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Attentive echo, pleas'd to hear his songs,

EPISTLE XV. Through the glad fhade each warbling note prolongs;

To the most bonourablo tbe Earl of Oxford, the Lord His various numbers charm our ravish'd ears,

High Treasurer. His steady judgment far out fhoors his years,

The Epigrammatical Petition of your Lordfhip’s And early in the youth the god appears. From these successful bards collea thy trains;

most humble Servant, And praise with profit shall reward thy pains :

John Gay. Then, while calves-leather-binding bears the sway, I'm no more to converse with the swains, And sheep-skin to its leeker gloss gives way; While neat old Elzevir is reckon'd better

But go where fine people resort : Than Pirate Hill's brown Meets and Acurvy One can live without money on plains, letter;

But never without it at court.
While print admirers careful Aldus choose, If when with the swains I did gambol,
Before John Morphew, or the weekly news; I array'd me in silver and blue;
So long shall live thy praise in books of fame, When abroad and in courts I shall ramble,
And Tonson yield to Lintote's lofty name.

Pray, my lord, how much money will do?

ECLOGUES.

THE BIRTH OF THE SQUIRE. How in one day, beneath his furious speed,

He tir'd seven courfers of the fleetelt breed;
In Imitation of the Pollio of Virgil.

How high the pale he leap'd, how wide the Witch, Yz sylvan mules, loftier strains recite :

When the hound toreihc haunches of the * witch! Not at all in shades and humble cots delight. These stories, which descend from son to son, Hark! the bells ring; along the distant grounds The forward boy shall one day make his own. The driving galcs convey the swelling sounds; Ah, too fond mi ther, think the time draws nigh, Th' attentive (wain, forgetful of his work, That calls the darling from thy tender eye; With gaping wonder, leans upon his fork. How fall his fpirit brook the rigid rules, What sudden news alarm the waking morn? And the long tyranny of granımar schools ? To the glad Squire a hopeful heir is born. Let younger brothers o'er dull authors plod, Mourn, mourn, ye flags, and all ye beasts of chase ; Lath'd into Latin by the tingling rod; This hour destruction brings on all your race : No, let him never feel that smart dilgrace: See the pleas'd tenants duteous offerings bear, Why should he wiser prove than all his race ? Turkeys and geese, and grocer's sweetest ware ; When ripening youth with down o'erihades his With the new health the ponderous tankard flows, chin, And old October reddens every nose.

And every female eye incites to fin; Beagles and spaniels round his cradle stand, The milk-maid (thoughtless of her future shame) Kiss his moilt lip, and gently lick his hand. With smacking lip shall raise his guilty flame; He joys to hear the shrill horn's echoing sounds, The dairy, barn, the hay-loft, and the grove, And learns to lisp the names of all the hounds. Shall oft be conscious of their ftoien love. With (rothy ale to make his cup o'erdow,

But think Priscilla, on that dreadful tine, Barley shall in paternal acres grow;

When pangsand watery qualms shallown thy crime. The bee shall sip the fragrant dew from flowers, How wilt thou tremble when thy nipple's prest, To give metheglin for his morning-hours; To see the white drops bathe thy swelling brealt! For him the cluttering hop shall climb the poles, Ninc moons shall publicly divulge thy shame, And his own orchard sparkle in his bowls. And the young squire forestall a father's name.

His fire's exploits he now with wonder hears, When twice twelve times the reaper's sweeping The monstrous tales indulge his greedy ears;

hand How, when youth ftrung his nerves and waim'd with levell’d harvests has beftrown the land; "his veins,

On fam'd St. Hubert's feast, his winding horn
He rode the mighty Nimrod of the plains. Shall cheer the joyful hound, and wake the morn:
He leads the staring infant through the hall,

This memorable day his eager speed
Points out the horny spoils that grace the wall; Shall urge with bloody heel the rising steed.
Tells, how this stag through threc whole counties O check the foamy bit, nor temipt thy fate,
fled,

Think on the murders of a five-bar gate!
What rivers swam, where bay'd, and where he bled.
Now he the wonders of the fox repeats,

