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Erewhile, in sportive circles round
She saw him wheel, and frisk, and bound;
From rock to rock pursue his way,
And on the fearful margin play.

Pleas'd on his various freaks to dwell,
She saw him climb my rustic cell;
Thence eye my lawns with verdure bright,
And seem all ravish'd at the sight.

She tells with what delight he stood To trace his features in the flood; Then skipp'd aloof with quaint amaze, And then drew near again to gaze.

She tells me how with eager speed
He flew to hear my vocal reed;
And how with critic face profound,
And sted fast ear, devour'd the sound.

Perhaps I was void of all thought:

Perhaps it was plain to foresee, That a nymph so complete would be sought

By a swain more engaging than me.
Ah! love every hope can inspire;

It banishes wisdom the while;
And the lip of the nymph we admire

Seems for ever adorn'd with a smile.
She is faithless, and I am undone ;

Ye that witness the woes I endure, Let reason instruct you to shun

What it cannot instruct you to cure. Beware how you loiter in vain

Amid nymphs of a higher degree : It is not for me to explain

How fair, and how fickle, they be. Alas! from the day that we met,

What hope of an end to my woes? When I cannot endure to forget

The glance that undid my repose. Yet time may diminish the pain :

The flower, and the shrub, and the tree, Which I rear'd for her pleasure in vain,

In time may have comfort for me. The sweets of a dew-sprinkled rose,

The sound of a murmuring stream, The peace which from solitude flows,

Henceforth shall be Corydon's theme. High transports are shown to the sight,

But we're not to find them our own;
Fate never bestow'd such delight,

As I with my Phyllis had known.
O ye woods, spread your branches apace;

To your deepest recesses I fly ;
I would hide with the beasts of the chase;

I would vanish from every eye. Yet my reed shall resound through the grove

With the same sad complaint it begun; How she smil'd--and I could not but love;

Was faithless-and I am undone!

His every frolic, light as air,
Deserves the gentle Delia's care;
And tears bedew her tender eye,
To think the playful kid must die.-

But knows my Delia, timely wise, How soon this blameless era fies? While violence and craft succeed ; Unfair design, and ruthless deed!

Soon would the vine his wounds deplore,
And yield her purple gifts no more ;
Ah! soon, eras'd from every grove
Were Delia's name, and Sirephon's love.

No more those bowers might Strephon see,
Where first he fondly gaz'd on thee ,
No more those beds of Powerets find,
Which for thy charming brows he twin'd.

Each wayward passion soon would tear
His bosom, now so void of care ;
And, when they left his ebbing vein,
What, but insipid age, remain ?

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Then mourn not the decrees of Fate, That gave his life so short a date ; And I will join thy tenderest sighs, To think that youth so swiftly flies'

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Erewhile, in sportive circles round
She saw him wheel, and frisk, and bound;
From rock to rock pursue his way,
And on the fearful margin play.

Pleas'd on his various freaks to dwell,
She saw him climb my rustic cell;
Thence eye my lawns with verdure bright,
And seem all ravish'd at the sight.

She tells with what delight he stood To trace his features in the flood; Then skipp'd aloof with quaint amaze, And then drew near again to gaze.

а

She tells me how with eager speed
He new to hear my vocal reed;
And how with critic face profound,
And sted fast ear, devour'd the sound.

Perhaps I was void of all thought:

Perhaps it was plain to foresee, That a nymph so complete would be sought

By a swain more engaging than me.
Ah! love every hope can inspire ;

It banishes wisdom the while ;
And the lip of the nymph we admire

Seems for ever adorn'd with a smile.
She is faithless, and I am undone ;

Ye that witness the woes I endure, Let reason instruct you to shun

What it cannot instruct you to cure. Beware how you loiter in vain

Amid nymphs of a higher degree: It is not for me to explain

How fair, and how fickle, they be. Alas! from the day that we met,

What hope of an end to my woes ? When I cannot endure to forget

The glance that undid my repose. Yet time may diminish the pain :

The flower, and the shrub, and the tree, Which I rear'd for her pleasure in vain,

In time may have comfort for me. The sweets of a dew-sprinkled rose,

The sound of a murmuring stream, The peace which from solitude flows,

Henceforth shall be Corydon's theme. High transports are shown to the sight,

But we're not to find them our own;
Fate never bestow'd such delight,

As I with my Phyllis had known.
O ye woods, spread your branches apace;

To your deepest recesses I fly;
I would bide with the beasts of the chase;

I would vanish from every eye.
Yet my reed shall resound through the grove

With the same sad complaint it begun; How she smil'd—and I could not but love;

Was faithless—and I am undone!

His every frolic, light as air,
Deserves the gentle Delia's care ;
And tears bedew her tender eye,
To think the playful kid must die.-

But knows my Delia, timely wise, How soon this blameless era fies? While violence and craft succeed ; Unfair design, and ruthless deed!

Soon would the vine his wounds deplore,
And yield her purple gisis no more ;
Ah! soon, eras'd from every grove
Were Delia's name, and Strephon's love.

No more those bowers might Strephon see,
Where first he fondly gaz'd on thee,
No more those beds of Powerets find,
Which for thy charming brows he iwin'd.

