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EPIGRAM. S3.

•Turn'd sour? no measter, no,' reply'd the fellow;

'But just now, as I went, d' ye see,

'To tilt the cask—away rolled he, 'And all the liquor's spilt about the cellar.' The fact was, Numps the cask of ale had stav'd: Now, prythee, tell me how the priest behav'd?

Did he pull off his wig. or tear his hair?
Or like that silly fellow Job,
Throw ashes on his head, or rend his robe?

Say, how did he this dire misfortune bear?
And thus, in voice of pious resignation,
He to this man address'd this mild oration:
'Ma> God confound thee, thou d-n'd stupid bear,
The best of priests you know, will sometimes swear,

'What, you must meddle, must ye

* With the barrel, and be curst t' ye?

* I wish thy paws were in the fire—Odd rot 'm—

'Get thee down stairs, this instant, wretch,

* Or by the living G-d I '11 kick thy breech 'From top to bottom.'

* Nay, now, my dearest,' cried the dame, 'Is this your patience?—Fie for shamei

* I beg you '11 recollect your text, 'Job was not half so vext

'When he 'd his sons and daughters ip bewail.' 'D-n all his sons and daughters if you choose,

* Answer me this, I say—did Job e'er lose 'A barrel of such ale?'

EPIGRAM

ON THE DEATH OF A NOTED KNAVE. ,

iFheav'n be pleas'd when sinners cease to sin—
If hell be pleas'd, when sinners enter in—
If earth be pleas'd freed from a truckling knave-
Then all are pleas'd — — is in his grave.

THE SEGAR.

A PARODY ON SAPPHO'S ODE.

(Translated by PMllips.)

m

Blest as old Homer's gods is he,

The man, at night from trouble free,

Who in the chimney-corner smokes,

Gaily talks, and blithly jokes.

'Tis this, that oft has sooth'd my breast,

And added sharpness to the jest.

Wit, beaming 'midst the smoaking croud,

Appears like Sol behind a cloud.

Smoke solid pleasure can impart;

'Tis this that oft has cheer'd my heart;

Tor, while I smoke, in fancy gay,

1 nod, and smile, and puff away.

VERSES

ON THE CHEW OP A CERTAIN VESSEL,

Several of 'whom happened to be of the same Name mti celebrated Clergymen.

(fhbheac.)

In life's unsettled, odd career,
What changes every day appear

To please or plague the eyel
A goodly brotherhood of priests
Are here transform'd to swearing beasts,

That heaven and hell defy.

Here Bonner, bruis'd with many a knock,
Has changed his surplice for—a frock;
Old Erskinte ewabs the deck:

as

And Watts, that once such pleasure took^
In writing hymns, here grown a cook,
Sinners no longer vex.

Here Burnet, Tillotson, and Blair,
With Jemmy Hervey, curse, and swear:

Here Cudworth mixes grog;
Pearson the crew to dinner hails,
A graceless Sherlock trims the sails,

And Bunyan heaves the log.

ANNE—OR, THE GRACES.

(AMERICAN MUSEUM.)

Instructed to hold up her head;
With grace to sing, with grace to tread—
With grace to talk on love-affairs—
With grace at church to say her prayers,
With grace her parents to confute,
With grace on morals to dispute,
At last fell Anne (such oft the case is)
A sacrifice to all the graces.

A CATCH.

TO A COMPANY OF BAD F1DDLE-SCRAPEBS,

(AMERICAN MUSEUM.)

May ye never play in tune,
In the morning, night, or noon:
May you ne'er at noon or night,
Know the wrong end from the right.

May the strings be ever breaking,
Pegs, I charge ye, ne'er unscrew j

May your heads he always aching,
Till the fiddle 's broke in two,

56 THE SUICIDE.

EPIGRAM.

(AMERICAN MUSEUM.)

I Tell thee, dear girl, and believe me, 'tis true;

I never beheld such a creature as you,

Such wit! and such beauty!—such taste and such

pride! Thou ne'er hadst an equal since Jezabel died. Fine shape, and fine face, with a simper so thievish Yet artful, deceitful, ill natur'd, and peevish. God moulded thy face, but the devil thy heart; What a pity that Satan should spoil the best part!

THE SUICIDE.

(AMERICAN MUSEUM.)

Virgimbuspuerisq ,. canto. Hou. in. Op. r.

Scenes of mirth and joy, farewell!

Sadly let the muse complain: Let her seek to move the tear, Sympathetic and sincere;

Render not her efforts vain.

Ye who tender passions know,
Listen to this tale of wo;
Ye, whose breasts with pity burn,
Drop a tear on Damon's urn.

And you, ye fair, example take
From this affecting story; .

Nor still persist the hearts to break,
Of lovers who adore ye.

Who to your charms shall make pretence;

And with addresses teaze you, If virtue, beauty, wit, and sense

In vain combine to please you?

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THE CARPENTER AND THE COFFINS. &

Let Damon's fate your pity share;

Long sought he Chloe's heart to gain; But Cliloe, cruel, cruel fair,

Return'd his passion with disdain.

Lo! at her feet he sues for grace;

Sighs, more than words, his flame discover; Whilst, trickling down his beauteous face,

The big round drops confess the lover!

In vain his tears, in vain his sighs—

For Chloe, frowning, bids him leave her:
*Yes, I'll obey her,' Damon cries,
'And rather die than grieve her.'

He draws his sword in wild despair';

(Poor Chloe trembled, wept, and blubber'd;)' Three times he flourish'd it in air,

Then plung'd it in—the scabbard!

[graphic]
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