And as she smiles, her triumphs to complete,
Even common-councilmen forget to eat.

The Fourth Act shows her wedded to the 'squire,
And madam now begins to hold it higher;

Dotes upon dancing, and in all her pride,

Swims round the room the Heinelle of Cheapside;
Ogles and leers with artificial skill,

'Till having lost in age the power to kill,

She sits all night at cards, and ogles at Spadille.
Such, through our lives, the eventful history-
The Fifth and Last Act still remains for me.
The barmaid now for your protection prays,
Turns female barrister, and pleads for bays.

LINES ATTRIBUTED TO DR. GOLDSMITH,

INSERTED IN THE MORNING CHRONICLE OF APRIL 3, 1800.

E'EN have you seen, bathed in the morning dew;
The budding rose its infant bloom display;

When first its virgin tints unfold to view,

It shrinks, and scarcely trusts the blaze of day:

So soft, so delicate, so sweet she came,

Youth's damask glow just dawning on her cheek; I gazed, I sighed, I caught the tender flame,

Felt the fond pang, and drooped with passion weak.

ON SEEING MRS. * * PERFORM IN THE CHARACTER OF ****

FOR you, bright fair, the Nine address their lays,
And tune my feeble voice to sing thy praise.
The heartfelt power of every charm divine,
Who can withstand their all commanding shine;
See how she moves along with every grace,
While soul-brought tears steal down each shining face.
She speaks! 'tis rapture all, and nameless bliss,
Ye gods! what transport e'er compared to this,
As when in Paphian groves the Queen of Love
With fond complaint addressed the listening Jove.
'Twas joy and endless blisses all around,

And rocks forgot their hardness at the sound.
Then first, at last even Jove was taken in,

And felt her charms, without disguise, within.

TO G. C. AND R. L.

'Twas you, or I, or he, or all together,

'Twas one, both, three of them, they know not whether;

This, I believe, between us great and small,

You, I, he, wrote it not-'twas Churchill's all.

DEATH OF THE

ON THE

RIGHT HON. * * *

YE muses, pour the pitying tear
For Pollio snatched away;
Oh! had he lived another year!
He had not died to-day.

Oh! were he born to bless mankind

In virtuous times of

yore,

Heroes themselves had fallen behind

Whene'er he went before.

How sad the groves and plains appear,
And sympathetic sheep;

Even pitying hills would drop a tear
If hills could learn to weep.

His bounty in exalted strain

Each bard might well display;

Since none implored relief in vain
That went relieved away.

And hark! I hear the tuneful throng

His obsequies forbid,

He still shall live, shall live as long
As ever dead man did.

AN EPIGRAM

ADDRESSED TO THE GENTLEMEN REFLECTED ON IN THE ROSCIAD, A POEM, BY THE AUTHOR.

Worried with debts, and past all hopes of bail,
His pen he prostitutes t'avoid a gaol.

ROSCOM.

LET not the hungry Bavius' angry stroke
Awake resentment, or your rage provoke—
But pitying his distress, let virtue* shine,
And giving each your bounty,† let him dine.
For thus retained, as learned council can,
Each case, however bad, he'll new japan;
And by a quick transition, plainly show
"Twas no defeat of yours, but pocket low,
That caused his putrid kennnel to o'erflow.

SCENE-The Banks of the River Euphrates near Babylon.

ACT THE FIRST.

FIRST PROPHET.-RECITATIVE.

YE captive tribes, that hourly work and weep
Where flows Euphrates murmuring to the deep-
Suspend your woes awhile, the task suspend,
And turn to God, your father and your friend :
Insulted, chained, and all the world our foe,
Our God alone is all we boast below.