Jernier Town Eclogues ilifornia ional ility Wum THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES 'A N 'ssnjojxg - . "W la iSIHdWVd" / TOWN ECLOGUES. B Y CHARLES JENNER, M. A. * LONDON: Printed for T. Cadell in the Strand, 1772. [Price TWO SHILLINGS.] Jjr/f TYSJfr ADVERTISEMENT. tj H E following trifles require neither Preface nor In- troduBion ; they will fufificienily f peak their ow:: defgn. All that the Author therefore has to fay upon them is, t at as they were not diElated by fpleen, he hopes they will be read with candour. The little general fatire they contain is fuch as can affeB 710 private pcrfo?i, and she fin intents ?nay pro- bably not be without their ufe. If any reader Jhould find more amufement i?i picking out their faults than in endea- vouring to find their merits, he is entirely welcome to indulge himfelf; the Author has had, his own amufement in writing the',n, and will be extremely glad to contribute in any way to thai of his readers, ever, at his own ex pence. C. J. 865127 This Day is Pub lifted by T. Cad ell, (Price Eighteen-pence) The MAN of FAMILY, A Sentimental COMEDY By the Author of thefe ECLOGUES. ECLOGUE I. The COURT-CHAPLAIN. ROWN lick of liberty and country air, The morning founter in the one-horfe chair, The focial pipe, the folitary mufe, The bowling-meeting, and the weekly news, The ruftic vicar quits his lone retreat, To try what joys the London clergy greet. He mounts his mare, whilft Thomas, at his back, Conveys twelve fhirts, and his befl fait of black, A half year's tythe to pay his way in town, His fix befl fermons and his laft new gown. To fome kind neighbour he gives up the care Of buying two young heifers at the fair, To tend his flock, to keep his garden nice, And fell his barley at the market-price ; A With C » ] With nil the pride of hagling for two groats, And {hewing a clean fample of his oats : Joys more refin'd he means in town to feck, And hires mug lodgings, at a pound a week. Behold him now amidft the bufy world, His mein new polifh'd, and his hair new curl'd : He vifits auctions, and frequents the play, And mingles in the tattle of the day ; Attends the op'ra with decifive air, And learns by heart who lings or dances there ; Learns ev'ry bard's late triumph or difgrace, And at the Bedford fhews his critic face ; There proves that rlxet'ric, which he oft had try'd At turnpike-meetings ; where, with confeious pride,, He gave the law to many a gaping fquire, In loud debates, around an alehoufe fire : Condemns fome fav'rite poet's taftelefs rhimes, And launches out 'gainft fhews and Pantomimes ; ' Quotes SLaks/pear, calls the reigning tafle abfurd. And wonders people will not take his word. But times are ftrangely altcr'd now, he finds, For many men,, have fcarcely many minds; Some favourite author leads the gentle town, Tells them his play is good, and it goes down: Wit,, genius, learning, ev'n poor common-fenfe, In vulgar men he finds are meer pretence, Whili1 [ 3 ] Whilfl all their weighty arguments give place To pert deciflon, in a fuit of lace. He hears the civil boxes in a roar At fome flale jeft, worn thread-bare years before, He hears the bard conceal his lack of wit In broken Englifh, to amufe the pit ; Whilfl ev'n the galleries give their rapture vent, At fome quaint faw, or hacknied fentiment. He fees, with loud applaufe, the pageant flalk,. And, in dull iilence, all the wardrobe walk ; Whilfl prudent managers, who know wit fcarce, From pillag'd Moliere cull the flimfy farce -, Or bid, the fhortefl and the eaflefl way, The Tailor and the Painter make a play. He hears the comments of the grave and wife, That lift thefe mighty nothings to the fkies ; Hears wit and genius turn'd to ridicule, And fhrink beneath the lafh of ev'ry fool ; Hears men decide on books they never read, And then difgufted, hies him home to bed ; There turns the fenfelefs jargon in his mind, And defcants on the folly of mankind. " Are thefe," he cries " the men of tafte and learning,, " So polifh'd, fo relin'd, and fo difcerning ? " Are thefe the works, which envied praifes crown " From that mofl dread tribunal, call'd the town f Why cc r 4 3 <{ Why did I ever quit my calm firefldc, Kt Where common-fenfc with rcafon was my guide ? "" Where, all the critics ufelefs rules laid by, il My heart inform'd me when to laugh or cry. " Let me return to Shakefpear and old Ben ; xc I cannot brook thefe all-difcerning men". He quits the critics, and repairs to court ; " 'Tis there" laid he " that wit and tafte refort." Pleas'd he arrives, furveys the