hour, or for the amufement of 
 fome particular acquaintance, without 
 either a wifh or intention that they 
 fhould appear in Print. 
 
 As there is, in one Piece, a part which 
 the Author cannot call his own, though 
 he is under no apprehenfion of being call-
 
 ( ) 
 
 ed a Plagiarift upon its account ; yet he 
 thinks it necefTary to own, that it was not 
 entirely compofed by him, left the Writ- 
 er of the two firft parts mould have com- 
 municated it to any of his Friends ; for 
 he is perfectly fenfible, that he now has 
 neither the inclination nor the ability to 
 have completed it, as he voluntarily re- 
 signed that taik to the Author, and al- 
 lowed him to print it wholly as his own. 
 
 It may not, perhaps, be a favourable 
 circumftance for this Performance, that it 
 will appear without any Protector : But 
 as the worthy Perfon, whom the Author 
 had fingled out as its Patron, has declined 
 to accept the talk, he has refolved to leave 
 it entirely to the generofityof the Public, 
 without attempting to fhelter it from the 
 haft of criticifrn, under the name of any 
 perfon whatfoever. 
 
 From the benevolent and feeling part 
 of Mankind, it has nothing to fear ; and 
 it is not meant for perfons of a different 
 defcription.
 
 ( viii ) 
 
 If itfhall not meet with the approbation 
 of the Public, its Author's only regret 
 will be, that he mould receive money for 
 that which the Purchafer did not, upon 
 perufal, deem a competent recompence, 
 either for his trouble in reading, or his 
 expence in buying. As an Author, he 
 will be but little arTecled, as this is his 
 firft, and, he fincerely hopes, fhall be his 
 laft appearance in that chara&er.
 
 THE 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 ELEGIES, Page 
 
 I. To the memory of Mifs S. Gordon - 9 
 
 JI. To the memory of George Rait - 10 
 
 III. To the memory of James Rait - it 
 
 IV. Another to the memory of G. Rait - 13 
 
 V. To the memory of Mifs P. Eagliftone - 1 5 
 
 VI. To the memory of the private Pantheon Society, 16 
 
 VII. To the memory of my Hat, loft in a voyage 
 
 at fea - l % 
 
 VIII. The complaint of delicacy - 20 
 
 IX. Ondifcontent - -23 
 
 X. To fenfibility - - . - 2: 
 
 XI. On human life - - 27 
 
 XII. Addreffed to fortune - - 29 
 
 EPISTLES. 
 
 I. To Mr Andrew Sheriffs, printer - 33 
 
 II. To Mr Geo. Cruden . - 40 
 
 III. To Mr John Moir, printer - 4^ 
 IV- To Mr John Bell, bookfeller, London - 5 \ 
 V. To a Literary Society in Aberdeen - S 6
 
 ( vi ) 
 
 EPISTLES. Page 
 
 VI. To Dr Be.ittie, Profeflbr of Moral Philofophy 63 
 
 VII. To Mifs N P . at C p h 65 
 
 VtlL To J I Abe: - 63 
 
 IX. To Mr Andrew lmrey, at Edinburgh - 71 
 
 X. To Mr James Rait, Aberdeen - 81 
 
 iSCELLANIES. 
 
 Cn knowledge - - 80 
 
 Death, a poem - - - 102 
 
 The beauties of deformity, a poem - 106 
 
 A paraphrafe on the Book of job. Part I. - 1 1 t 
 
 Part II. - 117 
 
 Part III. - 123 
 
 A'ta - - - - 126 
 
 The conqueft of vanity - - 133 
 
 On intemperance - - - 137 
 
 Luxury ar,:l avarice, a f,:hle, virfified from the Spec- 
 tator - - - 141 
 On three remarkable occurrences - 144 
 Verfes, written on feeing the execution of Robert 
 
 Watt - - - mj 
 
 The modern hero - - - 140 
 
 The birth of beauty, a fable, vcrfified from the Tal- 
 ler - - - 153 
 Extempore, on " Avarus set. - 15; 
 
 Lines addrefled to Mifs N 1 Aberdeen 157 
 
 Parnaffus at home - - 159 
 
 The wilfi - - - J 60 
 
 acldreffcd to a Young Lady, written at the de- 
 fire of a friend - - 1*5 1 
 Ode to hope - - - 164
 
 ( vii ) 
 
 SCOTTISH EPISTLES. 
 
 Page 
 I. To Mr John Moir, printer, Edin. - 169 
 
 H. To Mr Alex. Scott, Ballhill - i 7 i 
 
 III. To the Reviewers - _ i-, 
 
 IV. To Mr Alex. Scott, Ballhill - , 7 
 
 SCOTTISH MISCELLANIES. 
 
 Epilogue, fpoken at the representation of the Tragedy 
 
 of Douglas, at Slains - - 181 
 
 Elegy to the memory of a favourite Bitch - 18 
 An Addfefs, intended for the opening of the Au- 
 thor's Circulating Library, Peterhead - 1 $6 
 
 Horace, Book I. Ode XXVI. imitated - 188 
 
 A Seng . - . l89 
 
 A Song - , 9I 

 
 ELEGIES.
 
 ELEGIES. 
 
 ELEGY I. 
 
 TO THE MEMOR.T OF 
 
 MISS SUSAN GORDON 
 
 CF ABERDOUR.. 
 
 W hat mournful founds are thefe which ftrike 
 
 mine ear, 
 And call from Pity's eye the falling tear ? 
 Thy fate a warning to each mind imparts, 
 Subdu'd by grief behold the hardeft hearts. 
 Where's now, alas ! the beautiful, the gay, 
 Whofe eyes once rival'd the bright fource of day ; 
 On whofe warm cheek the blufh of beauty glow'd 
 And Nature on her form each charm beftow'd ? 
 
 So falls a Lilly by the cruel fpade, 
 And in the dull its beauteous colours fade : 
 Like a tall pine, ftretch'd on the verdant mead, 
 With all its branching honours on its head. 
 Accept, fair Shade, of this my penfive lay, 
 The tribute of humanity I pay. 
 A
 
 io ELEGIES. 
 
 ELEGY II. 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF GEORGE RAIT. 
 
 A was in the folemn confecrated made, 
 Where, in their narrow manfions, reft the dead, 
 A youth I met, who, with a tearful eye, 
 Said, " here the afhes of Philander lye ! 
 " Our lov'd, our valu'd Friend is now no more, 
 " His eyes are clos'd, and the direftruggle's o'er; 
 " He's paft the cares, the little joys of life, 
 ' And 'fcap'd this fcene of tumult and of ftrife.'* 
 Here ceas'd the youth, and where lour Friend 
 
 was laid, 
 We mutual pour'd a tribute to his fhade. 
 
 O facred Friendfhip ! take the pious tear, 
 Which the mufe fheds upon thy mournful bier ; 
 Small is the tribute, tho' the debt not fmall, 
 For, while thou liv'dft on earth, thou waft my 
 
 all; 
 In thy fociety time fled away, 
 And much too (hort was fummer's longeft day. 
 Still my fond foul had fomething to impart, 
 And ftill thy converfe chear'd mypenfive heart,
 
 ELEGIES. ii 
 
 In difappointment's gloom thy counfel ftay'd 
 My heedlefs fteps, and foothing hopes convey'd. 
 Even when Death frown'd, and beamlefs was 
 
 thine eye. 
 Thy conduct taught thy friend how he mould die; 
 With firmed fortitude thou met'ft thy fate, 
 Thy breath refign'd, and gain'd a happier fiate. 
 
 ELEGY III. 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF JAMES RAIT. 
 
 Xa.h ! dear Philander, when in penfive lay 
 I mourn'd thy exit from the realms of day, 
 Ah ! little thought I, that a kindred made 
 So foon mould bid me beg the Mufes aid. 
 Alas ! no more her gentle aid avails 
 How mould fhe fuccour when even Phylic fails : 
 Tho' great her power, fhe cannot Death difarm. 
 Nor flop the havoc of his ruthelefs arm ; 
 Beyond his vale, tho' fhe extends our view. 
 The dreadful tyrant fhe could ne'er fubdue 
 A tyrant did I call him ? Ah, my Friend ! 
 $oon may thy arm o'er me the dart extend ;
 
 12 ELEGIES. 
 
 Nor leave me longer in this vale of woe 
 To mourn the long delay 'd, long wifli'd for blow! 
 Before each friend I have from earth retire, 
 By thy kind ftroke, ah ! let me too expire ! 
 
 When for Philander's fate my tears fubfide, 
 His Brother's death afrefh renews their tide ; 
 Torn from his friends, decay'd in life's full bloom 
 He found, alas, too early ! found a tomb. 
 But why thus mourn ? miftaken man, forbear, 
 Nor let one murmur rife, nor drop one tear ; 
 Thy friends are fafe beyond the ftorms of life, 
 They've left this fcene of vanity and ftrife ; 
 They nature's round in blifs complete furvey ; 
 They've gain'd the realms of everlafting day. 
 Safe from our hopes, our fears, our dire alarms, 
 They're crown'd with blifs, and never fading 
 
 charms , 
 Their kind Creator fmiles, and bids them fmile, 
 Dries all their tears, and buries all their toil.
 
 ELEGIES. 
 
 ELEGY IV. 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF 
 
 GEORGE RAIT, 
 
 INSERTED IN VOL. I. OF THE SPFCULIST.* 
 
 *3 
 
 Ah, Dear Philander ! thee I mourn, 
 
 Eor thee I pour my lay ; 
 This plaintive tribute o'er thy urn 
 
 I to thy afhes pay. 
 
 Forgotten in the darkfome tomb, 
 
 No kind memorial lives 
 To tell that e'er thou pafs'd the womb 
 
 As Nature being gives. 
 
 Ah, cruel Death ! you pierc'd his heart. 
 
 His heart with virtue ftor'd, 
 Thy fteely, thy relentlefs dart 
 
 Depriv'd us of the hoard. 
 
 At thy dire call, from their dark cave 
 
 Difeafes throng'd around ; 
 To one you this commiffion gave, 
 
 One only worthy found. 
 
 * Being the Eflays of a private fociety of which he and the author were 
 piembers.
 
 M ELEGIES. 
 
 thou call'dft, and Pale Confumption came. 
 
 " Go rend Phi lander's heart : 
 tt Go, flowly lap his youthful Frame 
 " By thy envenom'd dart." 
 
 Thy fervant heard, his wings he fpread, 
 
 And hover'd o'er his prey ; 
 |Iis venom, on Philander fhed, 
 
 pilTolvcs his mortal clay. 
 
 Ah ! what avails my plaintive fong, 
 
 Philander is no more ! 
 H$o more he'll grace our friendly throng, 
 
 Whole meetings novy are o'er. 
 
 vo more his pen, with folid fenfe 
 
 Shall charm the reader's ear ; 
 Silent his lips, his eloquence 
 
 No more we'll joyful hear. 
 
 NTor Virtue*s power, nor early worth, 
 
 Could the dire blow award ; 
 Death ftrikes alike at thoughtlefs mirth, 
 
 And thofe whom Virtue guards,
 
 KLEGIKS. fag 
 
 ELEGY V. 
 
 THE MEMORY OF MISS PEGGY EkC LI STONE*, 
 
 And can my foul fo foon forget 
 
 Her charms, who once awak'd love's, fire 
 
 And fhall fhe meet an early fate, 
 Yet filent and unfung expire ? 
 
 No : all your flowers, ye mufes, bring* 
 To form a garland for her urn $ 
 
 And let the incenfe of the fpring . 
 To her untimely grave be borm 
 
 Ye Virgins, who her beauty fhare* 
 O'er her the choiceft fiow'rets ftrew^ 
 
 Love fhall reward your pious care, 
 And give your darling youths to you-, 
 
 Ife Youths, who pant with fond defire 
 Some beauteous virgin's love to gain* 
 Each one who feels Love's foftening fire, 
 Or hopes his wifhes to obtain.
 
 16 ELEGIES, 
 
 O'er Peggy's grave frefti rofes flrew, 
 And teach the myrtle's leaves to made, 
 
 Join'd with the willow and the yew, 
 The facred fpot where flie is laid. 
 
 ELEGY VI. 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF 
 THE PRIVATE PANTHEON SOCIETY. 
 
 Cxan I forget the focial friendly few, 
 
 With whom enraptur'd Wifdom's paths I trode? 
 Can I forget how Ihe, unveil'd to view, 
 Our labours aided, blifs'd our calm abode ? 
 
 While Reafon, fubject to her mild controul, 
 With double energy her power difplay'd, 
 And pour'd inflructive pleafure on each foul, 
 Or, when vice ftorm'd, brought virtue ready aid.
 
 ELEGIES. 17 
 
 Vila Diffipation's giddy joys we fcorn'd, 
 While Knowledge charm'd, and Virtue blefs'd 
 our mind ; 
 
 Pleafing and ufeful truths our page adorn'd, 
 Nor Learning's claffic aid was left behind. 
 
 When Recollection the fweet fcene renews, 
 A pleafing pang my penfive bofom feels, 
 
 My foul with tranfport each dear toil reviews, 
 While o'er my fancy each paft pleafure (teals. 
 
 But, ah ! how fcatter'd now, how wide difpers'd^ 
 Capricious Fortune's fickle fmiles to court ; 
 
 The darling fcene is now, alas ! revers'd, 
 No more our Members to their Hall refort : 
 
 But tofs'd on life's wild ocean, find no fhore ; 
 
 Or, prefs'd beneath a load of galling woe, 
 Some feek for blifs in heaps of ufelefs ore, 
 
 Their Patron fallen by Death's relentlefs blow. 
 
 Tho' Fortune to my lot her fmile refufe, 
 Tho' oft' my brow is wrinkled into frowns, 
 
 My penfive mind feels pleafure in the Mufe, 
 Her facred influence my foul flill owns. 
 
 B
 
 18 ELEGIES. 
 
 From her I learn Fortune to defpife \ 
 She bids me feek fome calm, fome fvveet retreat. 
 
 On Virtue's path fhe bids me turn mine eyes, 
 Nor wifli the fplendid misery of the great. 
 
 What, tho' I bafk in Fortune's gilded beam, 
 If facred Virtue's dictates I difown, 
 
 Of real happineis I only dream, 
 
 If (he furveys my conduct with a frown. 
 
 ELEGY VII. 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF 
 
 MY HAT, 
 
 LOST IN A VOYAGE BETWEEN LEITH AND MONTROSE, OCT. I 791' 
 
 Ah, ever lov'd ! ah ever honour'd friend ! 
 
 Does fate deny us then one common grave ? 
 Does it command thy ufeful life to end, 
 
 And art thou periQi'd 'mid the azure wave ? 
 
 Oft' did thy care my cranium defend 
 
 From chilling Boreas' rude inclement blaft ; 
 
 Thy toils, alas ! deferv'd a better end, 
 Than 'mid the wintry billows to be call.
 
 ELEGIES. 19 
 
 Such/fuch, alas ! are the fond hopes of Man 
 Now, high exalted on life's giddy wheel, 
 
 He fondly fpins eternal plan on plan, 
 Nor thinks calamity he e'er fhall feel. 
 
 Till fudden fate the airy fabric rends, 
 
 Which his fond foul had lull'd to reft fecure ; 
 
 Beneath misfortune's cruel ftroke he bends, 
 Before he learns its prefTure to endure. 
 
 Such was thy doom, tho' fleek'd and brutli'd with 
 Ikill, 
 Too hig h;alas ! thy though tlefs head appear'd 
 Fearlefs, unthinking of impending ill, 
 
 Tho' death's dire hand was then againft thee 
 rear'd. 
 
 A cruel rope, the inftrument of fate, 
 
 By Boreas prefs'd againft thy lofty crown, 
 
 Far from my aid thou lift'ft thy head too late, 
 While the rude waves affault thy filken down. 
 
 Ah, lucklefs Hat ! too good, alas ! to fhade 
 The mufe-mad temples of a ragged Bard ; 
 
 Who now in vain implores thy friendly aid, 
 Left all his wit by chilling blafts be marr'd v 
 
 B 2
 
 20 ELEGIES. 
 
 ELEGY VIII. 
 
 THE COMPLAINT OF DELICACY. 
 
 JlSegin, my Mufe, and touch the tuneful ftring. 
 Till groves and echoing vales refound thy ftrains, 
 
 With head reclin'd, in mourful pofture ling, 
 Hpw Delicacy left fair Scotia's plains. 
 
 What modeft Dame, in yonder grove reclin'd, 
 With penfive air, and humid eye appears ? 
 
 What fad ideas, riling in her mind, 
 
 Draw from her lovely eyes the briny tears ? 
 
 'Tis Delicacy, who here fix'd her feat, 
 When by licentious vice chas'd far away, 
 
 She form'd this charming, this fecure retreat, 
 To fcreen her inj'ries from the light of day. 
 
 Here me, with folemn contemplation ftrays, 
 And mourns the fcenes which me was forc'd to 
 leave, 
 
 And oft' fhe lift's fweet Philomelia's lays, 
 Who like herfelf feem'd only form'd to grieve.
 
 ELEGIES.. 2i 
 
 Oft' would fhe cry, " Ye foolifh fons of men, 
 " Yet would I gladly prefs you to my heart, 
 
 " Would yoube wife, and prove my friends again, 
 " I'd honeft raptures to your breafts impart. 
 
 u Vain, very vain, are all the joys which Vice 
 
 " Upon her iilly votaries bellows, 
 " Would they but truft my candid calm advice* 
 
 " They ne'er would join with their invet'rate 
 foes. . x 
 
 " Now Falhion lords it o'er the human mind, 
 " Now Pomp and Luxury ufurp domain, 
 
 il While, leagu'd with Tyranny, with Hate com- 
 bined, 
 " They o'er the mind of man unrivall'd reign, 
 
 " Thefe my fell foes have chas'd me far from man ? 
 . " And forc'd me in this folitude to dwell, 
 " While they o'erturn my beneficial plan, 
 " I forrowful mult fit in this lone cell. 
 
 " Here I unnumber'd miferics mud prove, 
 " The fure attendants on my helplefs Sate, 
 
 if While, like myfelf, is banifli'd gentle Love, 
 " The fecond victim of man's furious hate.
 
 22 ELEGIES. 
 
 ' My train of timid virtues all retire, 
 
 " While in their fteadLuft, Paffion, Vice, ap- 
 pear, 
 " And taint man's bofom with corrupt defire, 
 " Whilft grizly Death and dire Difeafe draw 
 near." 
 
 " Thefe with incefiant pangs fhall rend man' s 
 breaft, 
 
 *' And teach him how to prize departed joy, 
 " When he, by various crowding ills opprefs'd, 
 
 *' On fenfual Pleafure fhall begin to cloy. 
 
 M Then Health, the offspring of the gods above, 
 " Shall from his habitation fwift retreat, 
 
 " Then from his houfe fhall flee all joy and love,, 
 " Nor will one pleafure flay, tho' he intreat. 
 
 " Thus, then, 'tis fure that Virtue's very pains, 
 " The joys of vicious Pleafure far exceed ;. 
 
 " While confcious approbation firm fuftains, 
 " The human mind in every time of need. 
 
 " ByVice isnearlyquench'd bright Virtue'sflame, 
 " "Now mortals act not by her blifsful rules, 
 
 " But are obedient to perverted fhame, 
 
 " And -call her vot'ries filly doating foola."
 
 ELEGIES. 23 
 
 Here ceas'd the Dame : to fhun Sol's fcorching 
 heat, 
 
 She in her cell now pcnfive fate her down, 
 While from the verdant meads the flocks retreat 
 
 In fhady groves to pafs the hours of noon. 
 
 ELEGY IX. 
 
 ON DISCONTENT. 
 
 W hat numerous ills the life of man attend, 
 How oft' adown his cheek the briny tears 
 
 Steal filently along, while forrows bend 
 His foul to earth, and life a blank appears. 
 
 Yet tho' a thoufand woes attack mankind, 
 Miftaken notions oft' the load augment ; 
 
 And doubly prefs upon the anxious mind 
 Of him who 's rack'd by fullen Discontent. 
 
 This fiend is one amid the gloomy train 
 Of dire defpair, obedient to whofe will, 
 
 O'er human minds he oft' ufurps domain, 
 And vex man's bofom with each various ill.
 
 24 ELEGIES. 
 
 Even Fancy's pencil the foul fiend commands, 
 To fpread a gloom o'er each gay fcene below^ 
 
 Without a caufe he conftant fighs demands, 
 And rends the breaft with unavailing woe. 
 
 His cruel hand each tender feeling ends, 
 Of mild benevolence and fociai love, _ 
 
 To felf alone his narrow view extends, 
 
 No friendly blifs his flaves mail ever prove. 
 
 'Twixt friends and brothers he the brand of hate 
 Exulting raifes, poifons earthly joy : 
 
 Loud ftrife and anger on his nod await ; ' 
 Difcord and broils his fubjects 1111 annoy. 
 
 O mild Benevolence ! ftill guard my heart, 
 Ne'er may this bofom feel his rankling power: 
 
 May'ft thou foft pleafures to my foul impart, 
 And kindly blifs my folitary bower.
 
 ELEGIES. 
 ELEGY X. 
 
 TO SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Ah ! what avails it, tho' kind Science ope* 
 
 Her facred ftores to th' enraptur'd mind, 
 If cruel Care blaft every blooming hope, 
 In Wifdom blifs nor pleafure will we findi 
 
 For cultur'd minds Pain's arrows keeneft feel* 
 As fofteft metals deep imprefiions take, 
 
 Or from the water or engraving fteel ;* 
 While harder furfaces its action brake, * 
 
 What then avails ftrong Reafon's power to eafe 
 The pangs which wreathe within the tortur'd 
 breaft ; 
 
 Even Friendfliip vainly then may ftrive to pleafe^ 
 Nor can wild Love with wilder grief conteft. 
 
 'Tis Education points the fling of woe, 
 'Tis that makes every feeling more refin'd, 
 
 And teaches oft' the briny tear to flow, 
 
 For griefs which touch not the unletter'd mind. 
 C 
 
 * Alluding to the arts of Etching and Engraving.
 
 26 ELEGIES. 
 
 Ye generous few, fay, would ye then forego 
 The joy-mix'd anguifli of the feeling heart, 
 
 Or lofe the rapture Pity gives to woe, 
 For the vile pleafures fenfe could e'er impart. 
 
 Hail Sensibility ! ftill may my mind 
 Thy gentle dictates willingly obey, 
 
 Teach me to follow wherefoe'er I find 
 
 Thy impulfe lead, and always own thy fway.
 
 ELEGIES. 37 
 
 ELEGY XL 
 
 ON HUMAN LIFE. 
 
 itow chearful rofe the morning of my youth, 
 With airy Fancy's fweeteft fmile bedeck'd, 
 
 Adorn'd with mild benevolence and truth, 
 Tho' now on rocky cares my blifs is wreck'd. 
 
 Scarce had the morn to riper day refign'd, 
 When tempefls blaft the rofes of the dawn, 
 
 And plant dire pangs within my tortur'd mind, 
 And fpread a gloom o'er hill and flowery lawn. 
 
 On life ? s wild ocean launched, my little barque 
 With wind and fail for Virtue's port ftill fleers, 
 
 But, like the innocent and gentle lark, 
 She falls by fnares. which never rous'd her fears. 
 
 INo vile miftruft e'er enter'd in my mind, 
 
 I ne'er could think that mankind joy'd in ill, 
 
 But deem'd their kindred int'refts all were join'd... 
 The gentle laws of virtue to fulfill. 
 C 2.
 
 28 ELEGIES. 
 
 Thus, without caution, thro' life's tide I fteer'd, 
 Till dire experience told me I was wrong, 
 
 Till vile deceit and violence appear'd, 
 Who for my eafy virtue were too ftrong. 
 
 By thefe opprefs'd,, I with a figh refign'd, 
 Tho' Reafon, vainly combating their power, 
 
 Fain would have fix'd on other views my mind, 
 Fain would have fav'd me till the dorm was 
 o'er.
 
 ELEGIES. 29 
 
 ELEGY XII. 
 
 ADDRESSED TO FORTUNE. 
 
 W ith various cares, with various pains opprefs'd, 
 Fortune I afk'd, why thus with hand fevere 
 
 She check'd the riling wifhes of my breaft, 
 Why thus denied me Pleafure's voice to hear ? 
 
