Upon our ravish'd ears! the hunters shout:
The clanging horns swell their sweet winding notes;
The pack wide opening load the trembling air
With various melody; from tree to tree
The propagated cry redoubling bounds,
And winged zephyrs waft the floating joy
Through all the regions near: afflictive birch
No more the schoolboy dreads; his prison broke,
Scampering he flies, nor heeds his master's call;
The weary traveller forgets his road

And climbs the adjacent hill: the plowman leaves
The unfinished furrow; nor the bleating flocks
Are now the shepherd's joy; men, boys, and girls
Desert the unpeopled village: and wild crowds
Spread o'er the plain, by the sweet phrensy seized

2. THE OYSTER.

Two comrades, as grave authors say,
(But in what chapter, page, or line,
Ye crities, if ye please, define)

Had found an oyster in their way.
Contest and foul debate arose,

Both view'd at once with greedy eyes,
Both challenged the delicious prize,
And high words soon improved to blows.
Actions on actions hence succeed,
Each hero's obstinately stout,
Green bags and parchments fly about,
Pleadings are drawn and counsel fee'd,
The parson of the place, kind man,
Whose kind and charitable heart
In human ills still bore a part,
Thrice shook his head, and thus began:
"Neighbours and friends, refer to me
This doughty matter in dispute:
I'll soon decide the important suit,
And finish all without a fee.
Give me the oyster then-'tis well!"
He opens it, and at one sup
Gulphs the contested trifle up,

And smiling gives to each a shell.

"Henceforth let foolish discord cease,
Your oyster's good as e'er was eat;
I thank you for my dainty treat,
God bless you both, and live in peace."

CXXXVII. GEORGE LILLO.
1. HONOUR.

Fly from the appearance of dishonour far,
Virtue is arbitrary, nor admits debate,
To doubt is treason in her rigid court:
But, if ye parley with the foe, you're lost.
2. MEN'S PASSIONS.

What fools are men,

Whom love and hatred, anger, hope, and fear,
And all the various passions, rule by turns,
And in their several turns alike deceive.
3. INNOCENCE.

The soul which conscious innocence sustains,
Supports with ease these temporary pains;
But, stung with guilt, and loaded by despair,
Becomes itself a burden none can bear.

4. FEAR.

The wretch who fears all that is possible,
Must suffer more than he who feels the worst
A man can feel, who lives exempt from fear.
CXXXVIII. ALLAN RAMSAY.

THE RUSTIC COQUETTE.

Daft gowk! leave aff that silly whingeing way;
Seem careless-there's my hand ye'll win the day.
Hear how I served my lass I lo'e as weel
As ye do Jenny, and wi' heart as leal.
Last morning I was gye and early out,
Upon a dyke I lean'd, glow'ring about;
I saw my Meg come linkin' o'er the lee;
I saw my Meg, but Meggy saw nae me--
For yet the sun was wading thro' the mist,
And she was close upon me ere she wist-
Her coats was kiltit, and did sweetly shaw
Her straught bare legs, that whiter were than snaw.

Her cockernony snooded up fu' sleek,
Her haffet-locks hang waving on her cheek;
Her cheeks sae ruddy, and her een sae clear;
And O! her mouth's like ony hinny pear.
Neat, neat she was, in bustine waistcoat clean,
As she cam skiffing o'er the dewy green :
Blythesome, I cried "My bonny Meg, come here,
I ferly wherefore ye're sae soon asteer;

But I can guess-ye're gawn to gather dew."
She scour'd awa, and said "What's that to you?
"Then fare ye weel, Meg Dorts, and e'en's ye like."
I careless cried, and lap in o'er the dyke.
I trow, when that she saw, within a crack,
She cam wi' a right thieveless errand back ;
Misca'd me first, then bade me hound my dog,
To wear up three waff ewes stray'd on the bog.
I leugh, and sae did she; then wi' great haste
I clasp'd my arms about her neck and waist-
About her yielding waist, and took a fouth
O' sweetest kisses frae her glowing mouth.
While hard and fast I held her in my grips,
My very saul came louping to my lips.
Sair, sair she flet wi' me 'sween ilka smack,
But weel I kend she meant nae as she spak.
Dear Roger, when your jo puts on her gloom,
Do you sae too, and never fash your thoom-
Seem to forsake her, soon she'll change her mood;
Gae woo anither, and she'll gang clean wud.

