To make my miseries compleat; Where shall a wretched Hip retreat? What shall a drooping mortal do, Who pines for sunshine and for you? If in the dark alcove I dream,

And you, or Phillis, is my theme,
While love or friendship warm my soul,
My shins are burning to a coal.
If rais'd to speculations high,

I gaze the stars and spangled sky,

With heart devout and wondering eye,
Amaz'd I view strange globes of light,
Meteors with horrid lustre bright,
My guilty trembling soul affright.
To mother Earth's prolific bed,
Pensive I stoop my giddy head,
From thence too all my hopes are fled.
Nor flowers, nor grass, nor shrubs appear,
To deck the smiling infant year;
But blasts my tender blossoms wound,
And desolation reigns around.

If sea-ward my dark thoughts I bend,
O! where will my misfortunes end?
My loyal soul distracted meets
Attainted dukes, and Spanish fleets. 1
Thus jarring elements unite;

Pregnant with wrongs, and arm'd with spite,
Successive mischiefs every hour
On my devoted head they pour.
Whate'er I do, wheree'er I go,
'Tis still an endless scene of woe.
'Tis thus disconsolate I mourn,
I faint, I die, till thy return:

'Till thy brisk wit, and humorous vein,
Restore me to myself again.
Let others vainly seek for ease,
From Galen and Hippocrates,

I scorn such nauseous aids as these.
Haste then, my dear, unbrib'd attend,
The best elixir is a friend.

TO A LADY,

WHO MADE ME A PRESENT OF A SILVER PEN.

FAIR-ONE, accept the thanks I owe,
'Tis all a grateful heart can do.
If e'er my soul the Muse inspire
With raptures and poetic fire,
Your kind munificence I'll praise,
To you a thousand altars raise :
Jove shall descend in golden rain,
Or die a swan; but sing in vain.
Phoebus the witty and the gay,
Shall quit the chariot of the day,
To bask in your superior ray.
Your charms shall every god subdue,
And every goddess envy you.
Add this but to your bounty's store,
This one great boon, I ask no more:
O gracious nymph, be kind as fair,
Nor with disdain neglect my prayer,
So shall your goodness be confess'd,
And I your slave entirely bless'd:
This pen no vulgar theme shall stain,
The noblest palm your gift shall gain,
To write to you, nor write in vain.

1 An invasion from Spain was then expected.

PRESENTING TO A LADY A WHITE ROSE AND A RED ON THE TENTH OF JUNE.

Ir this pale rose offend your sight,

It in your bosom wear;
"Twill blush to find itself less white,
And turn Lancastrian there.
But, Celia, should the red be chose,
With gay vermilion bright;
'Twould sicken at each blush that glows,
And in despair turn white.

Let politicians idly prate,

Their Babels build in vain ;
As uncontrolable as Fate,

Imperial Love shall reign.
Each haughty faction shall obey
And Whigs and Tories join,
Submit to your despotic sway,

Confess your right divine.

Yet this, my gracious monarch, own,
They're tyrants that oppress;
'Tis mercy must support your throne,
And 'tis like Heaven to bless.

THE BOWLING-GREEN.

WHERE fair Sabrina's wandering currents flow,
A large smooth plain extends its verdant brow,
Here every morn while fruitful vapours feed
The swelling blade, and bless the smoaking mead,
A cruel tyrant reigns: like Time, the swain
Whets his unrighteous scythe, and shaves the plain.
Beneath each stroke the peeping flowers decay,
And all th' unripen'd crop is swept away,

The heavy roller next he tugs along,
Whifs his short pipe, or roars a rural song,
With curious eye then the press'd turf he views,
And every rising prominence subdues.

Now when each craving stomach was well-stor'd
And Church and King had travell'd round the board,
Hither at Fortune's shrine to pay their court,
With eager hopes the motley tribe resort;
Attornies spruce, in their plate-button'd frocks,
And rosy parsons, fat, and orthodox:

Of every sect, whigs, papists, and high-flyers, Cornuted aldermen, and hen peck'd squires : Fox-hunters, quacks, scribblers in verse and prose, And half-pay captains, and half-witted beaux: On the green cirque the ready racers stand, Dispos'd in pairs, and tempt the bowler's hand: Each polish'd sphere does his round brother own, The twins distinguish'd by their marks are known. As the strong rein guides the well-manag'd horse, Here weighty lead infus'd directs their course. These in the ready road drive on with speed But those in crooked paths more artfully succeed.' So the tall ship that makes some dangerous bay, With a side wind obliquely slopes her way. Lo! there the silver tumbler fix'd on high, The victor's prize, inviting every eye! The champions, or consent, or chance divide, While each man thinks his own the surer side, And the jack leads, the skilful bowler's guide.

