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The dimpled ftream; the winding fhade;
Rich in my felf, I'd frown on gold,
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,
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!
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 grov❜ling views could then controul
So to the radient fcource of light,
Allur'd by the refulgent blaze,
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,
But when thy fmiles no more cou'd charm,
And weeping virtue left the place.
Then down finks thy devoted head :
And VANDALS to complete thy doom,
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 STEPHEN DUCK.
All glorious fouls, who e'er have been,
Thy notes our ears with pleasure treat,
This STEPHEN, if there's faith in news,
O fent in mercy to these times!
To Mr. STEPHEN DUCK, the celebrated WILTSHIRE Poet and Thresher, on his late Preferment by her Majefty.
(If not by fame bely'd,)
Stroll'd about GREECE; old ballads fung;
Fam'd MILTON too, our BRITISH bard,
Thice happy Duck! a milder fate
Well haft thou thresh'd thy barns and brains,
O! may she still new favours grant,
Then fhall we fee next NEW-YEAR'S ODE
Grubftreet Journal, No 42.
To Mr: BAVIUS, Secretary to the Society of GRUBSTREET.
Ithout his worship's leave, he's very proud,
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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.
Mov'd by no fpring but intereft and fpight,
Long has he made a buftle for the ftate,
In fordid hurt all day he makes decrees
His worship rides in chaife; but time must tell,