* The most common accident to sportfnen, to tunt Describos the desperite chase, and all his cheats ; witch in the pape of a harco

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Yet, prodigal of life, the leap he tries,

With crimson wool she fixes every grace, Low in the dust his groveling honour lies, That not a blush can discompofc her face. Headlong he falls, and on the rugged store Reclin'd upon her arm, she pensive fate, Distorts his neck, and cracks the collar-bone. And curs'd th' inconstancy of youth too late. O venturous youth, thy thirit of game allay : O youth ! O spring of life: for ever loft : May'lt thou survive the perils of this day No more my name hall reign the favourite toal; He shall furvive; and in late years be sent On glass no more the diamond grave my name, To snore away debates in parliament.

And rhymes mis-speli record a lover's Name: The time hall come, when his more folid sense Nor Mail side-boxes watch my reftless eyes, With nod important shall the laws dispense ; And, as they catch the glance, in rows arise A Justice with grave Justices shall fit;

With hunible bows; nor white. lov'd beaux enHe praise their wisdom, they admire his wit.

croach No greyhound shall attend the tenant's pace, In crowds behind, to guard me to my coach. No rusty gun the farmer's chimney grace; Ah, hapless nymph! such conquests are no more ; Salmons Thail leave their covers void of fear, For Chloe's now what Lydia was before ! Nor dread the shievith net or triple spear;

'Tis true, this Chloe boasts the peach's bloom. Poachers shall tremble at his awful name, [game. But does her nearer whisper breathe perfume? Whom vengeance now o'ertakes for murder'd | I own, her taper shape is form’d to please.

Allt me, Bacchus, and ye drunken powers, Yet if you saw her unconfin'd by fiays! To sing his friendships and his midnight hours ! She doubly to fifteen may make pretence;

Why dost thou glory in thy strength of beer, Alike we read it in her face and tense. Firm-cork'd and mellow'd till the twentieth year; Her reputation ! but that never yet Brew'd, or when Phæbus warms the fleecy fign, Could check the freedoms of a young coquette. Or when his languid rays in Scorpio shine ? Why will ye then, vain sops, her eyes believe? Think on the mischiefs which srom hence have Her eyes can, like your perjur'd tongues, deceive, sprung!

What shall I do? how spend the hateful day? It arms with curses dire the wrathful tongue; At chapel shall I wear the morn away? Foul scandal to the lying lip affords,

Who there frequents at these uomodiib hours, And prompts the meniory with injurious words. But ancient matrons with their frizzled towers, O where is wisdom when by this o'erpower'd? And gray religious maids ? My presence there The fate is censur'd, and the maid deflower'd ! Amid that sober train would own despair ; And wilt thou fill, o Squire, brew ale so trong? Nor am I yet so old; nor is my glance Hear then the dictates of prophetic song.

As yet fixt wholly to devotion's trance. (range Methinks I see him in his hall appear,

Straight then I'll dress, and take my wontee Where the long table floats in clammy beer, Through every Indian shop through all the Change; Midft mugs and glasses shatter'd o'er the floor, Where the tall jar erects his cofly pride, Dead drunk, his servile crew supinely snore ; With antic fapes in china's azure dy'd ; Triumphant, o'er the proftrate brutes he stands, There careless lies the rich brocade unroll'd; The mighty bumper trembles in his hands; Here fines a cabinet with burnith'd gold : Boldly he drinks, and, like his glorious fires, But then semembrance will my grief renew, In copious gulps of potent ale expires.

'Twas there the raffling dice false Damon threw;

The raffling dice to him decide the prize ;
THE TOILETTE,

'Twas there he first convers'd with Chloe's eyes.
Hence sprung th' ill-fated cause of all my smart;

To me the toy he gave, to her his heart.
Lydia.

