Thus joining their stocks for a bonfire together,
As they club for a cheese in the parish of Chedder,
Confusedly crowd on the sophs and the doctors,
The hangman, the townsman, their wives, and the
proctors;

While the troops from each part of the countries in ale

Come to quaff his confusion in bumpers of stale: But Rosalin never unkind to a duke,

Does by her absence their folly rebuke,

The tender creature could not see his fate,
With whom she 'ad danc'd a minuet so late.

The heads, who never could hope for such frames, Out of envy condemn'd six score pounds to the flames;

Then his air was too proud, and his features amiss, As if being a traitor had alter'd his phiz:

So the rabble of Rome, whose favour ne'er settles, Melt down their Sejanus to pots and brass kettles.

1

GEORGE FARQUHAR.

Londonderry, 1678-1707.

A woman without fortune fell in love with Farquhar: let him understand it, made him believe she was rich, and married him. He never reproached her for the deceit, but behaved to her with all the delicacy and tenderness of an indulgent husband, though the embarrassments in which this marriage involved him, reduced him to poverty, and actually brought him to the grave.

His Poems, Letters, and Essays, were published 1702. As a comic writer he has few equals, and perhaps no supe. rior.

SONG.

I.

TELL

me, AURELIA, tell me pray,

How long must Damon sue,

Prefix the time, and I'll obey,

With patience wait the happy day

That makes me sure of you.

II.

The sails of time my sighs shall blow,
And make the minutes glide;
My tears shall make the current flow,
And swell the hasting tide.

III.

The wings of love shall fly so fast,
My hopes mount so sublime,

The wings of love shall make more haste,
Than the swift wings of time.

The Assignation.

SONG.

1.

THE minute's past appointed by my fair,

The minute's fled,

And leaves me dead,

With anguish and despair.

II.

My flatter'd hopes their flight did make

With the appointed hour;

None can the minutes past o'ertake,

And nought my hopes restore.

III.

Cease your plaints, and make no moan,

Thou sad repining swain;
Although the fleeting hour be gone,
The place does still remain.

IV.

The place remains, and she may make
Amends for all your pain;

Her presence can past time o'ertake,
Her love your hopes regain.

VOL. I.

JOHN PHILIPS.

Bampton, Oxfordshire, 1676-1708.

There is no other excuse to be offered for inserting so well known a poem as the Splendid Shilling among these specimens, but that it is the only one among his works short enough to be inserted.

“Things unattempted yet, in prose or rhyme,”
A shilling, breeches, and chimeras dire.

HAPPY the man, who, void of cares and strife,
In silken, or in leathern purse retains

A splendid shilling: he nor hears with pain
New oysters cry'd, nor sighs for chearful ale;
But with his friends, when nightly mists arise,
To Juniper's Magpie, or Town-hall * repairs:

* Two noted alehouses in Oxford, 1700.