buftle round, And treads with diffidence the facred ground. In fome lone window modeft he fits down, With vacant face, unknowing and unknown: He cafts a look along the fplendid rows, Sees ermine curtfey, whilft embroidery bows ; And hardly dares uplift his timid eye, Whilft golden keys and white wands hurry by. He hears a buz replete with fome fad tale Not publifn'd yet, arriv'd in lad night's mail ; And hangs his head, in melancholy mufe, Afraid to liften to his lordlhip's news. Sio-hinn; he views the fmilino- dull refort, And whifpers to himfelf, and this is court ! Mean while mild Prudence whifpers in his ear, " Go home, my friend, you have no bulinefs here." Pleas'd he obevs, and earrer to be wife Starts up, to follow his good friend's advice : Refolves [ 5 J Refolves to bid a long and laft adieu To fplendid fcenes that pall upon his view ; Where all the long drawn forms of painful art, The head inform not, nor amend the heart ; Where pleafure's felf fcarce deigns to mew her face, But ev'ry kindly fentiment gives place To liftlefs indolence, with vacant eye, Whilft comfort folds her arms and paffes by : He vows he ne'er would quit his elbow-chair To be the gayeft thing that flutters there. O vanity ! thou bane of all our race, That ev n in courts wilt mew thy treach'rous face, To make fad ravage in the human mind, And fcatter fair difcretion to the wind : Ev n nobles feel thee, in fome haplefs hour ; Shall humble vicars then difown thy pow'r ? He fees his patron in the bufy crowd, And hears, wilh joy, his name announc'd aloud. With placid fmile approach' d the civil peer, Well knowing that election time was near : " Doctor, I heard you preach the other day ; " Sermons like that, fhould not be thrown away ; " Such eloquence at chapel fhould be heard, " You want but to be known, to be prefer'd : " I have a trifling honour in my view, " The king juft wants a chaplain, fuch as you : B " 'Tis [ 6 ] " 'Tis a good ftep,- —'twill throw you id the way— - " And vacancies don't happen ev'ry day ;— " Come here, I'll introduce you to his Grace." — He bows, the vericfl: courtier of the place : Diicretion weeps, to fee his altcr'd plan ; He feels himfelf a confequential man, And views, regardlefs of his former vows, The ftall prebcndal, and the dean'ry houfe - y Nay, all elate, fo well he means to preach, That ev'n a mitre hangs not out of reach. Behold him now, enur'd to courtly ground, A conftant dangler in the fame dull round : Deep read in EElon ; at his finger's ends Preferments, values, old incumbents, friends ; With who ftands firft on ev'ry courtier's lift, Who's ferv'd, and who with promifes difmift : With expectation fees each morn appear, Tho' difappointment clofes ev'ry year ; And, dill with erodes ev'ry hour perplext, Refts well affur'd his turn muft be the next. If chance a country neighbour ftrays to town, He fmgles out the antique wig and gown \ Turns Ciceroni to his wond'ring friend, And points out all the court, from end to end. Tells who is in, and who is out of place, And feaft-s upon a fimper from his Grace ; Explains C 7 ] Explains the my fiery of the wands and keys, And ev'ry colour'd ribband that he fees : More vain, alas ! of this mod ufelcfs knowledge, Than all the learning that he brought from college : Then, having plac'd him in the foremen 1 row, To fee the king pafs by, and make his bow, Announcing, as they pafs, each lord and groom, He next conducts him to the chaplain's room; There vainly fhews him how court chaplains dine, And toafts a maid of honour, in French wine. " But who" you cry, " would facrifice content, " The fvveet reflection of an hour well fpent, (t To tread the eternal round of folly's maze, ic In refllefs expedition, all his days ? " What mad man thus, the Have of vanity," — Hold, hold, my friend,— -it may be you or me.. ECLOGUE £ 8 ] ECLOGUE II. TIME W A S. TH E fpring had now enliven' d ev'ry fcene, A.nd clad the dufky park, in partial green ; Gay op'ning buds peep'd through the winter run 1 , And kindly fhow'rs had half wafh'd ofF their duft. On that dull day which, ev'ry week, affords A glut of 'prentices, in bags and fwords ; When fober families refort to pray'r, And cits take in their weekly meal of air ; Whilft, eaftward of St. Paul's, the well-drefs'd fpark Runs two long miles, to faunter in the park : Prudentio {trolling down the mall was feen, To loll upon a bench, and vent his fpleen : He meets Avaro on th' accuftom'd feat, And thus, in grumbling drains, the vet'rans greet. AVARO. C 9 ] AVARO. Well met, Prudent io — come man, lit