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Or with the high-rais'd horn's melodious clang
Sheep graz'd the field ; some with soft bosom press'd
But when the huntsman, with distended cheek,
The man to solitude accustom'd long
, the mind
This truth premis'd was needful as a text,
* Two woods belonging to John Throckmorton, Esq.
Their periwigs of wool, and fears combin'd,
“ Friends! we have liv'd too long. I never heard “ Sounds such as these, so worthy to be fear’d. “ Could I believe, that winds for ages pent “ In earth's dark womb have found at last a vent, “ And from their prisonhouse below arise “ With all these hideous howlings to the skies, “ I could be much compos’d, nor should appear “. For such a cause to feel the slightest fear. “ Yourselves have seen, what time the thunder rollid “ All night, me resting quiet in the fold. 6. Or heard we that tremendous bray alone, “ I should expound the melancholy tone; “ Should deem it by our old companion made, “ The ass; for he, we know, has lately stray'd, “ And being lost, perhaps, and wand'ring wide,
Might be suppos'd to clamour for a guide. “ But ah! those dreadful yells what soul can hear, „ “ That owns a carcase, and not quake for fear?
“ Demons produce them, doubtless; brazen-claw'd “ And fang’d with brass the demons are abroad; " I hold it, therefore, wisest and most fit,
That, life to save, we leap into the pit.”
Him answer'd then his loving mate and true, But more discreet than he, a Cambrian ewe.
“ How! leap into the pit our life to save ? “ To save our life leap all into the grave? “ For can we find it less ? Contemplate first “ The depth how awful! falling there, we burst; “ Or should the brambles, interpos'd, our fall “ In part abate, that happiness were small; 6. For with a race like theirs no chance I see “ Of peace or ease to creatures clad as we.
“ Mean time, noise kills not. Be it dapple's bray,
Of demons utter'd, from whatever lungs,
Sounds are but sounds, and till the cause appear,
While thus sbe spake, I fainter heard the peals,
Beware of desp'rate steps. The darkest day (Live till to morrow) will have pass'd away.
THE MODERN RAKE'S PROGRESS.
The young Tobias was his father's joy;
“ And why," said he, “ should my fond father prate “ Of virtue and religion? They afford “ No joys, and would abridge the scanty few 66 Of nature, Nature be my deity, “ Her let me worship, as herself enjoins, “ At the full board of plenty." Thoughtless boy! So to a libertine he grew, a wit, A man of honour, boastful empty names That dignify the villain. Seldom seen, And when at home under a cautious mask Concealing the lewd soul, his father thought He grew in wisdom, as he grew in years. He fondly deem'd he could perceive the growth Of goodness and of learning shooting up, Like the young offspring of the shelter'd hop, Unusual progress in a summer's night. He call’d him home, with great applause dismiss'd By his glad tutors—gave him good adviceBless'd him, and bade him prosper. With warm heart He drew his purse-strings, and the utmost doit Pour'd in the youngster's palm. “Away," he cries, “ Go to the seat of learning, boy. Be good, “ Be wise, be frugal, for 'tis all I can.” "I will,” said Toby, as he bang'd the door, And wink'd, and snapp'd his finger, “ Sir, I will."
So joyful he to Alma Mater went A sturdy freshman. See him just arrivd, Receiv'd, matriculated, and resolv'd To drown his freshness in a pipe of port. • Quick, Mr. Vintner, twenty dozen more ; “ Some claret, too. Here's to our friends at home. “ There let them dose. Be it our nobler aim “ To live-where stands the bottle ?" Then to town Hies the gay spark for futile purposes, And deeds my bashful muse disclaims to name. From town to college, till a fresh supply Sends him again from college up to town. The tedious interval the mace and cue, The tennis-court and racket, the slow lounge From street to street, the badger-hunt, the race, The raffle, the excursion, and the dance,
Ices and soups, and dice, the bet at whist,
So Toby fares, nor heeds