Bendo strip'd first, from foreign coasts he brought A chaos of receipts, and anarchy of thought; Where the tumultuous whims to faction prone, Still justled monarch Reason from her throne:

More dangerous than the porcupine's his quill,
Inur d to slaughter, and secure to kill.
Let loose, just Heaven! each virulent disease,
But save us from sach murderers as these:
Might Bendo live but half a patriarch's age,
Th unpeopled world would sink beneath his rage:
Nor need, t' appease the just Creator's ire,
A second deluge or consuming fire.
He winks one eye, and knits his brow severe,
Then from his hand lanches the flying sphere;
Out of the green the guiltless wood he hurl'd,
Swift as his patients from this nether world:
Then grinn'd malignant, but the jocund crowd
Deride his senseless rage, and shout aloud.

Next, Zadoc, 'tis thy turn, imperious priest !
Still late at church, but early at a feast.
No turkey-cock app ars with better grace,
His garments black, vermilion paints his face;
His wattles hang upon his stiffen'd band,
His platter feet upon the trigger stand,
He grasps the bowl in his rough brawny hand.
Then squatting down, with his grey goggle eyes
He takes his aim, and at the mark it flies.
Zadoc pursues, and wabbles o'er the plain,
But shakes his strutting paunch, and ambles on in
For, oh! wide-erring to the left it glides, [vain;
The inmate lead the lighter wood misguides.
He sharp reproofs with kind entreaties joins,
Then on the counter side with pain reclines,
As if he meant to regulate its course,
By power attractive, and nagnetic force:
Now almost in despair, he raves, he storms,
Writhes his unwieldy trunk in various forms:
Unhappy Proteus! still in vain he tries
A thousand shapes, the bowl erroneous flies,
Deaf to his prayers, regardless of his cries.
His puing cheeks with rising rage inflame,
And all his sparkling rubies glow with shame.

Bendo's proud heart, proof against Fortune's frown, Resolves once more to make the prize his own: Cautious he plods, surveying all the green, And measures with his eye the space between. But, as on him 'twas a peculiar curse, To fall from one extreme into a worse; Conscious of too much vigour, now for fear He should exceed, at hand he checks the sphere. Soon as he found its languid force decay, And the too weak impression die away; Quick after it he skuds, urges behind Step after step, and now, with anxious mind, Hangs o'er the bowl, slow-creeping on the plain, And chides its faint efforts, and bawls amain. Then on the guiltless green the blame to lay, Curses the mountains that obstruct his way; Brazens it out with an audacious face, His insolence) improving by disgrace.

Zadoc, who now with three black nugs had cheer'd His drooping heart, and his sunk spirits rear'd, Advinces to the trigg with solemn pace, And ruddy Hope sits blooming on his face. The bowl he pos'd, with pain his hams be bends, On well-chose ground unto the mark it tends: Fach advese heart pants with unusual fear, With joy be follows the propitious sphere; Alas! how rail is every mortal scheme! We build on sand, our happiness a dream. Bendo's short bowl stops the proud victor's course, Pab as his fume, and deadens all its force. At Rendo from each corner of his eyes He darts malignant rays, then muttering flies

Into the bower; there, panting and half dead,
In thick mundungus clouds he hides his head.