you down ; How fare you ? PRUDENTIO. Sick, of this confounded town. AVARO. Aye, fo am I ; time was when it was faid, A penny buys a pennyworth of bread ; But now, ingroflers meet with no controul, Your penny fcarce will buy a farthing roll. Time was, when evening markets fed the poor, And good cheap things were cried from door to door ; But now, the bakers get each week a rife, And all provisions double in their price. PRUDENTIO. How mould it happen otherwife ? look here What fhoals of puppies ev 'ry where appear ! That fellow with the tarnifli'd fuit of lace, With infolence and folly in his face, Muft raife his foap and candles, to afford To drefs himfelf, on Sundays, like a lord ; Whilft that part puppy, with the powder'd queue, Muft pay his barber out of me or you. C AV.ARO. [ 1° ] AVAR O, Time was, when fattin waiftcoats and fcratch wigs,, Enough diftinguifh'd all the city prigs, Whilft ev'ry funfhine Sunday faw them run To club their Sixpences, at Islington ; When graver citizens, in fuits of brown, Lin'd ev'ry dufly avenue to town, Or led the children and the loving fpoufe, To fpend two {hillings at Whitc-conduit-houfe r. But now, the 'prentices, in fuits of green, At Richmond or at IVir.dfor may be feen ; Where in mad parties they run down to dine, To play at gentlefolks, and drink bad wine : Whilft neat poft-chariots roll their matters down To fome fiius box, a dozen miles from town. PRUDENTIO. I grant, that even prudence' felf allows The man of wealth his coach and country houfe j. By common juftice ev'ry man is taught, To tafle thofe bleilings which his labour bought ; But, fay, if candour can forbear to fcofF, When men begin jufl where their fires left off? But trade to gain is now too flow a way ; Fortunes muft rife, like mufhrooms, in a day ; Hence fprung that moft destructive mode of robbing By dangerous under-writing, and ftock-jobbing ; Ev'n C » ] Ev'n merchants now laborious trade dcfpife, And rind that money is belt, merchandize j Hence fprings the irrecoverable debt, Hence Whereas fills each page of the Gazette. AVAR o. Time was, when tradefmen laid up what they gain'd, And frugally a family maintain' d ; When they took (lining houfewives for their fpoufes, To keep up prudent order in their houfes ; Who thought no fcorn, at night to fit them down, And make their childrens cloaths, or mend their own ; Would Polly\ coat to younger Befs transfer, And make their caps without a milliner : But now, a mopping half the day they're gone, To buy five hundred things, and pay for none ; Whilfl Mifs defpifes all domeflic rules, But lifps the French of Hackney boarding-fchools ; And ev'ry lane around Whitechapel bars Refounds with fcreaming notes, and har (h. guittars. PRUDENTIO. Time was too, when the prudent dames would flay Till Chriflmas holidays to fee a play, And met at cards, at that glad time alone,. In friendly fetts of loo or cheap pope-joan ; Now, ev'ry lady writes her invitations For weekly routs, to all her wife relations :■ And And ev'ry morning teems with frefh delights ; They run the city over, feeing fights ; Then hurry to the play as night approaches, And fpend their precious time in hackney-coaches. A VARO. Hence fpring afTemblies with fuch uncouth names, At Deptford) Wappi?ig, Rotherh/'the, and Shad-Thames, Where ev'ry month the powder'd white-glov'd fparks, Spruce habcrdafhers, pert attorneys clerks, With deep-enamour'd 'prentices, prefer Their fuit to many a fighing milliner : In fcraps of plays their paflions they impart, With all the awkward bows they learn from Hart. ^Tis here they learn their genius to improve, And throw by Wingate for the Art of Love ; They frame th' acroftic deep, and rebus terfe, And fill the day-book with enamour'd verfe ; Ev'n learned Fenmng on his vacant leaves, The ill-according epigram receives, And Cocker 's margin hobling fonnets grace To Delia, meafuring out a yard of lace. PRUDENTIO. r Tis true, my friend ; and thus throughout the nation Prevails this general love of difilpation : It matters little where their fports begin, Whether at Arthur 's, or the Bowl and Pin ; Whether I I C U ] Whether they tread the gay Pantheons round, Or play at fkittles at St. Giles % pound, The felf-fame idle fpirit drags them on, And peer and porter are alike undone : Whilft thoughtlefs imitation leads the way, And laughs at all the grave or wife can fay. The prudent youth, whom fome fond mother's care Had taught to dread the fubtle gamelter's fnare, The rlrft half year improves his own eftate, And vifits not the maniions of the great. But