THE CLOWN'S REPLY. JOHN TROTT was desired by two witty peers, To tell them the reason why asses had ears? "An't please you," quoth John, " I'm not given to letters, "Nor dare I pretend to know more than my betters; "Howe'er, from this time I shall ne'er see your graces, "As I hope to be sav'd! without thinking on asses.' Edinburgh, 1753. STANZAS ON WOMAN. WHEN lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray, What charm can sooth her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away ? The only art her guilt to cover, To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom-is, to die. WHERE the Red Lion staring o'er the way, Invites each passing stranger that can pay ; The Seasons, fram'd with listing, found a place, And brave Prince William show'd his lamp-black face: The morn was cold, he views with keen desire The rusty grate unconscious of a fire: With beer and milk arrears the frieze was scor'd, SIR, I SEND you a small production of the late Dr. Goldsmith, which has never been published, and which might perhaps have been totally lost, had I not secured it. He intended it as a song in the character of Miss Hardcastle, in his admirable comedy of "She Stoops to Conquer;" but it was left out, as Mrs. Bulkley, who played the part, did not sing. He sung it himself, in private companies, very agreeably. The tune is a pretty Irish air, called "The Humours of Balamagairy," to which he told me he found it very difficult to adapt words: but he has succeeded very happily in these few lines. As I could sing the tune, and was fond of them, he was so good as to give me them, about a year ago, just as I was leaving London, and bidding him adieu for that season, little apprehending that it was a last farewell. I preserve this little relic, in his own hand-writing, with an affectionate care. I am, SIR, Your humble Servant, |