Muse, raise thy voice, to win the glorious prize,
Bid all the fury of the battle rise:
These but the light-arm'd champions of the field,
See Griper there! a veteran weli skill'd;
This able pilot knows to steer a cause
Through all the rocks and shallows of the laws:
Or if 'tis wreck'd, his trembling client saves
On the next plank, and disappoints the waves.
In this, at least, all histories agree,
That, though he lost his cause, he sav'd his fee.
When the fat client looks in jovial plight,
How complaisant the man! each point how right!
But if th' abandon'd orphan puts his case,
And Poverty sits shrinking on his face,
How like a cur he snarls! when at the door
For broken scraps he quarrels with the poor.
The farmer's oracle, when rent-day 's near,
And landlords, by forbearance, are severe;
When huntsmen trespass, or his neighbour's swine,
Or tatter'd crape extorts by right divine.
Him all the rich their contributions pay,
Him all the poor with aching hearts obey:
He in his swanskin doublet struts along,
Now begs, and now rebukes, the pressing throng.
A passage clear'd, he takes his aim with care,
And gently from his hand lets loose the sphere:
Smooth as a swallow o'er the plain it flies,
While he pursues its track with eager eyes;
Its hopeful course approv'd, he shouts aloud,
Claps both his hands, and justles through the crowd,
Hovering a while, soon at the mark it stood,
Hung o'er inclin'd, and fondly kiss'd the wood;
Loud is th' applause of every betting friend,
And peals of clamorous joy the concave rend.
But in each hostile face, a dismal gloom
Appears, the sad presage of loss to come;
Mong these, Trebellius, with a mournful air
Of lived hue, just dying with despair,
Shuffles about, skrews his chop-fallen face,
And no whipp'd gigg so often shifts his place.
Then gives his sage advice with wondrous skill,
Which no man ever heeds, or ever will:
Yet he persists, instructing to confound,
And with his cane points out the dubious ground.
Strong Nimrod now, fresh as the rising dawn
Appears, his sinewy limbs, and solid brawn,
The gazing crowd admires. He nor in courts
Delights, nor pompous balls; but rural sports
Are his soul's joy. At the horn's brisk alarms
He stakes th' unwilling Phillis from his arms;
Mounts with the Sun, begins his bold career,
To chase the wily fox, or rambling deer.
So Hercules, by Juno's dread cominand,
From savage beasts and monsters freed the land.
Hork! from the covert of yon gloomy brake,
Harmonious thunder rolls, the forests shake:
Men, boys, and dogs, impatient for the chase,
Tuamultuous transports flush in every face;
With ears erect the courser paws the ground,
Hills, vales, and hollow rocks, with cheering cries
resound:

Drive down the precipice (brave youths) with speed, Bound o'er the river banks, and smoke along the mead, 2ut whither would the devious Muse pursue The pleasing theme, and my past joy's renew? Another labour now demands thy song, -ucted in two ranks, behold th' expecting throng,

As Nimrod pois'd the sphere: his arm he drew
Back like an arrow in the Parthian yew, (flew:
Then lanch'd the whirling globe, and full as swiftit
Bowls dash'd on bowls confounded all the plain,
Safe stood the foe, well-cover'd by his train.
Assaulted tyrants thus their guard defends,
Escaping by the ruin of their friends.

But now, he stands expos'd, their order broke,
And seems to dread the next decisive stroke.
So at some bloody siege, the ponderous ball
Batters with ceaseless rage the crumbling wall,
(A breach once made) soon galls the naked town,
Riots in blood, and heaps on heaps are thrown.
Each avenue thus clear'd, with aching heart
Griper beheld, exerting all his art;

Once more resolves to check his furious foe,
Block up the passage, and elude the blow.
With cautious hand, and with less force, he threw
The well-pois'd sphere, that gently circling flew,
But stopping short, cover'd the mark from view.
So little Teucer on the well-fought field,
Securely skulk'd behind his brother's shield.

Nimrod, in dangers bold, whose heart clate,
Nor courted Fortune's smiles, nor fear'd her hate,
Perplex'd, but not discourag'd, walk'd around,
With curious eye examin'd all the ground;
Not the least opening in the front was found.
Sideway he leans, declining to the right,
And marks his way, and moderates his might.
Smooth-gliding o'er the plain, th' obedient sphere
Held on its dubious road, while hope and fear
Alternate ebb'd and flow'd in every breast:
Now rolling nearer to the mark it press'd;
Then chang'd its course, by the strong biass rein'd,
And on the foe discharg'd the force that yet remain❜d.
Smart was the stroke, away the rival fled,
The bold intruder triumph'd in his stead.

Victorious Nimrod seiz'd the glittering prize, Shouts of outrageous joy invade the skies; Hands, tongues, and caps, exalt the victor's fame, Sabrina's banks return him loud acclaim.

THE

LAMENTATION OF DAVID OVER SAUL AND JONATHAN.