But foon thy perjury in the gift was found,
Now twenty springs had cloth'd the park with

The shiver'd china drope upon the ground; gieen,

Sure omen that thy vows would faithless prove ; Since Lydia koew the bloffom of fifteen ;

Frail was thy present, frailer is thy love. No loveis now her morning hours molest,

O happy Poll, in wiry poison pent; And catch her at her toilette half undrest;

Thou ne'er haft known what love or rivals meant, "The thundering knocker wakes the freet no more, And Pug with pleasure can his setters bear, No chair", no coaches, crowd her silent door; Who ne'er believ'd se vows that lovers (wear : Her midnights once at cards and hazard Aled, How am I curit (unha py and forlorn) Which now, alas! the dreams away in bed. With perjury, with love, and rivals scorn! Around her wait shocks, monkeys, and mockaws, False are the loose coquette's inveigling airs, To fill the place of sops and perjur'd beaux; False is the pompous 'grief of youthful heirs, In these the view's the mimickry of man,

False is the cringing courtier's plighted word, And smiles when grinning Pug gallants her fan; False are the dice when gamesters itamp the board, When Poll repeats, the founds decrive her ear False is the sprightly widow's public tear; (For sounds like his once told her Damon's care); Yet these to Damon's caths are all fincere. With these alone her tedious mornings pals;

Fly from perfidious man, the fex disdain ; Or, at the dunib devo:ion of her glais,

Let fervile Chloe wear the nuptial chain, She smouths her brow, and frizzles forth her hairs, Danion is practis'd in the modiih life, And fancies youthful dress gives youthful airs; Can hate, and yet be civil to a wisc.

A TOWN ECLOCUL.

roves;

He games; he fwears; he drinks; he fights; he Yet, in the gallery mobb'd, He fire fecure,

And laughs at jefts that turn the box demure.
Yet Chloe can believe he fondly loves.

Doris.
Mistress and wife can well supply his need; Trust not, ye ladies, to your beauty's power,
A miss for pleasure, and a wife for bread.

For beauty withers like a shrivel'd flower;
But Chloe's air is anconfin'd and gay,

Yet those fair flowers, that Sylvia's temples bind, Aod can perhaps an injur'd bed repay;

Fade not with fudder, blights or winter's wind; Perhaps her patient temper can behold

Like thofe, her face defies the rolling years ; The rival of her love adorn'd with gold.

For art her rofes and her charms repairs. Powder'd with diamonds; free from thought and

Melantbe. care,

Laura despises every outward grace,
A busband's fullen humours she can bear. (eyes? The wanton Sparkling eye, the blooming face ;

Why are these fobs ? and why these streaming The beauties of the soul are all her pride,
Is love the cause? No, I the sex defpise ;

For other beauties nature has deny'd :
I hate, I lothe his base per fidious name.

If affectation show a beauteous mind, Yet if he should but feign a rival flame?

Lives there a man to Laura's merits blind? But Chloe boasts and triumphs in my pains ;

Doris. To her he's faithful, 'tis to me he feigns.

Sylvia be sure defies the town's reproach, Thus love-lick Lydia rav'd. Her maid appears; Whofe dishabille is foil'd in hackney coach ; A band-box in her steady hand the bears.

What though the sash was clos'd, muft we con How well this ribband's gloss becomes your face ; clude, She cries, in raptuaes ; then, so sweet a lace! That she was yielding, when her fop was rude? How charmingly you look! so bright! so fair !

Melantbe, 'Tis to your eyes the head-dress owes its air. Laura learnt caution at too' dear a cost, Straight Lydia (mild: the comb adjusts her locks What fair could e'er retrieve her honour loft? And at the playhouse Harry keeps her box. Secret fhe loves; and who the nymph can blame,

Who durst not own a footman's vulgar flame? THE TEA-TABLE,

Doris.

Though Laura's homoly taste descends so low; A TOWN ECLOGUE.

Her footman well may vie with Sylvia's beau.
Doris and Melantie.

Melantbe.
SAINT James's noon-day bell for prayers had tollid, Yet why should Laura think it a disgrace,
And coaches to the patron's levce rolid,

When proud Miranda's groom wears Flanders When Doris rose. And now through all the room

lace?. From flowery tea exhales a fragrant fume.

Doris. Cup after cup they sipt, and talk'd by fits, What though-for music Cynthio boasts an ear? For Doris here, and there Melanthe lits.

