« ПретходнаНастави »
TO MR. DERRICK,
UPON HIS RECALLING HIS ORDERS AGAINST
DANCING MINUETS IN SACKS.
L YCURGUS of Bath,
Be not given to wrath,
Still fix them your debtors,
Make laws like your betters,
THE FAIR MORALIST.
AS late by Thames's verdant fide,
With solitary, pensive air, Fair Chloe search'd the filver tide,
With pleasing hope, and patient care ; Forth as she cast the filken fly,
And musing strollid the bank along, She thought no list’ning ear was nigh,
While thus the tun'd her mcral fong.
The poor unhappy thoughtless fair,
Like the mute race, are oft undone; These with a gilded fly we snare,
With gilded Aatt’ry those are won.
And sportive tofs th’alluring bait;
And struggle to be free, too late.
Of gaudy colours lurks a hook ;
And ere you leap, be sure to look.
Rush'd forth gay Damon, brisk and young;
Poor Chloe quite forgot her song.
AN EPITAPH BY MR. PITT,
AND INSCRIBED ON A STONE THAT COVERS HIS
FATHER, MOTHER, AND BROTHER. YE sacred spirits ! while your friends distress’d
Teep o'er your ashes, and lament the bless'd; O let the penfive muse inscribe that stone, And with the gen’ral sorrows mix her own : The penfive mufe !--who from this mournful hour Shall raise her voice, and wake the string no more ! Of love, of duty, this last pledge receive; 'Tis all a brother, all a son can give.
HOW TO MAKE L'EAU DE VIE.
BY THE LATE MR. CHARLES KING,
WRITTEN AT THE DESIRE OF A LADY.
GROWN old, and grown ftupid, you just
think me fit, To transcribe from my grandmother's book a
receipt; And a comfort it is to a wight in distress, He's of some little use-but he can't be of less. Were greater his talents--you might ever command His head,-(" that's worth nought”)--then his
heart and his hand. So your mandate obeying, he sends you, d’ye fee, The genuine receipt to make l'eau de la vie.
Take seven large lemons and pare them as thin As a wafer, or, what is yet thinner, your skin ; A
quart of French brandy, or rum is still better; (For you ne'er in receipts should stick close to the
letter :) Six ounces of sugar next take, and pray mind The sugar must be the best double refin’d;
Boil the sugar in near half a pint of spring-water, In the neat filver faucepan you bought for your
daughter; But be sure that the syrup you carefully skim, While the scum, as 'tis call’d, rises up to the
brin; The fourth part of a pint you next must allow Of new milk, made as warm as it comes from the
Put the rinds of the lemons, the milk and the syrup
Ε Ρ Ι Τ Α Ρ Η
FOR AN INFANT, WHOSE SUPPOSED PARENTS WERE
BY THE REV. MR. O. OF NORTHAMPTONSHIRE.
WHEN no one gave the cordial draught,
No healing art was found,
And death reliev'd the wound.
What, though no mournful kindred stand,
Around the solemn bier,
Or drop the tender tear.
No costly oak, adorn'd with art,
My infant limbs inclose;
To deck my last repose.
Hear this; ye mighty proud!
And innocence my shroud.
My name unknown, obscure my birth;
No fun’ral rights are giv'n;