thirft of plealure lures him up to town, And ev'ry fharper marks the pigeon down. Deftructive cuftom quickly draws him in, He plays for trifles, and they let him win ; He doubles (lakes, ftill feels no fatal rub, And now is ballotted at ev'ry club. No more he dreads the rattling found of dice, And what was but amufement, turns to vice j He views the Faro- bank without affright, And all his acres tremble ev'ry nicrht. So have I (qqt\ the cautious maiden fair, Bred up in innocence and country air, Her firft appearance make in this gay place, And hang her head, and dread to fhew her face ; A bafhful, bluming, modeft, tim'rous creature, That fancies ev'ry man me meets will eat her : D But [ »4 ] But this improving air foon calms her fear, She looks around and fpies no danger near, In one fliort month learns how to play her cards, And flirts it with an enfign in the guards. AVAR O. All thefe are heavy truths — what can we fay ? prudentio. Why nothing— let the children have their way. Our grave remarks will never make them wifer, And fad experience is their beft advifer. But, hark ! the palace clock is ftriking three, So ev'n go home and cat your beef with me. ECLOGUE C *s 1 ECLOGUE III. The MODERN COUPLE. GAY lady Fanny, from her earlieft youth, Was taught this ufeful, this important truth, That love and fentiment were all a jeft Too trifling to pofTefs a lady's breaft ; They might give blifs to folks of mean degree, But had no place in hearts of quality : That rank and fortune were the one great end To which her wifhes and her thoughts mould tend; This point fecur'd, her blellings would enhance, And, for the reft, 'twas beft to take her chance. Thefe prudent maxims wife mamas beftow, Who try'd the plan themfelves, and ought to know. Poor lady Fanny, in her eighteenth year Began to think the leflbn too fevere : *T,\ C i« ] "Lis ftrange the fccrets which thofe years reveal ! She had a heart, and found that heart could feel : She did not wifh to difobey command, But trembled if" the Colonel touch'd her hand ; Still thorn lit it rio;ht to let mamas advife, And only faulter'd when flic met his eyes : But, when the fame cold maxims doom'd to hear, She ftifled many a figh, and many a tear. Mama, from long experience nothing blind, Perceiv'd the painful conflict in her mind, Whilft ev'ry look and ev'ry blum reveal'd That tender flame that would not be conceal'd. In duty bound her pafllon to remove, And guard her daughter from a match of love, She try'd her pow'r, by ev'ry prudent art, To root this foolifh fondnefs from her heart. She knew too well to try the country air ; Soft rural fcenes had baffled all her care : Fond paflions take deep root in folitude, By fix'd attention ev'ry hour renew'd. Love flies from cities ; tell me, ye who know, Is genuine love the produce of Sobo ? Can AlmacK% boaft fuch tender, conftant fwains As weep in tufted groves, or figh on plains ? So ill thefe fcenes Love's penfive raptures fuit, He comes not here, but fends his fubftitute j C 17 ] A fpurious brother, with a coarfer name, May ferve, full well, to raife a guilty flame ; Or vile felf-int'reft forge a golden chain, To bind the prudent nymph and carelefs fwain ; Whilft many a maiden flutters through her prime, Nor thinks on love, becaufe fhe has not time. The cautious mother well thefe maxims try'd, And plung'd her daughter deep in pleafure's tide. She left no dang'rous moment unemploy'd, No tempting diflipation unenjoy'd : In one continued hurry roll'd her days, At routs, aflemblies, auctions, op'ras, plays, Subfcription balls, and vifits without end, And poor Comely s own'd no better friend. From loo fhe rifes with the rifino: fun, And Cbrijlie fees her aking head at one ; The few fhort hours between, fhe gives to reft, And fome gay friend fits by her while flic's dreft. Ah ! where fliall love find one kind vacant hour To fix his conqueft, or aflert his pow'r ? With fhame he fees her fall into the fnare, Sees the gilt chariot and the taflel'd chair, Lac'd liv'ries, rank, precedence, title, place, His fond domeftic fchemes at once efface, Supplanted ev'ry plan his art can draw, By trips to Paris, or a jaunt to Spa. E With [ IS ] With grief he lees her take her mother's word, Difmifs the Colonel, and accept my Lord. Yet ftill lie law the Another' d paiTion burn, And knew, full well, his empire would return ; Eighteen had poifon'd all the joys of life, And twenty faw her an unhappy wife. My Lord, whom nature both in head and heart, Had treated with no very friendly part, The tender bridegroom's place full