 " Look round the world," with frowning brow 
 fhe faid, 
 
 " Can others boaft of happinefs unmix'd ? 
 " What tho' I grant them all my powerful aid, 
 
 " Are they not Hill with cruel cares perplex'd. 
 
 " Think not thy lot is harder than it ought, 
 " Thy bread is thine, if for it thou wilt toil, 
 
 " And, Oh believe me, it is cheaply bought 
 " By Induftry, which ever wears a fmile. 
 
 " What tho' in robes of coftly lilk array'd, 
 " In wanton riot you mould wafte the day, 
 
 " What tho' on fofteft downs your limbs are laid, 
 " Yet (till you know thefe pleafures foon decay.
 
 30 KLEGIES. 
 
 " But if you calmly to your fate refign, 
 " Of happinefs lincere you then may boaft, 
 
 " Then fvveet Contentment's gentle fmileisthine 
 " Which by no frown of mine was ever loft.
 
 EPISTLES.
 
 EPISTLES. 
 
 EPISTLE I. 
 
 TO MR ANDREW SHERIFFS, PRINTER. 
 
 While thus I flood, intent to fee and hear, 
 One came, methought, and whifper'd in my ear, 
 " What could thus high thy rafh ambition raife ? 
 " Art thou, fond youth, a candidate for praife?" 
 
 " 'Tis true, faid I, not void of hopes I came, 
 " For who fo fond as youthful bards of fame ! 
 But few, alas ! the cafual bleffing boaft, 
 " So hard to gain, fo eafy to be loft." Pope. 
 
 L'Ate, Fame began my foolim head to tickle, 
 I long'd for it as gluttons long for pickle ; 
 Unruly appetite for any food 
 Denotes the fauce, or elfe the meat not good. 
 For Fame athirft, to fcribble I begin, 
 And when once wrote, to print I deem'd no fin, 
 In magazines, and other publications, 
 I oft' have read good poems, good orations ; 
 
 D
 
 34 EPISTLES. 
 
 By thefe infpir'd, but chief by mighty Pope, 
 I fpread my daring wings, elate with hope. 
 
 To Thee, impartial Judge, I firft confign'd 
 That mournful ditty which firft ftruck my mind.* 
 Heavens ! with what fearful tremourmute I fate* 
 While from your lips I heard my efiay's fate , 
 While you with fmiles benign each error fhew'd, 
 And on my youthful Mufe your praife bellow 'd. 
 
 I next prefent you with Mercator's letter,f 
 Where I defend our trade from Tim's ill-nature* 
 Here then you Ihew'd me how my genius frail, 
 Had added to that piece too long a tail. 
 You fmiling cry'd, " he fure muft be a fool, 
 Who's not attentive to this certain rule ; 
 Ne'er with too long a train himfelf to cumber, 
 Left he have caufe to curfe fuch ufelefs lumber. 
 Left Satire, with envenom'd teeth, do bite him, 
 And with the lofs of his dear tail requite him. 
 
 Elegy on the death of Mifs Gordon, being the firft piece the Author 
 bad ever written. ^ 
 
 \ Some perfon under the fignature of Timothy Mark, took upon him to 
 fatarize the merchants for {landing in and walking before their own fhop 
 doors. The Author, being a merchant himftlf, defended the honour of the 
 trade ir the beft manner he could. This letter, being a profaic compofi- 
 tion, may by fome be thought to be improperly mentioned amidft poetical 
 performances ; but this epiftle recounts to Mr Sherrjfs the Author's firft 
 effays, whether in piofe or verfe. 
 
 The Elegy and Letter were both printed in Mr Sherrifs' Magazine.
 
 
 EPISTLES. 35 
 
 He may be fure the critics quick will find 
 This folitary piece which lags behind." 
 I, thus advifed, e'en flip'd away my tail, 
 And thus the hopes of fnarling critics fail.* 
 
 Next in heroic verfe I rais'd a fquabble, 
 From the Spectator verlifi'd a fable : 
 But mark the end ! my only aim was praife; 
 And all my pains an odious hifs repays. 
 Each empty blockhead in the ftreet thus talks; 
 Lo ! where with lofty ftride the Poet flalks ; 
 They alk, if fuch a new-born piece is mine ? 
 And fay, you are the fav'rite of the Nine. 
 Even in the public itreet, with cruel fpite, 
 They afk what child of mine next views the light' 
 They of far bafer crimes than thefe accufe me, 
 And with the horrid" name of thief abufe me. 
 They cry, you'd on us palm another's wit, 
 Your fable you muft own before was writ. 
 
 What horrid crime to me as yet unknown, f 
 Steep'd me in ink's black liquor o'er the Crown** 
 
 D 2 
 
 * This tail was a fentence or two very improperly tacked to the letter, 
 of which it had no need, and by which an ill-natured critic could have 
 feized the unfortunate Author, and torn him to pieces at his own leiiure. 
 
 f I intimate once for all that, as this.epiftle was written as an imitation oi 
 Pope, the reader muft not be furprized to find it pretty clofely fo in fomc 
 places.
 
 piteO 
 
 - 1 
 
 36 EPISTLES. 
 
 That flood which, as the Poet's whim or fpite 
 Induces him or good or bad to write, 
 Dips all in black, or brightens all to white. 
 Sure, poverty, difgrace, and pain attend, 
 Thofe wretches who at Phoebus' altar bend. 
 Thofe may be fure who will invoke the Nine, 
 At their fuccefs each empty fot will pine. 
 With calumny they'll try to blot their fame, 
 And blaft the buding honours of their name. 
 Yet blockheads jells mould never give offence, 
 If fatire comes not from the man of fenfe. 
 For here that faying verify 'd is found, 
 The emptier velfel has the greater found. 
 Tho' the drone bee, with loudeft hum can fing, 
 Yet are we certain that he wants a fling. 
 How foolifh, then, if from this drone we flee. 
 Yet bare our bofoms to the armed bee ! 
 Such is their fate, whoe'er they are that write, 
 The bafer paflions only to, delight ; 
 From Vice and Folly they infure applaufe, 
 Who ftill will praife thofe that fupport their caufe- 
 While Virtue, frowning o'er th' unfriendly lay, 
 Bids infamy the wretches toil repay. 
 
 In one point only to the town I yield, 
 And vanquifli'd in that point I quit the field. 
 They tell me, for a Poet I'm not fit, 
 For fure a merchant ne'er was meant a wit.
 
 EPISTLES. 37 
 
 Better behind the counter I had ply'd 
 
 The wav'rir.g balance, and my friends fupply'd 
 
 With goods, for which in ready cafli they pay'd % 
 
 While I the rifing heap of gold furvey'd, 
 
 With pleafure law my (lore increafe each day, 
 
 And threw my paper, pens, and ink away. 
 
 This goodly refolution oft' I've form'd. 
 
 But by fome curfed fault 'tis ne'er perform'd : 
 
 The Mufe ftill bids me meafur'd verfe indite, 
 
 And ftill I'm plagued with a defire to write. 
 
 When in the book, intent to place a debtor, 
 
 I know not how it is, 'tis fure by Nature, 
 
 j write to fuch a man I've fold fuch goods, 
 
 Who's broke, and put my mafter in dull moods : 
 
 Juft as my honed -Friend, my darling Pope, 
 
 Dear foother of my cares, and all my hope, 
 
 Tells me a lawyer's fon, tho' dad it crofs, 
 
 ' Still pens a ftanza, when he mould engrofs." 
 
 Fir'd with the mighty powers of Gray Goofc 
 Quill, 
 My head ftili diclates, and my hands fulfil. 
 Better, thought I, in idle hours to write, 
 Than rival youths in love, and raife their fpite, 
 Sure they can never envy thefe my lays,-i- 
 But I forget, each blockhead pants for praife ; 
 And is fo vain at every word, he fwells, 
 Qn his imaginary charms he dwells ;
 
 3S EPISTLES. 
 
 Even though at him a whole affembly laugh'd, 
 
 He joys, as if delicious praife he quaff'd ; 
 
 At his odd gait tho' every fellow point, 
 
 He thinks he's form'd like Venus in each joint \ 
 
 Among the Ladies, or among the beaus, 
 
 Is he fo happy as to have fome foes ; 
 
 Is there a coxcomb, emptier than himfelf, 
 
 Envies his blifs, it prides the foolifh elf; 
 
 If afk'd, what poet wrote a late lampoon, ' 
 
 Whofe praifes echo thro' each ftreet in town ? 
 
 He fays, you'll think I praife myfelf indeed, 
 
 For 'twas a fancy came into my head. 
 
 If fuch as thefe alone diilike my lays, 
 I'll tell them plain I never wifh'd their praife ; 
 But if one worthy man my verfes blame, 
 And fay they're wrote with an improper aim \ 
 If Innocence or Virtue blufh to hear 
 My lines, or one foft Virgin drop a tear ; 
 By them impell'd, thefe cenfures ihall condemn 
 My works to periih by devouring flame. 
 
 Even while my friends, with an obfequious care 
 For me the penfion of a clerk prepare, 
 I fcribble on, and wifh fuccefs and joy, 
 While they for me their anxious cares employ. 
 And conflantly this precept grates mine ear, 
 A carelefs man to beggary draws neaF,
 
 EPISTLES. 39 
 
 If they fucceed, I fhall be happy ftill, 
 For well it feems they know I love a quill. 
 
 As Archane in fome corner fpins his thread, 
 Not to be deem'd an artitt, but for bread, 
 So, tir'd at laft, I empty praife difclaim, 
 Nor longer wifh to dignify my name. 
 In fecret now myfelf alone to pleafe, 
 I often rhyme away my hours of eafe ; 
 But find the Mufes gain new ground each day, 
 That ends in work which but began in play.
 
 4 o EPISTLES. 
 
 EPISTLE II. 
 
 TO MR GEORGE CR T JDN T AT OLD-DEER,. 
 
 JNTRODUCTION. 
 
 Jlxere, deareft George, I fend a fiction. 
 Not over nice I own in diction, 
 But if it ferve to pafs an hour, 
 I'll blefs the Mufes friendly power, 
 Which gave me Ikill to form a lay, 
 Could chafe the envious fpleen away, 
 Both from myfelf and from my friend,. 
 Which here I vow is all my end. 
 
 Oft' Avarice is cheated of its aim, 
 And ev'n Frugality we fometimes blame : 
 Such was my fate : long had I figh'd for Pope, 
 But when the belt edition crown'd my hope, 
 A fixpence fav'd did all his charms efface, 
 And mark'd him, fpite of Bell, with foul difgrace. 
 The dire offence his lifelefs made awoke, 
 And thus his frontifpiece enraged fpoke.
 
 EPISTLES. 4* 
 
 u How dar'ft thou, wretch, for me profefs re- 
 - gard, 
 Yet thusinfulted fee your fav'rite Bard ; 
 Ah ! what avails the pious care of Bell, 
 Who toil'd to have my writings printed well; 
 If thus a bungling bookbinder difgrace 
 My facred page, and ruin my belt face. 
 So hideous am I, I fcarce know myfelf, 
 But let me never reft upon thy fhelf" ; 
 Till purifi'd, at leaft, in fome degree, 
 The bed edition of my works I fee ; 
 Elfe, by my dreadful Dunciad now I fwear; 
 Thou and thy race (hall feel continu'd fear 
 Of hateful duns, of prifon's opening gate, 
 And all thofe terrors bankruptcy await : 
 With fearful vifions malt thou be diftrefs'd, 
 Nor ever with thy wonted fleep be bleft, 
 Till from my face are wip'd thofe marks of mame ; 
 In fair gold letters 'till I read my name. 
 As for my coat, I will contented bear it, 
 Till I with decency no more can wear it ; 
 Then for a new one I will truft your love, 
 But I muft ^hoofe the taylor, next, by Jove ; 
 Nay, more, Sir, I will none of your coarfe fluff, 
 As if 'twere winter, and I cloath'd in buff. 
 If thefe commands you peevifhly refufe, 
 Then I mail inflantlv arreft your mufe. 
 

 
 4 2 EPISTLES. 
 
 By me unaided, write, if write you can, 
 By me who taught you even the art to fcan. 
 How will you rage when I fhall feize yOur lyre ? 
 How dumb you'll be when I no more infpire. 
 In vain you'll gnaw your pen, and try to write : 
 In vain with fenfelefs rage your lip you'll bite. 
 In vain the partial God of verfe accufe, 
 At my requeft he fhall withhold the Mufe. 
 For by thefe prefents, let all mankind know it, 
 Phoebus has crown'd me Prince of every Poet. 
 Ah ! think not then I'll e'er allow my lays 
 Thus to be bound, like awkward girl in flays. 
 Attend to what I fay, and do my will, 
 So fhall the Mufe and I affift you ftill. 
 Quickly obey, and by your good behaviour, 
 Secure my aid, and great Apollo's favour." 
 Here paus'd the Shade. With grief and fhame 
 
 I figh'd, 
 And trembling, thus I to great Pope reply'd : 
 " O ! ever lov'd, O ! ever honour'd made ! 
 Fear not, thy rites of binding fhall be paid ; 
 My care fhall bid new beauties deck thy face, 
 And quickly wipe away thy late difgrace. 
 What tho' a dunce, like Cibber, dim'd thy rays, 
 See friendly Dalachy thy lois repays ; 
 His golden letters fhall the gloom difpe'l, 
 And thou fhalt love him as thy patron Bell.
 
 EPISTLES. 43 
 
 But ah I avert thy facred rage from me, 
 Smooth thy dread brow, nor longer let me fee 
 Thofe awful frowns lower o'er thy late gay face, 
 Refume thy fmiles, recall thy every grace ; 
 And on thy humble fubjec~t bend thine eyes, 
 With milder look, and bid his joys arife. 
 So fhall the Mufe, by thy fweet fmile infpir'd, 
 Praife, as (lie can, the bard (he much admir'd. 
 O'er thy dread tomb fhe'll hang a penlive lay, 
 A grateful tribute to thy name fhe'll pay ; 
 She'll in thy praife expend her lateft breath, 
 Nor e'er the theme refign, till forc'd by Death.'' 
 The Shade feem'd pleas'd, And thus refum'd 
 
 again : 
 " Nor of thy recompence ihalt thou complain. 
 Hear, while I tell what fubje&s fit the Mule, 
 And what, as worthlefs, fhe fhould ftill refufe. 
 Since firil her heavenly voice on earth was heard, 
 Since on the mind her influence appear'd ; 
 Since mighty Homer ltrung his epic lyre ; 
 And Pinder, carelefs, ftruck the tuneful wire. 
 In verfe (as every thing) we dill may fee, 
 How Poets about trifles difagree. 
 As fhallow wits the folid fubftance pals, 
 T' admire the fhadow on reflecting.glafs. 
 So critics leave the meaning of a fong, 
 To judge if rhyme or verfe be right or wrong. 
 
 E2
 
 44 
 
 EPISTLES. 
 
 The empty form to latent fenfe prefer, 
 Nor blame an author, tho' his judgment err. 
 Faults in the verfe with them alone are crimes, 
 He gains their favour who bed clinks his rhymes. 
 With fpleen fome critics even my works furvey, 
 Becaufe to rhyme I mould my moral lay. 
 Whilft fome my rhyme to Milton's verfe prefer, 
 Thofe fay I'm beft, and thefe, I'm worft, aver. 
 But leave this wrangling crowd, and now furvey, 
 Where Milton, Young, and Thomson, form 
 
 the lay. 
 Thefe three, the fathers of blank verfe appear, 
 And I their pleafing Mufe with tranfport hear. 
 Great Milton's head even God himfelf has 
 
 grac'd, 
 And on his brows unfading laurels plac'd ; 
 While he the deeds of waring angels lings, 
 Around him liftening feraphs clap their wings j 
 And while his genius paints how Satan fell, 
 Attention follows even to dreary Hell. 
 
 By angels circl'd, and by angels prais'd, 
 See Young's above each poet's name is rais'd ; 
 See Immortality his temples crown, 
 And at hrs feet lay all her glories down ; 
 See, how a heavenly fmile invefls his face, 
 Whilft wreaths of Aramanth' his temples grace. 
 Such are the laurels Virtue gives the bard 
 Who's friendly to her caufe ; her bright reward
 
 EPISTLES. 
 
 45 
 
 Beyond the narrow bound of time extends, 
 And into happier worlds her friends attends. 
 See where fweet Thomson tunes his charming 
 
 lyre, 
 Whom all the beauties of the year infpire ; 
 Reafon and Decency correct his rage ; 
 Not niceft Modefty dare blame his page. 
 Nature and ftridt morality conjoin'd, 
 Shew that the man and poet fhar'd his mind. 
 Still keep his path, and be your views the fame, 
 To pleafe the good and virtuous your aim. 
 So {hall bright Virtue, fpite of Envy's frown, 
 Crown you with praife, and make her fame your 
 
 own.' 7
 
 -P EPISTLES. 
 
 EPISTLE III. 
 
 TO MR. JOHN MOIR, PRINTER, EDINBURGH, 
 
 vJh ! Moir, to thcc a wretched bard complains, 
 
 To thee, 'tis all he has, he gives thefe drains ! 
 
 If verfes would but pay what poets owe, 
 
 The fcribbling tribe no want of cafh could know. 
 
 Since paper credit oils the wheels of trade, 
 
 Why fhould not we by writing gain our bread ? 
 
 If every verfe of genuine worth but gave 
 
 ^ (ingle (hilling to the Mufes Have ; 
 
 Then would the prifon ope' her iron gate, 
 
 And yield full many a ba'rd to rooms of ftate. 
 
 But different, far, alas ! we write for you ! 
 
 The empty laurel only binds our brow. 
 
 To want expos'd, and pinch'd by dire difeafe, 
 
 We meet the fate of all who dare to pleafe. 
 
 Of all who fir'd by genius of the mufe, 
 
 Each gift but fame, from fortune's hand refufe. 
 
 Tho' I, with unambitious fober aim, 
 The Mufe invoke, without a wlfti for fame; 
 Yet, unexempted from the poets fate, 
 Th' effect I feel of giddy fortune's hate.
 
 EPISTLES. 47 
 
 Crofs'd in each plan by too fevere a doom, 
 Already forrow nips my youthful bloom. 
 Tho' fcarcely ripen'd into perfect man, 
 Mine eyes with tears are dim, my cheeks are wart. 
 Relentlefs grief my drooping foul invades, 
 And every profpect with a gloom o'erfhades. 
 iTho' gentle hope my former cares beguii'd, 
 And after fcenes with unborn pleafure fmil'd. 
 Yet now defrauded of that precious ft ore, 
 Of future happinefs I hope no more. 
 With no gay fcenes of elegance and eafe 
 My fancy teems, far humbler willies pleafe. 
 In calm retirement now I hope to gain 
 A life from pleafure free, exempt from pain. 
 There, in the vale of Science and of eafe^ 
 My vacant hours the heavenly Mufe mall pleafe. 
 She mail my forrows footh, decreafe my toil, 
 And teach me at life's little cares to fmile ; 
 Teach me content, and virtue ft ill to prize, 
 And the mean arts of Mammon's fons defpifei 
 To mild Philofophy directs my view, 
 And bids me Reafon's dictates ftiil purfue : 
 Tells me that riches happinefs deftroy, 
 And that content 's the only lading joy. 
 What tho' the gifts of fortune may confer 
 An outward pomp, mall we a mew prefer 
 Before the folid pleafure Virtue gives, 
 From which the mind a fteady aid receives ?
 
 48 EPISTLkS. 
 
 Tho' Nature fail, and tho' the feafons ceafe y 
 The foul which Virtue rules retains its peace. 
 
 From Eaft, from Weft, tho' various treafures 
 flow, 
 Shield they their owner from the fhafts of woe ? 
 Behold the man of greateft wealth pofftfs'd, 
 Say, Mufe, is not this wealthy perfon blefs'd ? 
 Has he a wifh unfatisfied, which can 
 Lodge in the bofom of ftill reftlefs man ! 
 See, on his nod a numerous train await ? 
 See, how his table groans 'neath loads of plate ? 
 The gilded chariot ready waits his call, 
 And art exhaufts her treafures on his hall ; 
 Yet, without reft, on beds of down he lyes, 
 While from his bofom burft unceafing fighs. 
 " Infulting fortune, what is all thy ftore,- 
 My foul, unfatisfi'd, ftill calls for more ?" 
 Thus he complains, " not all my wealth can buy 
 The blifsful eafe of him who heaves no figh, 
 Whofe features wear thefmile offweet content 
 Whofe peace is guarded by a life well fpent." 
 
 But, different far his humble peaceful lot, 
 Whofe wealth occafions no uneafy thought, 
 Unvex'd by riches; luxury, or eafe, 
 Who rifes happy, and who fleeps in peace ; 
 Who calmly ftea's along the vale of life ; 
 Who ihunswildfortune's gifts, andpaffion's ft rife 5
 
 EPISTLES. 
 
 49 
 
 Who Virtue loves, where'er he her behold, 
 In rags attir'd, or when adorn'd with gold ; 
 Who to life's vale with pleafure can fublide, 
 Tho' blefs'd by Fortune, who reftrains his pride 
 Unmov'd, who liftens to the voice of praife, 
 And, with a frown, fmooth flattery furveys. 
 
 Such is the life I fondly hope to lead, 
 And fuch the pleafing path I wifli to tread ; 
 Calm and ferene, to pafs each happy day, 
 And foothe each forrow with fome plaintive lay. 
 Life's buftle fuits not with the views which heaven 
 To me for other purpofes has given. 
 Some rural feat is all I wifh to find, 
 Safe in its fhade from vice to fcreen my mind. 
 Which, tho* it virtue loves, and can compare 
 Evil with good, pines in life's public glare, 
 And fearful fhrinks into retirement's fhade, 
 Its fainting courage and its ftrength to aid. 
 There, fafe from flattery, vanity, and vice, 
 I calmly weigh, and reafonably choice. 
 There to my books, as to my friends, I fly, 
 Thofe fpotlefs mirrors where truth meets mine 
 
 eye : 
 There, unadorn'd, I men and things behold, 
 Stript of the varnifh of deceitful gold. 
 There, virtue's heavenly beauties meet my view, 
 Nor can vice hide the horrors of her brow. 
 F
 
 50 EPISTLES. 
 
 Unbiafs'd judgement there performs her part, 
 And gives to Virtue all my yielding heart. 
 
 Next, let us view the fcenes of public life, 
 Mid noife, and bus'nefs, and wild paffion's ftrife ; 
 The foul confounded, lofing all her power, 
 Meanly obeys the tyrant of an hour ; 
 Forgets mild virtue, and rejects her fway, 
 Tho' confcience leads, and reafon points the way. 
 And wandering devious takes the downward road, 
 To pain and mifery's darkfome dire abode ; 
 Where, lafh'd with thorns, repentance vainly 
 
 groans ; 
 Where headftrong folly her ram fleps bemoans. 
 Where fruitlefs tears, tho' ever doom'd to flow, 
 Will never eafe the wretch's endlefs woe. 
 Far better, then, from fuch dire ills to fly, 
 And wifely fhun cur danger e'er we die. 
 
 But here, my friend, methinks you cry, " enough 
 Of lifelefs rhymes, cramm'd up with moral ftufF. 
 If you would have me read, add fancy's fire, 
 Or ne'er again prefume to touch the lyre* 
 Can fuch a letter ferve to entertain 
 A vacant hour? where (till I fearch in vain 
 For fome thing fprightly, or for fomething new, 
 Inftead of which, dry morals meet my view. 
 See, in its front, the prifon's iron door, 
 Where clanking chains, and reeling drunkards 
 roar.
 
 EPISTLES. 
 
