SAM Johnson in the true sublime Shall chaunt your Acts another time, Though Boston still, without remorse, Our power supreme shall Yankies own, Lay down their lives and riches : To buy them---velvet breeches. My trembling Muse can ne'er aspire Besides, your ears, my Lord, are nice, Else should I hail this lucky hour, A meal-tub plot young Oates shall prove, To ravish George our King! Can I describe the Atlantic sea, Green as a leek with India's tea, Dire cause of civil rage? The dust and sweat on Putnam's brow, Who in the battle equals Howe, But kneels to Madam Gage? Enough for me if I rehearse ODE XVI. ΤΟ MR. PINCHBECK, UPON HIS NEWLY INVENTED PATENT CANDLE-SNUFFERS. BY MALCOLM M'GREGOR, ESQ. AUTHOR OF THE HEROIC EPISTLE TO SIR WILLIAM CHAMBERS, AND THE HEROIC POSTSCRIPT. Quousque ergo frustra pascemus ignigenum istum ? Apuleii Met. Lib. 7. Why should a Patent be granted to this Candle-snuffer in vain? ILLUSTRIOUS Pinchbeck! condescend Thou well-belov'd, and best King's-Friend, O! may they prompt thee, ere too late, That burns a little blue. It once had got a stately wick, As white as wax we saw it shine Thro' two whole lengths of BRUNSWICK's line, Till Bute first dar'd to smut it. Since then---but wherefore tell the tale? Come then, ingenious artist, come, And put thy finger and thy thumb On thee alone our hopes depend, Thy King's, and eke thy Country's friend, To trim Old England's candle. But first we pray for its relief, Pluck from its wick each Tory thief, It else must quickly rue it; While N--- and M--- sputter there, Thou 'lt ne'er prevent, with all thy care, The melting of the suet. There's Twitcher too, that old he-witch, And makes a filthy pother; When curs'd with such a sorry fiend, And lighted too at either end, 'Twill soon be in a smother. I fear me much, in such a plight, Which pious ordains to blaze, And gild with their establish'd rays Our Lady of Quebec. His arms, thou hallow'd image! bless, And not to the Pretender. Haste then, and quash the hot turmoil, His patent-snuffers, in a dish Of burnish'd gold; if more you wish His Cyclops shall bestir |