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.

FROM THE ORATORIO OF THE CAPTIVITY.

SONG.

THE wretch condeman'd with life to part,

Still, still on hope relies ;

And every pang that rends the heart,

Bids expectation rise.

Hope, like the glimm'ring taper's light,
Adorns and cheers the way;

And still, as darker grows the night,
Emits a brighter ray.

SONG.

MEMORY! thou fond deceiver,
Still importunate and vain,
To former joys recurring ever,

And turning all the past to pain;

Thou, like the world, the opprest oppressing,
Thy smiles increase the wretch's woe;
And he who wants each other blessing,
In thee must ever find a foe.

THE CLOWN'S REPLY.

JOHN TROTT was disired 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.

EPITAPH ON EDWARD PURDON.*

HERE lise poor NED PURDON, from misery free'd,

Who long was a bookseller's hack:
He led such a damnable life in this world,....
I don't think he'll wish to come back.

*This gentleman was educated at Trinity College, Dublin: but having wasted his patrimony, he enilsted as a footsoldier Growing tired of that employment, be obta ned his discharge, and became a scribbler in the newspapers. He translated Voltaire's HENRY

RETALIATION:*

A POEM.

OF old, when Scarron his companions invited, Each guest brought his dish, and the feast was united;

If our flandlord supplies us with beef, and with fish,

Let each guest bring himself, and he brings the best dish:

Our Dean shall be venison, just fresh from the

plains;

Our Burke shall be tongue, with the garnish of brains;

His

*Dr. Goldsmith and some of his friends occasionally dined at St. James's Coffee-house.....One day it was proposed to write epitaphs on him. country, dialect, and person furnished subjects of witticism. He was called on for RETALIATION, and at their next meeting produced the following poem.

The master of St. James's coffee-house, where the doctor, and the friends he has characterized in this poem,occasionally dined.

Doctor Bernard, dean of Derry in Ireland
The Right Hon. Edmund Burke.

Our *Will shall be wild fowl, of excellent flavour, And Dick with his pepper shall heighten the

savour:

Our Cumberland's sweet-bread its place shall obtain,

And Douglas is pudding, substantial and plain, Our **Garrick's a sallad; for in him we see Oil, vinegar, sugar, and saltness agree:

To make out the dinner, full certain I am, That Ridge is an anchovy, and ‡‡Reynolds is lamb;

That SSHickey's a capon, and, by the same rule,
Magnanimous Goldsmith, a gooseberry fool.
At a dinner so varoius, at such a repast,
Who'd not be a glutton, and stick to the last?

* Mr. William Burke, late Secretary to General Conway, and Member of Bedwin.

Mr Richard Burke, collector of Grenada.

Mr. Richard Cumberland, author of the West Indian, Fashionable Lover, the Brothers and various other productions.

$ Doctor Douglass, Canon of Windsor, (now biskop of Salisbury) an ingenious Scotch gentleman, whe has no less distinguished himself as a citizen of the world, than a sound critic, in detecting several literary mistakes (or rather forgeries) of his countrymen; particularly Lauder on Milton, and Bower's History of the Popes.

**David Garrick, Esq.

tt Councellor John Ridge, a gentleman belonging

to the Irish bar.

++ Sir Joshua Reynolds. $$ An eminent attorney.

Here, waiter, more wine, let me sit while I'm

able,

Till all my companions sink under the table; Then with chaos and blunders ́encircling my head,

Let me ponder, and tell what I think of the dead.

Here lies the good *Dean, reunited to earth Who mix'd reason with pleasure, and wisdom with mirth;

If he has any faults, he has left us in doubt,
At least in six weeks I could not find 'em out;
Yet some have declar'd, and it can't be denied

'em,

That sly boots was cursedly cunning to hide 'em. Here lies our good *Edmund, whose genius was

such,

We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much; Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind.

Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat,

To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote;

Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining,

And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining;

* Vide page 89.

† Vide page 89.

+ Mr. T. Townshend, member of Whitchurch.