Robiu perhaps can hum an opera air. Doris was young, a laughter-loving dame, Cynthio can bow, cakes inufl, and dances well; Nice of her own alike and others' fame :

Robin talks common-sente, can write and spell. Melanthe's tongue could well a tale advance,

Sylvia's vain fancy dress and show admires; And sooner gave than funk a circumstance; But 'tis the man alone whom Laura fires. Lock'd in her memory, secrets never dy'd.

Melantbe.
Doris begun : Melanthe thus reply'd.

Plato's wise morals Laura's foul improve :
Doris.

And this, no doubt, must be Platonic love!
Sylvia the vain fantastic fop admires;

tier foul to generous acts was still inclin'd. The rake's loose gallanery her bolom fires : What shows more virtue than an humble mind? Sylvia like that is vain, like this Mhe roves;

Doris. 1a liking them, she but herself approves.

What though young Sylvia love the park's cool Melantbe.

shade, Laura rails on at men, the sex reviles,

And wander in the dusk the secret glade ?
Their vice condemns, or at their folly (miles. Marqu'd and alone (by chance) she met her spark;
Why should her tongue in just resentment fail, That innocence is weak which shuns the dark.
Since men at her with equal freedom rail ?

Melartbe.
Doris.

But Laura for her fianie has no pretence;
Last masquerade was Sylvia nymph-liko feen, Her footman is a footinan too in sense.
Her hand a crook sustain'd, her dress was green;

All prudes I hate ; and those are rightly curft An amorous fhepherd led her through the crowd, With scandal's double load, who censure first, The nymph was innocent, the thepherd vow'd;

Doris. But nymphs their innocence with Thepherds trust;

And what if Cynthio Sylvia's garter ty’d? So both withdrew, as nynıph and shepherd mult. Who such a foot and such a leg would hide; Melantbe.

When crook-knecd Phyllis can expose to view Name but the licence of the modern stage, Her gold-clock'd ilocking, and her lawdry thuc? Laura takes fire, and kindles into rage;

elantbe. The whining tragic love the scarce can bear, If pure devotion centre in the face, But aauscous comedy ne'er ihock'd her car ; If ceasuring others low intrinsic grace,

A TOWN ECLOGUE,

If guilt to public freedoms be combin'd,

His words fincere, respect his presence drew, Prudes (all must own) are of the holy kind! And on his lips sweet conversation grew. Doris.

Where's wit, where's beauty, where is virtue fled?
Sylvia disdains reserve, and flies contraint; Alas! they're now no more; Fidelio's dead!
She neither is, nor would be thought, a saint.

Lucy.
Melantbe.

Yet, when he liv’d, hc wanted every grace;
Love is a trivial paflion, Laura cries :

That cafy air was then an aukward pace: May I be blest with friendship's stricter ties! Have not your fighs in whispers often said, To such a breast all secrets we commend;

His dress was fovenly, his speech ill-bred?
Sure the whole drawing-room is Laura's friend. Have not I heard you, with a secret tear,
Doris.

Call that sweet converse sullen and severe ?
At marriage Sylvia rails; who men would trust ? Think not I come to take Myrtillo's part:
Yet husbands' jealousies are sometimes just. Let Chloe, Daphne, Doris, sare his heart;
Her favours Sylvia shares among mankind : Let Chloe's love in every ear express
Such generous love should never be confin'd. His graceful person and genteel address;
As thus alternate chat employ'd their tongue.

All well may judge what shaft has Daphne hit,

Who fuffers Gilence, to admire his wit, With thundering raps the brazen knocker rung.

His equipage and liveries Doris move; Laura and Sylvia came; the nymphs arise ;

But Chloe, Daphne, Doris, fondly love. " This unexpected visit,” Doris cries,

Sooner shall cits in fashions guide the court, " Is doubly kind !" Melanthe Laura led :

And beaux upon the busy Change resort; s Since I was last so blest, my dear,” she said, « Sure 'tis an age.” They fate; the hour was set; And fops apartments smoke with India's weed ;

Sooner the nation shall from snuff be freed, And all again that night at ombre met.

Sooner I'd with and figh through nunnery grates;

Than recommend the flame Sabina hatcs.
THE FUNERAL.