ill fupply'd, In fond attachment to his lovely bride. Scarce one fhort week had blefs'd him with her charms, Before Newmarket call'd him from her arms : A little confeious of too foon retreating, He tells her the importance of the meeting ; Explains, by each horfe winning, what he gets, With all the mynVry deep of hedging betts ; Reads her a long deep leclurc on the odds, And thinks fhe underftands him, when fhe nods ; Defcribes the cattle that he has in training, Their well- attefted pedigrees explaining; Refers to Pond's and Hebers catalogues, Begs fhe'd amufe herfelf, and air her dogs, And, after one cold huiband-like embrace,. He hums an op'ra air, and mounts his chaife. Penfive awhile the pouting lady fat : 'Twas new, 'twas unexpected, and all that. " And C '9 ] '* And are my charms thus funk" at length fhe cries, " So loft the fond attraction of thefe eyes ! " Muft all my beauties lofe their wonted force, " And thus divide their empire with a horfe I " Can one fhort week bring all this fhame to pafs ! " Let me once more confult my faithful glaf. ; " See I no faded charms, no wrinkles there ? " No, 'tis the felf-fame face, the felf-fame air. " Well,— one fhort week my doubts may all remove, " And he return again to me and love. " But would my tender Colonel thus fevere" — She checks the riling thought, and drops a tear. A week brings back my Lord— not over rich ; His pockets felt the cruel Devil 's- ditch ; 'Spite of the odds the fav'rite cannot win, And all the knowing ones are taken in. The fair receives him with a fond embrace,. And laughs to fee his rueful length of face ; Not much difpleas'd, in hopes that many a crofs, The frequent bubble, and the conftant lofs, May wean him from the much-lov'd ftable-door, And make him prize domeftic comfort more. Alas ! fhe finds her pleafing hopes are vain ; Not love muft give him comfort, but champagne ; He fummons all his jockey friends to dine, And drowns their late dilgrace in floods of wine. In [ » ] In vain flic ftrives, with ev'ry tender art, To wake the flumb'ring pafTion in his heart, He vents his difcontent in many a curfe, And flies to Arthurs to recruit his purfc. Reflection now calls up the frequent tear, And tells her fplendor may be bought too dear ; Her feeling heart, for tendernefs delign'd, 111 brooks the brow fevere, the word unkind ; Whilft ev'ry chearful look and winning fmile, But wafte their influence on a barren foil, That no endearment can have pow'r to move To yield one rich return of friendly love. Each day flie fees him more indifferent grow, At home a floven, and abroad a beau ; To others fees hi.n all his fmiles transfer, And all his wayward fpleen referve for her ; With coldnefs check her moft attra&ive pow'rs, Whilft fome ftage-dancer fhares his happier hours. Her pride, her virtue long endur'd the teft, But all the woman burnt within her breaft ; Whilft love and vengeance prompt her ftill to hear The faithful Colonel, ever at her ear. Ye happier fair, whole hufbands all are kind, Who view with envy none of womankind, Who never meet a cold averted face, For one fliOrt moment take the lady's place. With [ « 3 With pain fhe lingers out each vacant day, Defpis'd, neglected, for the love of play, Whilfr. blooming ftill in all her native charms, She fees him take another to his arms ; Severe the provocation, though too common, Who bears it, fure, is more or lefs than woman I Let not her fame too keen reproaches meet, Fond love's alluring, and revenge is fvveet, If, ftill condemn'd to pafs the lonely night, She lets the Colonel in — for very fpite. ECLOGUE [ - 2 ] ECLOGUE IV. The POET. IN that broad fpot, where two great roads divide, And invalids flop doubtful where to ride ; Whether the falutary air to breathe On Highgate\ fteepy hill, or Hampjlead heath ; Where mother Red- cap mews her high-crown'd hat, Upon a ftile a paft'ral poet fat. Him not Apollo nor the mufes nine Infpir'd with love of verfe, but hopes to dine : He labour'd not for that vain meed renown, But fill'd the ftated meet for half a crown ; And, all regardlefs what the critics faid, The churlifh bookfeller was all his dread. For him he pens the unharmonious drain, For him he racks his unprolific brain, For [ *3 ] For him he reads on Privy-garden wall, For him turns o'er the books on ev'ry flail, For him the pillag'd line he makes his own, From authors long forgot, or never known, For him he braves the parching fun and wind, To (tore with images his vacant mind, For him he now ftrays o'er the dufty green, To make a paft'ral for the