The dimpled ftream; the winding fhade;
The lawn in cheering verdure dreft;
Th' afpiring hill, the opening glade;
Soft themes! fhould pleafing thoughts fuggeft.

Rich in my felf, I'd frown on gold,
And far the treacherous gugaw throw
With pity's melting-eye behold
The idly-buftling crowd below.

But now recollecting, that he was talking of impoffibilities (confidering the ill fuccefs that had always attended him) he breaks into the following rapture, which you will perhaps think tolerable.

Ah me! in what romantic feats,
Does my deluded fancy ftray:
Too tranfient, vifionary sweets,

That fudden gleam, then fade away?

So to poetic mind in fleep,

Gay habits, coaches, guineas rife: Break but the charm, the glitt'ring heap, And all the wild creation dies.

After making a compliment to Mr. POPE, he goes on.

When GRAECIANS liv'd, aufpicious times!
Glory infpir'd the facred rage:
How faint the Mufe in ALBION's clime
Now glimmers in th' enervate page!

Then fculpture wak'd the mimic stone;

With nature's tints the canvas glow'd; Sad ORPHEUS breath'd melodious moan; And CLIO taught the founding ode.

He afterwards fpeaks of the ftrong paffion which men had then for learning.

No

No grov❜ling views could then controul
The fage's high-exalted guft;
Once fir'd, he'd fly from pole to pole,
To flake his nobly-ardent thirit.

So to the radient fcource of light,

Allur'd by the refulgent blaze,
Jove's birds directs his rapid flight,
And on the God does ftedfaft gaze.

After taking notice of the honour that was paid to poets in GREECE and ITALY, and how after the neglect of arts, the ROMAN empire was over-run with vices of every kind, he proceeds.

Be it, O fcience! radiant maid,

To thy immortal honour told,
That whilft thy heavenly dictates fway'd,
Fair virtue triumph'd over gold.

But when thy fmiles no more cou'd charm,
And ROMANS flighted thy embrace;
Vice blazon'd forth her painted form,

And weeping virtue left the place.

Then down finks thy devoted head :

And VANDALS to complete thy doom,
Wide o'er the world dire havock spread;
Thy fanes destroy; and all is gloom.

I fhould exceed the limits of your paper, were I to tranfcribe any farther; fo fhall break off with affuring you, that what I have told you concerning the education of my friend is matter of fact; of the truth whereof you fhould certify your felf, were not you journalists a kind of invifible gentlemen.

On

On STEPHEN DUCK.
Duck! preferr'd by bounteous Queen
To crakle verfe on RICHMOND green:
Wild Duck in genius! you on high
Soar with bold wing; our rhyming fry
Are tame ones, and not made to fly.

All glorious fouls, who e'er have been,
Some leffer beings usher in.
One hardly worthy to unloofe
The leathern thongs that tie thy fhoes,
We judge, did fix his eye on thee
In his Duck ifland prophecy :
Where, now fulfil'd, we fenfe explore,
Dark (as it fhou'd be) all before.

Thy notes our ears with pleasure treat,
So very wild, fo very fweet:
More than AMPHION thou haft done,
And raised walls, which prove thy own.

This STEPHEN, if there's faith in news,
Preferment's heaven open'd views:
And yet by fovereign goodnefs own'd,
By criticks hands efcapes unfton'd.

O fent in mercy to these times!
With vigor thresh our modern rhymes:
Much talk from little grain withdraw,
And fave our pence in buying straw.
No chaffy bard dare thee affail ;
There is no fence against a flail.
Our dangerous ftate we all difcern,
And fetch dictators from the barn.

To Mr. STEPHEN DUCK, the celebrated WILTSHIRE Poet and Thresher, on his late Preferment by her Majefty.

I.
LD HOMER, tho' a bard divine,

(If not by fame bely'd,)

Stroll'd about GREECE; old ballads fung;
A beggar liv'd and dy'd.

II. Fam'd

II.

Fam'd MILTON too, our BRITISH bard,
Who as divinely wrote,
Sung like an angel, but in vain ;
And dy'd not worth a groat.

III.

Thice happy Duck! a milder fate
Thy genius does attend:

Well haft thou thresh'd thy barns and brains,
To make a queen thy friend!

IV.

O! may she still new favours grant,
And make the laurel thine!

Then fhall we fee next NEW-YEAR'S ODE
By far the faft out-shine.

Grubftreet Journal, No 42.

To Mr: BAVIUS, Secretary to the Society of GRUBSTREET.

W

Ithout his worship's leave, he's very proud,
Proof against reafon, pofitive and loud:
He ftill behaves with stable impudence,
And never fwerves to modefty or sense.

་ ་་ ་

SIR,

Have frequently been exercis'd by a rural adminiftra tor of juftice; have gone through feveral courses of his difcipline; but being now remov'd beyond the sphere of his activity, I give the following out-lines of the gentleman, my skill in drawing not enabling me to fill the figure with proper fhades.

With totering diction and inceffant brawl, He acts the bully, and confounds the hall.

E

Mov'd

Mov'd by no fpring but intereft and fpight,
What he confirms at morn he'll quafh at night.
With well expanded bellows he affails,
Till with his lungs his understanding fails.
Is to be let, and thwarts the plaineft laws,
And prostitutes his voice to ferve the cause.

Long has he made a buftle for the ftate,
And hop'd a furious zeal wou'd make him great:
Thinks loyalty, as dirt, when largely caft,
Will, furely, fome on't fomewhere stick at laft:
Drinks bumpers to the church; yet oft the priest
Is fubject of his awkward filthy jeft;
Then laughs alone, whilft others in difdain
Laugh at the juflice ribaldrous and vain.

In fordid hurt all day he makes decrees
With fapient air: tobacco, bread and cheese
Promifcuously chews; at night o'ercome
With ropy belch, he takes a bed at home.
Recognizance and warrant join their aid,
Make good deficiences, and help the trade:
A certain yearly compofition quits
The clerk; the justice takes the perquifites.

His worship rides in chaife; but time must tell,
Whether this vehicle t'a coach may fwell;
Or dwindle to more base machine, to yield
More gain in needful labours of the field:
Some fay the latter; but more think he'll ride,
And, rather than retrench, will ftarve in pride.

Grub