 51 
 
 Its dreadful end I am afraid to tell, 
 Thy letter, friend, already is in hell. 
 Next, then, behold the riling flames afpire, 
 And, fee, thy rhymes difTolv'd in floods of fire." 
 This faid, forgetting friendfhip's facred name, 
 Urg'd by the fpleen, my letter feeds the flame. 
 Hold yet a moment, hold your thoughtlefs hand, 
 Its fate refpite, remove the fiery brand : 
 It yet may pleafe, it yet may caufe you fmile, 
 Thus would you ftigmatize my friendly toil. 
 So much refpecT: you owe an humble friend, 
 At leafl to hear him till he makes an end. 
 Nor then fhould fury guide, norheadltrong will. 
 The fentence you pronounce, be't good or ill. 
 For mercy even our enemies deferve, 
 Let mercy, then, tho' worthlefs, me preferve ; 
 Beneath its covert I my fhelter take, 
 And hope you'll fpare for facred friendfhip's fake, 
 Which in my bread to thee will ever glow, 
 Yet ne'er can pay the favours which I owe. 
 When in a ferious mood, fome after time, 
 Keep and perufe this fcrawl of moral rhyme ; 
 It then may pleafe, tho' now it grates your ear, 
 Then you'll with calmnefs and with candour hear:. 
 Then you'll commend, tho' now you chance to 
 
 blame, 
 And blifs the writer with a friend's dear name. 
 F 2
 
 52 EPISTLES. 
 
 EPISTLE IV. 
 TO MR JOHN BELL, 
 
 BRITISH LIBRARY, STRAND, LONDON. 
 
 Patron of learning, and the Mufe's friend, 
 To thee this tributary lay I fend ; 
 I long expected lome great bard would dare 
 The arduous talk, thy merits to declare. 
 But, or ingratitude prevents their lay, 
 Or inattention fteals thy praife away. 
 Unbrib'd by int'reft, fearlefs and ilncere, 
 I point the pen in hopes you'll kindly hear 
 A youthful Mufe, whom no ambition guides, 
 O'er whofe plain numbers flatt'ry ne'er prefides 
 Who knows that virtue rules her honed foul, 
 While warm within, ilie feels her impulfe roll, 
 That impulfe Hill fhe follows, nor exceeds ; 
 ParnafTus' flowery paths fhe cautious treads, 
 Fearful, each lliining action fhe furveys, 
 Which, if not vicious, juftly claims her praife. 
 Thy toils her willing gratitude demand, 
 Thou merit'ft well this tribute from her hand - 9 
 Gladly me gives, then fure you'll not refufe 
 The commendation of an humble Mufe,
 
 EPISTLES. 53 
 
 To fame unknown, who fearful fpreads her wing, 
 And dares alone, when virtue prompts to fing. 
 Weak is her genius, and her powers but fmall, 
 Yet, freely, in thy praife fhe'll walk them all, 
 Praife, merit's efforts always fhould reward, 
 And 'tis a theme belongs to every bard. 
 
 See, how great Shakespere, by thy labours 
 clear'd,* 
 Shines forth, anew, as he at firfl appear'd ; 
 Nay, ftill more elegant, in him we fee, 
 What future times may 'yet expect from thee. 
 
 See, in long order, Britain's Bards appear,f 
 See them the labours of thy love revere. 
 Behold what joy chears every tuneful made, 
 To fee their works by thee immortal made, 
 By thee adorn'd with every winning grace, 
 In every library they gain a place. 
 Well did you fee, great Bell, and well you knew, 
 That merit will be courted but by few. 
 Unlefs with fome external (hew adorn'd, 
 With thoughtlefs inattention it is fcorn'd. 
 Thy pious care grac'd every bard anew, 
 And made his works an object of virtue, 
 Now gaze we on their page with curious eyes, 
 And Hill are reftlefs, till we gain the prize. 
 
 * His Edition of Shakcfpcre's works. f Hit Britifh Poets.
 
 54 EPISTLES. 
 
 The prize obtain'd, we home exulting bear, 
 And ftill admire, and hold for ever dear. 
 
 Thy hand collects the Mufe's fcatter'd ftrains,* 
 And faves the fmalleft of her lov'd remains ; 
 Arranges clearly what confus'dly lay ; 
 Her gold refines, and clears her drofs away. 
 
 See round fweet Anna's f lyre frelh garlands 
 hung, 
 Improve the accents of her charming tongue. 
 See Crusca's f beauties frefher rife to view, 
 And brighter fhine when thus adorn'd by you. 
 
 See Thalia J fmiling o'er thy great defign, 
 Which bids her graces with frefh lufture fhine. 
 While all the Mufes thy protection claim, 
 Mine fain would honour thee with deathlefs fame. 
 But vain her labour, for thy name (hall bloom, 
 When her's is bury'd in oblivion's womb. 
 By bards unborn thy praifes fhall be fung. 
 When the lov'd Mufe no more fhall prompt my 
 tongue. 
 
 Small is the pittance fortune has fallow'd, 
 Small are the favours fhe on me beftow'd. 
 
 * Claffical arrangement of fugitive poetry. 
 
 f The Britifh Album, or the works of Anna Matilda and De la Crufca. 
 
 i The Theatre.
 
 EPISTLES. 55 
 
 Yet, from my fund, fmall as it is, I take 
 A weekly tribute for the mufe's fake. 
 Gladly my prefent bring before her fhrine, 
 Which, tho' but fmall, with freedom I refign. 
 If wealth were mine, a worthier gift I'd bring, 
 And all my genius ftrain her praife to ling ; 
 Her praife, who can unfailing peace impart, 
 And chafe dull forrovv from the human heart. 
 Her power the pang of unregarded love 
 Can gently foothe, or from the mind remove. 
 Mid folitude with her the bard enjoys 
 The fweeteft converfe, and the pureftjoys. 
 Tho' friend (hip fail, and fickle fortune frown, - 
 The Mufe's fmile thefe trifling ills mall drown. 
 Tho' fortune frown, the Mufe beguiles my care. 
 And renders even her frowns the lefs fevere. 
 What tho' in humble ftation I am plac'd, 
 I fpurn at wealth, if I'm with virtue grac'd. 
 A vicious mind, tho' varnifh'd o'er with gold, 
 Each friend to virtue muft with fcorn behold. ' 
 And virtue throws a luftre round the fhade, 
 Which fhe her happy residence has made. 
 However humble, or however poor, 
 Sue chears, fhe charms, and blilTes every hour.
 
 56 EPISTLES. 
 
 EPISTLE V. 
 TO A SOCIETY 
 
 TVHO REFUSED THE AUTHOR. ADMISSION AS A MEMBER. 
 
 Jf ar-ewell, for ever, her deceitful charms, 
 Science no more fhall lull me in her arms. 
 Convinc'd, tho' late, I from her fhrine muft fly 
 I yet look backward with a tearful eye. 
 As one who fees, diffblv'd in flames, his dome, 
 Thro' the wide world with houfelefs head mud 
 
 roam. 
 So I, who deem'd my labours at an end, 
 And fortune now at laft fhould prove my friend. 
 By other means muft this new lofs fupply, 
 Refolv'd to conquer, or refolv'd to die., 
 Now Mammon's hand unveils his countlefs flore, 
 And learning's empty vifions pleafe no more. 
 Adieu ! forever, to the Mufes hill, 
 For I have rhym'd, and dream'd, and wrote my 
 
 fill. 
 Now leave me, Phoebus, let the Mufe depart, 
 Nor with your ufelefs raptures warm my heart, 
 On golden dreams no more I wifh to feed, 
 But hope to prove th' effect of gold indeed.
 
 EPISTLES- 57 
 
 tVhich, even to fools, can merit give, and fame, 
 Then fure to me it ought to give the fame, 
 Who to the Mufe have been a flave too long, 
 Chain'd by the fyren fweetnefs of her fong. 
 
 Come, industry, to me difplay thy charms* 
 Nor let me grafp a phantom in my arms, s 
 Which, like a Premier, promifes and pays, 
 Its gift as empty, as itfelf is, praife. 
 Yet 'tis a truth, which to relate I'm griev'dj 
 Too many bards are by this {hade deceiv'd. 
 Who find, alas ! too late that faying true, 
 Hunger each bard does as his (hade purfue. 
 Of wretched poverty and wit the -heirs ; 
 Not only hunger, but contempt is theirs. 
 Such, even their fate, who write not for a name^ 
 Nor wilh to gain the envy'd fhout of fame. 
 Perhaps, amufement only prompts their lays, 
 Their pen, perhaps, love's dictate but obeys. 
 Fools that they are ! to think wit pleafes love 5 - 
 Each day may fuch an idle thought remove. 
 Behold the picture of th' enamour'd wit, 
 With fuch a wretch could woman's heart be fmit'* 
 See, how at awful diftance ftill he wooes. 
 And his lov'd fair one, like her (hade, pmfues. 
 Turns where fhe turns, yet Hill avoids her reach. 
 And is, good foul, like it, devoid of fpeech.
 
 58 EPISTLES- 
 
 Perhaps a daring fonnet given the maid, 
 Relates what, could he fpeak, he would havefaid; 
 But then he's fo confounded by her charms, 
 And in her prefence feels fuch dire alarms, 
 That reafon foon forgets her rightful fway, 
 And learns her fubjed paffion to obey. 
 
 But whence, my Mufc, can fuch digreffions 
 rife, 
 " Faith, 'tis a doubt with me, (die archly crys ;) 
 Unlefs by fuch to praife Me you mould mean, 
 Who am your miftrefs, and who ftill have been. 
 What tho' you fwear you now will give me o'er, 
 Like a poor caft oft' difregarded w re. 
 Yet thefe expreffions, like the empty wind, 
 Shall pafs, nor leave a fingle trad behind. 
 Again, you'll court me, as you well muft know, 
 I aid your joy, and mitigate your woe. 
 1 take the dull inanity away, 
 Which langour throws o'er every gloomy day." 
 " But whether now ? hold, if you love me, hold, 
 Tho' I've forfvvorn you, ftill I'll be fo bold, 
 As for this once to beg you'd aid my pen, 
 Againft a lawlefs fet of favage men, 
 Who've wrong' d me vilely, wrong'd me, I muft 
 
 fay: 
 Then teach me how this wrong I fhould repay." 
 Here paus'd I : and the Mufe again reply'd : 
 " Your fuit by me, my friend, was ne'er deny V,
 
 EPISTLES. 59 
 
 Attend, and fee my power a fcene difplays, 
 Worthy of Homer's, or of Virgil's lays. 
 Raife then thy voice, my dictates to fulfil, 
 And while thou fing'ft, my power mail aid thee 
 ftill.. 
 
 Firft fee that Sage, whofc moulders fpread fo 
 He is the Prefident, whofe awful nod (broad, 
 The reft obey ; fee in his hand he rears 
 A polifh'd hammer, while his other bears 
 An iron meet, tin'd o'er with curious art, 
 And ftainlefs, like his pure ingenious heart. 
 
 Behold my favourite B * * * * at eafe reclines, 
 Forming ideas of unwritten, lines ; 
 And while his bofom fwells, as I infpire, 
 With tranfport fnatches up the Scottiih lyre ; 
 With eafe his finger move acrofs the firings,. 
 I give the nod, and inftantly he fings. 
 
 Next, let your eyes explore yon youthful fage, 
 Who 's animated with, an equal rage, 
 And, like illum'd with my poetic beam, 
 From turbid ciflern pumps a purer dream. 
 Him, even the monfters of the main obey, 
 Such is the force of his prevailing lay, 
 From Greenland feas at his command they come, 
 And on his nod depends their future doom. 
 Around the virgin's (lender waift to fpread ; 
 Reliftlefs charms at his defire are led. 
 G 2
 
 6o EPISTLES. 
 
 The pliant whale bones, while, difTolv'd by fire, 
 The nightly lamps his liquid fat require. 
 ' Two tin-fmiths here, I fee, two grocers there, 
 The fifth, a clerk, but tho' intent I flare, 
 The veil of night two other members fhrowds, 
 Rapt from my view, andcircumfus'd with clouds. 
 Thefe,,then unknown, mud want their fhare of 
 
 fame, 
 Becaufe, unhappily I want their name." 
 
 Here interrupting on her fpeech I broke, 
 And thus encduragM by her fniiles I fpoke : 
 *' Forgive the thought which furethyfelfinfpires, 
 Forgive my rafhnefs, fecond m)i defires ; 
 Tell, O my. Mule, what victims to thee bled, 
 What prefents to thy awful fhrine were led \ 
 When firft a grocer gain'd thy facred aid, 
 And dar'd to call thee his own lovely maid ; 
 When firft on Pegafus he foar'd fubiime, 
 And wrote, and wouder'd that he wrotein rhyme." 
 
 Laughing, fhe faid, " why check'ft thou my 
 career, 
 The goal, believe me, is not yet too near. 
 This once I anfwer, left you fliould repine, 
 But dare no more, for I'll your fuit decline. 
 
 Firft, then, a dozen of the pureft claret, 
 (Pojrter I mean) what does the blockhead ftare 
 Doll think a dozen of dull porter much, (at ? 
 To be allow'd the facred lyre to touch ?
 
 EPISTLES. tit 
 
 Some would give dozens of the pureft wine, 
 Could they of fenfe but write a {ingle line. 
 As girls for plums will kifTes give, fo, now, 
 On me for favours grocers plums beftow. 
 The reft were tedious, needlefs to relate ; 
 Suffice 't to fay no mortal fhares my hate. 
 Tho' fome 'bove others I will always love, 
 Who my diftinguifh'd favour ftill {hall prove. 
 Such are the Members which this Club compofe, 
 Even thofe I love who can but write in profe. 
 For I'm in hopes, when they in profe run mad, 
 They'll write in verfe, tho' 't fhould be e'er i'o 
 
 bad. 
 And then you know they'll all my fubjects be, 
 As much at my devotion as even thee. 
 
 But turn a moment, turn your eyes, and view 
 This the laft fcene I now prefent to you. 
 
 BeholdwhereCHALMERsathisdefknowftands, 
 Culling the letters out with careful hands ; 
 See, at a diftance two with balls of ink, 
 Imprefs in paper what our authors think. 
 Thefe fent abroad, fhall fpread their writers fame, 
 Thro' many a realm, and wide his praife proclaim. 
 But if the youth mall flight the injur'd maid, 
 Who many a night and morn has given him aid ; 
 Then fhall his bafenefs meet a juft return, 
 And all his toil fhall be repay 'd with fcorn.
 
 6 2 EPISTLES. 
 
 Behold the eflays which this club have, wrote, 
 Frefh from the prefs into the world are brought. 
 Wide fpreads their fame, fubfcribers throng 
 
 around, 
 And friends their praifes to the fkies refound. 
 But now they're read, alas ! their fame is o'er, 
 Their day is part, and they can pleafe np more. 
 Alas ! to think their friends with* weeping eyes, 
 Shall fee them plac'd beneath hot mutton pyes ! 
 Nay, worfe perhaps, in wrappers for his fnuff 
 The author meets his works O dire rebuff ! 
 Yet fuch in time is every author's fate, 
 Why mould they mourn it, or impute to hate, 
 What is the confequence of endlefs change ? 
 For man's imagination ftill will range. 
 No iingle author, tho' his parts are bright, 
 Can give a lafling and a pure delight. 
 Let writers, then, fubmit, nor mourn the fate 
 Which muft attend them, either foon or late."
 
 EPISTLES. 63 
 
 EPISTLE VI. 
 
 TO DOCTOR BEATTIE, 
 
 PROFESSOR OF MORAL rmLOSOPHY, ABERDEEN. 
 
 -A-ccept, great Beattie, from an humble pen, 
 Th' effufions of an heart iincere and plain : 
 Permit my Mufe to borrow from 'thy name 
 A certain title to immortal fame. 
 Malice and envy both mail vainly rage, 
 Their venom ne'er fliall reach my fhelter'd page. 
 By Thee fecur'd of fuccefs, I proceed ; (read ? 
 Who would not buy what Beattie deign'd to 
 Nay, more, allow'd a humble bard his claim, 
 And bade him grace thefe poems with his name. 
 Even cenfure's felf his frowning brow fhall 
 
 fmooth, 
 And critics fpare the errors of my youth ; 
 Satire herfelf, when (he beholds thy name, 
 Her pen fhall drop., nor dare my works to blame. 
 If, then, your goodnefs fuch advantage bring, 
 Your will exprefs; fliall I forbear to ling ? 
 Or, fir'd by you, attempt a nobler drain, 
 If you approve, I (hall not toil in vain.
 
 64 EPISTLES. 
 
 For long, I own, the Mufe my mind has charm\d 
 And oft' my glowing bread with rapture warm'd. 
 Oft' has fhe met me at the clofe of day, 
 And found me ever willing to obey ; 
 Oft' has fhe met me at the fmiling morn, 
 And foar'd with me on fancy's pinions born ; 
 Oft' would fhe prompt the fweetly pleafing lay, 
 Which did the graces of the fair difplay ; 
 Oft' would fhe turn to moral themes my view, 
 And teach me furious paffions to fubdue. 
 Then, o'er the' grave of friendfhip bid me pour 
 The pious tear, while heaven approv'd the fhowen 
 But now fhe faints unequal to her theme, 
 And finks beneath the fplendor of thy name. 
 Loft and opprefs'd by thy fuperior blaze, 
 She bids expreffive filence fpeak thy praife.
 
 EPISTLES. 65 
 
 EPISTLE VII. 
 TO MISS N P AT C N H. 
 
 i- roth, Helen, you are much to blame, 
 Each friend of yours will fay the fame ; 
 How dare you fuch a youth reject, 
 And all his tender vows neglect ? 
 Know you not he has cafh, my dear, 
 Then to your love his title's clear ; 
 For he has left his foul with you, 
 And has nought but his body now. 
 Troth, Nelly, if you'll pardon it, 
 You have, I'm much afraid, his wit ; 
 Which by the vacuum in his brain, 
 I fcarcely think he'll find again. 
 Let pity foften then your heart, 
 Some comfort to the youth impart, 
 Help him his paflion to controul, 
 Left he mould die for love, poor foul. 
 Bethink thee then, Eve's faired daughter, 
 And fhun that horrid crime, man-flaughter. 
 Let not the lucklefs lad be loft, 
 Left you be haunted by his ghoft \ 
 
 H
 
 66 EPISTLES. 
 
 Then, fure, fo fair a lafs as you, 
 Would never make a veftal vow, 
 And of all men alike afraid, 
 Refolve to live and die a maid. 
 
 " Sure this man's mad," methinks you cry x 
 " How fhould he know this lad and I 
 Exchang'd a word ? how mould he know 
 I either was his friend or foe ? 
 Befides, why middle in the matter, 
 
 For C y why make fuch a fpatter ? 
 
 May not I be allow'd my choice, 
 Without being plagu'd with his advice." 
 
 I anfwer thus : " For friendfhip's fake, 
 I in this caufe fuch trouble take ; 
 Fearful, left by your charms ftruck dumb, 
 The lad fhould to the point ne'er come. 
 Befides, my friend 's not over clever 
 Of tongue, nor can he long perfevere. 
 Now, as I well can fpare an ell, 
 And better far my tale can tell, 
 In his behalf I you addrefs, 
 Begging you would your frowns reprefs, 
 And ckear him with a gentle fmile, 
 Which would his tender pangs beguile. 
 Be kinder, Nelly, I intreat you, 
 Left in his anger he fhould beat you ; 
 Tho' lovers feldom go fo far, 
 Yet know he is a man of war ;
 
 EPISTLES. ty 
 
 And with his fifts concludes each quarrel, 
 As foldiers do with their gun barrel. 
 Therefore, I beg you'd hear a friend, 
 Left you repent it in the end. 
 
 Here, with kind wiflies, I conclude, 
 Hoping you'U think my warning good 3 
 If not, excufe this foolifh letter, 
 When next I write I'll fend a better; 
 
 U i
 
 68 EPISTLES. 
 
 EPISTLE VIII. 
 TO MR J I AT ABERDEEN. 
 
 1 roth, brother bard, I hold you dear, 
 Tho' yet indeed 'tis very clear 
 You nothing of my kindnefs know, 
 And deem me neither friend or foe. 
 Deign then to anfwer this firft letter, 
 For well I know you write much better. 
 Bear witnefs every tuneful line, 
 Printed inC** # *** # magazine. 
 Vainly you hope to be conceal'd, 
 By your own native light reveal' d. 
 If, then, my profTer'd love you fpurn, 
 And to thefe lines make no return, 
 Well may I grieve to want a friend, 
 Who could his kind afiiftance lend, 
 Who could my untaught Mufe correct, 
 Point out her faults, fhew her neglect. 
 Direct her fancy how to foar, 
 And teach her judgment to explore 
 Paths which flie never knew before. 
 Befides, our views feem both the fame, 
 And entertainment all our aim. 
 
 }
 
 EPISTLES. 
 
 Taught by the heavenly Mufe's power, 
 Aright to ufe each vacant hour ; 
 Our leifure wifely to improve, 
 By means which reafon mud approve. 
 Since by the Mufe each thought refin'd, 
 For virtue's fway prepares the mind. 
 Benevolence and friendfhip's flame, 
 And delicacy's fofter name 
 Together join'd, our bofom fwell, 
 And in each Poet's bread ftill dwell* 
 Tho' of us there 's a meaner race, 
 Who interefl alone embrace, 
 Who vilely write the times to pleafe, 
 Who virtue can defame with eafe *, 
 With fophiftry who fill their rhymes, 
 Who flatter vice, and varnifli crimes. 
 Who, like the Priefts of crafty Rome, . 
 E'er dead, pronounce the Tinner's doom ; 
 And if my Lord for pardon pay, 
 He ftill may live the ban ton way ; 
 But if, too fhallow is his purfe, 
 He may be fure to have their curfe; 
 And be forever fhut from heaven, 
 Unlefs a bribe to them is given. 
 Some of thefe mercenary wits, 
 With Peers obtain the name of butts ; 
 To whom they ferve full many an end ; 
 Sometimes, perhaps, their humble friends.
 
 ?o EPISTLES. 
 
 Sometimes their confidents they are, 
 And all their bofom iecrets fhare, 
 And what indeed 's a great deal more, 
 
 They fometimes ferve to praife a w re. 
 
 Then their dear patron's foul to cheer, 
 They write a birth day ode each year ; 
 Wherein, his character to fave, 
 They dig dead virtue from her grave ; 
 And as his anceftors were good, 
 He heirs their virtues with their blood; 
 
 Here, gladly I refign my pen, 
 Hoping an anfwer to obtain. 
 
 P. S. Ihclofed here to you I fend> 
 A letter to our mutual friend, 
 Which you will kindly fend away^ 
 And quickly to his hand convey*
 
 PISTLES, 71 
 
 EPISTLE IX. 
 TO MR ANDREW IMREY 
 
 AT EDINBURGH. 
 
 JL/ear Imrey you'll not fure refufe, 
 This tribute from a friendly Mufe, 
 Who by the favour of Apollo, 
 To you has wrote the lines which follow, 
 
 One night, even in the Mufe's fpite, 
 I fate me down, refolv'd to write. 
 *' Without her aid," I cry'd, " I'll rhyme, 
 She fure can't punifh my firft crime 
 Nor call an idle frolic treafon, 
 When I had fuch an urgent reafon. 
 As is a letter to my friend, 
 Which I away to-night muft fend, 
 Left the occafion mould be loft, 
 For he would grudge, if fent by poft." 
 Full half an hour wrapt up in thought. 
 Thro' my dull* cranium I fought 
 A good beginning, there I hunted, 
 For I can gallop when once mounted. 
 But rhyme and reafon both refufe, 
 To grant me aid, without the Mufe.
 