Magazine. But all in vain his fancy flies abroad, The mufes fport not near the dufty road ; In vain he calls the nine with plaintive fighs, Apollos deaf, and not a mufe replies ; In vain he fingly wooes each fullen maid, No friendly couplet rifes to his aid ; The ruddy morn, and fcorching mid-day fun, Alike behold his labour fcarce begun, He fees the evening ftages fvveep the road, And not one ftanza fmifh'd of his ode. When thus he pour'd his lamentable lay But, loth to throw fo much good verfe away, In humble profe he utter'd all his moan, And I ek'd out his labour, with my own. " Hard is the fate of him who writes for bread: Ah wherefore was I better taught, than fed ! Ye cruel parents ! was it then in fpite Ye learnt me nothing -but to read and write ? Would C *4 ] Would not yon gard'ncr's fpade and pruning hook Have grac'd my hand, much better than a book ? Why was I not with fit inftru&ion ftor'd To wield a. mallet, or to plane a board ? Well had I then employ'd my humble fkill To make thofe fhelves, I ne'er was meant to fill. Or if to books fo fondly ye inclin'd, Ah why not learn to fell them, or to bind ? Ah why mifpend my precious time to read, When gilding titles would have brought me bread ? Thrice happy I, if ye had but thought fit To let me deal in any thing, but wit ; Whofe little ftock decreafes ev'ry hour, And leaves no diftant hope of gaining more : A frefh aflbrtment of fuch merchandife What warehoufe furnifhes, what loom fupplies ? But, if it muft be my obdurate lot To fell to others what myfelf have not, If I muft dine but on fome lucky hit, And keep a retail fhop for fcraps of wit, Why did I meddle with the rhiming trade ? A meet of profe is far, far fooner made : Why did I not, with more convenient fpeed, Write fpeeches in the houfe, that none would read ? Or pen a tale, or, in a tete-a-tete. To pleafe the little, ftigmatize the great ? Why C ^5 J Why not engage with Noble or with Bell, To weave, thin novels that are fure to fell ? Enamour'd youths had then, by my good rules, Made happy love to girls at boarding fchools ; And ev'ry Mifs, -with fond romantic head, Had my' adventures ftol'n, to read in bed. Thrice happy authors, who with little /kill In two fhort weeks can two fhort volumes fill ! Who take fome Mifs, of Chriftian-name inviting. And plunge her deep in love, and letter- writing * Perplex her well with jealous parents caresj Expofe her virtue to a lover's fnares ; Give her falfe friends and perjur'd fvvains by dozens,. With all the epifodes of aunts and coufins ; Make parents thwart her, and her lover fcorn her, And fome miifiap fpring up at ev'ry corner ; Make her lament her fate, with ahs and ohs, And tell fome dear Mifs Willis all her woes, WhilM: now with love and now with grief j]^ mocs ; Till, having brought her through two hundred pages, Finding, at length, her father's heart obdurate, Will make her take the 'Squire, and leave the Curate; She fcales the garden wall, or fords a river, Elopes, gets married, and her friends forgive her. How eafy flows a chit-chat tale like this ! In modern novels nothing comes amifs. G Fielding^ [ 26 ] Fielding, they fay, and Richard/on had learning ; But, furely, readers then were more difcerning : Our modern writers pleafe the town as well, Who know no grammar, and but learn to fpell. Critics indeed may maul their flimfy ware, But where' s the work that monthly critics fpare ? What though my labours in the Magazine Lie all fecure, below their dreaded fpleen, To kind and humble readers only known, Who think bought wit muft needs furpafs their own, Better to do, as other Authors ufe, And brave the thunder of the two Reviews, Than thus to wafte my patience and my time In all the pangs of uncomplying rhime : Such labours ill with hungry men agree; Why will ye, Miiles, ftudy poetry ? In vain, alas, mall city bards refort, For pahVral images, to Tottenham-court ; Fat droves of fheep, confign'd from Lincoln fens, That fwearing drovers beat to Smithfield penns, Give faint ideas of A?