Grubftreet Journal, N° 80.
To Mr. POPE on his being perfonally abus'd
HY wit in vain th' invenom'd critic gnaws:
The polish'd metal breaks the ferpent's jaws.
Pain'd and inrag'd it on thy perfon flies;
But ftrait drops of, and feebly hiffing dies.
Impartial heav'n, which ne'er thought fit to join
A beauteous form to fuch bright wit as thine;
Careless to grace the frail corporeal part,
Has on thy foul exerted double art.
UGH PETERS fenfe, voice, language, action, mein
And front, are all in H-----y heard, or seen : Which plainly proves this learn'd CLARE-MARKET rorer OF ANCENT ELOCUTION THE RESTORER. #5. odney Edot.
Grubtreet Journal, N° 82.
An EPIGRAM.
IN durance vile while pious WOOLSTON lies,
And death waits near to clofe learn'd TINDAL's eyes;
The prieft's hard fortune, and the layman's fate,
Seem to prefage religion's ruin'd ftate.
But thou, O Bow MAN! wilt the lofs fupply
Of both; and whilst thou liv'ft, she cannot dye.
To thy due ftation_may'st thou rife much quicker,
And ceafe to lie of DEWSBURY the vicar.
Grubftreet Journal, N° 83. The EPISTLE of ROBIN the Butler, to KITTY the Cook's Daughter.
NDER the mask of some fictitious name,
Of ULRICK, OSBORNE, or of WALSINGHAM, A great variety of authors write,
And give their few kind readers strange delight.
Thefe no diftinction make: but I more curious
Can ftill difcern the genuine from the fpurious.
When fome bright piece with double luftre fhines,
As if a P --'s hand had touch'd the lines;
While the true writer, fome fam'd rhetorician,
Thinks himself hid, confummate politician,
A TACITUS: without a nomenclator,
I know his ftarck'd, affected, quain translator."
Grubftreet Journal, No 84.
In nova fert animus mutatas dicere formas,
Corpora.
OVID.
TEAR HOLBORN-BARS, that dismal place, Which leads to shame and foul difgrace; TOTYBOURN TREE, that grim triangle, Where little rogues fo often dangle;
There ftands a little INN of COURT,
Where crowds of wife-acres refort.
To plunge into the rav'nous maw
Of that fell monster call'd the law.
Within this INN there is a HALL,
*Where noisy L---Y---RS us'd to bawl,
Difpute and lye, as fome folks think,
But oftner much to eat and drink,
Does lift its shatter'd head, so humble,
As if 'twou'd ev'ry moment tumble.
Of this the mufe a change fhall tell::
APOLLO grant fhe do it well.
Fam'd OVID, if you please to look,
Has not one fuch in all his book;
Tho' once he told us of a yeoman,
(If I mistake not) nam'd PHILEMON;
Whom faints from heav'n, to play their farce on,
Did metamorphofe to a parfon;
And as he lov'd religion well.
Into a church transform'd his cell.
Strange is that tale: but fomething stranger
Is this I tell, the sudden change here:
And yet 'tis truer; therefore better,
As well in matter, as in metre.
This HALL, at firft for law defign'd,
To gofpel now with age inclin'd,
(A place, which once fome play'd the knave in,
They now pretend their fouls to fave in,)
Transform'd to church without a steeple,
Hopes by the pray'rs of chriftian people,
In its late years it may attone
For ills, which here in youth were done,
The fociety us'd to difpute here concerning matters
of law, and in term time to dine in commons.
+ It is not call'd by the members of the fociety a chappel, but a church, which we feldom fee without a steeple,
Thus fome old rake, by age and poxes
Forc'd to give o'er amours and doxies,
Turns faint t' escape old fatan's clutches,
And hopes to get to heav'n on crutches,
But to proceed by juft degrees:
The board, where clients paid their fees,
On which were shar'd 'great fums of wealth,
As robbers share their gain for ftealth,
A pulpit grew.Its love of gain
May it not thus transform'd retain ;
Nor the learn'd priest refuse to preach
Unless the cafh is in his reach.
The table too, as I'm a finner,
On which we dish'd up many a dinner,
Converted now to desk appears,
And fills no longer mouths, but ears.
For there the clerk to dismal note
With STERNHOLD's rhimes extends his throat;
Which all their teeth on edge do fet,
And to their stomachs give a wet.
Howe'er this fong of godly fort,
Tho' 'tis not very fweet, is fhort.
The defk of roaft-meat fmells fo ftrong,
It makes the clerk for dinner long,
And call a fingle ftaff in hafte,
That what he fmells he foon may taste..
Within this HALL each corner hole,
Where many a merry, mellow foul
For private purposes withdrew,
Is now converted to a pew:
In which, preferv'd by former ftains,
The fame narcotic pow'r remains.
And as with meat and wine opprest
Some here oft lay compos'd to reit:
So now with pray'rs and fermons, more,
To fafter fleep compofed, fnore.
|