Nor poorly fearful, nor fecurely vain,

Ours would, by honeft ways, that grace obtain;
Would, as a free-born wit, be fairly try'd:

And then-let candor, fairly too, decide.

He courts no friend, who blindly comes to praife;
He dreads no foe-but whom his faults may raise.
Indulge a generous pride, that bids him own,
He aims to please, by noble means alone;
By what may win the judgment, wake the heart,
Infpiring nature, and directing art;

By fcenes, fo wrought, as may applause command
More from the judging head, than thundering hand.
Important is the moral we would teach-

Oh may this island practise what we preach-
Vice in its first approach with care to fhun;
The wretch, who once engages, is undone.
Crimes lead to greater crimes, and link fo ftraight,
What first was accident, at last is fate :

Guilt's hapless fervant finks into a flave;
And Virtue's last fad strugglings cannot fave.
"As fuch our fair attempt, we hope to fee
"Our judges,-here at least-from influence free:
"One place,-unbias'd yet by party-rage,-
"Where only honour votes-the British stage.
"We ask for justice, for indulgence fue :
Our laft beft licence muft proceed from you."

IMPROMPTU,

ON A LADY, WHO HAD PASSED SOME TIME I PLAYING WITH A VERY YOUNG CHILD.

W

HY, on this leaft of little Miffes,

Did Celia waste fo many' kiffes?

Quoth Love, who ftood behind and fmil'd,

She kifs'd the father in the child.

EPIGRAM,

ON SEEING TWO, PERSONS PASS BY IN VERY DIFFERENT EQUIPAGES.

IN modern, as in ancient days,

See what the Mufes have to brag on:
The Player in his own post-chaise;
The Poet in a carrier's waggon!

EPIGRAM,

ON A CERTAIN LORD'S PASSION FOR A SINGER.

N

ERINA's angel-voice delights;

Nerina's devil-face affrights:

How whimsical her Strephon's fate,
Condemn'd at once to like and hate!
But be the cruel, be fhe kind,

Love! ftrike her dumb, or make him blind.

A SIMILE IN PRIOR,

APPLIED TO THE SAME PERSON.

EAR Thomas, didft thou never pop

DThy head into a tin-man's shop?

There, Thomas, didst thou never see'Tis but by way of fimile

A fquirrel fpend. its little rage,

In jumping round a rolling cage?
Mov'd in the orb, pleas'd with the chimes,
The foolish creature thinks it climbs;
But here or there, turn wood or wire,
It never gets two inches higher.

So fares it with this little Peer,

So bufy and fo buftling here;-
For ever flirting up and down,
And frisking round his cage, the town.
A world of nothing in his chat,
Of who faid this, and who did that :
With fimilies, that never hit;

Vivacity, that has no wit;

Schemes laid this hour, the next forfaken
Advice oft afk'd, but never taken :
Still whirl'd, by every rifing whim,
From that to this, from her to him;
And when he hath his circle run,
He ends-juft where he first begun.

ON

ON AN AMOROUS OLD MAN.

STILL hovering round the fair at fixty-four,

Unfit to love, unable to give o'er;

A flesh-fly, that just flutters on the wing,
Awake to buz, but not alive to fting;

Brisk where he cannot, backward where he can ;
The teazing ghost of the departed man.

T

ON I. H. Esq.

HE youth had wit himself, and could afford
A witty neighbour his good word.

Though scandal was his joy, he would not fwear:
An oath had made the ladies ftare,

At them he duly drefs'd, but without paffion :
His only mistress was the fashion.

Her verfe with fancy glitter'd, cold and faint;
His profe, with fenfe, correctly quaint.

At once a fribble, and a man of parts.

A FRAGMEN T.

FAIR morn afcends: foft zephyr's wing

O'er hill and vale renews the spring: Where, fown profufely, herb and flower, Of balmy fmell, of healing power,

Their fouls in fragrant dews exhale,
And breathe fresh life in every gale.
Here, fpreads a green expanse of plains,
Where, sweetly penfive, Silence reigns;
And there, at utmost stretch of eye,
A mountain fades into the sky;
While winding round, diffus'd and deep,
A river rolls with founding fweep.
Of human art no traces near,
I feem alone with Nature here!

Here are thy walks, O facred Health!
The monarch's blifs, the beggar's wealth;
The seasoning of all good below!
The fovereign friend in joy or woe!
O thou, moft courted, moft defpis'd,
And but in abfence duly priz'd!
Power of the foft and rofy face!
The vivid pulse, the vermil grace,
The fpirits when they gayeft shine,
Youth, beauty, pleasure, all are thine!
O fun of life! whofe heavenly ray
Lights up, and chears, our various day,
The turbulence of hopes and fears,
The ftorm of fate, the cloud of years,
Till Nature, with thy parting light,
Reposes late in Death's calm night:
Fled from the trophy'd roofs of ftate,
Abodes of fplendid pain and hate;

Fled from the couch, where, in fweet fleep,
Hot riot would his anguish steep,

But