Here I lay my fceptre down,

Friends from Mount, Grove, and Dell, come;

What I prize above my crown,

Is a friend's hearty welcome.

Fair yellow, &c.

THE END.

WRITTEN BY THE AUTHOR,

SPOKEN BY MR. TARREN.

TO touch on Antwerp now, you may suppose
We mean to talk of treaties, bargains, blows!
How fage Mynheer, his warehouses to cram,
First turn'd the tide of trade to Amsterdam;
How force fuperior, could establish right,
And nature's claim was over-rul'd by might.
To tell, on Antwerp's Change, that grafs is grown,
And Austrian scythes prepareto mow it down *:
Such modern scenes, you'll fee by foreign mails
How well they're play'd at Berlin or Versailles.

Our Bard to-night, fome harmless jokes to crack
A fimple tale, two hundred years brings back;
When Antwerp flourish'd in her pride and glory,
A Blacksmith !---You must all have heard the story:
His heart the forge---this prince of footy fellows,
His fire was love, for Cupid blew the bellows;
With hammer's clink, his throbbing breaft kept pace,
He look'd, he lov'd, then wafh'd his murky face.
This Flemish Vulcan to Adonis turns,

And for his Flemish Cytherea burns:

He wooes in vain---the painter's mimic art
Had caught her father by the stubborn heart.
But fee the magic force of mighty love!

Sublime and great !---what tow'ring height above
The lover's hope?---a painter now confefs'd,
Our Blacksmith view---and thus, fupremely blefs'd
By merit wins his faithful charming fair,

And tastes the fruits of all his toil and care.

* Alluding to the political ftate of the Netherlands in

1788.

3 C 2

Now

Now Royal Windfor, by his work is grac❜d,
Honor'd that work in Royal Windsor plac'd!
As canvass moulders, and bright colours fade,
The painter's fame must seek the poet's aid.

If you but patronize our poet's lays,

Great QUINTIN's art shall flourish in his bays.

*The picture of the Two Mifers, at Windfor Caftle, painted by Quintin Matfys, the Blacksmith of Antwerp.