Слике страница
PDF
ePub

TO MR. DERRICK,

UPON HIS RECALLING HIS ORDERS AGAINST

DANCING MINUETS IN SACKS.

[ocr errors][merged small]

L YCURGUS of Bath,

Be not given to wrath,
Thy rigours the fair should not feel :

Still fix them your debtors,

Make laws like your betters,
And as fast as you make them-repeal.

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.
Careless, like them, they frolic round,

And sportive tofs th’alluring bait;
At length they feel the treach'rous wound,

And struggle to be free, too late.
But ah ! fair fools, beneath this shew,

Of gaudy colours lurks a hook ;
Cautious the bearded mischief view,

And ere you leap, be sure to look.
More fhe'd have lung-when from the shade

Rush'd forth gay Damon, brisk and young;
And, whatsoe'er he did or faid,

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.

ARE

A RECEIPT

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

cow.

Put the rinds of the lemons, the milk and the syrup
With the rum, in a jar, and give 'em a ftir up:
And if you approve it, you may add some perfume;
Goa-stone, or whatever you like in its room.
Let it stand thus three days,--but remember to

shake it;
And the closer you stop it, the richer you make it.
Then filter'd through paper, 'twill sparkle and rise,
Be as soft as your lips, and as bright as your eyes.
Last, bottle it up; and believe me the vicar
OF E-himself ne'er drank better liquor:
In a word, it excells, by a million of odus,
The nectar your sister presents to the gods.

PITAPH

Ε Ρ Ι Τ Α Ρ Η

FOR AN INFANT, WHOSE SUPPOSED PARENTS WERE

VAGRANTS.

BY THE REV. MR. O. OF NORTHAMPTONSHIRE.

WHEN no one gave the cordial draught,

No healing art was found,
My God the sov’reign balsam brought,

And death reliev'd the wound.

What, though no mournful kindred stand,

Around the solemn bier,
No parents wring the trembling hand,

Or drop the tender tear.

No costly oak, adorn'd with art,

My infant limbs inclose;
No friends a winding sheet impart,

To deck my last repose.
Yet, hear, ye great ones! hear ye this,

Hear this; ye mighty proud!
A spotless life my coffin is

And innocence my shroud.

My name unknown, obscure my birth;

No fun’ral rights are giv'n;
But, though deny'd God's courts on earth,
Į tread his courts in heav'n.

A LA

« ПретходнаНастави »