PROSTRATE on earth the bleeding warrior lies,
And Israel's beauty on the mountains dies;
How are the mighty fallen!

Hush'd be my sorrows, gently fall my tears,
Lest ray sad tale should reach the aliens ears:
Eid Fame be dumb, and tremble to proclaim
In heathen Gath, or Ascalon, our shame;
Lest proud Philistia, lest our haughty foe,
With impious scorn insult our solenn woe.
O Gilboa ye hills aspiring high,
The last sad scene of Israel's tragedy :
No fattening dews be on thy lawns distill'd,
No kindly showers refresh the thirsty field;
No hallow'd fruits thy barren soil shall raise,
No spotless kids that on our altars blaze;
Lonesome and wild shall thy bleak summits rise,
Accurs'd by men, and hateful to the skies,
On thee the shields of mighty warriors lay,
The shield of Saul was vilely cast away;

The Lord's anointed, Sazi! his sacred blood Distain'd thy brow, and swell'd the common flood. How are the mighty fallen!

Wheree'er their bands the royal heroes led,
The combat thicken'd, and the mighty bled;
The slaughter'd hosts beneath their falchions die,
And wing'd with death unerring arrows fly;
Unknowing to return, stili urge the foe,

As Fate insatiate and as sure the blow.
The son, who next his conquering father fought,
Repeats the wonders his example taught:
Eager his sire's illustrious steps to trace,
And by heroic deeds assert his race.

The royal eagle thus her ripening brood
Trains to the quarry, and directs to blood:
His darling thus, the forest monarch rears,
A firm associate for his fisure wars;
In union terrible, they seize the prey,
The mountains tremble, and the woods obey.
In peace united, as in war combin'd,
Were Jonathan's and Saur's affections join'd,
Paternal grace with filial duty vy'd,
And love the knot of nature closer ty'd.
Ev'n Fate relents, reveres the sacred band,
And undivided bids their friendship stand.
From Earth to Heaven enlarg'd, their joys improve,
Still fairer, brighter still they shine above,
Blest in a long eternity of love.

Daughters of Israel, o'er the royal urn Wail and lament; the king, the father, mourn. Oh! now at least indulge a pious woe, 'Tis all the dead receive, the living can bestow. Cast off your rich attire and proud array, Let undissembled sorrows cloud the day: Those ornaments victorious Saul bestow'd, With gold your necks, your robes with purple,glow'd: Quit crowns, and garlands, for the sable weed, To songs of triumph let dumb grief succeed Let all our grateful hearts for our dead patron bleed. How are the mighty fallen!

Though thus distress'd, though thus o'erwhelm'd with grief,

Light is the burthen that admits relief;
My labouring soul superior woes oppress,
Nor rolling time can heal, nor Fate redress.
Another Saul your sorrows can remove,
No second Jonathan shall ble-s my love.

O Jonathan! my friend, my brother dear!
Eyes, stream afresh, and call forth every tear:
Swell, my sad heart, each faultering pulse be at low,
Down sink my head beneath this weight of woe:
Hear my laments, ye hills! ye woods, return
My ceaseless groans; with ine, ye turtles, mourn!
How pleasant hast thou been! each lovely grace,
Each youthful charm, sate blooming on thy face:
Joy from thine eyes in radiant g'ories sprung,
And manna dropt from thy persuasive tongue,
Witness, great leav ́n! ¿from, out'es ardours came)
How wonderful his love! the kindest dame
Lov'd not like him, on felt so warm a fine.
No earthly passion to such height aspire.,
And seraphs only burn with purer fics.
In vain, while hono ir calls to glorious arus,
And Israel's cause the pious patriot warms:
In vain, while deaths promiscuous fly belove,
Nor youth can bribe, nor virtue ward the low.

Do not sage matrons mount on high,

And switch their broom-sticks through the sky;
Ride post o'er hills, and woods, and seas,
From Thule to th' Hesperides ??

And yet the men of Gresham own,
That this and stranger feats are done,
By a warm fancy's power alone.
This granted; why can't you and I
Stretch forth our wings, and cleave the sky?
Since our poetic brains, you know,
Than theirs must more intensely glow.
Did not the Theban swan take wing,
Sublimely soar, and sweetly sing?
And do not we, of humbler vein,
Sometimes attempt a loftier strain,
Mount sheer out of the reader's sight,
Obscurely lost in clouds and night?

