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But like the old horse in the song,

I am turn'd on the common to graze-
To fortune these changes belong,

And contented I yield to her ways!

She ne'er was my friend; through the day,

Her smiles were the smiles of deceit-
At noon she'd her favours display,

At night let me pine at her feet:

No longer her presence I court,

No longer I shrink at her frowns !
Her whimsies supply me with sport-

And her smiles I resign to the clowns !

Thus lost to each worldly desire,

And scorning all riches-all fame,
I quietly hope to retire

When time shall the summons proclaim.

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I have nothing to weep for behind !

To part with my friends is the worst !
Their numbers I grant are confined;

But you are still one of the first.

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This Author was an Actor at Drury-Lane Theatre, under the assumed name of Love. He was the son of the City Architect, and published a small volume of poems printed ut Edinburgh, in 1754.

The Wish.
When Time and gently creeping age
Shall point my exit from life's stage;
If all I could desire were mine
To smooth and soften my decline ;
Td ask but this,-instead of wealth
A competence, and store of health,
Far from the city's busy noise,
From Pomp and Luxury's false joys,

With one dear female, and one friend,
I'd laugh and prattle to my end,
And think what mortals most esteem,
A trifling play,ếan idle dream.
Let other actors grasp the bays
And pant each year for birth-day praise ;
Or more voluptuous, hold their wish,
And gorge on venison, or on fish!
Far otherwise my soul is bent,
All I desire is but CONTENT.


Janus commends me to my face,
As first in Wisdom's school;
The rogue in every other place,
Proclaims me for a fool.

By this confest a judging youth,
The world with trust receive him;
And I, self-conscious of the truth,
You may be sure, believe him.



Rector of Claybrooke, Leicestershire.


Time was. The spring had now enliven'd every scene, And clad the dusky park in partial green ; Gay opening buds peep'd through the winter rust, And kindly showers had half wash'd off their dust.

On a dull day which, every week, affords
A glut of 'prentices, in bags and swords ;
When sober families resort to prayer,
And cits take in their weekly meal of air ;
Whilst, eastward of St. Paul's, the well-dress'd

spark Runs two long miles, to saunter in the Park:

vol. III.

Prudentio strolling down the mall was seen,
To loll upon a bench, and vent his spleen:
He meets Avaro on the accustom'd seat,
And thus, in grumbling strains, the veterans greet.

AVARO. Well met, Prudentio--- Come man, sit you down; How fare you?


Sick, of this confounded town.

AVARO. Aye, so am I ; time was when it was said, A penny buys a pennyworth of bread; But now, engrossers meet with no controul, Your penny scarce will buy a farthing roll. Time was, when evening markets fed the poor, And good cheap things were cried from door to

door ; But now, the bakers get each week a rise, And all provisions double in their price.

How should it happen otherwise ? look here
What shoals of puppies every where appear!

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