 72 EPISTLES. 
 
 Arid after I my brains had rack'd, 
 I back again to her am pack'd. 
 Well, then, there's no help but invoke her, 
 And faith I now mutt gently ftroak her, 
 Left fhe mould happen to be muddy, 
 And in her paffion turn her fuddy, 
 Well, to begin. ** O dainty dame, 
 I'm at a lofs faith for your name ; 
 Whate*er you're call'd, pray give me aid, 
 Whether you ftrumpet are, or maid. 
 My reverence for you I confefs, 
 If you're a punk, will be fome lefs ; 
 And by my troth fome think you are, 
 Since you each bard's embraces fhare : 
 Well, but pray be not offended, 
 What once is paft cannot be mended ; 
 Let me intreat you to indite, 
 As faft as e'er my hands can write, 
 For you may fee 'em in a hurry, 
 So pray do'nt now begin to worry ; 
 I'll hear your rage another time > 
 If you'll juft now but give me rhyme." 
 Faith, Imrey, laffes will be courted j 
 She ftnil'd, and I proceed, fupported 
 By her, and what is more, by fancy, 
 Who far beyond this world can fee. 
 And now, like happy Fortunatus, 
 As antient ftory does narrate us \
 
 EPISTLES- 
 
 Who, when he long'd for this or that, 
 Only clap'd on his wifhing hat ; 
 Or when he would fome tale unravel ; 
 Or when he was amind to travel, 
 His faithful hat was ready ftill, 
 At once his wifhes to fulfil ; 
 And what, perhaps, may dagger you. 
 Would carry him beyond Peru ; 
 And in the twinkling of an eye, 
 Return him viewlefs thro' the Iky. 
 Such is the cafe with me juft now, 
 The Mufe and Fancy in my pow ; 
 Altho' I know not yet their drift, 
 Are juft about the fcene to fhift ; 
 And will exalt me very foon, 
 Perhaps beyond the fun or moon. 
 Or elfe, belike, they'll take a ramble- 
 To Merlin's cave, upon a bramble. 
 For as an old and wrinkl'd witch, 
 Flies thro' the air upon a fwitch, 
 So by their magic power can they, 
 Where'er they pleafe, a man convey. 
 
 Juft as I thought, the Mufe appear'dy 
 And in her hand a branch (lie rear'd, 
 Cut from the ever blooming bay : 
 Follow, me faid, I lead the way. 
 Then, having touch'd me with her rod/ 
 Thro' air with fearlefs feet I trod, 
 
 T 
 
 73
 
 74 EPIS'ILES. 
 
 Long having fled, we 'light at laft, 
 Upon a barren heathy watte ; 
 The Mufe her wondrous wand difplay'd, 
 And flreight appear'd a blooming maid ; 
 Inraptur'd I furvey her charms, 
 And long'd to clafp her in my arms. 
 When tli us flie faid : " Is this the youth, 
 Fam'd for his conftancy and truth 
 To your infpiring power and mine ; 
 Who ever bows before your fhrine. 
 Who temperance fo long has prov'd ; 
 And who contentment ftill has lov'd. 
 Who, tho' not curft with cumbrous wealthy 
 Enjoys the fmile of ruddy health. 
 Who in each vacant leifure hour, 
 Invokes thy ever pleafing power, 
 To fopthe the langour of his foul, 
 And paffion's furious gufts controul ? 
 And has he yet no proof obtain'd, 
 That he the Mufe's fmile has gain'd ? 
 Let him then follow to my cave, 
 Where he'll a fign'd diploma have, 
 That he the Mufes friend has been ; 
 Tho' that indeed is clearly feen 
 In his rough beard, unpowder'd hair, 
 And his beft coat, which is thread bare". 
 Thus having faid, fhe walk'd before, 
 And op'd for us her grotto's door.
 
 EPISTLES. 
 
 Here temperance with kindeft care, 
 
 And mild content for us prepare 
 
 A fober, tho' a healthy treat, 
 
 Such as our fathers wont to eat. 
 
 To furnifh which, no blood ilain'd knife, 
 
 Snatch'd from the faithful ox his life ; 
 
 When he had gain'd his mailer's bread, 
 
 And ftrung the arm by which he bled ; 
 
 But milk in fnowy floods appear'd, 
 
 And Scotland's cakes on bafkets rear'd. 
 
 When thefe were done, at health's command, 
 
 Good cheefe flood ready at our hand. 
 
 And fruits of various kinds, with art 
 
 Difpos'd around, form'd our defer!:, 
 
 With good October then we crown 
 
 A foaming cup, to keep all down. 
 
 When we had finifh'd our repaft, 
 
 The difhes were remov'd with hafte, 
 
 With houfehold lkiil in rows difpos'd, 
 
 The meal with grateful thanks we clos'd. 
 
 Then health a paper fcrowl difplay'd, 
 
 And then commands the other maid 
 
 Aloud to read what there was wrote, 
 
 And bade me with attention note 
 
 Each word She faid, me ceas'd. Ccnl 
 
 Thus then began, while I intent, 
 
 I 2
 
 ?6 EPISTLES- 
 
 In reverend filence heard the maid, 
 Who with a Heady voice then laid : 
 
 "WE, the attendants flill of poverty, 
 And often in the train of poetry, 
 To all men by thefe letters patent, 
 Declare you are a poet latent, 
 For you can live on bread and water, 
 And poets never mould feed fatter. 
 For if a poet once gets full, 
 ? Tis a fure fign he 's turning dull ; 
 Becaufe the Mufe will ne'er infpire, 
 A lump of flefh to touch the lyre. 
 No : fhe is pleas ? d to fee the bones, 
 Jutt thro' the fkin like rugged (tones ; 
 The flefh then ne'er retards the fpirit, 
 For till half flarv'd there's few have merit. 
 
 Wherefore know all men, Moir's old devil* 
 Whom God preferve from future evil, 
 Having now fcrawl'd fome thoufand verfes, 
 
 To clean, perhaps, fome dirty a s, 
 
 Deferves the name of Poet well, 
 For he in temperance does excel. 
 Wherefore we fign this affidavit, 
 Contentment, Health, and Temperance gave it. 
 To him that like an alewife's licence, 
 Tho' purchafed at more expence, 
 May give him power to fcribble on, 
 While there is earth, or wood, or ftone."
 
 EPISTLES. y t 
 
 Here ceas'd Content : With magic fkill 
 
 Then Temperance from the neighbouring fill, 
 
 A bowl of pureft water took, 
 
 Mine eyes me fprinkPd, and thus fpoke : 
 
 " To thee be future fcenes difplay'd, 
 
 This fluid thy dim fight (hall aid ; 
 
 And o'er futurity's dark veil, 
 
 Shall make thy ftrengthen'd eyes prevail. 
 
 There fhalt thou fee, in after times, 
 
 What mall betide thy darling rhymes. 
 
 If thou, by fame's loud trumpet fir'd, 
 
 Shalt print, in hopes to be admir'd." 
 
 She ceas'd. Before mine eyes appear'd, 
 
 A mighty pile of volumes, rear'd 
 
 Above each other in a garret, 
 
 Which I with wonder 'gan to Hare at. 
 
 When, lo ! who comes ? a grocer, fir, 
 
 What ! will the villain dare to ftir 
 
 My works ? and fhall the dirty trade, 
 
 To which by Fate's decree I'm bred, 
 
 Firft violate my facred page ? 
 
 Imrey, you mull excufe my rage, 
 
 My paffion I cannot reftrain. 
 
 Shall then the offspring of my brain, 
 
 Tho' for them I've been oft' reprov'd ? 
 
 Shall then my very beft belov'd 
 
 A grocer's greafy fingers tear, 
 
 And to his fhop unpunifh'd bear ?
 
 -8 EPISTLES. 
 
 Where, plac'd amid the houfehold fluff, 
 They'll ferve, alas ! to wrap up fnuff. 
 A bakehoufe next attracts mine eyes, 
 Where 'neath two faioaking mutton pyes, 
 I faw, O horrid ! thefe fame flrains, 
 Wherein my penfive Mule complains. 
 Of * * # * # * coldnefs, warm indeed, 
 Beneath two pyes for platters fpread. 
 Then enter'd to complete my woes, 
 A pair of barbers, drefs'd like beaux ; 
 Who, when the pyes they had fecur'd, 
 My haplefs rhymes they next immur'd 
 Within their pockets, but to mention 
 How them they us'd Ive no intention. 
 What need I their difgrace relate, 
 A flender wit may guefs their fate. 
 With grief I faw thofe lines defil'd, 
 To finifh which I fore had toil'd. 
 And, turning quick, I fllence broke, 
 And thus with indignation fpoke ? 
 " Alas ! I cry'd, is this my fate ? 
 I'll wifer be e'er 'tis too late. 
 Ne'er fliall my works be thus difgrac'd ; 
 Ne'er fliall they be in garret plac'd ; 
 Nor e'er appear beneath a pye, 
 To meet vile fcandal's fquinting eye. 
 But in my clofet fleep fecure, 
 Where they no rafcal's fpite endure.
 
 EPISTLES. 7 ? 
 
 Hold, Temp'rance cryM, be not fo rafh, 
 
 See'ft thou that heap of dufty trafh ? 
 
 I look'd. The offspring of my loins, 
 
 Againft my haplefs works combines. 
 
 Thofe manufcripts I held U) dear, 
 
 In leaves are fcatter'd far and near. 
 
 As if my very foul to fpite, 
 
 They're pipes and candles doom'd to light. 
 
 I fee my fon with carelels look, 
 
 While from my works a leaf he took ; 
 
 Without refpedt to 's father's fame, 
 
 Mod filthily he us'd the fame. 
 
 Then frown not, Imrey, at the thought, 
 
 Fortune thy Celia's name may blot. 
 
 Compell'd by chance, it yet may flirt, 
 
 Round fome vile link bedaub'd with d -t. 
 
 Nay, even my adored * * * * 's, 
 Whole form thy Celia's far excells, 
 In future times may wrap up fnulT> 
 And that, methinks, is bad enough. 
 Since Fate, then, verfe and cadi controuls, 
 Why fhould we fret and vex our fouls ? 
 For what can happen here below, 
 Where we mult many changes know. 
 Fortune not always wears a frown, 
 Her freak, perhaps, our wilhes crown I 
 Then let us grafp fure what we have, 
 And ufe what ihe in kindnefs gave.
 
 80 EPISTLES. 
 
 Thus to my fate, at lad refign'd, 
 I comforted my anxious mind ; 
 When, fudden, all the fancy 'd fcene, 
 Fled from my view as 't- ne'er had been. 
 
 P. S, Intentions, Imrey, may be good, 
 Bat 'tis by a&s they're understood ; 
 Which to myfelf comes appropos, 
 As by the fequel you fhall know. 
 I wrote this letter laft December, 
 If yet it's date I right remember, 
 And then I firmly did intend, 
 To fend it up to you, my friend ; 
 But as we* bards are always heedlefs, 
 Apologies for us are necdlefs, 
 Wherefore I'll fay with friendfhip's freedom, 
 Let thofe excufes make that need 'em.
 
 EPISTLES. 8 1 
 
 EPISTLE X. 
 
 TO MR JAMES RAIT AT ABERDEEN. 
 
 J)ear James, I am refolv'd to write, 
 Tho' 't were but out of very fpite j 
 T would feem you fear'd, left, with my rhyme, 
 I'd take you at fome unfit time. 
 I wifti 't may be fo mod fincerely, 
 And hope I'll make you fmart feverely. 
 May this then catch you 'mid a noveJ, 
 And from your fancy may it fhove all 
 The bright ideas you have read, 
 And jumble them thro'out your head. 
 R. Curfe on the fellow, is he mad ? 
 I thought he more politenefs had 
 Than vex me now, when, to my thought, 
 His letter will be dearly bought ; 
 If I take patience but to read it, 
 Let's fee it's length I fomewhat dread it. 
 He writes exprefsly but to teaze me, 
 I'll throw 't afide, tho', if 't don't pleafe me. 
 For with me 'tis a fixed rule, 
 To treat him as I'd treat a fool ; 
 
 K
 
 %i EPISTLES. 
 
 Who thus dares interrupt my leifure, 
 
 Yet for my pains gives me no pleafure. 
 
 Thefe poets ne'er are underftood, 
 
 When they are in their rhyming mood. 
 
 F. Hold, not fo faft, you'll catch the fpleen, 
 
 And that has feldom cured been 
 
 By any of the fcribbling tribe ; 
 
 Either for nought, or for a bribe. 
 
 Tho' of one ancient bard we read, 
 
 Who could have cur'd the fpleen, indeed ; 
 
 For when he tun'd the heavenly lyre, 
 
 Even flocks and flones it did infpire. 
 
 So that to merry dance they fall, 
 
 And dancing fo, they form'd the wall 
 
 Of Thebes, perifh'd now long fince, 
 
 What wonder, when 't cofl no expence. 
 
 For how could that be firm and found, 
 
 Which dane'd together with a bound ? 
 
 Without the aid of lime or mortar, 
 
 Or even the moulder of a porter. 
 
 Our modern mafons, now-a-days. 
 
 Ne'er try to build a houfe with lays ; 
 
 Nay, if they fung, 'tis fcarcely doubtful, 
 
 At mufic's found their houfes would fall. 
 
 For oft' their tropes and metaphors 
 
 Turn foolim poets out of doors. 
 
 And fometimes even the Mufe they curfe, 
 
 Becnufe me thief-like fleals their purfe ; 
 
 And makes them glad their heads to hide, 
 
 In garrets high, which fhew their pride.
 
 &P1STLES. B S 
 
 R. Mod true, indeed, each poet's proud. 
 F. Nay, whifper that, fpeak not fo loud. 
 R. But then, they're all extremely poor. 
 F. Lower, for heaven's fake, I'll abjure 
 All friendfhip with you if you fpeak fo. (fo k 
 R. Your reafon, Sir. F. It makes me fneak 
 This, Orpheus, as I faid above, 
 Who had fuch fhare of Phoebus' love ; 
 Many more wonders could have done, 
 Than animate dull flocks and ftone. 
 When lions roar'd, he whip'd his lyre out, 
 And by its found drew all their ire out ; 
 So that, like fportive kids, they pranc'd, 
 And round about the poet danc'd. 
 Some fay they lov'd him very dearly, 
 But that does not appear fo clearly ; 
 Eife, why fhould a vile ferpent bite 
 His fpoufe, and ill for good requite. 
 Had Orpheus been by, I ween, 
 His harp had cur'd the ferpent's fpleen ; 
 And fav'd his 'Dice's life, tho' fome doubt, 
 Whether he would have done 't or not, 
 As poets rarely love a wife, 
 Who oft' breeds both expence and ftrife. 
 R. I'll lofe my patience, pray you flop, 
 Is this the end, then, of my hope : 
 Is this a letter ? If it be, 
 It was not, lure, delign'd for me, 
 K 2
 
 84 EPISTLES. 
 
 What ! tell me Orpheus built a city 
 And then to be fo monftrous witty, 
 Bout taming lions, and all that, 
 What fignifies to me fuch chat. 
 I never thought my deareft Will 
 Could ever have been half fo dull ; 
 Efpecially when he wrote to me ; 
 I fomewhat doubt if this is he, 
 Let's fee the write, faith I'm not fure 
 Compare it with the lignature. 
 Yes, now I think on 't, it is he, 
 He's alter'd tince he crofs'd the fea ; 
 Tho' by my faith, it's to the worfe, 
 I'm forry I am forc'd to curfe. 
 However, Sir, tho' you abufe 
 My patience, much I'll you excufe. 
 Proceed. F. To write, do you mean Jack ? 
 Why, then, have at you, for I'll talk, 
 I warrant you, till you {hall tire, 
 And at my length of tongue admire. 
 Well, now I really think 'tis time, 
 To tell you where I live in rhyme : 
 In Edinburgh my lot is call:, 
 I'm anchor'd there, I think, at laft ; 
 Tho' troth not in a pleafant flation, 
 But much againft my inclination. 
 Nought here conduces to improve 
 My fixed hate, or change 't to love j
 
 EPISTLES. $5 
 
 For here I fuffer every evil, 
 
 And am become a printer's Devil. f 
 
 R. Hold, my dear friend, and pray relate, 
 
 What funk you to fuch abject fate. 
 
 F. Well James, I'll tell the truth ; indeed* 
 
 It was my own poor filly head, 
 
 Which, puff'd up with ideal glory, 
 
 Gave credit to an idle ftory ; 
 
 And rafhly did a wretch believe, 
 
 Who bafely meant me to decieve. 
 
 I left my bufinefs, clos'd my fhop, 
 
 Gave up for fancy'd folid hope ; 
 
 Left Aberdeen with pride elate, 
 
 But found my blunder, tho' too late. 
 
 Then round Edina's llreets I wander'd, 
 
 Where for my folly I was flander'd. 
 
 With fruitlefs toil at laft being worn, 
 
 Homeward, defponding, I return ; 
 
 But fhip'd again. I backward trode, 
 
 Unwillingly the fame vile road. 
 
 To generous Moir I then apply'd, 
 
 Who, as he could, my wants fupply'd 5 
 
 And to prevent a greater evil, 
 
 Gave me the honour' d poll of Devil. 
 
 And now, Tve little more to fay, 
 But juft conclude, as beft I may ; 
 And as my letter's to a friend, 
 With Friendlhip's praife I mean to end. 
 
 f The joungeft apprentice to a printer is generally termed the Devil. 
 
 See Swift.
 
 86 EPISTLES. 
 
 Friendship's the balm of flormy life, 
 
 It foothes each care, and calms each ftrife ; 
 
 And when it takes a fofter name, 
 
 The paffion you will find 's the fame. 
 
 At leaft, when t occupies a mind, 
 
 By virtue's power from vice refin'd ; 
 
 By luft defil'd, tho' love may feem, 
 
 Virtue exalts it to efleem, 
 
 Which friendfhip is, tho' then difplay'd, 
 
 Between the lover and his maid. 
 
 But when it glows from man to man, 
 
 'Tis then it follows rcalon's plan ; 
 
 When love and virtue are combin'd, 
 
 To pour its influence on the mind, 
 
 It makes completely blefs'd the friends, 
 
 O'er whom its gentle fway extends. 
 
 In each extreme of joy and woe, 
 
 From friendfhip folid comforts flow ; 
 
 By which, tho' rack'd with pain, the mind 
 
 To its hard fate may prove refignd. 
 
 And when with joy and pleafure crown'd, 
 
 Joy will from friend to friend rebound 
 
 With double force, as from the glafs, 
 
 Reflected light more luftre has. 
 
 May friendfhip then our hearts combine, 
 
 And mutual flow from your's to mine ; 
 
 From mine to yours again return, 
 
 That both our hearts alike may burn I
 
 MISCELLANIES.
 
 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 ON KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 Were mar. to live, coeval with the fun, 
 
 The patriarch pupil would be learning flill- Yoono. 
 
 JLend me thine aid, O all directing power ! 
 Affift my feeble mind, and guide my thoughts, 
 O thou who point'ft to virtue's flowery path, 
 And leadfl; mankind thro' labyrinths of vice ! 
 Enlighten thou my mind, and gild my fong ; 
 Raife bright ideas in my labouring breaft. 
 Point where thy filter Virtue fmiling ftands, 
 Her arms extending, to embrace mankind. 
 Defcend, fair Wifdom, occupy my mind, 
 And teach me how to fing thy wondrous praife. 
 Freed from his fetters, now th' exulting youth 
 Springs on the world to tafle its promis'd blifs \ 
 With fervent fpirits fir'd, and giddy brain, 
 Thoughtlefs he plunges 'mid the fcenes of life. 
 In that gay feafon, when the boiling blood, 
 
 L
 
 go MISCELLANIES. 
 
 And airy fancy lead the mind aftray,. 
 The fenfual part prevails, and godlike reafon 
 Is lulPd afleep by Pleafure's Toothing (train. 
 Yet oft (he whifpers in our ears, " Beware, 
 Nor tafte thofe raptures I can ne'er approve ; 
 For interdicted joys (hall change to pains, 
 And thro' your throbing heart moot bitter pangs.' 
 But thefe low murmurs, drown'd by riot's din, 
 Ne'er make impreffion on the thoughtlefs youth : 
 Eager he roves thro' each new fcene of joy, 
 Ne'er fatiated, dill yawning (till for more, 
 Still fighing, (till enjoying, flill unblefs'd. 
 Hope, with a fteady eye, expecting (lands, 
 From prefent bad foreboding future good. 
 At laft Experience comes, with four diftruft : 
 Thefe tell him, that thofe vanities of life 
 Are far unworthy an immortal foul : 
 Added to thefe, the flight of forty years 
 His mounting blood has cool'd, himfelf he fees 
 Juft in the jaws of ruin and defpair, 
 And (hudders at the dangers he has 'fcap'd. 
 As fome bafe villain, fneiter'd in the guife 
 Of well difiembl'd friendlhip, ftabs our peace ; 
 Or as the lion, ruining from his den, 
 Midft unexpecting flocks deftruction fpreads. 
 So fpecious joys, ma(k'd in a fair difguife, 
 When knowledge (trips them of their gaudy mew,
 
 MISCELLANIES. 91 
 
 Shall turn, and fting with treble rage our hearts, 
 As, lefs expected, more fevere the blow. 
 
 Whether with fentimental eye we view 
 The fports of childhood, or the fcenes of youth ; 
 Or when ripe manhood, chear'd by Reafon's ray, 
 Spreads full perfection, like the fummer fun ; 
 Or when with feeble tottering fteps we tread, 
 And the long lapfe of eighty rolling years 
 Has crown'd our reverend heads with hoary grey* 
 Unftrung our finews, weaken'd every power, 
 Darken'd the fparkling glories of our eye, 
 And fcarce our feeble jaws perform their talk. 
 Even when the flight of eighty years is paft, 
 They find us children, and they leave us fo ; 
 And when fwift time has filver'd all our hairs, 
 Half Knowledge' mighty page remains unread. 
 
 LulPd in his cradle, by th' officious nurfe, 
 The child fleeps found, nor heeds the cares of life, 
 And when the hours of foft repofe are o'er^ 
 Some gaudy play thing chears his infant mind, 
 And raifes dimpl'd fmiles upon his cheek. 
 Now, by degrees, he mounts to ardent youth, 
 When boiling blood and paffion urge him on, 
 And pleafure lures him to her foft embrace. 
 Young reafon fleeps, as yet thought immature, 
 Buried in fancy's maze, forgets her power, 
 And (lumbers on the down of fenfual blifs* 
 La
 
 9* MISCELLANIES. 
 
 Chief, fmiling Love, and laurel'd Fame, allure 
 Youth's giddy mind : on thefe they furious rufh, 
 Unthinking of the dangers muft be paft, 
 E'er they can gain the foft embrace of love, 
 Or wear the laurel crown Apollo gives. 
 For thefe too oft' we forfeit fweet repofe, 
 The one difdain, pride, modefty refufe ; 
 The other feldom is true merit's prize, (clime, 
 
 Say, heavenly Mufe, on what thrice happy 
 Firft fpread fair Science her enlivening beam ? 
 Dimly at firft upon the mind me mines, 
 Confus'd and clouded like the morning fun ; 
 Like him, when rifen, her glory mines confefs'd, 
 O'er every nation fliedding light and joy, 
 And humanizing the wild favage heart : 
 To all the foft concerns of life flie bends 
 A careful eye, fhe rules the human foul, 
 And bids bright order from confufion rife. 
 
 When newly fafhion'd from his Maker's hand, 
 Man, pure and innocent, was plac'd on earth, 
 By Gcd himfelf into his mind infus'd 
 Was all the knowledge which his (late requir'd. 
 But when, by difobedience, he incurr'd 
 The rage of that all potent hand, which form'd 
 Not only hir.i but all the univerfe, (gloom 
 
 Scarce could the ray of knowledge pierce the 
 Which, by foul fin, around the mind wasthrown : 
 Now, thro' the cloud of ignorance he toils,
 
 MISCELLANIES. 93 
 
 And feldom finds one fteady ray of light, 
 To guide his painful fearch in queft cf truth. 
 
 Darken'd and clouded by the foolifh dreams, 
 Of fuperftition's wild fantaftic brain; 
 By flow degrees does heavenly knowledge dawn 
 On man's enraptur'd mind, and (hews him all 
 The beauteous chain which links the univerfe ; 
 Connects each different fpecies with the reft, 
 Affixes bounds to each rough element, 
 And of thefe numerous parts one fyflem makes. 
 So, in fome well pois'd government we fee 
 Nor rich, nor poor, ufurp each other's rights ; 
 But all agreeing, form one fteady whole, 
 And each is anxious for the public weal, 
 Becaufe the public weal promotes his own. 
 Thus, even Self, the meaneft principle 
 Which ever actuates the human mind, 
 By the wife conduct of fome worthy fage, 
 Extends beyond the ordinary bounds, 
 And grafps the blifs of all the human race. 
 
