No sycophants mock thee
With dreams of dominion ;
But rude tempests rock thee
And ruffle thy pinion.
Thy last flight is taken,
Hope leaves thee for ever;
And victory shall waken
Thy proud spirit never."
In pride there's oft a sullen spite,
Which doth against itself rebel ;
Which, rather even than gain by right,
Would cross that right and leap at hell.
Pride's fumes exhaled through power's desire,
In high ambition's clouds aspire,
Till, chilled by disappointment's blast,
In blighting showers they fall at last.
Revenge is slaked like thirst! like breath,
Anger is spent ; avarice to death
Yields: love's fierce burning, age destroys;
Each passion with its object dies;
Each has its object out of self,
As beauty, and power, fame, and pelf:
And all by death's cold touch subside
All, save that master passion, pride;
Whose object, being born within,
May prove an endless source of sin.
Where life's excitements all are passed,
Then sinks each corresponding blast:
But pride, which on its own soul thrives,
Immortal as that soul survives,
Like some vast tree that takes deep root,
While far 'mid sky its branches shoot:
Pride, which through all time's depths doth lie,
Will shoot through all eternity.
Here is Mr. Quick, who can scarcely walk,
Mrs. White a decided tawney;
And Rhodes is supported by milk and chalk,
And Miss Hogg is too lean to be brawney;
Mr. Flower's a flourishing Aaron's Rod,
Hogarth's a garden-painter,
French out of Britain has never trod,
And Miss Rose than a lily is fainter.
Bracebridge an arch has never made,
Smith never beaten an anvil;
Miller knows nought of the floury trade,
And Stockstill will never be stand still;
Grammar is heard in a public house,
A Post is as prim as a quaker;
And good Mister Lion, he squeaks like a mouse,
While old Mistress Stiff is a shaker.
Miss Brown is fair, and Miss Black is red,
And Peter Blunt is civil;
Nelson to sea was never bred,
Old Angel's a very "devil;" Parry beats all by parrying law, Stringer ne'er wound a reel. Edge never used nor set a saw, Nor Fast withstood a meal. Dd
Le Dieu, sirs, keeps a house for beer;
Tom Paine's a goodly fellow,
And, in spite of Cobbett, he will appear
In flesh and bones, though sallow;
Tailor a stich has never sown,
Serjeant was ne'er enlisted,
Slim, with surprise, is lusty grown,
And Miss Roper's still untwisted.
Miss Martins never fledged their wings,
Miss Swallows never travel,
Nor Bird nor Starling ever sings,
Miss Stone is soft as gravel.
Here's widow Jay completely dumb,
Here's widow Cross good natured ;
Here's Mr. Handy without a thumb,
And Cowie human featured.
Here's Mr. Fox without a tail,
Thomson who is no poet,
Cooper who cannot make a pail,
And Sell who will not show it.
Draper has never dealt in cloth,
Excepting his profession,
Armstrong has never killed a moth,
Or Garret kept possession.
Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, have ne'er
Been scribes in sacred writ;
Water's so dry, he covets beer,
And Lack entraps with wit;
Jolly is sick, Gay is sad,
Badger's a gentle fellow;
Goode, like his name, is rarely bad,
Or Pearman ever mellow.
I've hosts of others left in store-
Anon, I'll ring their changes,
When memory flings their pleasures o'er,
And fancy round them ranges ;
For Islington contains such folks
As love with friends to mingle-
To please the married with their jokes,
And marry all the single,
THE PURSE AND THE HEART, OR THE
The Purse's wealth is rarely shown-
"Tis not its interest. 19uld live again?
Yet, of folly's train bereft,
Social life has pleasures left;
In mild Virtue's soft discourse,
And in manly Wisdom's force
In the wife we love and trust,
In the friend that's true and just ;
In the son's achievement keen,
In the daughter's modest mein.
These to social life remain,
And for these I'd live again.
On the RIVAL Performance of the Comedy of the Provoked us band, acted on Friday the 11th of November 1774, ut Drury-lane Theatre, and on Saturday the 12th, at Covent-garden.
On Friday, I own it, the play, without joking, Between Smith and Yates was REALLY PROVOKING :
But, next night, the Barrys (and sure they're to blame)
So totally chang'd it, you'd scarce know its name. Not a scene WAS PROVOKING, each part out of place;
My Lord he was MANLY, my Lady was GRACE.
These are the things, which, once possess'd,
Will mark a life that's truly bless'd :
A good estate on healthy soil,
Not got by vice, nor yet by toil;
A strength entire, a sparkling bowl,
A quiet wife, a quiet soul,
A mind as well as body whole.
A board with health and plenty crown'd,
A few try'd friends to sit around.
A merry night, without much drinking;
A happy thought, without much thinking;
Possess'd of these, all else defy,
And neither wish nor fear to die,
These are things, which, once possess'd,
Will make a life that's truly bless'd.
Say, is there aught that can convey
An image of its transient stay?
'Tis an hand's-breadth; 'tis a tale;
'Tis a vessel under sail;
'Tis a courier's straining steed ;
"Tis a shuttle in its speed;
"Tis an eagle in its way,
Darting down upon its prey;
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