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And deems it shame if he to peace inclines :
And many a sullen look alkaunce is sent, Which for his dame's annoyance he designs ;
And still the more to pleasure him she's bent, The more doth he, perverse, her 'haviour paft resent.
Ah, me! how much I fear lest pride it be!
But if that pride it be, which thus inspires, Beware, ye dames ! with nice discernment see
Ye quench not, too, the sparks of nobler fires : Ah! better far than all the Muses' lyres,
(All coward arts) is valour's gen'rous heat; The firm fix'd breast which fit and right requires,
Like Vernon's patriot soul ; more justly great Than craft that pimps for ill, or flow'ry false deceit.
Yet nurs'd with skill, what dazzling fruits appear !
E’en now sagacious foresight points to show
And there a chancellour in embryo,
As Milton, Shakespeare, names that ne'er shall die !
Nor weeting how the Muse should foar on high, Wilheth, poor starv'ling elf! his paper kite may fly.
And this perhaps, who cens’ring the design,
Low lays the house which that of cards doth build, Shall Dennis be! if rigid Fates incline;
And many an epick to his rage shall yield, And many a poet quit the Aönian field :
And, four'd by age, profound he fall appear, As he who now, with 'fdainful fury thrill’d,
Surveys mine work, and levels many a fneer, And furls his wrinkly front, and cries, What stuff is here ?'
But now Dan Phoebus gains the middle sky,
And Liberty unbars her prison-door ; And like a rushing torrent out they fly,
And now the grassy cirque han cover'd o'er With boist'rous revel-rout and wild
uproar. A thousand ways in wanton rings they run; Heav'n shield their short-liv'd pastimes, I implore !
For well may Freedom, erst so dearly won, Appear to British elf more glad fome than the sun.
Enjoy, poor imps ! enjoy your sportive trade,
flies, and cull the faireft flow'rs ; For when my bones in grass-green fods are laid,
For never may ye taste more careless hours
O vain, to seek delight in earthly thing!
Deluded wight! who weens fair peace, can spring
See in each sprite some various bent appear!
These rudely carol most incondite lay;
Salute the stranger passing on his way:
Some to the standing lake their courses bend,
Thilk to the huxter's fav'ry cottage tend,
Here, as each season yields a diff'rent store,
Each season's stores in order ranged been, Apples with cabbage-net y-cover'd o'er,
Galling full fore th’unmoney'd wight, are seen ;
And gooseb’rie, clad in liv'ry red or green:
pear ; Fine pear! as lovely for thy juice I ween;
O may no wight e'er pennyless come there,
See! cherries here, ere cherries yet abound,
With thread so white in tempting posies ty’d, Scatt’ring like blooming maid their glances round,
With pamper'd look draw little eyes afide, And must be bought, tho' penury betide:
The plumb all azure, and the nut all brown ; And here, each season, do those cakes abide,
Whose honour'd names th' inventive city own, Rend'ring thro' Britain's ille Salopia's praises known
Admir'd Salopia! that with venial pride
Eyes her bright form in Severn's ambient wave, Fam’d for her loyal cares in perils try'd;
Her daughters lovely, and her striplings brave: Ah! midst the rest, may flow'rs adorn his grave
Whose art did first these dulcet cates display !
Who chearless o'er her darkling region stray,
ODE AGAINST ILL-NATURE,
BY CHRISTOPHER SMART, M. A.
FFSPRING of Folly and of Pride,
To all that's odious, all that's base ally'd ;
* Shrewsbury cakes.
Away, thou hideous hell-born sprite!
Sullen, sour, and saturnine;
Thy planet was remote when I was born ; 'Twas Mercury that ruld thy natal morn.
What time the sun exerts his genial ray,
When to exist is but to love and sing,
There, in yon lonesome heath, Which Flora or Sylvanus never knew,
Where never vegetable drank the dew, Or beast or fowl attempts to breathe ;
Where Nature's pencil has no colours laid, But all is blank, and universal shade :
Contrast to figure, motion, life, and light, There may'st thou vent thy spite,
For ever cursing, and for ever curs'd,
The worst in genius, measure, and degree ;
Or would'st thou change the scene, and quit thy den,
Behold the heaven-deserted fen, .
Hardness of heart, and heaviness of head,
There may'st thou all thy bitterness unload, There may'st thou croak, in concert with the toad.
With thee the hollow howling winds hall join,
The querulous frogs shall mix their dirge with thine,
Away! away !-behold an hideous band,
And herd of all thy minions, are at hand! Suspicion first with jealous caution stalks,
And ever looks around her as she walks ;
Next Scandal's meagre shade,
A wither'd, time-deflower'd old maid,
Hypocrify succeeds, with saint-like look,
And elevates her hands, and plods upon her book, Next comes illiberal, scrambling Avarice ;
Then Vanity, and Affectation niceSee, she falutes her shadow with a bow,
As in fhort Gallick trips the minces by; Starting Antipathy is in her eye,
And squeamishly she knits her fcornful brow.
W lowly reverence stoop-
Away! thou art infectious—hafte away!
E Persian maids, attend your Poet's lays,
• And hear how shepherds pass their golden days. • Not all are bless’d, whom Fortune's hand sustains • With wealth in courts, nor all that haunt the plains :
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