~cadian plains, With bleating lambkins, and with piping fwains. I've heard of Pope, of Phillips, and of Gay, They wrote not paft'rals in the king's highway : On C if- ] On Thames' fmooth banks, they fram'd the rural fong, And wander'd free, the tufted groves among ; Cull'd ev'ry flow'r the fragrant mead affords, And wrote in folitude, and din'd with lords. Alas for me ! what profpedts can I find To raife poetic ardour in my mind ? Where'er around I can: my wand'ring eyes, Long burning rows of fetid bricks arife, And naufeous dunghills fwell in mould'ring heaps, Whilft the fat fow beneath their covert Deeps. I fpy no verdant glade, no guihing rill, No fountain bubbling from the rocky hill, But ftagnant pools adorn our dufty plains, Where half-ftarv'd cows warn down their meal of trains. No traces here of fweet fimplicity, No lowing herd winds gently o'er the lea, No tuneful nymph, with chearful roundelay, Attends, to milk her kine, at clofe of day, But droves of oxen through yon clouds appear, With noify dogs and butchers in their rear, To give poetic fancy fmall relief, And tempt the hungry bard, with thoughts of beef. From helps like thefe, how very fmall my hopes ! My paft'rals, fure, will never equal Popes. Since [ *8- .1 Since then no images adorn the plain, But what are found as well in Gray s-Inn-Lane y Since dufl: and noife infpire no thought ferene, And three-horfe ftages little mend the fcene, I'll ftray no more to feck the vagrant mufe, But cv'n go write at home, and fave my fliocs." ECLOGUE C *9 ] ECLOGUE V. DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. INT thofe fair meads befide that favour'd ftream, Where Pope indulg'd the fond poetic dream, And woo'd, with happy fuit, the fylvan maids To leave their hill, and fport in Twickenham fhades, Difgufted with the city's tinfel joys, It's night of tumult, and it's day of noife, The penhVe Altamoiit, with lonely ftep Purfu'd the winding margin of the deep ; Whilft, deep embow'r'd within the fpreading groves, His humble feat, fond fcene of former loves, With peaceful gloom attracts his wiftful eyes, And bids fond thoughts of part: endearment rife. In vain he ftrove to wean his widow'd heart From wonted blifs, by ev'ry fpecious art ; H In [ 5° 3 In vain he mingled with the thoughtlefs train That haunt the Teats where folly holds her reign, He tried their profTer'd joys with ill fuccefs, And, following pleafure, flew from happinefs. For calmer blifs he feeks fequefter'd fcenes Where, in dun umbrage, wave the varied greens, Where dappled margins Thames fmooth waters lave, And drooping willows kifs the circling wave : There, as beneath the trembling afpin's fhade He view'd the riling hill, the verdant glade, Domeftic joys alone poffefs'd his mind, Without one wiih for thofe he left behind : With gay contempt the town's wild fcenes he view'd, And feafted on the joys of folitude ; The mufe the fole companion of his way, And thus he pour'd his elegiac lay. 'Tis not for you whofe golden-winged hours In joys, half-tafted, ever are employ'd, Who feek gay pleafure in her fweeteft bow'rs, And, ftill unfated, leave her half-enjoy 'd ; 'Tis not for you who dread the pain of thought, Who laugh through life, fo negligently gay, Whofe blifs, however mean, is dearly bought, 'Tis not for you I tune the fimple lay. The [ 3X ] The mufe's joys, more pure though more confin'd, Thofe profpecls heighten which ye drive to mifs j She feeks at home for pleasures more refin'd, That home ye hate, comprizes all her blifs. She feeks not vainly throuo-h the lenrnhen'd nieht, 'Midi! the gay haunts of indolence and pride, Refplendent fcenes, that pall whilft they invite, With wand'ring diflipation for her guide. She will not follow cv'ry tranfient glance Of vagrant fancy, ever on the wing ; She cannot mingle in her frolic dance, Nor lift to hear the trilling fyren Ung. She fees, through all the labour'd pomp of art, The mafk of pleafure hide the face of woe ; She fpurns fuch joys as fpring not from the heart, And pines for blifs they have not to bellow. Penfive (he turns the eye from iollv's train, And ilghs to fee the heedlefs mortals ftray To feek for happinefs, and feek in vain, Where, if flie deign to call, flic cannot flay, The friendly mule to you ye thinking fcw y Shall lend her aid to fweeten ev'ry hour, Shall open richer profpecls to your view, And guide ye homeward to her focial bow'r. O [ 3*. I O home ! thou only feat of ev'ry joy The heart can relifh, or the judgment tafte, Eftrang'd from thee the foul finds no employ, Nor feels the prefent, nor enjoys the pad. O let me feek thee with thy calm delights, Thy look of welcome, and thy friendly kifs, Thy chearful mornings and thy peaceful nights, With all a hufband's, all a parent's blifs. How fweet to pour my forrows to a heart That feels, yet drives to check, the rifing figh ! How fweet my brighter profpe&s to impart, And kifs the tear of tranfport from her eye ! How fweet the tafk, to trace with glad furprize The young ideas (hooting unconfm'd, With fofVring hand to cheridi as they rife, The feeds of virtue in the infant