Then climb your Pegasus with speed,
I'll meet thee on the banks of Tweed:
Not as our fathers did of yore,
To swell the flood with crimson gore;
Like the Cadmean murdering brood,
Each thirsting for his brother's blood.
For now all hostile rage shall cease;
Lull'd in the downy arms of Peace,
Our honest hands and hearts shall join,
O'er jovial banquets, sparkling wine.
Let Peggy at thy elbow wait,
And I shall bring my bonny Kate.
But hold-oh! take a special care,
T' admit no prying kirkman there;
I dread the penitential chair.

What a strange figure should I make,
A poor abandon'd English rake;
A squire well born, and six foot high,
Perch'd in that sacred pillory?
Let Spleen and Zeal be banish'd thence,
And troublesome Impertinence,
That tells his story o'er again:
Ill-manners, and his saucy train,
And Self-conceit, and stiff-rumpt Pride,
That grin at all the world beside;
Foul Scandal, with a load of lies,
Intrigues, rencounters, prodigies,
Fame's busy hawker, light as air,
That feeds on frailties of the fair:
Envy, Hypocrisy, Deceit,
Fierce Party-rage, and warm Debate;
And all the hell-hounds that are foes
To Friendship and the world's repose.
But Mirth instead, and dimpling smiles,
And Wit, that gloomy Care beguiles;
And joke, and pun, and merry tale,
And toasts, that round the table sail :
While Laughter, bursting through the crowd
In vollies, tells our joys aloud.

Hark! the shrill piper mounts on high,
The woods, the streams, the rocks reply,
To his far-sounding melody.
Behold each labouring squeeze prepare
Supplies of modulated air.
Observe Croudero's active bow,
His head still noddling to and fro,

His eyes, his cheeks, with raptures glow.
See, see the bashful nymphs advance,
To lead the regulated dance;
Flying still, the swains pursuing,
Yet with backward glances wooing.

* The Scilly islands were so called by the ancients.

This, this shall be the joyous scene;

Nor wanton elves that skim the green
Shall be so blest, so blythe, so gay,
Or less regard what dotards say.

My Rose shall then your Thistle greet,
The Union shall be more complete!
And, in a bottle and a friend,
Each national dispute shall end.

ANSWER TO THE ABOVE EPISTLE.

BY ALLAN RAMSAY.

SIR, I had your's, and own my pleasure,
On the receipt, exceeded measure.
You write with so much spirit and glee,
Sae smooth, sae strong, correct and free;
That any he (by you allow'd
To have some merit) may be proud.
If that's my fault, bear you the blame,
Wha've lent me sic a lift to fame,
Your ain tours high, and widens far,
Bright glancing like the first-rate star,
And all the world bestow due praise
On the collection of your lays;
Where various arts and turns combine,
Which even in parts first poets shine :
Like Mat and Swift ye sing with ease,
And can be Waller when you please.
Continue, sir, and shame the crew

That 's plagu'd with having nought to do,
Whom Fortune in a merry mood
Has overcharg'd with gentle blood,
But has deny'd a genius fit

For action or aspiring wit;

Such kenna how t' employ their time,
And think activity a crime:
Aught they to either do, or say,
Or walk, or write, or read, or pray!
When money, their Facotum, 's able
To furnish them a numerous rabble,
Who will, for daily drink and wages,
Be chairmen, chaplains, clerks, and pages:
Could they, like you, employ their hours
In planting these delightful flowers,
Which carpet the poetic fields,
And lasting funds of pleasure yields;
Nae mair they 'd gaunt and gove away,
Or sleep or loiter out the day,

Or waste the night damning their sauls
In deep debauch, and bawdy brawls;
Whence pox and poverty proceed
An early eild, and spirits dead.
Reverse of you;-and him you love,
Whose brighter spirit tours above

The mob of thoughtless lords and beaux,
Who in his ilka action shows
"True friendship, love benevolence,
Unstudy'd wit, and manly sense."
Allow here what you ve aid your sell,
Nought can b' exprest so just and well:
To him and her, worthy his love,
And every blessing from above,
A son is given, God save the boy,
For theirs and every Sopvril's joy.
Ye wardins round him take your place,
And raise him with each manly grace;