"You and Newcastle are so close,
Still hand and glove, sir-I suppose.—
Newcastle (let me tell you, sir)
Has not his equal every where.

Well. There indeed your fortune's made;
Faith, sir, you understand your trade.
Would you but give me your good word!
Just introduce me to my lord.

I should serve charmingly by way
Of second fiddle, as they say:

What think you, sir? 'twere a good jest.
'Slife, we should quickly scout the rest."-
"Sir, you mistake the matter far,
We have no second fiddles there.-
Richer than I some folks may be;
More learned, but it hurts not me.
Friends, tho' he has of diff'rent kind,
Each has his proper place assign'd."

66

Strange matters these alledg'd by you!"Strange they may be, but they are true.""Well then, I vow, 'tis mighty clever, Now I long ten times more than ever To be advanc'd extremely near

One of his shining character.

Have but the will-there wants no more,

'Tis plain enough you have the pow'r.

His easy temper (that's the worst)

He knows, and is so shy at first.—
But such a cavalier as you-

Lord, sir, you'll quickly bring him to!”—

Well; if I fail in my design,

Sir, it shall be no fault of mine.
If by the saucy servile tribe

Denied, what think you of a bribe?
Shut out to-day, not die with sorrow,
But try my luck again to-morrow.
Never attempt to visit him

But at the most convenient time,
Attend him on each levee day,

And there my humble duty pay,
Labour, like this, our want supplies;
And they must stoop who mean to rise."

While thus he wittingly harangu'd, For which you'll guess I wish'd him hang'd, Campley, a friend of mine, came by, Who knew his humour more than I. We stop, salute, and-"why so fast, Friend Carlos? Whither all this haste?"Fir'd at the thoughts of a reprieve, pinch him, pull him, twitch his sleeve, Nod, beckon, bite my lips, wink, pout, Do ev'ry thing but speak plain out: While he, sad dog, from the beginning Determin'd to mistake my meaning; Instead of pitying my curse,

By jeering made it ten times worse.

Campley, what secret (pray!) was that You wanted to communicate?"

"I recollect.

But 'tis no matter.

Carlos, we'll talk of that hereafter.

'Twill tell

E'en let the secret rest.
Another time, sir, just as well."

Was ever such a dismal day?
Unlucky cur, he steals away,
And leaves me, half bereft of life,
At mercy of the butcher's knife;
When sudden, shouting from afar,
See his antagonist appear!

The bailiff seiz'd him quick as thought,
"Ho, Mr. Scoundrel! Are you caught?
Sir, you are witness to th' arrest."
Aye marry, sir, I'll do my best."
The mob huzzas. Away they trudge,
Culprit and all, before the judge.
Meanwhile I luckily enough
(Thanks to Apollo) got clear off.

ADDRESSED TO MISS

ON READING

THE PRAYER FOR INDIFFERENCE.

[1762.]*

AND dwells there in a female heart,
By bounteous heav'n design'd

* For Mrs. Greville's Ode, see Annual Register, vol. v. p. 202.

The choicest raptures to impart,
To feel the most refin'd-

Dwells there a wish in such a breast

Its nature to forego,

To smother in ignoble rest

At once both bliss and wo?

Far be the thought, and far the strain, Which breathes the low desire, How sweet soe'er the verse complain, Tho' Phœbus string the lyre.

Come then, fair maid, (in nature wise)
Who, knowing them, can tell
From gen'rous sympathy what joys
The glowing bosom swell.

In justice to the various pow'rs
Of pleasing, which you share,
Join me, amid your silent hours,
To form the better pray'r.

With lenient balm, may Ob'ron hence To fairy-land be driv'n;

With ev'ry herb that blunts the sense Mankind receiv'd from heav'n.

Oh! if my Sov'reign Author please, Far be it from my fate,

To live, unblest, in torpid ease,
And slumber on in state.

Each tender tie of life defied
Whence social pleasures spring,
Unmov'd with all the world beside,
A solitary thing-"

Some Alpine mountain, wrapt in snow,
Thus braves the whirling blast,
Eternal winter doom'd to know,
No genial spring to taste.

In vain warm suns their influence shed, The zephyrs sport in vain,

He rears, unchang'd, his barren head, Whilst beauty decks the plain.

What tho' in scaly armour drest,

Indifference may repel

The shafts of wo-in such a breast
No joy can ever dwell.

'Tis woven in the world's great plan,
And fix'd by heav'n's decree,
That all the true delights of man
Should spring from Sympathy.

'Tis nature bids, and whilst the laws Of nature we retain,

C