 Where feven mouth'd Nilus from the parched 
 hills 
 Of Ethiopia, pours his flimy flood, 
 And fertilizes the Egyptian plains, 
 A people live ; in antient times renown'd 
 For all the finer arts of human life. (plains, 
 
 From their blefs'd clime, and from Phenicia's 
 Greece firft receiv'd the foftening touch of art ;
 
 94 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 At whofe all potent touch their minds reviv'd, 
 Unwonted force difplay'd, and pierc'dthe gloom, 
 The horrid gloom, with ignorance furcharg'd, 
 Which o'er thefe darken'd ages fullen hung. 
 Late, unacquainted with the fimpleft laws 
 Which Nature dictates to the human mind, 
 Like brutes they liv'd, and brutal all their joys. 
 But when bright Science, on their favage minds, 
 Pour'd her enlivening beam, and rous'd their 
 
 powers, 
 Reafon awak'd, exerts his active force, 
 And with keen energy tranfpierc'd the cloud 
 Which dim'd the glories of her heavenly beam ; 
 And, tho' to earth confin'd, her noble light 
 Soften'd the manners of the barbarous age, 
 And bade each focial virtue rife to view, 
 And lend a relifh to each honeft joy. 
 By her juft empire o'er the human mind, 
 She curbs the fiery paffions of mankind, 
 And polimes the rude barbarian's foul. 
 
 Now from wild rocks fee (lately cities rife ! 
 See palaces and lofty temples built, 
 Inrich'd with flaming metals from the mine, 
 Wrought with the nicefl hand of human art. 
 See the rough rock, by Sculpture's hand fubdu'd, 
 Melts into life furpriz'd fpectators ftand, 
 And view of Science the amazing power ! 
 See where the painter bids the canvas glow,
 
 MISCELLANIES. 95 
 
 While from his pencil new creations rife ! 
 Behold, how, by the force of light and fhade, 
 The finifh'd landfcape rifes to the view, 
 As firft from Chaos this bright world arofe ! 
 Here, airy Fancy, rul'd by niceft Talte > 
 Judges of juft proportion, fcans the whole, 
 By Art's fix'd rules if beauty may be fcan'd. 
 
 Following her lifter's fteps, the ardent Mufe 
 In her foft numbers paints the rural fcene ; 
 Or fings the horrors of the martial field, 
 Where, cloath'd in blood, the grizly power of 
 
 Death, 
 Stalks horrible, and grins a ghajlly J "mile. 
 Or elfe, perhaps, fhe pens the comic fcene, 
 And, with the pointed lafh of fatire arm'd, 
 Scourges each vice and folly from the land ; 
 Of each infectious weed fhe clears the mind ; 
 Then bids mild Virtue reaffume the reins, 
 And curb each raging paffion by her fway. 
 Next, to the melancholy founds of woe, 
 She tunes her lyre, and, touching the foft firings, 
 She bids each melting eye o'erflow with tears ; 
 Awakes the tender feelings of the foul, 
 To virtuous deeds, aroufes every power, 
 And calls the tear of generous pity forth. 
 To other themes, perhaps, fhe fwells her note : 
 With fix'd attention fland the liftening youth, 
 To mark the various paths where buftling crowds
 
 96 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 Mount up the icy rock, where, plac'd on high, 
 The gilded fpires of Fame's bright temple rife. 
 She fhews the prize which worthy merit gains, 
 And fires the panting youth to brave the toil \ 
 Shews, where, immortal on recording brafs, 
 Or monumental marble, fix'd remain 
 The fame of antient heroes, now no more, 
 And baffle the devouring rage of time. 
 Behold the ftudious fage informs the youth, 
 And trains his tender mind to noble deeds ; 
 Delightful tafk ! to roufe the youthful foul, 
 To point the path where glory may be won, 
 And Ihew where laurel'd merit ftands on high. 
 Thro' all the wildering maze to lead the mind, 
 Where fcientific knowledge gradual ope's 
 Her treafures to the clofe enquirer's eye. 
 
 Such were the days when Greece in glory 
 fhone, 
 And Liberty her children's hearts infpir'd, 
 By her encourag'd, Commerce fpread her fail, 
 And dar'd the dangers of the ftormy main. 
 But when the baneful flow of pois'nous wealth, 
 Still more effectual than the Perlian arms, 
 Beat down the rampart Virtue's toil had rear'd, 
 And foften'd every mind to fenfual joy ; 
 Then Liberty, no more fupported, fell, 
 And fervile Haves cring'd to each haughty lord. :
 
 MISCELLANIES. 9 ? 
 
 Til), by degrees, the mouldering empire funk 
 Down to the dark abyfs, where now it lies. 
 
 As one who, long far from his darling home 
 Has devious ftray'd, fo I returning find, 
 After the long excurfion which my fong 
 Thro' antient times has made, thefe blefiings all 
 Which Science on the human mind confers, 
 Concenter'd in my native country fmile, 
 And make her barren hills appear more fair 
 Than is the faireft plain, where Afian kings, 
 And fuperftition, bear tyrannic fway. 
 This is thy gift, fair Liberty, whofe power 
 Can bid the barren wade with verdure fmile ; 
 Thee, only thee, fair Science courts, and thee 
 The Mufe ftill follows with unweari'd toil. 
 May Britain, ftill by thy fweet influence blefs'd, 
 Ne'er feel defpotic power's wide wafting hand ; 
 May ne'er ambition, by her dazling bait, 
 From thy mild rule allure her fons to ftray. 
 Too much, alas ! I fear thy power 's unhing'd 
 By gaudy pleafure, fafhion's idle dance, 
 And fly corruption's fecret fapping hand. 
 
 At Freedom's voice arous'd, even now the Gaul 
 Bids Lewis tremble on his throne of ftate j 
 Around him fee befieging citizens 
 Throw ofTreftraint, and, with tumultuous rage, 
 The natural privilege of man demand j 
 
 M
 
 o8 MISCELLANIES, 
 
 Their liberty demand ; and, with ftern ire, 
 Their vengeance on the fated wretch denounce. 
 Unjuit defpotic fway who dares fupport ! 
 With wild unnatural rage, when Britain late 
 Her thriving children on a foreign fhore, 
 With hard oppreffive hand unjuftly rul'd 
 The politic fly Frenchman interfer'd. 
 The raging deep long had Britannia rul'd, 
 With pining jealoufy her power he view'd ; 
 By jealoufy, the jaundice of the foul, 
 And policy's contracted felfifh views ; 
 Againft Britannia's peace a powerful league 
 Th' ungrateful Frenchman form'd, whofe dire 
 
 effeft 
 Tore from her mother's breafi a darling child. 
 S|ee, now Fate punifhes the wretch who dar'd 
 'Mid friends and brothers fpread the direful feeds 
 Of difcord and diffention OLo ! his fields, 
 And thronging cities, now refound the cries 
 Of war and death ; and fierce Sedition rears, 
 Amid his forts and palaces, his creft. 
 Of this enough. Now let me turn mine eyes, 
 And view the numerous band, whofe worthy 
 
 hearts 
 Spread light and knowledge o'er their native land. 
 
 Firft in the. crowd, to my admiring eyes, 
 Nature and mild religion Harvey bring. 
 See, where in contemplation's grove he ftrays,
 
 MISCELLANIES. 99 
 
 Grafp'd in his arms the facred book appears, 
 From which true knowledge, true religion, flow. 
 See, how attentive o'er each valu'd leaf 
 His eye he calls, then, fwift by fancy fir'd, 
 From nature's volume proves each truth he reads, 
 And fmooths religion with foft pleafure's fmile. 
 
 See plealing Adpison, whofe daily page 
 Scorns not each feeming trifle to exalt ; 
 Within whofe ample mind fuch various ftore 
 Of fcience, moral truth, and harmlefs wit, 
 Were lodg'd. To latefl times his works fhall give 
 Full many a ufeful leflbn \ and his name 
 In fix'd remembrance on each worthy heart 
 Engrav'd {hall live ; and Britain ftill fhall boaft 
 She in her bofom nurs'd fo great a man ! 
 
 Fix'd in the folemn mood of ferious thought, 
 Bright Immortality and Reafon next 
 Into my view conduct the worthy Young ; 
 The friend of man. Who, thro' the various paths ? 
 The winding paths of fophiftry and vice, 
 Trac'd infidelity, and chas'd her forth 
 As th' unweary'd hound purfues the hare ; 
 Till, forc'd from every covert, fpent and tir'd, 
 She defp'rate yields, and waits the coming death. 
 Prov'd by our nature, by each paflion's courfe, 
 Annihilation was a fpurious birth, 
 A monjlrous thought unborn, till virtue dier.f 
 M 2 
 
 f Young.
 
 ioo MISCELLANIES. 
 
 Solemn and flow, with facred laurels crownM, 
 And led by feraphs, Milton next appears ; 
 By heaven infpir'd, our mournful fall he lings 
 In wondrous verfe, unequall'd even by him 
 Whofe fon g the wrath of Peleus' fon difplays. 
 
 Led by the four who circle heaven and earth,* 
 In ftill revolving and ftill pleafing change, 
 And guarded by the fair majeftic powers 
 Of fteadfaft liberty and reafon's child f , 
 See modeft Thomson to my view appears, 
 Soft, fmiling, fweet, and amiably mild 
 His decent Mufe. But fee, my favour'd Pope 
 His voice exalts, and blames my tardy pen, 
 Which dares fo long forget the homage due 
 To him who fir'd my infant Mufe, and bade 
 The willing numbers wait upon my call. 
 The bell, the greateft praife he can receive, 
 Or I can give, is his, he was a man. 
 
 With various laurels crown'd, fee Hayly comes, 
 From whofe kind Mufe flows many a ufeful rule. 
 The flights of epic fancy to direct, 
 And calm the rage into the mind infus'd 
 By invious fpleen, fell foe to human blifs. 
 
 To thefe, Imagination's bard fucceeds, (ftrains 
 Whofe Mufe th' unfetter'd mind for once re- 
 Defcribes th' idea, e'er the mind can form 
 The accents which exprefs it. Far and wide 
 
 The Seafons. t Morality.
 
 MISCELLANIES 101 
 
 Her flight directs, amid the pleafing fields 
 
 Of ever blooming fancy, and fublime 
 
 In airy regions, guided by the hand 
 
 Of powerful Nature, paints the various views 
 
 Which actuate the bufy mind of man. 
 
 Amid the hemifphere of learning bright, 
 Some of the (tars are thefe \ but who mall count 
 The numbers which remain. For me, mine eyes, 
 Tir'd with the luftre of thefe brightefl few, 
 To wifrYd for llumber clofe, my willing hand 
 The lyre refigns, and the o'er-weari'd Mufc 
 Gladly retires, and bids me yield my pen.
 
 102 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 DEATH, A POEM. 
 
 JL o dignify the trifles of their brain, 
 The Mufes heavenly aid whilft fome invoke : 
 Be it my tafk, in folemn verfe, to paint 
 The gloomy horrors which attendant wait 
 On Death, their king, whofe itill infatiate fey the 
 The young, the gay, the rich, the wife, cuts off. 
 
 Young as I am, my breaft has felt the fhock 
 His direful ftroke can give ; my fecond fire, 
 The dear, dear guardian of my infant years, 
 E'er yet his worth I knew, Death's ruthlefs arm 
 Snatch'd from my eager grafp, and ever hid 
 In the dark recefs of the gloomy grave. 
 
 Far, far away, amid the burning plains 
 Of Florida, while yet a child, my fire 
 From me, from his lov'd family, retir'd ! 
 But while an Uncle's fondnefs (till remain'd, 
 Scarce could we feel our lofs Death ! cruel 
 Death ! (join'd 
 
 How could you pierce that heart, where virtue* 
 With mild benevolence, ftill fmifd to view 
 The peace, the pleafure, of his fellow men. 
 But hold, my Mufe, the elegiac ftrain
 
 MISCELLANIES, J03 
 
 Departed virtue fcorns, her worth is grav'd 
 Deep in the mem'ry of all human kind. 
 The pompous column, and the buft, She fcorns, 
 And, confcious of her innate power to pleafe, 
 For deathlefs fame leans on herfelf alone. 
 
 Death, thou'rt the touch- (lone of all human 
 Virtue ! 
 If, with a cowardly, an unmanly fear 
 We fly thy ftroke, then 'tis, alas ! too certain 
 Some future ill our confcience bids us dread* 
 But if, with firmnefs, thy near approach 
 Unmov'd we can behold ; then are we fure 
 Self-approbation can alone fupport us 
 In that dread awful moment ! when thy dart 
 Has pierc'd our panting breaft, to feparate 
 Thefe dear companions, who fo long have liv'd 
 In perfect unity, in perfect peace. 
 Into the grave, as ufelefs lumber, drops 
 The fenfelefs carcafe ; and the foul fwift wings 
 Back to her great original, her flight. (turn 
 
 Thro' life's wild fcenes where'er I thoughtful 
 Far as my eye can reach, 'tis tumult all, 
 And maddtft oppofition ; foe meets foe 
 With difcord dire, and jarring interefts clam 
 Loud as thro' heaven's wide arch the thunders 
 
 roar, 
 O man ! vile man ! how long deceiv'd by vicej 
 With fenfelefs folly wilt thou devious ftray,
 
 104 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 In paths unpleafing to thy Maker's eye ? 
 Hear how he calls, invites thee to his breaft, 
 And offers cndlefs pleafures to thy grafp. 
 Thus by his prophets fpoke th' Eternal's voice . 
 " Come to my bofom, ye who loudly groan 
 " Beneath the burthen which tyrannic Jin 
 " Has o'er you whelm d, behold me ever glad, 
 " The worst, the bafest, of your race to fave.'' 
 And fliall mankind the gracious offer fpurn ? 
 Forbid it, virtue, gratitude, and love ! 
 
 Man, youngeft child of heaven, full often needs 
 To feel his father's kind afflictive rod, 
 Which wounds to heal, as the phyfician's probe 
 May pain the patient, while it aids his cure. 
 Did not afflictions, thro' life's chequerd fcene, 
 Walk with kind hand to warn us of our end ; 
 Man would forget he were to die at all, 
 And fcorn the terrors of the gloomy grave. 
 Hope, with contracted wing, no more would 
 
 mount 
 To the empyrean heaven for endlefs blifs ; 
 But, Hooping, match the empty joys of fenfe, 
 And quick contracting all her broad defires, 
 Sit down, contented with the fcanty joys 
 Which the vile empire of the brute confers. 
 
 See the warm youth, even in his rofy bloom, 
 When mounting blood and paflion fire his bread, 
 "Pierc'd by thy dart, drops cold and lifelefs down*
 
 MISCELLANIES. 105 
 
 And moulders in the murky filent grave. 
 Behold the beauteous maid, whofe rofy cheek 
 Charms and attracts the roving eye of youth ; 
 While fomething whifpers to her heaving breaft, 
 That Nature gave not her thefe foftening powers. 
 Her crimfon cheek, her ruby lip, in vain. 
 Even in the moment, when her raptur'd foul 
 Clings to the bofom of fome darling youth, 
 Death, with one cruel ftroke, forever blafts 
 Love's dawning blifs, and ftretches her a corfe, 
 A cold pale corfe, amid her weeping friends ! 
 
 To grafp her much lov'd fon, the mother fpreads 
 Her anxious arms, behold ! he faints, he dies ! 
 And ftiffens in the cold embrace of death ! 
 See, how to heaven fhe forrowing lifts her eyes ! 
 See, how her bofom heaves, thick beats her heart 
 With anguifb, with parental fondnefs torn ! 
 
 How vain, how fleeting, are the joys of time ! 
 How idly foolifh he who leans upon them 
 For fteady comfort, or for endlefs blifs ! 
 Behold, at one dire ftroke of death's huge fey the, 
 Fathers and lifters, friends and lovers, fall ! 
 
 N
 
 io6 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 THE BEAUTIES OF DEFORMITY- 
 
 JN ature, to thee myfelf I do addrefs ! 
 With humble reverence before thee bend, 
 And bid thee aid me in the advent'rous fong : 
 A theme to fame unknown I would purfue 
 The beauties of Deformity I fing ; 
 Thofe mental charms which make th' unfeemly 
 
 form 
 Seem fairer far than is the faireft maid : 
 For, as unfleady as the changeful moon, 
 And as uncertain as the doom of fate, 
 Are all the charms the haughty fair one boafls. 
 Some dire difeafe, fome accident unlook'd 
 The faireft earthly form may foon lay wafte, 
 And plant deformity where beauty fmil'd. 
 Then let not Uglinefs his fate bemoan, 
 Nor with a partial tongue curfe Nature's doom* 
 "Which (hap'd him of unwieldy lovelefs form, 
 With gummy legs and thighs, and fquinting eye. 
 Let him reflect, that tho' he wants thofe charms 
 Which ftill attraft the roving eye of love,
 
 MISCELLANIES. la? 
 
 Yet Science and the Mufes woo his heart, 
 And offer all their treafures to his grafp. 
 Their unexhaufted treafures fhall impart 
 Content and knowledge to his opening mind ; 
 And friendlhip fhall repay what love denies. 
 Hear, then, my friends, neglected tho' you are, 
 And thrown unfinifh'd by from Nature's hand ; 
 Neglect not, therefore, to illume your minds 
 With knowledge' piercing ray, pure reafon's light. 
 Let virtuous actions give your form the lie, 
 And fhew the beauty of your mental powers. 
 Tho' monftrous-like your grinning teeth appear < 
 Tho' a huge mountain fweli upon your back ; 
 Tho' from the upward line your legs depart, 
 And o'er your haggar'd vifage fmiles defpair ; 
 Tho' vulgar fools deem you of flinty heart, 
 Of black and murderous mind a wizard dire, 
 And to confuming flames, or hempen death, 
 Your worthlefs life confign : Yet let not this 
 Difcourage your adven'trous mind, to prove, 
 That even Uglinefs may Beauty fhame, 
 And fhew more charms than can the faireft maid^ 
 Letthofe who're (hap'dby nature's niceft hand* 
 Prepare the mirror to reflect their charms ; 
 Be it the ugly's care to form their minds, 
 To court each moral virtue to their bread ; 
 To hear the call which feeling pity give?, 
 N 2
 
 io8 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 And tafte humanity's ne'er failing blifs. 
 But left the finer feelings of your mind 
 Should be fermented by all powerful love, 
 Guard, guard your bofom 'gainft his rankling 
 
 dart ; 
 For when he enters, balmy peace (hall flee : 
 For know, the faircapricioufly vain, 
 Ne'er think you fubjec~t to his foftening power ; 
 With cruelty they'll tantalize your pangs, 
 They'll with your anxious forrows fport them- 
 
 felves, 
 And laugh at all you promife, all you vow. 
 The only cure which reafon can propofe, 
 The riling forrows of your mind to calm, 
 From love to call your anxious thoughts away, 
 Court friendfhip, for tho' love his fmile denies, 
 Yet your dear friend, regardlefs of your form, 
 With eager grafp fhall prefs you to his heart. 
 If mid the fons of Folly you fhould meet, 
 The pointing finger, or th' upturned lip 
 Of dire contempt, with equal fcorn reprefs 
 Their idle jeerings from your quiet breaft, 
 And let not boiling rage your peace moleft, 
 Nor in your mind tormenting paffions roufe. 
 
 Oft' have I wonder'd, why the gaping crowd 
 Gaz'd on a certain feature of my make, 
 And downward call their eyes, with curious look. 
 As if enquiring, whether they were form'd
 
 MISCELLANIES. ico 
 
 Aright by Nature's hand ? The truth is this : 
 The pillars of my frame, my legs, depart 
 From the ftrict perpendicular, and (land 
 Inclin'd a little out to either fide. 
 Smile not, my friends, while thus the truth I tell, 
 Even this fmall inconfiftency of form, 
 Has made me often raging bite my lip. 
 But now to other thoughts my mind I turn. 
 My late uncultur'd mind, unworthy deem'd 
 Of one fhort fleeting moment's care, tho' now, 
 As a dry fponge from every cranny fucks 
 The liquid element, fo-now my foul 
 Pants after knowledge with unweari'd toil. 
 And oft' fhe curfes Love's infidious wiles, 
 Which clog her flight, and, as the mefhy net 
 Draws from their element the finny race ; 
 So Love from knowledge would my mind allure, 
 And bid me Folly court, her fmile to gain. 
 Her fmile, how vain to me, if Virtue frown, 
 And o'er my guilty head her arm extend, 
 Cloath'd in the terrors of almighty Jove. 
 
 Why do I reafon thus ? why thus difturb, 
 The quiet which fo late my mind poffefs'd ? 
 A form like mine the fair can never love ; 
 A form which, all geomatry apart, 
 The worft of critics could not lovely call. 
 
 Then let me follow that which wooes my heart. 
 Let Science and the Mules' love fupplant,
 
 1 1 o MISCELLANIES. 
 
 And from my boibm chafe his painful joys, 
 So mail my mind fubftantial blifs attain, 
 Nor longer for the fubftance hunt the fhade ; 
 Then calm Content each ranklingcarefhallfooth. 
 And mild Benevolence my days fhall blifs, 
 And Friendfhip fold me in his faithful arms.
 
 MISCELLANIES m 
 
 PARAPHRASE. 
 
 THE BOOK OF JOB. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 O thou my foul infpire, 
 
 Who touch'd Ifaiah's hallow'd lips with fire. Pote. 
 
 JtlAiL ! facred book, with heavenly wifdom 
 
 fraught ! 
 Hail ! holy Job, by fore afflictions taught ! 
 Thee future times revere, and hopeful pour 
 Thy prayer of patience on th' afflicted hour. 
 The favour'd Eaft beheld thy fhining worth, 
 And blefs'd the hour which fmil'd upon thy birth. 
 His princely wealth more princely virtues grace 
 The poor opprefs'd were gladen'd by his face ; 
 With wealth and wifdom blefs'd beyond com- 
 pare, 
 Seven fons, all graceful, and three daughters, fair, 
 Rejoic'd his hopes, and crown'd his profp'rous 
 
 ftate, 
 With all which could the human bread elate.
 
 i2 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 His fpacious folds contain feven thoufand fheep ; 
 
 Three thoufand camels his large (tables keep y 
 
 Five hundred yoke of oxen plough'd his field ; 
 
 hundred alTes yearly colts did yield ; 
 
 n Uza's land than he no greater boafts, 
 
 hofetruft repos'd upon the Lord of Hods. 
 
 ^ lis fons, by turns, fupply'd the chearful feafls, 
 While mirth and joy infpire their youthful breads* 
 His daughters, too, their brothers feafls adorn, 
 Which ftill return'd with each returning morn. 
 But holy Job, impell'd with pious cares, 
 Each morn th' atoning facrifice prepares ; 
 Left heedlefs youth, in heat of wine had done 
 Many offences 'gainft the Holy One. 
 Thus all his children fanctified he 
 Before the Lord, each day, continually. 
 Hail ! holy man, beloved of thy God, 
 Tho' deftin'd now a while to bear the rod, 
 By mitigation of our common foe : 
 But fear not, Job, no farther can he go 
 Than is permitted by the Lord, thy friend, 
 Wherefore, believe, and hold out to the end. 
 Thy jfpotlefs life with envy Satan faw ; 
 Thy ftridt obedience to God's holy law 
 Torments his mind ; he longs to fee thee fall, 
 To rob thee of thy virtue and thy all ; 
 With this intent, he fcreens himfelf within 
 Th' affembly of the faints, and enters in
 
 MISCELLANIES. 113 
 
 Before Jehovah. Whofe all fearching eye 
 The foe beheld, and all his dark envy ; (foe ?" 
 And awful afk'd, " Whence cam'ft thou, daring 
 The fiend reply'd, " from walking to and fro' 
 Within the earth, thro' many various lands." 
 " And haft thou then," th' Almighty next de- 
 mands, 
 " Haft thou confidered my fervant Job, 
 A purer man inhabits not the globe ; 
 Whole upright foul, attaCh'd to me alone, 
 With juft difdain each guilty path doth fhun." 
 
 Satan, embolden'd, did again reply : 
 " If Job doth ferve the Lord, 'tis policy {nought ? 
 Which actuates him ; doth Job ferve thee for 
 Are not his fervices all dearly bought ? 
 Withbleffings which, with lib'ral hand are given 
 The fatnefs of the earth, the dew of heaven. 
 Thou blefTed haft the working of his hand, 
 His fubftance is increas'd within the land ; 
 If thou continu'ft fuch unbounded love, 
 No doubt he will a zealous fervant prove. 
 But now act the reverfe, let fov'reign power 
 Give Ruin a commiffion to devour 
 All that he has, with unrefifted fway, 
 His children, goods, and cattle, in one day ;. 
 Then fee if he'll integrity embrace ? 
 No: rather he will curfe thee to thy face." 
 
