This clue once found, unravels all the rest, The prospect clears, and Wharton stands confest.* Wharton, the scorn and wonder of our days, Whose ruling passion was the lust of praise: Born with whate'er could win it from the wise, Women and fools must him like, or he dies; Though wond'ring senates hung on all he spoke, The club must hail him master of the joke. Shall parts so various aim at nothing new? He'll shine a Tully and a Wilmot too. Thus with each gift of nature and of art, An angel tongue, which no man can persuade; A fool, with more of wit than half mankind; Toorash for thought, for action too refined; And, harder still! flagitious, yet not great. Ask you why Wharton broke through every rule? 'Twas all for fear the knaves should call him fool. Nature well known no prodigies remain, Comets are regular, and Wharton plain. * The frugal crone, whom praying priests attend, Still tries to save the hallowed taper's end, Collects her breath, as ebbing life retires, For one puff more, and in that puff expires. "Odious! in woollen! 'twould a saint provoke," (Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke). *Philip, Duke of Wharton, born 1698; died a monk in Spain, 1731. His eccentric and dissipated career rendered him remarkable. He was, towards the end of his life, attached to the Court of the Pretender. "No, let a charming chintz and Brussels lace [less face: Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeOne would not, sure, be frightful when one's dead And-Betty-give this a cheek little red." The courtier smooth, who forty years had shined An humble servant to all human kind, Just brought out this, when scarce his tongue could stir, [sir?" "If-where I'm going-I could serve you, "I give and I devise" (old Euclio said, And sighed) "my lands and tenements to Ned." "Your money, sir?" "My money, sir! what, all? Why, if I must" (then wept) "I give it Paul." "The manor, sir?"-"The manor! hold," he cried, [and died.* "Not that, I cannot part with that," And you, brave Cobham! to the latest breath [death: Shall feel your ruling passion strong in Such in those moments as in all the past, "Oh, save my country, Heaven!" shall be your last. -0 CHARACTERISTICS OF WOMAN. BUT grant, in public men sometimes are A woman's seen in private life alone: Weakness or delicacy; all so nice, In men, we various ruling passions find; In women, two almost divide the kind; Those, only fixed, they first or last obey, The love of pleasure, and the love of sway. That, nature gives; and where the lesson taught Is but to please, can pleasure seem a fault? Experience, this; by man's oppression curst, They seek the second not to lose the first. • Sir William Bateman used those very words on his death-bed.-Warton. Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day; She, who can love a sister's charms, or hear; Sighs for a daughter with unwounded ear; She, who ne'er answers till a husband cools, Or, if she rules him, never shows she rules; Charms by accepting, by submitting sways, Yet has her humour most when she obeys; Let fops or fortune fly which way they will; Disdains all loss of tickets or codille; [all, Spleen, vapours, or small-pox, above them And mistress of herself, though china fall. And yet, believe me, good as well as ill, Woman's at best a contradiction still. Heav'n, when it strives to polish all it can Its last best work, but forms a softer man; Picks from each sex, to make the fav'rite blest, Your love of pleasure, our desire of rest; Blends, in exception to all gen'ral rules, Your taste of follies with our scorn of fools: Reserve with frankness, art with truth allied, Courage with softness, modesty with pride; Fixed principles, with fancy ever new; Shakes all together, and produces-you. Be this a woman's fame: with this unblest, [jest. Toasts live a scorn, and queens may die a This Phoebus promised (I forget the year) When those blue eyes first opened on the sphere; Ascendent Phoebus watched that hour with care, Averted half your parents' simple pray'r, And gave you beauty, but denied the pelf That buys your sex a tyrant o'er itself. The generous God, who wit and gold refines, And ripens spirits as He ripens mines, Kept dross for duchesses, the world shall know it, To you gave sense, good-humour, and a poet. :0: MATTHEW PRIOR. 1664-1721. EPIGRAM. I LOVED thee, beautiful and kind, :0: OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 1728-1774. AN ELEGY ON THE GLORY OF HER SEX, MRS. MARY BLAIZE. GOOD people all, with one accord Lament for Madam Blaize, Who never wanted a good word From those who spoke her praise. The needy seldom passed her door, She strove the neighbourhood to please At church, in silks and satins new, Her love was sought, I do aver, By twenty beaux and more; But now her wealth and finery fled, The doctors found, when she was dead- AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG. GOOD people all, of every sort, Give ear unto my song, And if you find it wondrous short, It cannot hold you long. In Islington there was a man, Of whom the world might say That still a godly race he ranWhene'er he went to pray. A kind and gentle heart he had And in that town a dog was found, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, This dog and man at first were friends; The dog, to gain some private ends, Around from all the neighbouring streets The wound it seemed both sore and sad And while they swore the dog was mad, But soon a wonder came to light, That showed the rogues they lied,- :0: WILLIAM COWPER. 1731-1800. THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF The story of John Gilpin's ride was related to Cowper by his friend, Lady Austen, who had heard it as a child. It caused the poet a sleepless night, we are told, as he was kept awake by laughter at it. During these restless hours he turned it into the famous ballad. It appeared in the "Public Advertiser," November 14th, 1782, anonymously. A celebrated actor named Henderson took it for one of his public recitations at Freemasons' Hall. It became immediately so popular that it was printed everywhere-in newspapers, magazines, and separately. It was even sung as a common ballad in the streets. It has preserved its popularity to the present date. The original John Gilpin was, it is said, a Mr. Beyer, a linendraper, who lived at the Cheapside corner of Paternoster Row. died in 1791, at the age of nearly a hundred years. JOHN GILPIN was a citizen Of credit and renown, A trainband captain eke was he John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, "Though wedded we have been These twice ten tedious years, yet we No holiday have seen. "To-morrow is our wedding day, "My sister, and my sister's child, He soon replied, "I do admire Of womankind but one, And you are she, my dearest dear, Therefore it shall be done. "I am a linendraper bold, As all the world doth know, Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, "That's well said: John Gilpin kissed his loving wife; That, though on pleasure she was bent, He The morning came, the chaise was brought, So three doors off the chaise was stayed, Where they did all get in; Six precious souls, and all agog To dash through thick and thin. Smack went the whip, round went the wheels, Were never folks so glad! John Gilpin at his horse's side Seized fast the flowing mane, And up he got, in haste to ride,But soon came down again; For saddletree scarce reached had he, His journey to begin, When, turning round his head, he saw Three customers come in. So down he came; for loss of time, 'Twas long before the customers Were suited to their mind, When Betty screaming came downstairs"The wine is left behind!" "Good lack!" quoth he; "yet bring it me, My leathern belt likewise, In which I bear my trusty sword Now Mistress Gilpin (careful soul!) Each bottle had a curling ear, Through which the belt he drew, And hung a bottle on each side, To make his balance true. Then over all, that he might be His long red coat, well brushed and neat, Now see him mounted once again Upon his nimble steed, Full slowly pacing o'er the stones, With caution and good heed. |