LEVITIES;

ов,

PIECES OF HUMOUR.

FLIRT AND PHIL.

A DECISION FOR THE LADIES.

1 A WIT, by learning well refined,
A beau, but of the rural kind,
To Silvia made pretences;
They both profess'd an equal love,
Yet hoped by different means to move
Her judgment or her senses.

2 Young sprightly Flirt, of blooming mien, Watch'd the best minutes to be seen,

Went-when his glass advised him ; While meagre Phil of books inquired, A wight for wit and parts admired, And witty ladies prized him.

3 Silvia had wit, had spirits too; To hear the one, the other view, Suspended held the scales;

Her wit, her youth too, claim'd its share;
Let none the preference declare,
But turn up-heads or tails.

STANZAS.

TO THE MEMORY OF AN AGREEABLE LADY, BURIED IN MARRIAGE TO A PERSON UNDESERVING HER.

1 'Twas always held, and ever will,

By sage mankind, discreeter

To anticipate a lesser ill

Than undergo a greater.

2 When mortals dread diseases, pain,
And languishing conditions,
Who don't the lesser ills sustain
Of physic―and physicians?

3 Rather than lose his whole estate,
He that but little wise is,

Full gladly pays four parts in eight,
To taxes and excises.

4 Our merchants Spain has near undone,
For lost ships not requiting ;
This bears our noble King to shun
The loss of blood-in fighting!

5 With numerous ills, in single life,
The bachelor's attended;
Such to avoid, he takes a wife-

And much the case is mended!

6 Poor Gratia, in her twentieth year,
Foreseeing future woe,

Chose to attend a monkey here,
Before an ape below.

COLEMIRA.

A CULINARY ECLOGUE.

Nec tantum Veneris, quantum studiosa culinæ.

IMITATION.

Insensible of soft desire,

Behold Colemira prove

More partial to the kitchen fire

Than to the fire of Love.

1 Night's sable clouds had half the globe o'erspread, And silence reign'd, and folks were gone to bed; When love, which gentle sleep can ne'er inspire, Had seated Damon by the kitchen fire.

2 Pensive he lay, extended on the ground,
The little Lares kept their vigils round;
The fawning cats compassionate his case,
And purr around, and gently lick his face:

3 To all his plaints the sleeping curs reply,
And with hoarse snorings imitate a sigh:
Such gloomy scenes with lovers' minds agree,
And solitude to them is best society.

4 "Could I," he cried, "express how bright a grace Adorns thy morning hands, and well-wash'd face, Thou wouldst, Colemira, grant what I implore, And yield me love, or wash thy face no more.

5 "Ah! who can see, and seeing not admire,
Whene'er she sets the pot upon the fire?
Her hands outshine the fire and redder things;
Her eyes are blacker than the pot she brings.

6 "But sure no chamber-damsel can compare,
When in meridian lustre shines my fair,
When warm'd with dinner's toil, in pearly rills,
Adown her goodly cheeks the sweat distils.

7 "Oh! how I long, how ardently desire,
To view those rosy fingers strike the lyre!
For late, when bees to change their climes began,
How did I see them thrum the frying-pan!

8" With her I should not envy George his queen,
Though she in royal grandeur deck'd be seen;
Whilst rags, just sever'd from my fair one's gown,
In russet pomp and greasy pride hang down.

9 "Ah! how it does my drooping heart rejoice,
When in the hall I hear thy mellow voice!
How would that voice exceed the village bell,
Wouldst thou but sing, 'I like thee passing well!'

10" When from the hearth she bade the pointers go, How soft, how easy, did her accents flow!

'Get out,' she cried when strangers come to sup, One ne'er can raise those snoring devils up.'

11 "Then, full of wrath, she kick'd each lazy brute; Alas! I envied even that salute:

"Twas sure misplaced-Shock said, or seem'd to say, He had as lief I had the kick, as they.

12" If she the mystic bellows take in hand,
Who like the fair can that machine command?
O mayst thou ne'er by Eolus be seen,

For he would sure demand thee for his queen!

13" But should the flame this rougher aid refuse, And only gentler medicines be of use,

With full-blown cheeks she ends the doubtful strife,
Foments the infant flame, and puffs it into life.

14 "Such arts as these exalt the drooping fire,
But in my breast a fiercer flame inspire:
I burn! I burn! O give thy puffing o'er,

And swell thy cheeks, and pout thy lips, no more!

15" With all her haughty looks, the time I've seen
When this proud damsel has more humble been,
When with nice airs she hoist the pancake round,
And dropt it, hapless fair! upon the ground.

16 "Look, with what charming grace, what winning tricks, The artful charmer rubs the candlesticks:

So bright she makes the candlesticks she handles,
Oft have I said-there were no need of candles.

17" But thou, my fair! who never wouldst approve,
Or hear the tender story of my love,

Or mind how burns my raging breast-a button-
Perhaps art dreaming of a breast of mutton."

18 Thus said, and wept, the sad desponding swain,
Revealing to the sable walls his pain:

But nymphs are free with those they should deny ;
To those they love, more exquisitely coy.