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As well he might ; for prove we can,
The courser equal to the man.

This horse was of supreme degree,
At least no common steed was he.-
He scorn'd the tricks of sly trepanners,
And never 'horse had better manners.
He scorn'd to tell a lie, or mince
His words by clipping half their sense:
But if he meant to shew you why,
He'd out with't, let who would be by.
And (how can man the blush restrain?)
Ne'er took his Maker's name in vaih!
A better servant horse was never,
His master own'd that he was clever.
Then to his equals all obliging,
To his inferiors quite engaging;
A better christian, too I trow,
Than some denominated so.
tn him we the good father find,
The duteous son the husband kind:
The friend sincere—tho' not to brag,
The honest and well meaning nag.

Then let those fools who vainly laugh*
To see a horse's epitaph,
Go, grope among the human dust,
And find an epitaph more just.



A King, near Pimlicb, with nose and state,
Did very much a neighboring brick-kiln hate*
Because this kiln did vomit nasty smoke;
Which smoke—I can't say Very neatly bred,
Did very often take it in the head, [choke*
To blacken the great house, and try the king td


His sacred Majesty would sputt'ring say,

. Upon a windy day, 'I'll make the rascal and his brick-kiln hop;

'P-x take the smoke! the sulphur! zounds!

* It forces down my throat by pounds; 'My belly is a downright blacksmith's shop.'

One day, he was so pestered by a cloud,
He could not bear it, and thus bawl'd aloud:
'Go,' (roar'd his Majesty unto a page;
Work'd like a lion, to a dev'Iish rage)

'Go tell the rascal, who the brick-kiln owns, 'That if he dares to burn another brick, 'Black all my house like hell, and make me sick,

'I'll tear his kiln to rags, and break his bones.'

Off set the page, and soon his errand told: On which the brick-maker—a little bold, Exclaim'd, 'He break my bones, good masterpage! 'He say. my kiln sha'nt burn another brick, 'Because it blacks his house, and makes him sick! • Go—give my compliments to master's rage, 'And say more bricks I am resolv'd to burn; 'And—(if the smoke his worship's stomach turn) 'To stop his royal mouth and snout: 'Nay. more, good Page; His Majesty shall find, 'III always take th' advantage of the wind, 'And, dam'mc, try to smoke him out.'

This was a dreadful message to the King,

From a poor ragged rogue that dealt in mud: Yet, though so impudent a thing.

The fellow's rhet'ric could not he withstood. Stiff, as against poor Hasting's, Edmund Burke, This brick-maker went, tooth and nail to work, And form'd a true Vesuvius on the eye: The smoke in pitchy volumes roll'tl along, Ruslrd thro' the royal dome with sulphur strong, And then, ascending, darken'd all the sky.


Thus did this cloud of darkness daily shade The building for the Lord's Annointed made, And blacken'd it, likejrall's, that grace a burying: Thus was this Man of Mud and straw employ'd,

And, at the thought so wicked ovcrjoy'd, Of smoaking his liege sov'reign like a Herring:

Of serving him, as we do parts of swine.

Thought, with green peas, a dish extremely fine.

But lo! this baneful Rogue of brick.

Fell, for his sov'reign. fortunately sick,

And. ere the wretch could please his spleen and

pride. Of turning Monarchs into bacon'—dy'd.



1st the lott'ry of life, lest dame fortune beguile, This great truth we should ever premise,

That altho' the bright goddess may simper and smile She has always—two blanks to a prize!

Ifahusband you'd take, miss—oryousir, a wife,
From this maxim divert not your eyes;

For of one and the other 111 veuture mv life.
There are more than—two blanks to a prize!

If in law you 're entangl'd, why then, silly man,
As a friend, give me leave to advise;

Slip your neck from the collar, as fast as you can:.
There are fifty—two blanks to a prize!

And if for preferment, you're striving at court,

Or by merit expect you shall rise; Then your chance is not worth, sir, three fourths of a groat: There are ninety—two blanks to a prize? D


By the side of the sea, in a cottage obscure, There lived an old fellow named Chariot Boncoeur, 'Who was free to his neighbour and good to the poor,

Catching fish was his trade,

And all people said,
That mischief to nothing but fish he design'd,
To all people else, he was candid and kind.

One day as he went to the brink of the lake,
Persuading the fishes their dinner to take,
(The last he intended they ever should make)
While his hooks he employ'd to their sorrow and wo
A grunting he heard in the waters below;
And casting his eyes to the bottom, (for here
We 'II suppose that the water was perfectly clear)
He saw on the bed of the liquid profound
An unfortunate wight who was drowning, or

That the man to the surface once more might ascend
He took up his pole, with a hook at the end,

And to it he fell,

And managed so well, That soon tothe margin the carcase was drawn, And who should it be but his old neighbour John!

Now, some how or other, it pop'd in his head, That in spite of his drowning the man was not dead, And while he was thinking what means to devise That his friend might recover and open his eyes, He saw with vexation and sorrow, no doubt, . That, in lugging him up, he had put one eye out— However, convinced, from what he had heard, That John might be living, for aught that appear'd; To his cottage he took him, and there had him bled, Bubb'd, roll'd on a barrel, and then put to bed:


So in less than a week (to his praise be it said)
In Jess than a week, the man was as sound
(Excepting the loss of his eye and the wound)
As if in Ins life he had never been drowned.

But when John had begun to travel about,
He was sadly chagrined that his eye was put out,
And forgetting what service his neighbour had done

him, Went off to a lawyer, and clapt a writ on him: Talked much of the value of what be had lost, That Chariot must pay all the damage and cost, And if with such sentence he would not comply, He swore he would have his identical eye.

That Chariot was vexed, we hardly need say, Tet he urged what he could in a moderate way, Declared to the judges, by way of defence, 'That the action was wrought without malice pre

pense; That his conscience excus'd him for what he had

done; That fortune was only to blame—and that John Might have thought himself happy (when death was

so nigh) To purchase his life with the loss of an eyeThat the loss of an eye is a serions affair Was certain—and yet he'd be bold to declare, That the man who can shew hut one eye in his head., Is better by far than a man that is dead.'

In answer to all the defendant's fine pleading, John said 'He had never yet found in his reading, A people, or nation, or senator sage, Or a law, or a custom, in whatever age, Permitting (unpunished) by force or surprise One neighbour to put out his next neighbour's eyes.'

The lawyers and judges were all at a stand Which way to conclude on the matter in hand, 'Till a half-witted fellow, who chanced to be there,

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