mind ! To bend the pliant foul to wifdom's lore, Firm honour's Heady precepts to infufe, The fav'rite bent of genius to explore, Aud guide luxuriant fancy to it's ufe.! The fullen apathy and cloiiter'd pride, That deem thefe heart-felt joys beneath their care, The candid mufe will pity, not deride, And wi-fh their vot'riss blifs they will not mare. Let [ 33 ] Let me with rapture view thofe pleafing cares Which fright the boafting Tons of liberty ; The heart that no domeftic fondnefs fhares, Foregroes it's dearcft bleilinp;s to be free. Is freedom then but leave to wander wide, And hardly fnatch at pleafures, ere they're pafl, To feek for ever for fome path untry'd, And find it cold and cheerlefs as the laft ? The folitary bark, of winds the fport, That through the vaft Atlantic winds her way, Without a haven or a deftin'd port, Feels this fad liberty as well as they. Is bondage then to wear thofe filken bands Uniting hearts that cannot wiili to rove, To grant that care the infant fmile demands, And pays with fweet returns of filial love ? Thole ring-doves then on. yonder waving tree, Whofe loving murmurs echo through the wood, May mourn their mutual lofs of liberty, And pine in bondage whilil they tend their brood. How painful for a fympathizing mind To ftray through life unfeeking and unfoupdit ; One cheerlefs barren wildernefs to find, Without an object worth a fecond thought ! I Wilt [ 54 ] Wilt thou Amanda come, and deign to fill This painful void that fickens o'er my foul ? Wilt thou accept a heart eitrang'd from ill, And fix that love it knows not to cuntroul ? Wilt thou (for well thy heart knows how) fupply The tender cares of mother and of wife ? And tutor'd by divine philanthropy, Fill the fweet duties of domeftic life ? Oft fhalt thou turn to lend a patient ear, When fufFring merit makes it's forrows known ; Oft fhall thy hand wipe off the orphan's tear, And, lending others blifs, fecure thy own. So fhall contentment blefs our humble feat, And ev'ry gliding year new comforts raife ; So fhall calm confeience make our {lumbers fweet, Whilft, though obfeure, not ufelefs pafs our days. Ah ! haplefs they of thefe mild joys debarr'd, For them time ling'ring flies with heavy wings, 'Tis fad experience fpeaks, and trufl the bard Whofe heart but feels too ftrongly what he lings. ECLOGUE C 33 ] ECLOGUE VI. * The VISIONARY. A Fragment. #####*###############* ■ OFT have I fecn him at the clofe of day, Shun the broad ftreet, and ileal his cautious way Through filent alleys to his lov'd refort In fome dull garden of the inns-of-court ; There would he oft retrace the gloomy round, And fix his eye upon the well-worn ground : Mutt' ring his wayward fancies would he walk, In broken fcraps of incoherent talk ; * Part of this Eclogue was printed fome years ago in another work-, but as the copy was incorrect, the author choie to vary the form of the introduc- tion, and, hy miking it coincide with his prefent defign, prelerve a more accurate copy of it here. Now [ 36 ] Now ftop awhile, now breathe a filent figh, And puzzle many a curious pailer by. He knew the work!, but wifh'd it all forgot ; The world defpis'd him, for it knew him not : He fought admittance at no neighbour's door, His own was only open to the poor, Yet bore no fpleen, no rancour in his mind, He lov'd, though he avoided, all mankind. Whate'cr his grief he never made it known, And fought for comfort in himfelf alone ; Ideal bleiTings real blifs fupplied, And fancy gave him what the world denied. It chane'd fome triflers watch'd his lone retreat, And drove him trembling from his filent feat ; Through the dun made their childim laughs refound, He flies, and drops thefe lines upon the ground ; By them his inmoft feelings I explor'd, Whilft thus he woo'd the goddefs he ador'd. Goddefs of golden dreams, whofe magic pow'r Spreads fmiles of joy o'er mif'ry's haggard face, And laviili fheds the viiionary flow'r To deck life's dreary paths with tranlient grace. I woo thee Fancy from thy fairy cell, Where, 'midft the endlefs woes of human kind, Wrapt in ideal blifs thou lov'll: to dwell, And fport in happier regions unconfin'd. Deep C 37 ] Deep funk, O goddefs, in thy pleafing trance, Oft let me feek fome low fequeftcr'd vale, Whilft wifdom's felf mall fteal a fidelong glance And fmile contempt, but liften to thy tale. Alas ! how little do her vot'ries guefs; Thofe rigid truths which learned fool's revere,, Serve but to prove, O bane to happinefs ! Our joys deluflve, but our woes fincere. Be theirs to fearch where clufVringr rofes