CLVI

BEN BLOCK

BEN BLOCK was a veteran of naval renown,

And renown was his only reward;

For the Board still neglected his merit to crown,
As no interest he held with "my lord."

Yet brave as old Benbow was sturdy old Ben,
And he'd laugh at the cannon's loud roar,

When the death-dealing broadside made worm's-meat of

men,

And the scuppers were streaming with gore.

Nor could a Lieutenant's poor stipend provoke
The staunch Tar to despise scanty prog:

But his biscuit he'd crunch, turn his quid, crack his joke,
And drown care in a jorum of grog.

Thus year after year in a subaltern state,

Poor Ben for his King fought and bled;

Till time had unroof'd all the thatch from his pate,
And the hair from his temples had fled.

When on humbly saluting, with sinciput bare,
The first Lord of the Admiralty once,

Quoth his Lordship, "Lieutenant, you've lost all your hair
Since I last had a peep at your sconce !"

"Why, my Lord," replied Ben-"it with truth may be said,

While a bald pate I long have stood under;

There are so many Captains walk'd over my head,
That to see me quite scalp'd were no wonder!"

J. COLLINS.

CLVII

FOR MY OWN MONUMENT

As doctors give physic by way of prevention,

Mat, alive and in health, of his tombstone took care; For delays are unsafe, and his pious intention May haply be never fulfilled by his heir.

Then take Mat's word for it, the sculptor is paid; That the figure is fine, pray believe your own eye:

Yet credit but lightly what more may be said,

For we flatter ourselves, and teach marble to lie.

Yet, counting as far as to fifty his years,

His virtues and vices were as other men's are; High hopes he conceived, and he smothered great fears, In a life party-coloured, half pleasure, half care.

Nor to business a drudge, nor to faction a slave,
He strove to make interest and freedom agree;
In public employments industrious and grave,

And alone with his friends, lord, how merry was he!

Now in equipage stately, now humbly on foot,

Both fortunes he tried, but to neither would trust; And whirl'd in the round, as the wheel turn'd about, He found riches had wings, and knew man was but dust.

This verse little polish'd, though mighty sincere,

Sets neither his titles nor merit to view;

It says that his relics collected lie here,

And no mortal yet knows too if this may

be true.

Fierce robbers there are that infest the highway,
So Mat may be kill'd, and his bones never found;
False witness at court, and fierce tempests at sea,

So Mat may yet chance to be hang'd, or be drown'd.

If his bones lie on earth, roll in sea, fly in air,

To fate we must yield, and the thing is the same; And if passing thou giv'st him a smile, or a tear,

He cares not-yet pr'ythee be kind to his fame.

M. PRIOR.

CLVIII

A REASONABLE AFFLICTION

ON his death-bed poor Lubin lies,
His spouse is in despair:

With frequent sobs, and mutual cries,
They both express their care.

A different cause, says parson Sly,
The same effect may give ;
Poor Lubin fears that he shall die;

His wife, that he may live.

CLIX

M. PRIOR.

THE POWER OF MUSIC

WHEN Orpheus went down to the regions below,
Which men are forbidden to see,

He tun'd up his lyre, as old histories show,
To set his Eurydice free.

All hell was astonish'd a person so wise,
Should rashly endanger his life,

And venture so far-but how vast their surprise!
When they heard that he came for his wife.

To find out a punishment due to his fault
Old Pluto had puzzl'd his brain ;
But hell had no torments sufficient, he thought,
-So he gave him his wife back again.

But pity succeeding found place in his heart,
And, pleas'd with his playing so well,
He took her again in reward of his art;

Such merit had music in hell.

CLX

DR. T. LISLE.

A NIGHT PIECE

How deep yon azure dyes the sky!
Where orbs of gold unnumber'd lie,
While through their ranks in silver pride
The nether crescent seems to glide.
The slumbering breeze forgets to breathe,

The lake is smooth and clear beneath,
Where once again the spangled show
Descends to meet our eyes below.