CXXXVI. ON A FELLOW OF ALL SOULS COLLEGE, Oxford.
So fond am I of a dear college-life,
I would not change for that sweet thing a wife;
Prevailing nature his weak mind controls,
Who for one single body quits All Souls.
CXXXVII. INSCRIPTION ON THE WINDOW OF AN Inn.
In questa casa troverete
Tout ce que vous avez a souhaiter;
Vinum, panem, pisces, carnes,
Coaches, chaises, horses, harness.
CXXXVIII. ON MILES PETER ANDREWS.
Andrews, 'tis said, a comedy has writ,
Replete throughout with novelty and wit;
If wit it has, to both I shall agree,
For wit from Andrews must be novelty.
CXXXIX. A PIOUS COMMENT ON GENESIS c. 3.
Adam in Eden could not be easy,
But he must have a wife, an' please ye,
And, while God made his bonny bride,
Sweetly slept Adam on his side;
But when his rib was reapplied,
In woman's shape, to Adam's side,
How then, I pray you, did it answer?
He never slept so sound again, Sir.
CXL. TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK BY THE REVEREND R. PATRICK.
How poor I liv'd, when youth enrich'd my blood,
How rich, when at the grave's sad brink I stood!
Wretched alike in either fortune I!
O grant me, fate, thy last best boon, to die.
So loving thy look, and so willing thy air,
My Cat, when she cattermawls, apes thee, I swear:
If such acting allure silly Billy to wed,
Thy talons of fingers will comb, his soft head.
O gratitude! do thou inspire
And warm me with poetic fire;
Bid thou the Muse to stretch her wing,
And raise her infant voice to sing.
Be Chesselden thy theme of praise,
The subject of thy earliest lays.
By him restor❜d from pain to ease,
My life again begins to please;
But I such ceaseless rack before,
And such intestine torture bore,
That e'en a child I wish'd to die,
Nor grow a man in misery.
Prometheus felt not sorer pain,
Tho' all were true the poets feign ;
Tho' beaked vultures, as 'tis said,
On his renewing vitals prey'd.
Oft I complained the time was slow,
And lengthen'd out my hours of woe;
Weary of day, I wish'd the light
Would hasten to give way to night;
Impatient of the night, I lay
And wish'd again for rising day;
Nor day nor night my torment ceas'd,
The groaning evil still increas'd;
Till thou, (that day be ever blest!)
Wast call'd, great Artist, to the West:
The work was in a moment done,
Without one struggle or a groan ;
So swift thy hand, I scarce could feel
The progress of the cutting steel;
Eneas could not less endure,
Tho' Venus did attend the cure,
Not her soft hand, and touch divine,
Perform'd more tenderly than thine,
When by her aid Iapis own'd
The barbed arrow left the wound;
For quicker e'en than sense or thought,
The latent ill to view was brought,
And I beheld with ravish'd eyes
The cause of all my agonies.
Of Cæsar's sword we wonders hear,
Alcides' club, Pelides' spear,
But those let others celebrate,
The wasteful instruments of fate;
Thy lancet merits more by far
Than all the weapons us'd in war;
By wounds and death they glory gain,
Thou triumph'st over death and pain:
This I with thousands witness true,
Whilst that we live, we live by you,
That we instruction can attend,
Enjoy the converse of a friend,
Delight o'er fields and meads to stray,
And with my dear associates play,
All this to thee, to thee I owe,
That now my thoughts with ease can flow;
Henceforth if any time I live,
If any joy I shall perceive,
If any good hereafter do,
To thee my thanks for all is due.
O could I reach the true sublime,
With energy of thought in rhyme,
In verse I would inscribe thy name
On lasting monuments of fame;
Long as my life its course shall run,
Till all the fatal thread be spun,
Each morn as duly as I rise,
Each eve before I close my eyes;
When I adore th' unseen above,
In whom I live, in whom I move,
And pay my reverential praise
For all the blessings of my days,
Recounting all from first to last,
As I from youth to age have past,
In this memorial first shall stand
His mercy by thy saving hand,
And above all the race of men,
I'll bless my God for Chesselden.
Lithiasis longum miseros cruciaverit artus,
Non herbis, cultro nec removenda lues;
Non huic Hippocrates didicit succurrere morbo,
Nec medicam novit ferre Galenus opem ;
Non huic sufficiunt, præsens quos protulit ætas,
Indomito Friendus Ratcliviusque malo.
En subito est inventa salus! promittere nemo
Quod prius auderet, femina sola parat,
Quid tibi solvetur pro tam felicibus ausis?
Præmia qui solvet digna, senatus erit.
CXLIV. UTERE QUÆSITIS SAPIENS.
Cottilus auratos libros emit, ac timet uti,
Pagina ne turpi sit violata manu;
Ordine quemque suo rutilo distinguit honore,
Scrinia sed claudunt ordine
quemque suo.
Cottile, ne spectes externum, si sapis, aurum,
Sed spectes gazam quam liber intus habet.
There goes a tale not very old,
"Twas but in Anna's reign,
Which some folks think might now be told
With better grace again.
Soon as the Queen a change had made
For Ministers more fit,
A cunning wight in masquerade,
Resolv'd to shew his wit.
A party-colored vest he wore,
Pick'd out of many a pack;
His breast with knaves was cover'd o'er,
And knaves bespread his back.
His friends admire the odd disguise,
And beg him to explain,
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