Each wayward passion soon would tear
His bosom, now so void of care;
And, when they left his ebbing vein,
What, but insipid age, remain ?

THE DYING KID.
Optima quæque dies miseris mortalibus ævi
Prima fugit

Virg
A TEAR bedews my Delia's eye,
To think yon playful kid must die;
From crystal spring, and nowery mead,
Must, in his prime of life, recede!

Then mourn not the decrees of Fate, That gave his life so short a date ; And I will join thy tenderest sighs, To think that youth so swiftly flies'

THE Rev. CHARLES CHURCHILL

The Rev. CHARLES CHURCHILL, a poet, once of name. Churchill was now at once raised from oh great repute, was the son of a curate of St. John's, scurity to eminence; and the Rosciad, which we Westminster, in which parish he was born in 1731. have selected as his best work, is, in fact, the only He received his early education at the celebrated one of his numerous publications on which he be. public school in the vicinity, whence he was sent to slowed due labor. The delineations are drawn Oxford ; but to this university he was refused ad- with equal energy and vivacity; the language and mission on account of deficient classical knowledge. versification, though not without inequalities, are Returning to school, he soon closed his further superior to the ordinary strain of current poetry, and education by an early and imprudent marriage. many of the observations are stamped with sound Receiving holy orders from the indulgence of Dr. judgment and correct taste. Sherlock, he went down to a curacy in Wales, The remainder of his life, though concurring where he attempted to remedy the scantiness of his with the period of his principal fame, is little worthy income, by the sale of cider; but this expedient of notice. He became a party writer, joining with only plunged him deeper in debt. Returning to Wilkes and other oppositionists, and employed his London, he was chosen, on his father's death, to pen assiduously in their cause. With this was succeed him as curate and lecturer of St. John's. joined a lamentable defect of moral feeling, ex. His finances still falling short, he took various hibited by loose and irregular manners. Throwing methods to improve them; at the same time he dis- off his black suit, he decorated his large and clumsy played an immoderate fondness for theatrical ex. person with gold lace; and dismissing his wife, he hibitions. This latter passion caused him to think debauched from her parents the daughter of a of exercising those talents which he was conscious tradesman in Westminster. His writings at length of possessing; and in March, 1761, he published, became mere rhapsodies; and taking a journey 10 though anonymously, a view of the excellencies and France for the purpose of visiting Mr. Wilkes, defects of the actors in both houses, which he en- then an exile in that country, he was seized with a titled “The Rosciad." It was much admired, fever, which put a period to his life on November 4, and a second edition appeared with the author's 1764, at the age of 34.

They can't, like candidate for other seat,

Pour seas of wine, and mountains raise of meat. THE ROSCIAD.

Wine! they could bribe you with the world as soon,

And of roast beef, they only know the tune : Roscius deceas'd, each high aspiring play's But what they have they give; could Clive do more. Push'd all his int'rest for the vacant chair. Though for each million he had brought home four! The buskin'd heroes of the mimic stage

Shuter keeps open house at Southwark fair, No longer whine in love, and rant in rage; And hopes the friends of humor will be there ; The monarch quits his throne, and condescends In Smithfield, Yates prepares the rival treat Humbly to court the favor of his friends; For those who laughter love, instead of meut; For pity's sake tells undeserv'd mishaps,

Foote, at Old House, for even Foote will be, And, their applause to gain, recounts his claps. In self-conceit, an actor, bribes with tea; Thus the victorious chiefs of ancient Rome, Which Wilkinson at second-hand receives, To win the mob, a suppliant's form assume, And at the New, pours water on the leaves. In pompous strain fight o'er th' extinguish'd war, The town divided, each runs sev'ral ways, And show where honor bled in ev'ry scar. As passion, humor, int'rest, party sways.

But though bare merit might in Rome appear Things of no moment, color of the hair,
The strongest plea for favor, 'tis not here ; Shape of a leg, complexion brown or fair,
We form our judgment in another way;

A dress well chosen, or a patch misplac'd,
And they will best succeed, who best can pay : Conciliate favor, or create distaste.
Those, who would gain the votes of British tribes, From galleries loud peals of laughter roll,
Must add to force of merit, force of bribes. And thunder Shuter's praises—he's so droll.
What can an actor give ? In ev'ry age

Embor'd, the ladies must have something smart, Cash hath been rudely banish'd from the stage; Palmer! Oh! Palmer tops the janty part. Monarchs themselves, to grief of ev'ry play'r, Seated in pit, the dwarf, with aching eyes, Appear as often as their image there :

Looks up, and vows that Barry's out of sizo ;

Whilst to six feet the vig'rous stripling grown, Who can—But Woodward came,-Hill slippa Declares that Garrick is another Coan.*

away, When place of judgment is by whim supplied, Melting like ghosts, before the rising day. And our opinions have their rise in pride;

† With that low cunning, which in fools supplies When, in discoursing on each mimic elf,

And amply too, the place of being wise,
We praise and censure with an eye to self; Which Nature, kind, indulgent parent, gave
All must meet friends, and Ackman bids as fair To qualify the blockhead for a knave;
In such a court, as Garrick, for the chair.

