And see, a young bird rises, weak and slow; "At him, Sir Charles !"-He fires, and lays him low Scar'd at the sound, up the full covey springs; A double barrel's force, but try in vain ; But if too soon the startled covey rise, And move a previous question in the skies, My faithful groom quick marks them as they spring, To their old beaten ground the covey's gone; Thus from each kindred image, fancy draws If chance, a stray, lone, bird my course invites, Some senatorial type ev'n Pointers yield; But come, dear Jack, all martial as thou art, Come, happy Friend! to hail thy wish'd return, Nor vulgar fire, nor venal light shall burn, From gentle bosoms purer flames shall rise, And keener ardors flash from Beauty's eyes. Methinks, I see thee now resume thy stand, Pride of Fop-alley, tho' a little tann'd ; What tender joy the gazing Nymphs disclose! How pine with envy the neglected Beaux ! While many a feeble frown and struggling smile Fondly reprove thy too adventurous toil, And seem with reprehensive love to say, "Dear Mr. Townshend, wherefore didst thou stray! "What fatal havoc might one shot have made, “If not thy life, thy leg the forfeit paid! "That shot thy foretop might have made it's prey, "Or sing'd one dear devoted curl away; "Or lopp'd that hand, the pride of love and lace; "Or scarr'd, with bolder sacrilege, thy face." Soon as to Brooks's thence thy footsteps bend, What gratulations thy approach attend! See Gibbon rap his box; auspicious sign, That classic compliment and wit combine; See Beauclerk's cheek a tinge of red surprise, And Friendship give what cruel Health denies. Important Townshend! what can thee withstand? The ling'ring black-ball lags in Boothby's hand; Ev'n Draper checks the sentimental sigh, And Smith, without an oath, suspends the dye. That night, to festive wit and friendship due. That night thy Charles's board shall welcome you. Sallads, that shame ragouts, shall woo thy taste; Deep shalt thou delve in Weltjie's motley paste; Derby shall lend, if not his plate, his cooks, And, know, I've bought the best Champaigne from From liberal Brooks, whose speculative skill, Who, nurs'd in clubs, disdains a vulgar trade, On that auspicious night, supremely grac'd With chosen guests, the pride of liberal taste, Not in contentious heat, nor mad'ning strife, We'll waste the fleeting hours; far happier themes, He best shall tell, who still unites them most. But scarce a thought to Ministers we'll spare, EPISTLE XI. THE PROJECT. TO THE REV. DEAN TUCKER. By the Same. Verum, ubi, tempestas, et coeli mobilis humor Densat erant quae rara modo, et quae densa, relaxat, Vertuntur species animorum.--------- Virg. SINCE sage philosophers aver, That climate forms the character; And prove each nation, tame, or bold, What schemes might crafty statesmen lay, If such a system they'd obey ? Suppose the Turks, who now agree It wou'd fatigue them to be free, Should build an ice house, to debate More cooly on affairs of state, Might not some Mussulmen be brought, To brace their minds, not shrink at thought? |