CXXXIX. WILLIAM OLDYS.

TO A FLY.

Busy, curious, thirsty fly,

Drink with me, and drink as I

Freely welcome to my cup,
Couldst thou sip, and sip it up.
Make the most of life you may,
Life is short and wears away.
Both alike are mine and thine,
Hastening quick to their decline:

Thine's a summer, mine no more,
Though repeated to threescore ;
Threescore summers, when they 're gone,
Will appear as short as one.

CXL. RICHARD SAVAGE.

1. ADVANTAGES OF ADVERSITY.

The naked cliff, that singly rough remains,
In prospect dignifies the fertile plains;
Lead-colour'd clouds, in scattering fragments seen,
Show, though in broken views, the blue serene.
Severe distresses industry inspire;

Thus captives oft excelling arts acquire,
And boldly struggle through a state of shame,
To life, ease, plenty, liberty, and fame.

Sword-law has often Europe's balance gain'd,
And one red victory years of peace maintain'd.
We pass through want to wealth, through dismal strife
To calm content, through death to endless life.
Libya thou nam'st-let Afric's wastes appear
Curst by those heats that fructify the year;
Yet the same suns her orange-groves befriend,
Where clustering globes in shining rows depend,
Here, when fierce beams o'er withering plants are roll'd,
There, the green fruit seems ripen'd into gold.
E'en scenes that strike with terrible surprise,
Still prove a God, just, merciful, and wise.

2. TO HIS MOTHER, AFTER QUEEN ANNE HAD

PARDONED HIM FOR MURDER.

Born to himself, by no possession led,

In freedom foster'd, and by fortune fed;

Nor guides, nor rules, his sovereign choice controul,
His body independent as his soul;

Loosed to the world's wide range-enjoyed no aim,
Prescribed no duty, and assigned no name!
Nature's unbounded son, he stands alone,
His heart unbiassed, and his mind his own.
O mother, yet no mother! 'tis to you,

My thanks for such distinguished claims are due.

You, uninslaved to nature's narrow laws,
Warm championess for freedom's sacred cause,
From all the dry devoirs of blood and line,
From ties maternal, moral, and divine,
Discharged my gasping soul; push'd me from shore,
And launched me into life without an oar.

Oh fate of late repentance, always vain
Thy remedies but lull undying pain.

Where shall my hope find rest ?—No mother's care
Shielded my infant innocence with
prayer:
No father's guardian hand my youth maintained,
Called forth my virtues or from vice restrained;
Is it not thine to snatch some powerful arm
First to advance, then screen from future harm?
Am I returned from death to live in pain?
Or would imperial pity save in vain ?
Distrust it not-what blame can mercy find,
Which gives at once a life, and rears a mind?
Mother, miscall'd, farewell—of soul severe;
This sad reflection yet may force one tear:
All I was wretched by, to you I owed,
Alone from strangers every comfort flowed!
Lost to the life you gave, your son no more,
And now adopted, who was doomed before,
New-born, I may another mother claim,
But dare not whisper her immortal name;
Supremely lovely, and serenely great,
Majestic mother of a kneeling state;
Queen of a people's heart, who ne'er before
Agreed, yet now with one consent adore!
One contest yet remains in this desire,
Who most shall give applause, where all admire.

CXLI. ALEXANDER ROSS.

WOOED AND MARRIED AND A'.

The bride cam out o' the byre,

And, oh, as she dighted her cheeks,
Sirs, I'm to be married the night,

And have neither blankets nor sheets: