COTTERS SATURDAY NIGHT, by Robert Burne. THE BOWER OF BLISS, by Spencer. PROLOGUE & EPILOGUE An Essay on Translated Verse, by Roscommon. &c. &c. Cruikshank deli Hurray Stop, Stop, John Gilpin: here's the House They all at once did cry; The Dinner waits, and we are tired : Said Gilpin LONDON Printed by & for I Roach, at the Britannia Printing Office. Woburn Sheet New Drury Theatre Proyal April 1.1795. AN ESSAY ON TRANSLATED VERSE, By the EARL of ROSCOMMON. HAPPY that author whofe correct effay* And happy you, who (by propitious fate) On great Apollo's facred ftandard wait. And with strict difcipline inftructed right, Have learn'd to use your arms before you fight. To the few virtues that we have, be just. And Albion's rocks repeat his rural fong. Vol. VI. 21. A John Sheffield Duke of Buckingham. Who Who has not heard how Italy was bleft As even Lycoris might with pity view! When mourning nymphs attend their Daphnis' hear fe, Learning grew faft, and spread, and blefs'd the land ; And Europe flill confiderably gains Both by their good example and their pains. 'Tis |