Sabira.

Because some widows are in haste subdued;
Sabina. Lucy.

Shall every fop upon our tears intrude?
Twice had the moon perform’d her çarthly race, Can I forget my lov'd Fidelio's tongue,
Since first the veil o'ercast Sabina's face.

Soft aš the warbling of Itahan song? Then dy'd the tender partner of her bed.

Did not his roly lips breathe forth perfume, And lives Sabina when Fidelio's dead?

Fragrant as steams from tea's imperial blooin ? Fidelio's dead, and yet Sabina lives.

Lucy. But see the tribute of her tears the gives ; Yet once you thought that congue a greater curso Their absent lord her rooms in fable mourn, Than (qualls of children for an absene nurse. And all the day the glimmering tapers burn; Have you not fancy'd, in his frequent kiss, Stretch'd on the couch of state the pensive lies,

Thi ungrateful leavings of a filthy mils ? While oft' the snowy cambric wipes her eyes.

Sabin... Now enter'd Lucy: trusty Lucy knew

Love, I thy power defy; no second fame To roll a sleeve, or bear a billet-doux ;

Shall ever raze my dear Fidelio's name. Her ready tongue, in secret service try'd,

Fannia without a tear might lose her lord, With equal fluency spoke truth or ly'd;

Who ne'er enjoy'd his presence but at board. She well could flush or humble a gallant,

And why should forrow sit on Lesbia's faes ? And serve at once as maid and confidant ! Are there such comforts in a lot's embrace? A letter from her faithful stays she took,

No friend, no lover, is to Lesbia dead; Sabina snatch'd it with an angry look,

For Lebia long had known a separate bed.[breaft; And thus in hafty words her grief confeft; Gulh forth, ye tears; waste, waste, ye fighs, my While Lucy Atrove to soothe her troubled brcalt. My days, my nights, were by Fidelio blest ! Sabina.

Lucy. What, ftill Myrtillo's hand! his flame I scorn; You cannot sure forget how oft' you said, Give back his passion with the seal untorn. His teazing fondness jealousy betray'd! To break our soft repose, has man a right? When at the play the neighbouring box he took, And are we doom'd to read whate'er they write? You thought you read suspicion in his look. Not all the sex my firm resolves shall move; When cards and counters flew around the board, My life's a lile of sorrow, not of love.

Have you not wish'd the absence of your lord ? May Lydia's wrinkles all my forehead trace, His company was then a poor pretence, And Celia's palenef: ficken o'er my face;

To check the freedom of a wife's expence.
May fops of mine, as Flavia's favours, boast,

Sabina.
And coquettes triumpy in my honour loft ; But why should I Myrtillo's passion blame,
May cards employ my nights, and never more Since love's a fierce involuntary flame?
May these curst eyes behold a matadore;

Lucy.
Break china, perish shock, die perroquet;

Could he the fallies of his heart withstand, When I Fidelio's dearer love forget!

Why should he not to Chloe give his hand ? Fidelio's judgment fcorn'd the foppish train ; For Chloe's handsome; yet he flights her flumc; His air was easy, and his dress was plain; Last night Mc fainted at Sabina's name.

A SOBERECLOGUE.

Why, Daphne, dost thou blame Sabina's charnis ?

Caleb. Sabina keeps no lover from thy arms.

How bitter are thy words! forbear to tease, At crimp Myrtillo play'd; in kind regards

I too might blame--but love delights to please. Doris threw love, unmindful of the cards;

Why should I tell thee, that, when last the sun
Doris was touch'd with spleen; her san he rent, Painted the downy peach of Newington,
Flew from the table, and to tears gave vent. Josiah led thee through the garden's walk,
Why, Doris, dost thou curse Sabina's cyes? And mingled melting kisses with his talk?
To her Myrtillo is a vulgar prize.

Ah, jeajousy! turn, turn thine eyes aside:
Sabina.

How can I see that watch adorn thy side ?
Yet say, I lov'd; how loud would censure rail!

For verily no gift the fifters take, So soon to quit the duties of the veil !

For luft of gain, but for the giver's sake.
No, sooner plays and operas I'd forswear,

Tabitba.
And change these china jars for Tunbridge ware ; I own, Josiah gave the golden toy,
Or trust my mother as a confidant,

Which did the righteous hand of Quare employ.
Or fix a friendship with my maiden aunt; When Caleb hath assign'd some happy day,
Than till-to-morrow throw my weeds away. I look on this, and chide the hours delay :
Yet let me see him, is he comes to-day !

And, when Josiah would his love pursue,

On this I look, and shun his wanton view.
THE ESPOUSAL,

Man but in vain with trinkets tries to move;
The only present love demands is love.

Caleb.
Between two of the People called Quakers. Ah, Tabitha, to hear these words of thine,
CALEB. TABITKA.

My pulse beats high, as if enflam'd with wine! BENEATH the shadow of a beaver hat,

When to the brethrén first with fervent zeal Meek Caleb at a silent meeting fat;

The spirit mov'd the yearnings to reveal, His eye-balls oft' forgot the holy trance,

How did I joy thy trembling lip to see While sabitha demure return'd the glance. Red as the cherry from the Kentish tree! The meeting ended, Caleb silence broke,

When ecftafy had warm'd thy look so meek, And Tabitha her inward yearnings spoke. Gardens of roses blushed on thy cheek! [eyes! Caleb.

With what sweet transport didst thou roll thine Beloved, see how all things follow love; How did thy words provoke the brethren's sighs : Lamb fondleth lamb, and dove disports with dove; Words that with holy fighs might others move, Yet fondled lambs their innocence secure,

But, Tabitha, my fighs were fighs of love. And none can call the tartle's bill impure.

Tabitha. O fairest of our fifters, let me be

Tabitha beyond her wishes blest? The billing dove and fondling lamb to thee. Does no proud worldly dame divide thy breast? Tabitba.

Then hear me, Caleb, witness what I speak, But, Caleb, know that birds of gentle mind This solemn promise death alone can break : Elect a mate among the fober kind;

Sooner I would bedeck my brow with lace, Not the mockaws, all deck'd in scarlet pride, And with immodeft favourites shade my face, Enuce their mild and modest hearts aside ; Sooner like Babylon's lewd whore be drest But thou, vain man: beguil'd by Popish shows, In flaring diamonds and a scarlet vest, Doatcft on ribbands, flounces, furbelows.

Or make a curtsey in Cathedral pew,
If thy false heart be fond of tawdry dyes, Than prove inconstant, while my Caleb's trne.
Go, wed the painted arch in sun mer-skies;

Caleb.
Such love will like the rainbow's hue decay, When I prove false, and Tabitha forsake,
Strong at the first, but pafleth foon away.

Teachers shall dance a jig at country wake;
Caleb.

Brethren unbeaver'd then shall bow their head, Name not the frailties of my youthful days, And with profane mince pics our babes be fed. When vice milled me through the harlot's ways ;

Tabitba. When I with wanton look the sex beheld, If that Josiah were with passion fir’d, And nature with each wanton look rebellid; Warm as the zeal of youth when first inspir'd; Theo party-colour'd pride my heart might move In steady love though he might persevere, With Jace, the net to catch uphallow'd love. Unchanging as the decent garb we wear, All such like love is fading as the flower,

And thou were fickle as the wind that blows, Springs ia a day, and withereth in an hour : Light as the feather on the head of beaux; But now I tell th: spousal love within,

Yet I for thee would all thy sex refign:
And spousal love no fifter holds a sin.

Sisters, take all the rest-be Caleb mine.
Tabitha.

Caleb.
I know thou longest for the flaunting maid, Though I had all that sinful love affords,
Thy falsehood own, and say I am betray'd; And all the concubines of all the lords,
The tongue of man is blister'd v'er with lies, Whose couchescreak with whoredom's finful shame,
Bu: truth is ever read in woman's eyes.

Whose velvet chairs are with adultery lane;
O that my lip obey'd a tong'e like thine : Ev’n in the harlot's hall, I would not lip
Or that thine eye bewray'd a love like mine : The dew of lewdness from her lying lip;

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