The penfive poet thro' the green-wood steals,
Or treads the willow'd marge of murm'ring brook; Or climbs the steep afcent of afry hills;
There fits him down beneath a branching oak, Whence various scenes, and prospects wide below, Still teach his mufing mind with fancies high to glow.
But I nor with the day awake to blifs, (Inelegant to me fair nature's face,
A blank the beauty of the morning is,
And dreary darkness all for light and grace)
Nor bright the fun, nor green the meads appear,
Nor colour charms mine eye, nor harmony mine ear.
Me, void of elegance and manners mild,
With leaden rod ftern Difcipline restrains;
Stiff Pedantry, of learned Pride the child,
My roving genius binds in Gothic chains;
Nor more my Mufe, by weight of woes oppreft,
Can whisper to my foul tweet fongs of peace and reft.
The PROGRESS of DISCONTENT.
HEN now, mature in claffic knowledge,
The joyful youth is fent to college,
His father comes, an humble fuitor,
With bows and fpeeches to his tutor.
"Sir, give me leave to recommend him,
"I'm fure you cannot but befriend him;
“I'll warrant that his good behav❜our
"Shall justify your future favour;
"And for his parts, to tell the truth,
"My fon's a very forward youth;
"He's young indeed, but has a spirit,
"And wants but means, to fhe his merit;
"Has Horace all by heart,-you'd wonder,
"And mouths out Homer's greek like thunder.
"If you'd but venture to admit him,
"A scholarship wou'd nicely fit him;
"That he fucceeds 'tis ten to one,
"Your vote and intereft, Sir,-'tis donc.
Our candidate at length gets in,
A hopeful scholar of Coll. Trin.
A scholarship not half maintains,
And college-rules are heavy chains;
So fcorning the late wish'd for prize,
For a fat fellowship he fighs.
When, nine full tedious winters past,
His utmost wish is crown'd at last;
That utmost wish no fooner got,
Again he quarrels with his lot.-
"Thefe fellowships are pretty things,
"We live indeed like petty kings;
"But who can bear to spend his whole age
"Amid the dulnefs of a college;
"Debar'd the common joys of life,
"And what is worse than all-a wife!
"Would some fnug benefice but fall, "Ye feasts and gaudies, farewell all!
"To offices I'd bid adieu
"Of Dean, Vice-Præs,-nay Burfar too ;
"Come tithes, come glebe, come fields so pleasant,
"Come sports, come partridge, hare and pheasant,"
Well-after waiting many a year,
A living falls,-two hundred clear.
With breast elate beyond expreffion,
He hurries down to take poffeffion;
With rapture views the sweet retreat,—
What a convenient houfe! how neat!
The garden how compleatly plan'd!. And is all this at my command! "For fuel here's good ftore of wood,"Pray god, the cellars be but good! Continuing this fantastic farce on, He now commences country parfon ; To make his character entire,
a coufin of the 'fquire;
Not over-weighty in the purse;
But many doctors have done worse,
Content at firft,-he taps his barrell,
Exhorts his neighbours not to quarrel ;
Finds his church-wardens have difcerning
Both in good liquor, and good learning;
With tythes his barns replete he fees,
And chuckles o'er his furplice-fees;
Studies to find out latent dues,
Smokes with the 'fquire,-and clips his yews;
Of Oxford pranks facetious tells,
And, but on fundays, hears no bells.
But ah! too foon his thoughtless breast
By cares domestic is oppreft;
Each day some scene of woe commences
By new and unforeseen expences;
And foon the butcher's bill, and brewing,
Threaten inevitable ruin;
For children more expences yet,
And Dickey now for school is fit.
"Why did I fell my college life
(He cries)" for benefice and wife!
"Oh could the days once more but come,
When calm I fmoak'd in common room,
"And din'd with breaft untroubled under
The picture of our pious founder;
When, for amusement, my tyrannic
* Sway could put freshmen in a pannic ;
"When impofitions were fupplied
"To light my pipe-or footh my pride!
"No cares of family oppreft me,
"Nor wife by day-nor night diftrefs'd me.
Each day receiv'd fucceffive pleasure,
"Or spent in reading—or in leisure ;
"And every night I went to bed
"Without a christ'ning in my head."
O trifling head, and fickle heart!—
Chagrin'd at whatsoe'er thou art!
A dupe to follies yet untry'd,
And fick of pleasures scarce enjoy'd;
Each prize obtain'd, thy rapture ccafes,
And in the fearch alone it pleases,
Of writing on celebrated TOASTS.
An Epiftle to Mr. WARTON.
Hilft witlings, poetafters, fops combine
To teaze with CALIA's name the facred nine;
Form'd, or half form'd, whilst ev'ry flatt'ring lie
The STUDENT damns, or must in embryo die;
Say, fhall I dare, nor be it thought a crime,
Boldly to tell fome honeft truths in rhyme ?
And trust me now, each coxcomb may indite
Unmeaning nonsense, and at random write;
'Tis but to get of epithets a store,
Then cram in ev'ry line near half a score:
Shou'd the bound brains refufe a quick fupply,
BYSHE will retail them ready cut and dry.
Lo! under beauty in bright rank is feen
Each Iris-colour rang'd, an endless magazine!
Thence the mechanic bard culls ev'ry dye,
The blushing cheek, white neck, and Sparkling eyes
Yet are the lines to neither fex confin'd,
But, like hermaphrodites, of neuter kind ;
So foft they flow, fo delicately dribble,
They'll either SUKEY fit, or BILLY FRIBBLE.
Some fcribbling Fiddler tunes a lifeless lay,
Alike inftructed or to rhyme or play ;
In fofteft fymphonies fooths SYLVIA's foul,
And tells her, ORPHEUS could the beafts controul 3
A jargon forms, to wit and ear offence,
And makes his found fit echo to his fenfe.
On benches fome fcrawl out one leaden rhyme;
Or in laconic ftanza close a chime;
Or aiming at the shortest road to fame,
Cramp their vaft genius in acrostic name;
Spend a whole day in patching up their wit,
Then fwear, extempore each word was writ.
Where dirty walls the fordid ichor ftains,
Oft ftraining nature gives poetic strains;
Exhaling odours choiceft thoughts infuse,
And Cloacina ferves inftead of mufe.
Is there a fop, t'whom nature's, fortune's hand
Paternal dulness gave, paternal land?
Wit, humour, reading, tutor,-all above,
Juft not a Cymon in th' affair of love;
The di'mond, (ne'er the inftrument of sense)
Marks on the glass his vain impertinence :
On ev'ry tavern pane in endless line
AWALKER, MACKWORTH, TROLLOPE, BOUCHER shine.
Of amorous fcribblers 'midft the medley crew,
Where, WARTON, fhall we find the chofen few,
Who real beauties, real faults can fee,
Who judge impartial, and dare copy thee;
With pointed fatire fix a fure difgrace,
And fhew a coquet's airs are mere grimace;
Raife the broad grin at each alluring smile,
Foil ev'ry trick, and trace out ev'ry wile
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