With that smooth falsehood, whose appearance At length agreed, all squabbles to decide,

charms, By some one judge the cause was to be tried ; And reason of each wholesome doubt disarms, But this their squabbles did afresh renew, Which to the lowest depths of guile descends, Who should be judge in such a trial ?—Who? By vilest means pursues the vilest ends,

For Johnson some, but Johnson, it was fear'd, Wears Friendship's mask for purposes of spite, Would be too grave; and Sterne too gay appear'd: Fawns in the day, and butchers in the night; Others for Francklin voted ; but 'twas known, With that malignant envy, which turns pale, He sicken'd at all triumphs but his own:

And sickens, even if a friend prevail, For Colman many, but the peevish tongue Which merit and success pursues with hate, Of prudent Age found out that he was young: And damns the worth it cannot imitate ; For Murphy some few pilf'ring wits declar'd, With the cold caution of a coward's spleen, Whilst Folly clapp'd her hands, and Wisdom stard. Which fears not guilt, but always seeks a skreen,

To mischief train'd, e'en from his mother's womb, Which keeps this maxim erer in her viewGrown old in fraud, though yet in manhood's bloom, What's basely done, should be done safely too ; Adopting arts, by which gay villains rise,

With that dull, rooted, callous impudence, And reach the heights which honest men despise; Which, dead 10 shame, and ev'ry nicer sense, Mute at the bar, and in the senate loud,

Ne'er blush'd, unless, in spreading Vice's snares, Dull 'mongst the dullest, proudest of the proud ; She blunder'd on some virtue unawares; A pert, prim prater of the northern race,

With all these blessings, which we seldom find Guilt in his heart, and famine in his face,

Lavish'd by Nature on one happy mind, Stood forth and thrice he wav'd his lily hand— A motley figure, of the Fribble tribe, And thrice he twirld his tye-thrice strok'd his Which heart can scarce conceive, or pen describe band

Came simp'ring on; to ascertain whose sex "At Friendship's call,” (thus oft with trait'rous aim Twelve sage, impınnel'd matrons would perplex. Men, void of faith, usurp Faith's sacred name) Nor male, nor female ; neither, and yet both ; " At Friendship's call I come, by Murphy sent, Of neuter gender, though of Irish growth; Who thus by me develops his intent.

A six-foot suckling, mincing in its gait;
But lesi, transfus'd, the spirit should be lost, Affected, peevish, prim, and delicate;
That spirit which in storms of rhet'ric tost, Fearful it seem'd, though of athletic make,
Bounces about, and Ries like bottled beer, Lest brutal breezes should 100 roughly shake
In his own words his own intentions hear. Ils tender form, and savage motion spread,

“Thanks to my friends.—But to vile fortunes born, O'er ils pale cheeks, the horrid manly red. No robes of fur these shoulders must adorn.

Much did it lalk, in its own pretty phrase, Vain your applause, no aid from thence I draw; Of genius and of taste, of play'rs and plays ; Vain all my wit, for what is wit in law?

Much too of writings, which itself had wrote, Twice (curs'd remembrance !) twice I strove to gain of special merit, though of little note; Admittance 'mongst the law-instructed train, For Fate, in a strange humor, had decreed Who, in the Temple and Gray's Inn, prepare That what it wrote, none but itself should read; For clients' wretched feet the legal snare ; Much too it chatter'd of dramatic laws, Dead to those arts, which polish and refine. Misjudging critics, and misplac'd applause ; Deaf to all worth, because that worth was mine, Then, with a self-complacent jutting air, Twice did those blockheads startle at my name, It smild, it smirk'd, it wriggled to the chair ; And, foul rejection, gave me up to shame. And, with an awkward briskness not its own, To laws and lawyers then I bad adieu,

Looking around, and perking on the throne, And plans of far more lib'ral note pursue. Triumphant seem'd, when that strange savage dame Who will may be a judge—my kindling breast Known but to few, or only known by name, Burns for that chair which Roscius once possess'd. Plain Common Sense appeard, by Nature there Here give your votes, your intrest here exert, Appointed, with plain Truth, to guard the chair. And let success for once attend desert.”

The pageant saw, and, blasted with her frown, With sleek appearance, and with ambling pace, To its first state of nothing melted down. And, type of vacant head, with vacant face,

Nor shall the Muse (for even there the pride The Proteus Hill put in his modest plea,- Of this vain nothing shall be mortified) "Let Favor speak for others, Worth for me.”— Nor shall the Muse (should Fate ordain her rhymes For who, like him, his various powers could call Fond, pleasing thought! to live in after-times) Into so many shapes, and shine in all ?

With such a triller's name her pages blot;
Who could so nobly grace the motley list,

Known by the character, the thing forgot;
Actor, inspector, doctor, botanist ?
Knows any one so well-sure no one knows,

| This severe character was intended for Mr. FitzAt once to play, prescribe, compound, compose ? patrick, a person who had rendered himself remarkable

by his activity in the playhouse riots of 1763, relative to

the taking half prices. He was the hero of Garrick's * John Coan, a dwarf, who died in 1764. C. Fribblerjad. E.

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