No ftores beneath its humble thatch
Requir'd a mafter's care;
The wicket, op'ning with a latch, Receiv'd the harmless pair.
And now, when bufy crowds retire To take their evening reft, The hermit trimm'd his little fire, And cheer'd his penfive guest! And fpread his vegetable store, And gaily preft and fmil'd; And, fkill'd in legendary lore, The ling'ring hours beguil'd. Around in fympathetic mirth, Its tricks the kitten tries; The cricket chirrups in the hearth, The crackling faggot flies,
But nothing could a charm impart To footh the ftranger's woe, For grief was heavy at his heart, And tears began to flow.
His rifing cares the hermit fpy'd, With anfwering care oppreft:
And whence, unhappy youth!' he cry'd, The forrows of thy breaft?
From better habitations fpurn'd, • Reluctant doft thou rove:
Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd,
Or unregarded love?
Alas! the joys that fortune brings, Are trifling and decay;
And those who prize the paltry things,
More trifling ftill than they.
And what is friendship but a name, A charm that lulls to fleep;
A fhade that follows wealth or fame, And leaves the wretch to weep?
And love is ftill an emptier found, The modern fair-one's jeft: 'On earth unfeen, or only found To warm the turtle's neft.
For fhame! fond youth, thy forrows hush, And fpurn the fex,' he said: But while he fpake, a rising blush His love-lorn guest betray'd. Surpriz'd he fees new beauties rife, Swift mantling to the view; Like colours o'er the morning skies, As bright,-as tranfient too.
The bashful look, the rifing breast, Alternate fpread alarms: The lovely ftranger stands confeft A maid in all her charms.
"And, ah, forgive a stranger rude, "A wretch forlorn," the cry'd, "Whofe feet unhallow'd thus intrude "Where heav'n and you refide. "But let a maid thy pity fhare, "Whom love has taught to ftray; "Who feeks for reft, but finds defpair Companion of her way,
"My father liv'd beside the Tyne,
"A wealthy lord was he;
"And all his wealth was mark'd as mine, "He had but only me.
"To win me from his tender arms,
"Unnumber'd fuitors came; "Who prais'd me for imputed charms, "And felt, or feign'd a flame.
"Each hour a mercenary crowd
"With richest proffers ftrove: "Among the reft young EDWIN bow'd, "But never talk'd of love.
"In humble, fimpleft habit clad, "No wealth or power had he; "WISDOM and WORTH were all he had, "But these were all to me.
"The bloffom opening to the day, "The dews of heav'n refin'd, "Could nought of purity difplay,
"To emulate his mind.
"The dew, the bloffom on the tree, "With charms inconftant fhine; "Their charms were his, but, woe to me! "Their conftancy was mine.
"For ftill I try'd each fickle art, Importunate and vain :
"And, while his paffion touch'd my heart, "I triumph'd in his pain:
Till, quite dejected with my fcorn, "He left me to my pride;
"And fought a folitude forlorn,
"In fecret, where he dy'd.
"But mine the forrow, mine the fault, "And well my life fhall pay; “I'll feek the folitude he fought, "And ftretch me where he lay.-
"And there forlorn, despairing hid, "I'll lay me down and die; ""Twas fo for me that EDWIN did, "And fo for him will I."
Forbid it, heav'n!' the hermit cry'd, And clafp'd her to his breaft: The wond'ring fair-one turn'd to chide, 'Twas EDWIN's felf that preft.
Turn, ANGELINA, ever dear,
My charmer, turn to fee
Thy own, thy long-loft EDWIN here, "Reftor'd to love and thee.
Thus let me hold thee to my heart, And ev'ry care refign!
And fhall we never, never part,
My life my all that's mine?
No; never from this hour to part, We'll live and love fo true,
The figh that rends thy conftant heart, Shall break thy EDWIN's too.'
IN every age, and each profession, Men err the moft by prepoffeffion, But when the thing is clearly fhown, And fairly stated, fully known, We foon applaud what we deride, And penitence fucceeds to pride.- A certain baron on a day,
Having a mind to show away,
Invited all the wits and wags,
FOOTE, MASSEY, SHUTER, YATES and SKEGGS, And built a large commodious stage,
For the choice fpirits of the
But above all, among the reft, There came a genius, who profefs'd To have a curious trick in store, Which never was perform'd before. Through all the town this foon got air, And the whole houfe was like a fair; But foon his entry as he made, Without a prompter or parade, 'Twas all expectance, all fufpenfe, And filence gagg'd the audience. He hid his head behind his wig, And with fuch truth took off a PIG, All fwore 'twas ferious, and no joke; For doubtlefs underneath his cloak
He had conceal'd fome grunting elf, Or was a real HOG himself.
A fearch was made, no PIG was found- With thund'ring claps the feats refound, And pit, and box, and galleries roar, With-O rare! bravo! and encore ! Old ROGER GROUSE, a country clown, Who yet knew fomething of the town, Beheld the mimic and his whim, And on the morrow challeng'd him, Declaring to each beau and bunter, That he'd out-grunt th' egregious grunter. The morrow came-the crowd was greater- But prejudice and rank ill-nature Ufurp'd the mind of men and wenches, Who came to hifs, and break the benches; The mimic took his ufual ftation, And fqueak'd with general approbation. Again, encore! encore! they cry- 'Twas quite the thing-'twas very high: Old GROUSE Conceal'd amidft the racket, A real PIG beneath his jacket- Then forth he came-and with his nail He pinch'd the urchin by the tail. The tortur'd PIG from out his throat Produc'd the genuine nat'ral note. All bellow'd out-'twas very fad! Sure never ftuff was half fo bad! That like a PIG?-each cry'd in fcoff, Pfhaw! nonfenfe! blockhead! off! off! off! The mimic was extoll'd, and GROUSE Was hifs'd and cat-call'd from the house- Soft ye, a word before I go,"
Quoth honeft Hodge-and tooping low, Produc'd the PIG, and thus aloud Bespoke the ftupid, partial crowd:
Behold, and learn from this poor creature, "How much you CRITICS know of nature.
« PreviousContinue » |