 O
 
 j i 4 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 So fpake the fubtile enemy, but he, 
 
 Th' Omnifcient God, beheld his policy ; 
 
 And did contemn it ; for his mighty mind, 
 
 Boundlefs in wifdom, never yet confin'd 
 
 The richeft tokeas of his love and grace 
 
 Within the limits and the narrow fpace 
 
 Of worldly greatnefs. Thou, Almighty Lord ! 
 
 Who to my foul each comfort doft afford, 
 
 Help me to own thy power with pious awe, 
 
 To learn the wonders of thy holy law: 
 
 On me, the meaneft of the human race, 
 
 Be pleas'd, O Lord, to pour thy fpecial grace ; 
 
 That I with Job may be allow'd to fee, (me : 
 
 Thy heart is kind, even when thou frown'ft on 
 
 In tribulation then mall I rejoice, 
 
 And in the rod mall hear a father's voice. 
 
 Say, now my Mufe, what anfwer the Moft High 
 Was pleas'd to give th' accufer's calumny. 
 " Go," faid th' Almighty Ruler, " thou haft leave, 
 By my fupreme permiflion, to bereave 
 Job of his lubftancc, but hear my command, 
 "Upon himfelf fee thou lay'ft not thy hand." 
 Thus much obtain'd, with haughty ftep he turns 
 From th' Almighty's prefence; fiercer burns 
 His rage, than when a hungry wolf at morn 
 Sees a poor lamb, neglected and forlorn 
 By thofe who tend it ; eager he defcends 
 The craggy cliff, while in his thought he ends
 
 MISCELLANIES. 115 
 
 Its feeble life ; fo now, with direft rage, 
 He goes, the liklieft agents to engage 
 In this attempt. The Sabeans firft appear, 
 Eager for fpoil and flaughter ; without fear 
 They fall upon the fervants who attend 
 Job's cattle, and of them foon make an end ; 
 One did efcape, when all his brethren fell, 
 And thus to Job he told the piteous tale : 
 ' While with thy oxen we did plow thy field, 
 Such joy we had as rural fcenes do yield ; 
 Our hearts, unboding of the danger near, 
 Sudden to our aftonifh'd eyes appear 
 The Sabean troops, who on the cattle fell, 
 And I alone efcaped am to tell." 
 His words were fcarcely ended, when arrives 
 Another fervant, who alone furvives 
 A like difafter, he with tears began : 
 " Behold ! O Job, the only wretched man, 
 That's left of all thy ihepherds or thy flock ; 
 Which, while we tended, lo ! a dreadful Ihock 
 Of fire confum'd them, which from heaven fell, 
 I 'fcap'd alone, who this misfortune tell." 
 This mournful meflage fcarce was at an end, 
 When, lo ! another audience does attend ; 
 His faultering tongue reveal'd like dreadful new S 
 And thus to Job the doleful note renews : 
 O2
 
 
 n6 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 ** Ah ! Job, no more the pride of all the Earl 
 Are now thy camels, or thy houfehold beafis ; 
 Three bands of Chaldeans did befet thy field, 
 Superior force compelled us to yield ; 
 Thy camels they triumphant bore away, 
 And all thy fervants with the fword did flay \ 
 Had more efcap'd than I, I'd fure refafe 
 To bring unto thy ear th' unwelcome news." 
 Nor had he ended, when a fourth exprefs'd 
 A lofs which, like a fea, devour'd the reft. 
 ' This day, he faid, thy fons and daughters met, 
 With numerous fervants they the banquet fet 
 Thy own firft born was their bounteous hoft, 
 But ah ! too dear the entertainment colt. 
 For lo ! a whirlwind from the defert blew, 
 And at one blaft the palace overthrew ; 
 Under whofe ruins all thy fons lie flain, 
 And of thy fervants I alone remain I"
 
 MISCELLANIES. 117 
 
 A 
 
 PARAPHRASE 
 
 ON 
 
 THE BOOK OF JOB. 
 
 PART If. 
 
 Hope, the friend of the diflreft, 
 Came to my aid, and footh'd my troubl'd breaft. 
 
 When this o'erwhelming fpeech was at a clofe, 
 Straight from his feat afflicted Job arofe ; 
 His rev'rend head he fhav'd, and grieving, tore 
 The purple robe, which, as a prince, he wore. 
 With woe o'erwhelm'd, not fratntic, but profound 
 He proftrate fell, and worfhip'd on the ground. 
 Ceafe, O my foul ! he cry'd, nor dare complain, 
 God's ways arejuft, tho' nought with thee remain! 
 A helplefs naked infant was I born, 
 And naked to the earth I (hall return ; 
 1 ho' heaven had preferv'd to me my ftore, 
 I had enjoy'd it but a few days more ; 
 Till death, the leveller of all mankind, 
 Had call'd me hence, to leave it all behind.
 
 n8 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 No murmurs, then, mall fwell my afflicted foul, 
 'Tis good for me fuch tumults to controul, 
 And chearful yield to what my God thinks fit, 
 To take all from me, or take me from it ; 
 Pleas'd I refign, thy gracious hand gave all, 
 Blefs'd be that hand, whate'er to me befal. 
 
 Heroic patience ! O my foul attend 
 Th' inftructive leflbn ; rcverendly bend 
 Thy will, like his, to the fupreme decree, 
 And own, what God appoints, is beft for thee. 
 Behold the man whom mighty grace fuftains, 
 Unmov'd beneath the fhock of fate remains ; 
 Richer in virtue now the faint appears, 
 Than in the bloom of his moft profp'rous years. 
 This Satan faw, and now with fname beheld; 
 The holy man was matter of the field ; 
 Saw all th' effect of his malicious deeds, 
 Did only break the clods, and kill the weeds ; 
 While heaven- born virtue, like an ever-green, 
 'Mid wintry ftorms more verdant ft ill was feen. 
 One effort more the fiend is bent to try, 
 Refolv'd the faint mall cither yield or die. 
 
 Once more among the fons of God is feen 
 Th' accufer of the brethren ; malice, fpleen, 
 And rage, in dire extremes, torment his breaft, 
 And keep his hellim mind from finding reft. 
 Th' Omnifcient's eye beheld the daring foe, 
 The dark defign, the meditated blow
 
 MISCELLANIES. 119 
 
 He wifh'd for licence to inflict on one, 
 Who flood unmov'd 'neath all he yet had done. 
 With ju(l rebuke the King of Saints began : 
 '* Thou loft to all that's good, thou foe to man, 
 What new malicious plot now brings thee here ? 
 Why 'mid my children dar'ft thou thus appear ? 
 I fee thy malice, and thy fpite contemn, 
 Againft the beft, the moil upright of men, 
 My fervant Job 'gainft whom thy rage is vain, 
 For ftill he does his uprightnefs maintain ; 
 Nor dares to murmur once againft my laws, 
 T.ho' he oppreffed is without a caufe," 
 '* This fullcn patience," cry'd th' infulting foe, 
 "If thou permit'it, I foon fhall overthrow ; 
 He huggs his eafe, and while himfelf is fpar'd, 
 Children or fervants' woes he'll ne'er regard ; 
 .But vifit now himfelf with grievous pain, 
 Let neither bone nor flefh untouched remain ; 
 Then, if.with rev'rence he adore the hand 
 Which thus afflicts him, and unruftTd ftand 
 The fhock of fuch a trial, I muft then 
 Own Job to be the moft upright of men : 
 Yet much I fear, touch'd in this tender place, 
 Thy boafted faint will curfe thee to thy face." 
 
 Let fenfe be filent, reafon humbly bow 
 To thee, fuperior Faith, which only now, 
 Directed by th' Almighty's word, can fliew 
 A blefTed period to the good man's woe ;
 
 120 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 Thus patience, faith, and love, by fuffering try'd, 
 Shall ihine victorious, and confound thy pride, 
 Malicious foe ! whofe rage is all in vain, 
 Tho' given the utmoft limit of thy chain : 
 The Sov'reign Ruler grants thy lad demand, 
 And folemn fays, " my faint is in thy hand ; 
 Inflict thofe pains thou deem'ft the fatal teft 
 Of all the love which glows within his breads 
 But fpare his life, his life I fafely guard, 
 To keep on earth his bountiful reward." 
 
 Thus flufh'd with fuccefs, paft his utmoft view, 
 Streight on his prey the hellifh fury flew ; 
 On Job's devoted head the baneful peft 
 Fixes invet'rate ; no refpite, no reft, 
 To foothe his anguifh, can the fuff'rer find, 
 Or calm the recent forrows of his mind. 
 Convuls'd with pain, and loathfome to the view 
 O'er all his flefli the fretting ulcers flew ; 
 Unufual terrors feize his aching breaft, 
 His couch no longer brings him wonted reft ; 
 No cordial friend is near to foothe his grief, 
 Or bring to mind or body wifli'd relief.
 
 MISCELLANIES. Hi 
 
 PARAPHRASE. 
 
 ON 
 
 THE BOOK OF JOB. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 Duratc et vofmet rebus fervatc fecundis. 
 Endure and conquer, live for better fate; 
 
 Amid the aihes, fee th' afflicted faint 
 
 Now fits him down, with pain and forrow faint ; 
 
 JNay, even his wife, who fhould have brought 
 
 relief, 
 By evil counfel but augments his grief; 
 She bids him curfe His great, His mighty Name, 
 Who made the earth, who fix'd the (tarry frame ; 
 " By this,'' (he faid, " provoke th' Almighty's ire, 
 Then from thefeforrowsfhalt thou quick expire.' 5 
 Thus anfvver'd mild the man belov'd of God : 
 " Shall we repine beneath a father's rod ? 
 Or doubt of the Almighty's kind regard, 
 Who has for us heaven's endlefs joys prepar'd 
 
 P
 
 H2 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 Shall then our impious voice our God arraign ? 
 Becaufe cur lot is not exempt from pain ? 
 How feldom does that gracious hand chaftife, 
 How often is it ftretch'd mankind to blefs ? 
 Shall then a worm, whofe life is but a day, 
 With criticifm's eye God's acts furvey ?" 
 Thus fpoke the patient man. His friends, mean- 
 while, 
 Had heard the mifchiefs which to Job befel ; 
 Each took his way, hoping to bring relief, 
 At leaft to (hare it, if not eafe his grief, 
 But fuch a load of pain his body bore, 
 Their dear, their much lov'd friend, they knew 
 
 no more. 
 Seven times the fpace which meafures day and 
 
 night, 
 Silent they fate, opprefs'd with fuch a fight. 
 Job firft this filence broke, and thus he cry'd : 
 " How can weak fie fh fuch racking pain abide ? 
 Curfe on the day in which I faw the light, 
 May it be darker than the mades of night \ 
 Becaufe it gave me not an early tomb ; 
 Becaufe it fhut not up my mother's womb ; 
 Why did the foil'ring paps prevent my death ? 
 Why did the grizlyking not fnatch my breath ? 
 O grave ! why cam'ft thcu not, and open'd wide 
 Thy mouth, from thefe dire ills my foul to hide?
 
 MISCELLANIES. 123 
 
 Then had I refted, calm and quiet been, 
 
 And thefe afflictive days had never ieen. 
 
 In thy dark bed th' opprcfs'd no forrows feel, 
 
 No more obnoxious to the tyrant's fteel ; 
 
 The young, the old, the rich, the poor, are there, 
 
 Foes grafp each other, and their hate forbear." 
 
 Here ceas'd he ; and by turns his friends arofe, 
 If by their counfel they might cafe his woes ; 
 But all miftook, and thought that Job had don e 
 Some great offence againft the Holy One. 
 Their fharp reproofs do but augment his pains, 
 And of their conduct loudly he complains. 
 
 But now th' Almighty Father from his throne 
 Beheld afflicted Job. and heard his moan : 
 From mid the whirlwind thus the Lord began, 
 With awful voice ! " Appear now like a man ; 
 Fear not, 'tis I, thy God, even the Mcft High, 
 I will demand, and thou (halt make reply. 
 Say, what prefumptuous men are thefe, who dare 
 My ways to fcan, my purpofcs declare ? 
 Who by their folly darken what is clear, 
 And 'gainft my providence falfe witnefs bear. 
 But tell, where waft thou when the world I made? 
 Waft thou then prefent ? did I afk thine aid ? 
 To its dimenfions didft thou ftretch the line ? 
 Or, (lid thy word its corner {tone confine \
 
 j 24 MISCELLANIES, 
 
 Say, didft thou poife it mid the vacuous air ? 
 Or can thy feeble works with mine compare ? 
 When the gay morning ftars together fung, 
 And light from darknefs at my biding fprung. 
 Declare, who fix'd old Ocean in his bounds ? 
 What bars confine him, or what wall furrounds? 
 Art thou then able to command the main ? 
 And in their proper bed his waves reftrain ? 
 Stretch thy wide thought beyond the ftarry pole, 
 And try if thy weak mind can hold the whole 
 Of my amazing works ; o'er plains, o'er hills 
 Extend thy view, from ocean to the rills 
 Which water earth; there bird, beaft, fifh, behold 
 A thoufand various tribes, fome fpeck'd with gold; 
 Some whofe dread front, and threat'ning fiery 
 
 eyes, 
 The puny race of man with terror flies. 
 If, then, the creatures of my hand affright, 
 Thee, and thy race, who fhall withftand my 
 
 might ?" 
 Here ceas'd th' Almighty. Job his errors own'd; 
 Again relenting, God his fervant crown'd ; 
 Again, with plenty was his table heap'd ; 
 Again, in eafe he liv'd, in eafe he fleep'd ; 
 Increafe of treafure now th' Almighty Ihovver'd 
 Upon his faint, he double fubftance pour'd. 
 His friends condole him on his former pain, 
 And wifh he forrow ne'er may know again ;
 
 MISCELLANIES. 125 
 
 Each gives a princely prefent from his flore, 
 Till Job is richer than he was before. 
 Now doubled flocks his ample fold contains ; 
 Six thoufand camels pafture on his plains; 
 A thoufand yoke of oxen plow his field ; 
 A thoufand alfes yearly colts do yield ; 
 Seven graceful fons he has, three daughters fair y 
 With whom in all the Eait might none compare.
 
 126 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 JDegin, my Mufe, Tonsorius claims thy lay, 
 And bids thy verfe his matchlefs worth difplay ; 
 Crown with the luftre of bright gold, his name, 
 And give his virtues to eternal fame. 
 
 Long had he added to the chin new grace, 
 And blanch'd from black'ning hair each youth- 
 ful face ; 
 When now in labours of the razor old, 
 By daily fuccefs dill he turns more bold ; 
 The hairy harveft to his fickle yields ; 
 His razor mows the crop, and clears the fields ; 
 Nor unrewarded were his toil and pains, 
 Plenty of gold, his foul's firft wifh, he gains. 
 Now, anxious how this cafh he fhould employ, 
 Till it's difpos'd of he can tafte no joy ; 
 The thoughts of robbers even his fleep moleft, 
 And break, in hideous dreams, his balmy reft ; 
 At lafl, refolv'd to vilit Plautus' fhrine, 
 And afk th' affiitance of his power divine, 
 Tonsorius goes, while his bed cloaths inveft 
 His perfon, frugally and neatly dreft j
 
 MISCELLANIES. 12I 
 
 Upon his block a large bob wig he bore, 
 A grateful ofPring to the god of ore ; 
 And in his hand a paper duly fign'd, 
 That he no mifchief to his realm defign'd, 
 Much he revolves, the journey much, the coft, 
 And much, he fears, his labour will be loft ; 
 Refolv'd, at laft, to rifk, or lofs, or gain, 
 Into his hand he takes his trufty cane; 
 His fon behind, his loving wife before, 
 He gains the threfhold, and he ope's the door ; 
 But e'er his toils and travels are begun, 
 The careful father thus addrefs'd his fon : 
 
 "- Andrew, 1 ' he cry'd, " my deareft fon, come 
 here, 
 To the inftruclions of your (ire give ear ; 
 Whet well your razors, that from every chin, 
 They may the hair remove, nor hurt the fkin ; 
 Of that beware, for if with blood they're ftain'dt 
 By every fool our art ihall be difdain'd ; 
 And if a halfpenny reward your toil, 
 Still thank the giver, with a gracious fmile ; 
 But if a penny from his pocket come, 
 1 hen turn him round, and give his hair a comb: 
 For effenc'd greafe don't fuffer him to plead, 
 Nor grudge with flower to whiten all his head. 
 But if of copper he's perchance devoid, 
 And in his hand a fixpence is defcry'd,
 
 i28 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 Round the whole circle of your art then range. 
 But ne'er affront the gentleman with change ; 
 Freely on him a thoufand thanks beftow, 
 And fwear you've made him a moll perfect beau. 
 Cry, pleafe you, fir, to look but in the glafs. 
 His form will pleafe him, if he is an afs ; 
 Nay, tho' he's wife, his vanity will come, 
 Expell his reafon, and polfefs her room. 
 When thus he's tickl'd, 'tis your time to fay, 
 Pleafe, fir, to wafti my flaining fuds away ; 
 Then, at his nod, you fhould obfequious ftand; 
 With bafon and with towel in your hand ; 
 Be careful on his cloaths you leave no fpot ; 
 Brufh clean from powder all his funday's coat ; 
 Thus he well fatisfi'd fhall walk away, t 
 And think he fervice has for all his pay. 
 
 The Mufe denies the tedious tafk to tell, 
 What toils this modern traveller befel ; 
 Patient he bore them, and ftill forward prefs'd, 
 Nor, till the fhrine appeaf'd, would think of reft. 
 At laft arriv'd, before the god he bow'd, 
 And thus his errand to the power avow'd : 
 Here, at thy feet, a mortal fkill'd in hairs, 
 Prefents this humble gift his hand now bears ; 
 Its grateful warmth fhall footh thy aged head, 
 And o'er thy fcull a needful umbrage fpread. 
 Thus far I come, thy mighty power to prove, 
 Hopeful, in my behalf, that power to move - y
 
 MISCELLANIES. 129 
 
 To teach me how I may improve my (lore, 
 Safely to guard it, or to make it more," 
 He ceas'd. The god with fmiles his fuit approv'd, 
 Then call'd a minifter, whom much he lov'd ; 
 " To thee," he faid, " this mortal I commit, 
 Improve his judgment, and refine his wit; 
 Teach him thy arts, the (imple to beguile, 
 Difplay each fecret, and reveal each wile." 
 
 Inftrufted thus, Hypocrisy began, 
 Without referve, difplaying every plan : 
 "Liften Tonsorius : Is thy judgement flow, 
 To comprehend the force of outward fhew, 
 And feeming goodnefs ? The attractive grace, 
 Which may be gain'd by cant and fly grimace ? 
 A feeming faint can vulgar fouls deceive, 
 Still prompt to faith, Itill eager to believe ; 
 What tho' a few may pierce the (lender veil, 
 Thefe few may have the privilege to rail ; 
 Whilft thou with fuff'ring godnefs may'ft obferve 
 How ill thefe cenfures thou did'ft e'er deferve. 
 Thus veil'd with Virtue's cloak, be wife in time, 
 Nor pafs, without improvement, all your prime ;, 
 Securely cheat, fecurely fpread each fnare, 
 From which advantage you can hope to fhare ; 
 But thefe are vague directions, mark me well, 
 While I thy very wifh'd-for plan reveal.
 
 130 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 Thou know'ft a youth, thy nephew, tho' he be, 
 
 Kindred and friends are empty names to thee ; 
 
 Thyfelf, alone, of ail the world thou lov'ft, 
 
 If thou to me a trufty fcholar prov'ft. 
 
 Benevolence is by the world approv'd, 
 
 By many really and iincerely lov'd ; 
 
 Seem charitable, then, thy nephew take ; 
 
 From Hitching table him a merchant make. 
 
 Among thy friends difplay the pious act, 
 
 And every feeling of their fouls attact ; 
 
 So fliall their charity increafe thy ftock, 
 
 For they in crowds around his door fliall flock : 
 
 Be careful of the cam, but ftill pretend 
 
 Thou doll fo only to fecure thy friend, 
 
 Whofe youth, thou cry'ft, wants caution to improve 
 
 The goods of fortune ; therefore, as thy love 
 
 His thrift began, thy friendly eye mail watch, 
 
 To fix his profit, each occaiion catch. 
 
 Act thus, and fear not but the cheat will hold, 
 
 At leaft till thou haft gain'd a little gold ; 
 
 And when thy profits to the world are feen, 
 
 Behind a thrifty habit thou may'ft fcreen 
 
 The feeming evil, and the hurt evade, 
 
 Which defamation fixes on thy head ; 
 
 For mankind are felf-interefted ftill, 
 
 And in that caufe will paliate every ill." 
 
 ". What thanks, my friend," Tonsorius cry'd, 
 " are due, 
 For thefe kind leflbns I have heard from you :
 
 MISCELLANIES. 131 
 
 By equal gifts my gratitude I'll prove, 
 
 For your unbounded confidence and love." 
 
 " Hold," cry'd Hypocrify, " no gifts I claim, 
 
 Believe me, Sir, far other is my aim ; 
 
 Be faithful to thy friend, and teach mankind, 
 
 To own his laws, 'tis all he e'er defign'd." 
 
 "Then take my thanks," he faid, "Igivemyhand 
 
 That I fhall careful do what you command ; 
 
 If my example can enforce your laws, 
 
 I'll ne'er be wanting to promote your caufe ; 
 
 Farewell, my friend, I now mull homeward tread, 
 
 My parting bleffings reft upon your head, 
 
 Who thus have kindly deign'd to teach my mind 
 
 With certainty its utmoft wifh to find." 
 
 Thus having faid, Tonsorius backward turn'd, 
 
 With fancy'd wealth while all his bofom burn'd. 
 
 And now return'd, his loving fpoufe enquir'd, 
 
 If he had fped in what his foul defir'd ? 
 
 " Yes, I have fped," he cry'd, " and future times 
 
 Shall hear my ftory, handed down in rhymes, 
 
 Which to remoteft ages fhall convey 
 
 My name, immortal, by the Poet's lay." 
 
 Thus fpoke Tonsorius. Now he ftraight pro-" 
 
 ceeds 
 To prove his counfel, by the tell of deeds. 
 His nephew call'd, with caution firft he trys; 
 To fee which way his'inclination lies, 
 
 (2
 
 1 32 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 To Avay the youth an eafy talk he finds, 
 For interefl lias its force in youthful minds. 
 A fhop he took, and furnifh'd out with wares 5 
 Next, to his friends his pious end declares, 
 That for his nephew's helplefs youth he fpent 
 His caih with joy, and begg'd, his good intent 
 That they would fecond, and with friendfhip aid 
 The young beginner to augment his trade ; 
 If thus they'd act, he'd take the favour done, 
 With as much thankfulnefs as for his fon. 
 A while deceiv'd, a crowd frequents the fhop, 
 Tonsorius gains beyond his utmoft hope ; 
 At luft th' uncautious youth his ftate reveal'd, 
 So long, fo clofely from the world conceal'd. 
 Indignant now each cuftomer retires, 
 And all at once the boafted trade expires. 
 Tonsorius griev'd, but now his grief was vain, 
 He fhuts the fhop, and pockets up his gain.
 
 MISCELLANIES, 133 
 
 THE CONQUEST OF VANITY. 
 
 As in ray room, at eve', I penfive fate, 
 Mufmg o'er all the turns of human fate, 
 The clock ftruck twelve, with melancholy knell. 
 And o'er my brain a fudden flumber fell ; 
 Then wild imagination roving flies, 
 A wondrous fcene prefenting to mine eyes. 
 Me-thought advanc'd to me with lofty pace 
 Two female forms of the aetherial race ; 
 Both were in robes of pureft white array'd ; 
 Their rofy cheeks the bloom of youth difplay'd ; 
 Tho' both were charming far above our race, 
 Each was adorn'd with a peculiar grace. 
 The firft, in native dignity appear'd, (rever'd. 
 Each eye, which view'd her charms, their force 
 The other, drefs'd in glowing blufhes came, 
 With downcaft eyes, fhe rais'd a fofter flame. 
 Around the flrangers all earth's daughters crowd, 
 Whom thus the heavenly maid addrefs'd aloud ' 
 " I Virtue am, who from the realms above, 
 Have now defcended at the fuit of Love 
 My handmaid Mo deny my fteps attends, 
 Who, in my (lead, each female bofom tends.
 
 134 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 She to each virtuous joy your heart dire&s, 
 And in your bread each iatent vice detects ; 
 Exerts her power to bend each female foul, 
 And the wild fallies of your minds controul. 
 Late, Venus' fmiling boy, from Cypria's grove^ 
 Wing'd his fvvift flight unto the realms above, 
 Arriv'd to me, he did his griefs difclofe, 
 And pour'd into my bofom all his woes. 
 Thus fpoke the God. " You know, Almighty Jove, 
 Who heads the fenate of the gods above, 
 Gave me the empire o'er each female heart, 
 Which I maintain, by this all-potent dart. 
 But, late arriv'd on earth, two direful foes 
 Difpute my rule, and break my foft repofe ; 
 With wild ideas fill each female mind, 
 Which our united power before confin'd. 
 Your awful charms temper'd my ardent fire, 
 For you the nobleft paffion can infpire ; 
 But my weak flame, by vice is oft' defil'd, 
 And by the outward form I'm oft' beguil'd ; 
 'Tis my requeft you will to earth defcend, 
 And in my caufe with Vanity contend." 
 ' Much I diftruft your faithlefs words, I faid, 
 At this a red'ning blufh his face o'erfpread ; 
 But I will try what yet my charms can do, 
 Tho' I have been unus'd for aught to fue. 
 Then hear me, Daughters of Mankind, attend 
 For once, take counfel from a faithful friend ;
 
 MISCE 
 
 ISCELLANIES. 135 
 
 Say, is there ought in all the pomp of fhew 
 Can on a wrinkled face one charm beftow ? 
 Shall aged maidens hop like youthful fquirrels, 
 And totter thro' the town like wanton girls ? 
 With toothlefs gums, and paint heplafter'd face, 
 Affe5l the youthful fniile, the pert grimace ; 
 What wonder, then, if Flavia fcorns her aunt, 
 Who, at the age of lixty, is a rant ; 
 Boafts her warm blood, and crys, I'm living ftil], 
 And tho' the power is gone, fhe has the will. 
 Say, does a lady's bofom feem more fair, 
 All naked, fwelling to th' inclement air. 
 Or, when conceal' d by modeft lawns, it lies 
 Veil'd from the gaze of rude licentious eyes ? 
 Force ye not Nature, take what courfe ye will, 
 The ftubborn goddefs will reiift you (till ; 
 Say, will you then a certain good refufe, 
 And in its (lead a certain evil chufe ? 
 Be rul'd by Modefty, efpoufe my caufe, 
 Submit to me, and own jult Nature's laws ; 
 Or elfe, o'erpower'd by yonder gaudy dame, 
 You lofe your Virtue, lofe your fpotlefs fame, 
 And juftly fink to ruin and to fhame." 
 
 Scarce had fhe ended, when an airy maid, 
 In all the gaudy fhew of drefs array'd, 
 Approach'd the gazing multitude, and cry'd : 
 " How can you make that filly fool your guide,
 
 136 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 To rugged toil, and endlefs dangers bred? 
 She with her empty prate will turn your head. 
 But follow me, I lead to other fcenes, 
 'Tis 1 can bring you to thofe happy plains, 
 Which fhe, vain thing, has promifed to do ; 
 There, on you all I'll happinefs beftow ; 
 There, there, my empire lies, and there I rule : 
 Then, will you follow me, or that vain fool ? 
 O'er all the fpacious world I bear command, 
 And o'er each female mind in every land." 
 Here plaufive fhouts re-echo'd to the fkies, 
 Which Virtue only anfwer'd by her fighs ; 
 Some few of all the num'rous crowd remain'd 
 To her jufl: caufe by common fenfe retain'd.
 
 MISCELLANIES. 137 
 
 ON INTEMPERANCE. 
 
 O Virtue, heavenly fair, where art thou fled, 
 Where doft thou hide thy melancholy head ? 
 While thy rank foes degenerate man infpire, 
 With bafeft paffions they his bofom fire ; 
 While Luft and Luxury the world command, 
 And fpread their bane o'er all our withering land. 
 No more thy will man's alter'd bofom fwa^s, 
 But fenfual pleafure he alone obeys. 
 No more thy dictates pure his mind controul, 
 And calm the raging tempeft of his foul ; - 
 But Senfe and Luxury their charms unite, 
 And to their banquet, to their bed invk-e. j 
 Lur'd by their outward form, their p leafing gufr, 
 He fears not in their anus his foul to truft ; 
 Till thro' his weaken'd nerves their poifon flie?, 
 And, like a blafted plant, too foon he dies. 
 Snatch'd from the world, in youth's full bloom* 
 
 away, 
 His manly limbs, his once ftrong nerves decay. 
 To Virtue loft, the brute alone remains, 
 Compell'd to fmile, am.id a load of pains ; 
 
 ft
 
 133 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 While fierceft rage and pafiion rend his foul, 
 CompelI'd the dreadful tumult to controul ; 
 CompelI'd with artificial fmiles to fcreen, 
 The dread, the horror, of the inward fcene, 
 Where hope, defpair, and fenfe, with difcord dire, 
 His boiling reveriih blood with fury fire. 
 
 Bright Virtue aid me, and my breaft infpire, 
 While in thy cauie I, tune my willing lyre ; 
 While f the downward Hiding path difplay, 
 Where Senfe allures, and Paflion points the way 
 How few the number of the wealthy good, 
 Who have the fnares of Luxury withftgod ! 
 How few, what wealth confers, do not adore, 
 And worfhip Pleafure, tho' me is a whore ! 
 How few, thy cravings, Appetite, reprefs, 
 And know, that death attends upon txcefs ; 
 How few thy didates, lemperance, attend, 
 Tho', fure, thy rules to peace and pleafure tend. 
 On life's wild ocean tofs'd, the tender youth 
 With uncorrupted heart flill fighs for truth ; 
 Sighs Hill to find degenerate mankind chafe 
 The empty fmiles on Pleafure's changeful face ; 
 M jurns that fuch trifles charm the human mind, 
 While Virtue, Wifdom, both are left behind. 
 Thus, while untainted, his young mind remains. 
 Of man's erroneous conduct he complains ; 
 At laft, example flowly moulds his foul, 
 Then fenfual pleafure finds no more controul x
 
 MISCELLANIES. 139 
 
 Loud Will rebels within his raging breaft, 
 Still leans to Senfe the more, as more repreft ; 
 He now thinks Virtue a mere empty name, 
 And laughs at that which was before his aim ; 
 Self approbation he no more enjoys, 
 Bat follows with the crowd their baneful joys, 
 Whilft immature, pale age, difeafes dire, 
 To blaft his blooming youthful form confpire. 
 In this late age bright Virtue takes his ftand, 
 Upon the fartheft confines of our land ; 
 And, with a longing, lingering look, complains 
 That (lie is forc'd to leave earth's darling plains; 
 While, in her (lead, advancing hand in hand, 
 Falhion and Luxury ufurp command ; 
 Behold what daemons in their train appear ! 
 See what a horrid company draws near ! 
 And, as fagacious vultures from afar, 
 Rufh to the dreadful plain, where bloody war 
 Uuto their greedy maws prepares the prey ; 
 They, pleas'd, the riling heap of dead furvey. 
 So, near the throne of Luxury, rejoice 
 In man's fare ruin, pale Difeafe, and Vice ; 
 Fierce appetites within his breaft they roufe, 
 They bid the drunkard o'er his bowl caroufe. 
 When thus reduc'd and humbl'd all his foul, 
 When fetife no more feels Reafon's ftern controul, 
 R2
 
 14? MISCELLANIES. 
 
 Ihen in his bofom rages fierce defire, 
 Then, then, he feels vile lull's increafing fire } 
 With raging appetite he grafps the feaft, 
 Which gives him all the raptures of the bead. 
 
 Would you the active foul in fat entomb, 
 And bury reafon in a fwelling womb ? 
 With Hullio wifh the niceft pork to eat. 
 And at each table fill the largeft feat ; 
 Eat, till your belly fvvell'd to monftrous fize, 
 With portly bulk the gaping crowd furprize j 
 Jufl like a mayor, rofe from city feaft, 
 You meafure round the waift two yards at lead ; 
 Then let me hear you reafon, if you can, 
 Then let me fee you form one proper plan ; 
 Your foul fuccumbs beneath a load of flefh, 
 And dwells, enraptur'd, on fome lufcious dim ; 
 Ail other things, as trifles, ftill me holds, 
 And in her arms her deareft hog ihe folds. 
 You hold the maxim, " 'Tis to eat I live, 
 Meat, meat alone to me can pleafure give ; 
 Away with reafon, and her idle toys, 
 A modern feaft my foul alone enjoys ; 
 What tho' they tell me I invite much woe, 
 In gout and cramp to diilocate my toe ; 
 An hackney coach will bear my greater! weight, 
 Tho' my weak limbs can't carry fuch a freight.
 
 MISCELLANIES. j 4 i 
 
 LUXURY AND AVARICE. A FABLE. 
 
 VERSIFIED FROM THE SPECTATOR) VOL I. NUM. 55 
 
 1 wo cruel tyrants waged moral war, 
 Againft each other rueful arms they bare ; 
 Contending fierce upon the hoftile plain, 
 Which fhould the long contefted prize obtain , 
 For univerfal fway they mutual rag'd, 
 Nor could their horrid fury be afluag'd ; 
 Mirth, Pomp, and Fafhion, Luxury attend, 
 Pleafure and Plenty their affiftance lend. 
 Five fierce commanders, Avarice obey, 
 Beneath their lord they bear tyrannic fway ; 
 Loud Hunger, painful Induftry, and Care, 
 Pale and diforder'd Watchfulnefs was there, 
 A/id tatter'd Poverty his counfels fway'd, 
 Plenty's perfuafions Luxury obey'd ; (roanS 
 
 Thefe two, like Pitt or Cromwell, rul'd the 
 Full oft they counfel'd to their matter's ccfl. 
 'Twixt thefe divided, ibught the human race, 
 And fathers met their fons with ireful face ; 
 By rage and difcord, weapons were fupply'd, 
 With (tools and (licks, they juftl'd fide by fide >
 
 s 4 2 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 When thefe did fail, recourfe was had to fang?, 
 And wives full oft complain'd of direful pangs ; 
 But when the hufband prov'd the weaker hand, 
 The Amazonian female bore command, 
 Like Ruflia's Emprefs, abfolute her fway 
 Within her narrow province ; all obey 
 Her fierce commands, the menial train perform, 
 For well they know her tonuge and hands can 
 
 ftorm 
 The honed hufband, fettl'd in his chair, 
 Glad if his fair one brook'd his prefence there 
 Long fought they thus, till tir'd at laft they yiel 
 Nor more can Luxury fupport his fhield ; 
 Twixt their contending armies then was heard "1 
 The trumpet found ; a herald next appear'd, i- 
 His peaceful fcepcre 'twixt their arms he rear'd: J 
 Then mild he fpoke, " each army hear my words, 
 And fheathe for ever your contentious fwords 5 
 Thus my imperial lord defires me tell, 
 The peaceful tenor of his heavenly will ; 
 A treaty 'twixt each other we will fign, 
 And our chief minifter fhall each refign 
 Our royal favour they have much abus'd ; 
 To their vile purpofes our words have us'd ; 
 By flatt'ry fmooth'd the way into our heart, 
 Of our difpleafure they fhall feel the fmart ; 
 Henceforth be banifh'd from our royal fight, 
 To dungeons deep, no more to view the light,
 
 MISCELLANIES. 143 
 
 In peace and amity we now fhall meet, 
 And with each other live in concord Tweet.'* 
 
 This leagueconcluded, here they end their broils,, 
 And with each other fhare their mutual fpoils ; 
 The fhrivei'd mifer now affifts the beau, 
 Who does on w es and dice his wealth bellow.
 
 j 44 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 ON THREE REMARKABLE OCCURRENCES f- 
 
 V enus and Death divided have the prey ; 
 Grim Death one lovely maid has born away, 
 And, hid forever from Sol's chearing rays, 
 In the cold duil her charming form decays. 
 Acrofs the fea the winged veiTel flies, 
 And Ifabella bears to blifs the e>es 
 Of her expecting lover on the plains 
 Of India, whom adverfe fate detains ; 
 Th' impatient youth now beats with love's alarms* 
 And longs to prefs his charmer in his arms ; 
 Chids the fwift veffel's tedious delay, 
 Bids the rough wind and fea his will obey. 
 How wondrous are thy works, all powerful Love! 
 Who rul'ft in earth beneath, and heaven above. 
 In female bofoms wak'ft heroic fire, 
 To brave each danger doft their fou's infpire. 
 On the fair banks of Yathon's fweiling tide, 
 Where Aberdonia's Earl does refide ; 
 Their blazing torch behold the Hymen rear, 
 In nuptial tyes a youth and fair appear. 
 
 f The Death of one, the Exportation of another, and the Marriage of a. 
 thjrd, of the mofl celebrated Beauties of Aberdeen.
 
 MISCELLANIES. 145 
 
 Thrice happy pair, who Virtue's laws obey, 
 Nor yield to pafiion's fierce tyrannic fway ; 
 In one continu'd calm your years fhall glide, 
 With you fair Pleafure ever fhall abide ; 
 In fweet connubial love you'll pafs your days^ ' 
 While on you Venus fheds her fofteft rays.
 
 14.6 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 VERSES, 
 
 WRITTEN ON SEEING THE EXECUTION 
 
 OF ROBERT WATT. 
 
 Ah ! little think the gay licentious pioud, 
 
 Whom pleafure, power, and affluence furround ; 
 
 They, who their thoughtlefs hours in giddy mirth, 
 
 And wanton, often cruel, riot wafte ; 
 
 Ah ! little think they, while they dance along, 
 
 How many feel this very moment, Death ; 
 
 And all the fad variety of pain ; 
 
 How many fink in the devouring flood, 
 
 Or more devouring flame. How many bleed, 
 
 By fhameful variance betwixt man and man. Tuomson. 
 
 Tho' great thy crime, tho' human laws refine 
 To grant thee mercy, yet the gentle Mufe 
 Even over thee may drop a pitying tear, 
 To pleafe thy (hade and grace thy mournful bier. 
 Thy guilt fhe hates, yet ftill thy fate deplores, 
 And hopes thou'lt mercy find on happier fhores. 
 Sure no State Zealot will accufe her lays, 
 Which to humanity alone fhe pays j
 
 MISCELLANIES. 147 
 
 She grieves for guilt, for virtue's caufefhe mourns, 
 No party-rage in her calm bofom burns ; 
 Alike connected with the human race, 
 She feels their woes, and pities their difgrace, 
 
 Unhappy Britain ! why mould factious rage 
 Thy fons miflead, or in wild plans engage ? 
 Ah ! why fhould Difcord, under Freedom's guife 
 Lead men each focial Virtue to defpife ; 
 Lead them, like beafts, by power alone to fway, 
 While fubjects, not by love, but fear, obey ! 
 How different this from Britain's happy laws, 
 Which want no advocate to plead their caufe ; 
 Which virtue guard, nay, even their power ex- 
 tend 
 To crimes, and even criminals defend : ; 
 Till guilty found, the fated head o'erfhade, 
 Nor without evidence will doom him dead. 
 Which even a Monarch's vices can command, 
 And from destructive plans withhold his hand. 
 Can this be bondage ? where even Kings obey, 
 And law alone bears univerfal fway. (fpife ? 
 
 And are there foumd who even thefe laws de- 
 Unbounded licence who above them prize ? 
 Let fuch to Gallia's plains their views direct, 
 There fee their fate who fnch mild laws reject ;. 
 See how her Cities, drench'd in -floods of gore, 
 Miftaken Freedom's furious rage deplore ;
 
 148 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 See, mild Religion with a figh retires, 
 And with her flies each Virtue, or expires ; 
 See licene'd Murder Freedom's name profane, 
 And boldly ufe his dagger, ax, or chain ; 
 While 'xieath his feet the regal fceptre bows, 
 The crown invefts his blood-beftained brows. 
 
 When fuch the fcene, can any human mind 
 For crimes like thefe a fate too odious find ? 
 Such crimes as thefe, unhappy man ! were thine, 
 Such were thy plans, and fuch thy dire defign ! 
 But Britain's happier Genius wards the blow, 
 And juftly lays the proud oppreffor low. 
 May then thy fate an awful fear impart, 
 To each difloyal and diQioneft heart, 
 That thofe who fcorn the nobler band of Love, 
 May, by the meaner motiv, Fear improve,
 
 MISCELLANIES. 
 THE MODERN HERO. 
 
 H9 
 
 Arma viruir.que cano. Vitio. 
 
 Arms, and the man, I fing. 
 
 LjATe, as fage Homer's leaves I turn'd, 
 
 I with poetic ardour burn'd, 
 
 And, deeply flung with jealous ire, 
 
 To imitate his noble fire, 
 
 I thus refolv'd : Be it decreed, 
 
 I'll even Homer's fire exceed ; 
 
 Adventroufly I'll give to fame, 
 
 What in his days had not a name. 
 
 Had Homer known the Heroes I 
 
 Would thus exalt unto the Iky, 
 
 He would have fpar'd my pains, and won 
 
 The bays from me, an humble drone. 
 
 But fince to the poetic Nine, 
 
 Unknown our modern Heroes Ihine, 
 
 I will the character explain, 
 
 As beft I can, in humble flrain. 
 
 Come, Mufes Nine, my bread infpire, 
 And rightly tune my founding lyre ; 
 Come, gentle fpirit, come away, 
 \Vho arm'ft thy heroe for the fray ; 
 
 
 /
 
 150 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 And with heroic ardour bright, 
 Suftains his nerves amid the fight. 
 Thus I, fupport.d, will rehearfe, 
 As Homer did, in lofty verfe, 
 The wondrous acts each hero did, 
 Which credibility excceed. 
 
 Now modern day approach'd, and now, 
 Out ftruts each well appointed beau.; 
 But full obferve his armour bright, 
 Which does reflect pure Cynthia's light; 
 His fword, O wondrous ! two ells long ! 
 Which does denote him mighty ftrong ; 
 Which faucy air at 's belt it hangs, 
 And on his thigh terrific bangs. 
 Next, fee his hand faft grafps a bludgeon, 
 With which, when he's in any gudgeon, 
 Like Hercules he lays about him, 
 And yet he fwears 'tis all for whim. 
 Oft' does the watchman's batter'd fcull, 
 Declare for bruiiing his good will ; 
 Nor can frail glafs, or lamps withftand him, 
 But down he thumps them all at random. 
 Thus, while the fumes of good port wine 
 His airy fpirit dp refine, 
 And make his body debonair, 
 He does addrefs him to the fair ; 
 By gentle methods firit he tries them, 
 That he may in love's net furprize them.
 
 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 If that wont do, perforce they yield, 
 No fraud from his embrace can fhield ; 
 Thro' doors and bolts he quickly flies, 
 And to the fair one's chamber hies ; 
 There in embraces clofe he holds her, 
 And in his loving arms infolds her ; 
 Thus in foft raptures pafs'd the night, 
 Up now he Harts with dawn of light, 
 And to his bed-room weari'd hies, 
 Where balmy flumbers clofe his eyes. 
 
 At death a fcoffer tho 1 he be, 
 Yet confcience flings him like a flea \ 
 How often with her lafh ihe twangs, 
 And in his bread awakes dire pangs. 
 She alks him, why he fhuns the light, 
 Nor from his bed departs till night ? 
 While other mortals reft, why he 
 Is then all action, then all glee ? 
 Why Cynthia chufe, when Sol all day 
 Illumes the world with his bright ray ? 
 Why chufe t' embrace fuch foolifh errors, 
 Which ftrip the future of its terrors ? 
 To this he anfwers with a figh ; 
 Dame Confcience, I will tell you why : 
 If I religion and fuch fluff 
 Should mind, then fafhion takes the huff, 
 And at me all the world would jeer, 
 And fay, I did fo but thro' fear ; 
 
 isr 
 
 /
 
 152 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 Mov'd by dull fear, I'm not, indeed, 
 'Tis quite againft my fixed creed ; 
 The prefent 's all the heaven I have, 
 Then to the future I'm no ilave ; 
 So Confcience hum, down, down, ye jade, 
 Left with your fluff you make me mad.
 
 MISCELLANIES. 1^3 
 
 THE BIRTH OF BEAUTY. A FABLE, 
 
 VERSIFIED FROM THE TATLER. 
 
 W hen the fantaftic changeful maid, 
 Beauty, on earth her charms difplay'cJj 
 Jove with a feaft did hail her birth, 
 And bade men's fons join in his mirth, 
 The God of Plenty with thefe guefts, 
 On every delicacy feafts ; 
 He at the board his form difplay'd, 
 And gladly drank health to the maid ; 
 Then having plenteous liquors quafF'd, 
 And having fung, and having :augh'd ; 
 Into Jove's garden he retir'd, 
 Where Somnus with rich wine confpir'd ? 
 To throw foft {lumbers o'er his eyes \ 
 There proftrate in a bower he lies. 
 
 Meanwhile, the news of this grand treat 
 Reach'd even Poverty's retreat ; 
 Who, having come, with eager hafte, 
 Hoping to (hare in the repaft, 
 Thro' Jove's fweet garden took her way % 
 Where, fpying Plenty as he lay, 
 
 t
 
 154 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 She's dazled with his blooming charms, 
 And fondly clafp'd him in her arms ; 
 The God awoke, but being drunk, 
 He took her for fome wanton punk ; 
 Soon he accomplifh'd her defire, 
 And fatisfi'd her am'rous fire. 
 From this embrace, a child there fprung, 
 Whofe tricks we poets oft have fung ; 
 Yet we have all miftook his kin, 
 And laid on Venus' back the fin. 
 Whether the imp be blind or no, 
 He feldom miffes with his bow ; 
 He fometimes pierces maidens hearts, 
 But ofteft throws at men his darts.
 
 MISCELLANIES. 155 
 
 EXTEMPORE, 
 
 ON " AVARUS SEMPER EGIT." 
 
 A stubborn fellow did refufe, 
 To own me favour'd of the Mufe ; 
 And when a theme he had colegit, 
 Which was " avarus femper egit." 
 He bade me, in an half hour's time, 
 Give him on it a proper rhyme. 
 I thus began. " O friendly Mufe, 
 Do'nt now thy needful aid refufe, 
 Let me convince this filly blockhead, 
 That I'm thy favourite, indeed." 
 I fcarcely thefe few words had fpoke, 
 I fcarcely did the Mufe invoke \ 
 When inftant fav'ring fancy teems, 
 And brings for inltance C******W*****; 
 Who, in the midft of plenty 's needy, 
 The more he has, who 's (till more greedy ; 
 While I expofe his goods for fale, 
 Fearful he views the wavering fcale ; 
 He on the balance keeps his eye, 
 And when it falls, lets fall a figh ; 
 T 2
 
 I $6 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 On thefe occafions he is femper 
 
 Unable to command his temper \ 
 
 But cries out, in a horrid fright, 
 
 * { William, why give you fo much weight?" 
 
 I anfwer, " Sir, I need not tell, 
 
 That fcanty weighers go to hell ; 
 
 Wherefore, the fear of my own foul, 
 
 The weights and fcales mull dill controul." 
 
 " Fie, filly boy, hold your peace," 
 
 He crys, " and from fuch pratting ceafe ; 
 
 Jf we our neighbours do not cheat, 
 
 We ne'er {hall feel hell's fcorching he^L" 
 
 I hope now, William, you'll believe, 
 That I the Mufes aid receive ; 
 I hope this credit will obtain, 
 And you'll not trouble me again.
 
 MISCELLANIES. 157 
 
 LINES 
 
 ADDRESSED 
 
 TO MISS N * * * * T * * * *, ABERDEEN. 
 
