When targets clash'd, and bugles rung,

And blades round warriors' heads were flung,
The foremost of the band were we,

And hymn'd the joys of liberty!

LINES ADDRESSED TO LORD MELVILLE ON HIS VISITING NORTH BRITAIN SHORTLY

HIS RETIRING FROM OFFICE.

[From the British Prefs.]

FROM public toils, and cares, and ftrife,
Welcome once more to private life,
In Scotia's rude domain;
Enjoy repofe, content, and ease,
Inhale the health-infpiring breeze,
Nor think of France and Spain.
Far from the Senate and the Throne,
From budget, tax, investment, loan,
Impeachment, expedition;

Peace fhall your eider pillow bind,
And war no more distract your mind,
Nor projects of ambition.

The focial, eafy, joyous hour,
Unknown to pomp, remote from pow'r,
Awaits you in the wild;

Friendship shall lead you by the hand,
And Caledonia's arms expand

To clafp her favourite child.

Should warfare still your thoughts engage,
To Muirland scenes confine

In mimic camp array'd;

your rage,

Unheard the found of noisy drums,
There no Myforean tyrant comes,
Your quiet to invade.

The laurels won at Aboukir,

Deep moisten'd by a nation's tear,

Were Death and Glory's prize;
gay campaign,

But where you urge the

No tears the cheek of Friendship fain

No Abercromby dies!

G 6

AFTER

ORPHEUS,

ORPHEUS.

BY QUEVEDO.

[From the Morning Poft.]

WHEN Orpheus loft his wife,

As ancient ftories tell,

He fought her in the proper place,
For he went down to H-.

They fay that he went finging,
And I believe the thing;
For fince he was a widower

Pure joy would make him sing.

He moved rocks and mountains,
His harmony was such;
But had his fong been bad, he would
Have mov'd them juft as much.

The damn'd forgot their torments
When he his tale began,
For no one could complain who faw
So mad a married man.

But though his voice perfuaded
The God to his intent,
When Pluto gave him back his wife

It was for punishment.

Yet even then, in pity,

Two laws old Pluto made;

To take his wife, and not look back—

Both hard to be obey'd.

Then Orpheus the foremost

Went up from that abode;

For women always lead the way,
When we go down that road.

I know not if on purpose
He wifely turn'd his fight;

But if 't was chance he loft his wife,
And fo, by chance, was right.

Full

Full happy is the husband

From wedlock once fet free!

But he who twice efcapes fo well,
A lucky man is he!

THE COCKNIES PUZZLED
ABOUT THE NAME OF THE NEW BALLET *.
[From the General Evening Poft.]

SAYS a fine drawling Fop to a bold Volunteer,
T-e pficore's to be acted to-night, as I hear :-
Now John, though an honest and good-humour'd fellow,
Thought it ftill the firft bleffing of life to be mellow;
Quoth he, "My old regiment I'll ftick to no more,
I fhould like to belong to this fame tipfy corps."

E

MERIT NEGLECTED.

BY J. BANNANTINE.

[From Lloyd's Evening Poft.]

NGLAND! while fumptuous monuments you raife,
To celebrate your Wits and Heroes' praife,

Why are your Artifts in the plan forgot?
'Tis to your nation an egregious blot,
That Hogarth, first of comic painting's art,
Whofe pencil lives in ev'ry British heart,
No monumental trophy fhould receive,
No-honour o'er his much-lamented grave.
To Reynolds, of the English fchool the pride,
A monument has hereto been denied.

But, valued Artifts! your great works will raise
To you tranfcendant and immortal praise;
Your merits are exclufively your own;
When of lefs minds all memory is gone,
Your canvas will furvive the most obdurate stone.

* Terpsichore.

}

RONDEAU.

TOLD
I

RONDEAU.

BY THE SAME.

[Original.]

my love, I told her true,

"My fields were fmall, my flocks were few*.”.

Four bough-pots conftitute my fields,

This but a fcanty harvest yields.

My flocks are centred in my bed,
Beneath an almost rooflefs thed.
Did I not, then, my love tell true,
My fields were fmall, my flocks were few?

DIFFERENT SPECIES OF DRUNKENNESS.

BY THE SAME.

[Original.]

WHEN George was poor as poor could be,
Drunk as a beggar ftill was he;

Efpoufing then a wealthy dame,
Sudden a fortune to him came :
To drink he now could well afford,
And drunk got daily as a Lord.

CARD-TABLE EPITAPH

ON A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN, WHOSE RUIN BY A CLUBPREQUENTER OCCASIONED HER PREMATURE DEATH.

CL

BY THE SAME.

[Original.]

LARISSA reign'd the Queen of Hearts,
Like fparkling Diamonds were her eyes:
But through the knave of Clubs' false arts,
Here bedded by a Spade the lies.

Shenftoné.

HOW

BUXOM damfel wifh'd to know
How the the men fhould treat;

Her friend, a Bishop's lady, faid,

66

Juft baffle all you meet."

"Alas!" quoth fhe, "I've tried that art,
My lofs I e'er fhall mourn;

Three years

I baffled one fweetheart,

And now am left forlorn."

JUDGE FOR YOURSELF.

QUOTH

BY THE SAME,

[From the Sunday Review.]

66
H Tom to Sue, My life! my dear!
I'm fafcinated when you 're near ;
But when you're abfent from my fight,
No object can procure delight;

I mourn and grieve, I figh and weep,
The livelong night I cannot fleep.??et
Says the," You 're laughing in your fleeve,
Your artful tales I'll ne'er believe; 198
You never in my absence pine,

But drown your cares in floods of wine;
No female charms to you afford
Joys like the Bacchanalian board;
Your want of fleep is all a fudge;"
Says Tom,

Take half my bed, and judge.”.

CHLOE, whene'er her spouse his wit begun,
Was wont to fay, "My dear! I owe you one."
Begetting twins, and to his rib's text true,
Stephen replied, "My love! I owe you two."

DRAPS