 Were 't not that N * * * already warms 
 My panting bread with love's alarms ; 
 To Nancy's charms I'd yield my foul ; 
 To Nancy's health I'd fill the bowl ; 
 To Nancy's praife I'd form the lay, 
 And bid the Mufe each charm difplay, 
 Which in fweet Nancy's features glows, 
 Whofe cheeks excel the damafk rofe ; 
 Whofe eyes the bright aetherial blue, 
 And every fparkling ftar, outdo ; 
 Whofe fnowy bofom gently fwells, 
 Ah ! there, ye youths, what rapture dwells ; 
 Whofe crimfon lips and taper waift, 
 Shew graces not to be exprefs'd ; 
 Whofe flaxen trefTes, like my N * # * *, 
 Each other maid's, fave her's excels. 
 Can then we doubt, when thus array 'd, 
 A virtuous foul informs the maid ? 
 Can then we doubt, that decent pride 
 Poes o'er each action ftill prefide ?
 
 158 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 For what, alas ! is outward grace ? 
 What all the beauties of the face ? 
 What is the tincture of the fkin, 
 If hideous vice prefides within ? 
 Curs'd, then, be he who dares deform 
 With vicious fraud, the female form ! 
 Curs'd be the vile, the felfiih joy, 
 Which its dear object dares deftroy. 
 But hail ! thou holy, heavenly flame, 
 'Tis thou alone deferv'ft the name, 
 The facred name of virtuous love, 
 Which reafon aids, which faints approve,
 
 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 PARNASSUS AT HOME. 
 
 l $9 
 
 .Late, as I mufing up flairs trode, 
 Unto my lofty night abode, 
 The firft thing that there ftruck mine eyes, 
 Half petrifi'd me with furprize ; 
 Me-thought my table turn'd a mount, 
 From midft of which ran a black fount ; 
 The papers on't were chang'd to trees, 
 Whofe verdant colours well might pleafe. 
 What need we, then, fo far to roam, 
 Parnassus we can find at home. 
 As for the fam'd Pierian fpring, 
 Of which the fab'ling poets ling ; 
 Each man may have it by his lug, 
 'Tis limply this, a full ink jug.
 
 i6o MISCELLANIES. 
 
 THE WISH. 
 
 JDe this my praife, my monumental lay, 
 When I the fummons of ftern fate obey ; 
 Long liv'd he quiet mid' a world of ftrife, 
 And ufeful was his every day of life ; 
 Strict to the path of Virtue he adher'd, 
 Nor Vice, tho* deck'd in robes of ftate, reverb
 
 MISCELLANIES. 161 
 
 LINES 
 ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY. 
 
 WRITTEN AT THE DESIRE OF A FRIEND. 
 
 O^elia, dear partner of my youthful heart, 
 This tribute to thy blooming charms I pay, 
 
 Whofe gentle influence, devoid of art, 
 
 The Mufe awakes, and prompts the willing 
 lay. 
 
 From thee remote, the tedious hours I count, 
 And wifti in vain thy lovely eyes to meet ; 
 
 Perhaps fome lofty eminence I mount, 
 
 In hopes the weftern coaft mine eyes will 
 greet. 
 
 When evening comes, array'd in fober gray, 
 To thee, with each declining fun, I fend 
 
 My ardent wifhes in fome penfive lay, 
 
 That Heaven thy every ftep w r ould ftill be- 
 friend. 
 
 U
 
 1 62 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 Even now, reclin'd on Arthur's lofty Seat, 
 Where feas and fkies in mingled proipect, ly ; 
 
 I recollect my former dear retreat, 
 
 And view my Cjelia there with fancy's eye. 
 
 Around her waift, methinks, my arms I twine, 
 While her fair bofom heaves to meet my view ; 
 
 I cry, my Cjelia, thou fhalt ftill be mine. 
 And thus around thee ftill my arms I'll glue. 
 
 In Hymen's bands united, we fhall prove 
 The purefl pleafure of the human mind ; 
 
 The blifsful joys of fweet connubial love 
 Our hearts, our interefts, fhall together bind. 
 
 Ah ! dear delufions of all potent Love, 
 
 Why thus my troubled bofom ftill difturb ? 
 
 Who knows if C^ellia may my fuit approve, 
 Or, pleas'd, furvey the paflion I can't curb. 
 
 Thus as I mus'd, difclos'd in open view, 
 
 The Goddefs Hope before mine eyes appear'd, 
 
 Bade me my wifhes and my vows renew, 
 And all the profpect in a moment clear'd. 
 
 On me {he fmil'd, and thus the Goddefs faid, 
 Let Cjelia know your conftancy and love j 
 
 Impart your pafTion to the charming Maid, 
 Perhaps ycurfelf and fuit fhe may approve.
 
 MISCELLANIES. 163 
 
 Encourag'd thus, I fnatch'd my willing quill, 
 The Mufe invok'd to aid Love's gentle caufe } 
 
 And thus the Goddefs' orders I fulfill, 
 
 And crave no laurel but my Fair's applaufe. 
 
 "Ua
 
 164 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 ODE TO HOPE. 
 
 \J gentle Power, whofe fmiles (till fmooth 
 The rugged paths of life to youth ; 
 Who human forrows canft affuage, 
 And calm tumultuous paffion's rage. 
 Hope, fmiling Hope, come to my bread, 
 
 And foothe the anguilh there ! 
 If thou art not, I am deprefs'd, 
 
 By gloomy, dire Defpair. 
 The tyrant foul, with fcouling brow, 
 
 O'er me ufurps domain ; 
 He frowns terrific on me now, 
 
 And wrings my foul with pain. 
 Where, Heavenly Mufes, where your boafted 
 
 power ? 
 O aid your vot'ry, in this dark, this difmal hour. 
 
 Ah ! what avails the tuneful lyre, 
 Or what tho' Phoebus' felf infpire ; 
 Yet that not fhields from woe, 
 Nor can even Phcebus ward the blow.
 
 MISCELLANIES. *6=} 
 
 Nay, rather, whom the Mufes aid, 
 
 Still feel affliction's power ; 
 Nor one who e'er to Phoebus pray'd, 
 
 But it's fharp pangs has bore ; 
 And groan'd beneath the cruel weight, 
 
 Of anguifh and defpair ; 
 Or for a fhip with riches freight, 
 
 Or for a haughty fair ; 
 The one the raging foaming ocean tore ; 
 The other, cruel fate from their embraces bore. 
 
 Thus equally by grief deprefs'd, 
 We feek at laft for quiet reft, 
 Amid fome beauteous rural bower, 
 And there we court the foothing power, 
 Of folitude and gentle eafe, 
 
 Which calm the temped .of our mind, 
 And teach the fcenes of life to pleafe, 
 
 As far's they ought, tho' here we find, 
 Like ocean's wave, unliable blifs, 
 
 And figh for bowers of endlefs joy, 
 Where no deception harbour'd is, 
 
 And where no cares the breaft annoy ; 
 Where Virtue wipes all forrows from our eyes, 
 And full perfection reigns above the Ikies.
 
 POEMS 
 
 IN THE 
 
 SCOTTISH DIALECT.
 
 EPISTLES. 
 
 EPISTLE I. 
 TO MR JOHN MOIR, PRINTR,EDI NBTJRGH* 
 
 JtIere, Sir, I Ten' thae fcrawls o' mine* 
 In hopes ye'll print them unco fine j 
 An' by my faul, gin weil ye do't, 
 Ye never s'all hae caufe to rue't ; 
 For I fall pay you leel an' licker. 
 An' as we can'no hae a bicker, 
 Foul fa' me bat I'fe be a lown, 
 Gin I no fpen' a hale half-crown, 
 To drink your health wi' a' my heart; 
 An' gude fpeed to you i' your art ; 
 O mony a buiky may you get, 
 An' mony a typie may you fet % - , 
 Till tir'd at laft o' wark an' filler, 
 Whan nae ae pouchie can be filler, 
 Ye may gi'e o'er to wirk an' drudge, 
 An' fpem your groat without a grudge* 
 X
 
 170 SCOTTISH 
 
 Gin riches be your lot, I'm fure 
 Yell no be ill to folk that's poor ; 
 For weel I wyte, ye ha'e the heart, 
 To lie as need it to impart \ 
 As I myfel am very fure, 
 Cud witnefs fan I was right poor. 
 But here your bounty was beguil'd, 
 An 1 a' your kin' attention foil'd, 
 In helpin' o' a thriftlefs chiel, 
 Whom ilk ane ca's a ne'er-do- weil. 
 An', by my faul, I fear it's true, 
 Gin printin' do no' help me now ; 
 But gin the buiky weil fud fell, 
 Fat I may come to nane can tell ; 
 For wi it's profits, gin I'm fpar'd, 
 I yet may chance to be a laird. 
 Sae, my guid frien', be bufy man, 
 An' whan the filler comes to han', 
 Ye fall get fomething worth your pains, 
 For 'tis but right ye fhare my gains.
 
 EPISTLES. iyi 
 
 EPISTLE II. 
 TO MR ALEXANDER SCOTT, 
 
 SCHOOL-MASTER, BALLHILL. 
 
 X hanks, Sandy Scott, for the braw Bitch 
 Ye've gi'en me, an' whan I grow rich, 
 O'er a guid cog o' gin an' water, 
 Wi' you 1'fe hae a canty clatter ; 
 We'll foon forget batild Fortune's nips, 
 Which aft ha'e gripit Bardie's hips. 
 We'll jaw about the Mufe, an 1 chat 
 O' high Parnassus, an' a' that : 
 An' fyne we'll gi'e our pow a claw, 
 An maybe try a verfe or twa > 
 For gin an' ale can fyles infpire 
 Mair Bards than Phoebus leF can fire > 
 Bat fin the Mufe an' me forgather'd, 
 She never gat me fairly tetherd ; 
 For gin it came no i' my noddle, 
 For her I wad no care a boddle. 
 An' aye fan't ftricks me i' the pow, 
 I light, or elfe drown out her low -,
 
 17* SCOTTISH 
 
 For I wad had him but a fool, 
 
 Wha wis to her jilt like a tool, 
 
 That whan fhe hket fhe mith ufe, 
 
 Or whan fhe liket mith refufe : 
 
 Eat, fegs, o' her 1 hae fma' pleafure, 
 
 Except whan I ha'e fouth o' leifure. 
 
 At lick an orow idle time, 
 
 I whiles may fcrawl a fcreed o' rhyme \ 
 
 Bat whan my wark comes i' the gate, 
 
 I fling a' frae me in a pet, 
 
 Min' naething bat to rooze my bales, 
 
 An' ply wi' heart an han' my fcales, 
 
 Till gather'd wivies fvvcar their purfe 
 
 Is light, an* maybe lat a curie, 
 
 That they ha'e coft fae mickle gear ; 
 
 An* fay, guid fegs, I'm in a fear, 
 
 That the gudeman at hame '11 fcauld, 
 
 An' fay, fegs, 'oman, ye're o'er bauld, 
 
 To fpen' in merchan's lliops the gear 
 
 That I ha'e wrought for late an' air. 
 
 Says I, hoot 'oman, blefs you, flop, 
 
 I ha'e na cheatit you, I hope ; 
 
 I gi'en you fouth o' tea an' fuckar, 
 
 An' lawn an' gauze to men' your tucker \ 
 
 Sae 'oman fa' no in ill teens, 
 
 For here's a pickle braw flout prins, 
 
 To had your plaid or bulk your gown, 
 
 Whan ye gang o'er to the kirk town.
 
 EPISTLES. 173 
 
 sick cracks as thae can cure a fnarle, 
 An' help a chiel thro' this wile warlc, 
 Whare flatt'ry, an' a heap o' lies, 
 By far the griter num'er pleafe ; 
 Whare truth is hifh'd awa' frae fouk ; 
 Whare friendfhip's guided like a joke ; 
 Whare love for gowd is coft an' fauld, 
 An' whare a' guidnefs is grown cauld. 
 Here o' this fcrawl I mak' an en' 
 An fign, wi' a* my heart, your frien'. 
 
 P. S. Your Bitchie's praife I canna fpeak, 
 She's to my trock an unco' eek ; 
 For aye fan I tak' ony anger, 
 Or am maift fleepin', for meer langour, 
 She bobs an' loups about me fae, 
 She flegs baith deep an' fpleen away -> 
 An' fyne fhe fleeps juft i' my bofie, 
 For Phcebe kens whare fhe'll be cofie, 
 An' aye whan ony body chaps 
 At the (hop door, up Phcebe fnaps, 
 An' barks aye till fhe waken me, 
 To fell my fukar an' my tea.
 
 174 SCOTTISH 
 
 EPISTLE DDL 
 TO THE REVIEWERS. 
 
 Jlvight Noble Gentlemen, I true, 
 Ye maybe may my wark review, 
 Bat be na over capernoitit, 
 For mony o' them were indited 
 Wi' nae intent that ye fud fee them ; 
 Frae fauts an' flaws I winna frie them ; 
 But yet o' this I'm vera fare, 
 Virtue and truth need never fear, 
 That I fud ever be their foe, 
 Or ever gi'e them caufe of woe. 
 Sae ye may fpare me, gin ye like, 
 For ye ne'er faw a maftiff tyke 
 Wad ftan' an' wory at a whelp. 
 Tho' he in's teeth fud girn an' yelp. 
 Bat, vow, I wyte I had forgot 
 I a' this time fpake like a Scot, 
 Whafe language ye can hardly fpel!, 
 Tho' fome o' you be Scots yourfel' ; 
 An' weil I wyte, I'm unco kcdgie, 
 For I'd be laith to difoblige ye.
 
 EPISTLES. 173 
 
 Sae, gin ye dinna like my fangs, 
 Be nae o'er heavy wi' your bangs, 
 An' I fall do my bed to bide ye, 
 For, well 1 wyte, I dare no chide ye. 
 Tho' ye fad even brack my banes, 
 Or fell me freely wi' your ftanes.
 
 tie SCOTTISM 
 
 EPISTLE IV. 
 
 TO MR ALEXANDER SCOTT, 
 
 SCHOOL-MASTER, EALLHILL. 
 
 JL/ear Scottie, troth it's unco lang, 
 Sine I heard frae ye, by my fang ; 
 Ye furely think I'm nae your frien', 
 Elfe lang e'er now I wad hae feen 
 A letter faulded up wi' care, 
 An* fpell'd an' written unko fair : 
 Bat I cud lay you ony wager, 
 I, even the lowmin o' a gauger, 
 That I amain; the caufe cud guefs, 
 Why Sandy Scott fae filent is. 
 O Sandy, troth ye' re bat a fool, 
 To feik awa' wi* a poor fchool, 
 Whafe winnins wad no buy, tho' better, 
 As meikle paper's write a letter, 
 Bat now an' than to a guid frien', 
 Whom maybe it's lang line ye ha'e feen ; 
 An' wha right glad wad be to hear 
 Ye were increas'd in grace and gear.
 
 EPISTLES. 177 
 
 Now Modefty's nae worth a leek, 
 Gin ye wad ha'e, troth ye maun feek ; 
 Tak' my advice, an' nae refufe, 
 To pit this fcry into the news. 
 
 A Dominy does want a place, 
 Wha can baith fing an' fay a grace, 
 Wha even a fermon can indite, 
 An 1 fae it's clear the man can write ; 
 Wha counting, writing, latin teaches, 
 An' gin it's needfu', prays an' preaches : 
 A' thae guid gifts he has, an mair, 
 Than in a fcry he cud declare. 
 Gin ony body wants this man, 
 Pit twenty guineas in his han', 
 An' gi'e him deed and gift right clearly, 
 Ye'll pay him this fma' ftipend yearly ; 
 Wi' bed an' board, an' a clean fark, 
 He'll un'ertak to do your wark ; 
 An' whan ye want him, will be ready 
 To leave for you his aunt or daddy. 
 This, my dear frien' is my advice, 
 An' gin ye think o'er fma' the price, 
 To which your wages I ha'e ftentit, 
 Ye may ca't double whan ye print it.
 
 f=as 
 
 MISCELLANIES 
 
 IN THE 
 
 SCOTTISH DIALECT.
 
 T 1 1
 
 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 EPILOGUE, 
 
 SPOKEN AT THE REPRESENTATION OF 
 
 THE TRAGEDY OF DOUGLAS, 
 
 AT PLAINS. 
 
 W l'll Sirs we're dane, fat ha'e ye a' to fay, 
 
 I think we've acted gayly this braw Play ; 
 
 Gin ye're content, I'fe mak but little din, 
 
 Tho' I'd fain pit you in a merry pin 
 
 Afore I leave you freely.- It's the vogue 
 
 To lie braw fhows to gi'e an Epilogue. 
 
 Fat think ye, Sirs, o' fie a tragic core, 
 
 Wha never acted on a ftage afore. 
 
 An' as I'm dane wi' a' my waefu' cracks, 
 
 Like a leel Merchan' I'll gae lift my packs. 
 
 But e'er I do't, I fain wad ha'e,your ear, 
 
 To hear a fyle the roozing o' my ware. 
 
 Wha wad ha'e thought, that Randolph held the 
 
 plough, 
 Or wis the fin o' honefl William Touch.
 
 i8z SCOTTISH 
 
 An ? now, we'll jift flap o'er ayont the bogg, 
 To tell ye Douglas is plain Geordy Hogg. 
 I'u' we'll ye ken the ale-wife o' the town, 
 Wha 's mither to Glenalvon, that great lowii. 
 Auld Norval's dady is a fturdy fmith, 
 Wha yarks at iron goads wi' a' his pith. 
 My faith fa' Anna is the parfon's fin. 
 An' for myfel', I fanna vouft my kin, 
 There's no ane here, but kens the Merchin' weil 
 To tell the truth, he's bat a ram'lin' chiel ; 
 An' fegs I'm fear't he mith as well hae dane, 
 Gin in Auld Chriity's houfie he had been 
 Sellin' his gear to fome braw canty wife, 
 Winnin' a penny to had in his life. 
 But gin ye'll a' wi' him gang o'er the gate, 
 A fouth o' pigs an groceries ye fall get; 
 An' as ye've come to fee his tragic pranks,' 
 For this kin' vifit tak his hearty thanks.
 
 MICSELLAN1ES. 183 
 
 ELEGY, 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF 
 
 A FAVOUITE BITCH. 
 
 Jb at muckle forrow gart you dee, 
 I'm very fure it was no me ; 
 For, well I wyte, that cud no be, 
 
 Ye wis my dear- 
 Becaufe your like I cud no fee, 
 
 Nor far nor near. 
 
 O Phoebe, my dear bonny bitch, 
 Foul fa' me but I wis no rich, 
 Afore ye died, bat or Death's fwitch, 
 
 Had crack'd your crown, 
 Tho't wad ha'e gi'en my purfe a twitch, 
 
 I'd . tint a crown, 
 
 if 
 
 Vow bat ye was a bonny dogie, 
 An' fyne ye wis fae unko vogie, 
 An' cokit fae your little lugie, 
 
 An' aye wis glad, 
 To trudge wi' me thro' burn or bogie, 
 
 Thro 1 guid or bad.
 
 1 84 SCOTTISH 
 
 Foul fa' me bat whan 'twas my lot, 
 To get ye frae my frien' San' Scott, 
 My fegs 1 did no care a groat, 
 
 For ony curr, 
 That ever lickit iron pot, 
 
 Or ga'e a wirr. 
 
 O Phcebe, fat cud temp ye fae, 
 To work yourfel' fo muckle wae, 
 As gars ye ly baith cauld an' blae, 
 
 Into the groun", 
 Ye wis o'er young by mony a day, 
 
 To die fo moon. 
 
 O whare wis Juno i' that hour, 
 My Phcebe needed fair her power, 
 To help her thro' the dreadfu' (lour 
 
 O' kleckiiv tykes, 
 An fhe can do't, I'm vera fure, 
 
 Aye whan fhe likes. 
 
 For file's a howdie o' renown, 
 
 Wha wis employ 'd by ilka lown, 
 
 That dwalt in ony Grecian town, 
 
 Or far or near, 
 Tho', by my fegs, I jift maun own 
 
 Her wage wis dear.
 
 MISCELLANIES. 185 
 
 Tho' my dear Phoebe's gane frae me, 
 This Elegy to her s'all gi'e 
 Renown an' fame, o'er Ian* an* fea, 
 
 Gin it ware printit, 
 An Phoebe's name s'all never die, 
 
 This s'all prevent it. 
 
 \
 
 1 86 SCOTTISH 
 
 AN ADDRESS, 
 
 INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN PRINTED 
 ON THE OPENING OF 
 
 tHE AUTHOR'S CIRCULATING LIBRARY, 
 
 AT PETERHEAD. 
 
 Here's Willie Farojjhar's hinmoft fhift, 
 At a' thing elfe he had no thrift : 
 Come in then, lads, an gi'e 'm a lift, 
 
 His buiks are bonny, 
 An' ye may plainly fee .his drift, 
 
 Is to mak' money. 
 
 Gin ilka chiel in Peterhead, 
 
 Wad come to 's (hop for buiks to read, 
 
 He fud get warks wad fill his head 
 
 Wi' thrifty notions j 
 Or, gin he thought it wis as guid, 
 
 Wi' fleepy potions* 
 
 For Authors are like ither men, 
 They dinna a' tak' up the pen, 
 Wi' an intent their win' to fpen\ 
 
 To mak' ye vogie, 
 Bat fometimes fleepin' recommen', 
 
 As weil's a cogie.
 
 MISCELLANIES. 1*7 
 
 Bat there are unco few o' mine, 
 That are o' this wile dozen'd kin : 
 Na, they are buiks that fill the min', 
 
 Nae wi' fool buft, 
 Bat wi' Benevolence divine, 
 
 An' fie guid fluff. 
 
 Z
 
 t88 SCOTTISH 
 
 HORACE, BOOK I. ODE XXVI. IMITATED 
 
 A frien' to the Mufes, I will dread nae fkaith, 
 A' fears to the win's I gi'e o'er and bequeath, 
 Being even right carelefs fat King's dreaded 
 breath 
 
 Comman's the pole, 
 I ne'er fafti my pow, gin Geordy fears Death, 
 
 For that he maun thole. 
 
 O Mufe, whofe delight is to hear burnies hurl, 
 A garlan' mak' ready for N * * * * bonny curl, 
 Whafe praife, wi' thy aid, s'all ring thro' the 
 world, 
 
 An' mak' immortal, 
 The laflie whafe een even faften the churl, 
 
 An' pleafe ilka mortal.
 
 MISCELLANIES. iS 9 
 
 SONG. 
 
 ays Johnny, were my Anny mine, 
 
 I'd ilk misfortune fcorn ; 
 Riches wi* eafe I cud relign, 
 
 An' blythefome rife ilk morn. 
 
 Wi' virr my loomy I wad turn, 
 To win my Annie's bread ; 
 
 An' for my wark feek nae return, 
 Gin fhe an' I agreed. 
 
 Syne gallop faft, an' bring the day 
 Whan fhe'li gi'e me her han' - 9 
 
 Syne, gin ye like, a month it may 
 Be dark o'er a' our Ian'. 
 
 At even, whan I gi'e o'er the wark, 
 
 To her I rin wi' hafte, 
 To get a walk into the park, 
 
 An' clafp her roun' the waift. 
 
 Her prefence mak's me brifk an' gay, 
 An' fyne, wi' mony a vow, 
 
 I fwear, I'll faithfu' be for aye, 
 An' pree her bonny mow.
 
 i 9 o SC02T1SH 
 
 Were't no her, my prentice years 
 Had been o'er lang indeed ; 
 
 Bat now I drop right mony tears, 
 An' wis' no to be freed. 
 
 At F 1 now wad (lay. 
 
 Bat Fortune winna lat me ; 
 An' I maun turn anither way, 
 
 An' live wi' her that gat me. 
 
 Bat, weil I wyte, my mither dear, 
 
 Gin ye'd no angry be, 
 Tho' ye are kin', I'm very lure, 
 
 Ye're nae fae ki**as (he. 
 
 Bat fhortly, whan I've made fome wheels, 
 I'll gang for A * * * * P * * # # * ; 
 
 She'll gi'e an edge to a' my tools, 
 SmVs be my wife exprefsly. 
 
 Sae, mither, ye may had your tongue, 
 
 An' never falh your beard, 
 Nor plague us that we are o'er young, 
 
 Wi' that we's nae be fcar'd. 
 
 * : 
 
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