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Till, for her vile atrocious lies,
Under their angry beaks she dies.

Such was his fate whose upstart claim
Obtruded on a neighbour's fame.


By Cunningham.
A PORTRAIT, at my Lord's command,
Completed by a curious hand,
For dabblers in the nice vertu .
His Lordship set the piece to view,
Bidding their Connoisseurships tell
Whether the work was finish'd well.

• Why,' says the loudest, on my word, ' 'Tis not a likeness good, my Lord;

Nor, to be plain, for speak I must, • Can I pronounce one feature just.'

· Another effort straight was made,
Another Portraiture essay’d;
The judges were again besought
Each to deliver what he thought.

Worse than the first —the critics bawl; .O what a mouth! how monstrous small ! Look at the cheeks, how lank and thin! See what a most preposterous chin!'

After remonstrance made in vain, • I'll,' says the Painter, ' once again • (If my good Lord vouchsafes to sit) * Try for a more successful hit: . If you'll to-morrow deign to call, "We'll have a piece to please you all."

To-morrow comes,-a Picture's plac'd Before those spurious sons of Taste, In their opinions all agree This is the vilest of the three. * Know,—to confute your envious pride, His Lordship from the canvas cried, • Know,—that it is my real face 'Where you could no resemblance trace: ' I've tried you by a lucky trick, “And prov'd your genius to the quick, • Void of all judgment-justice-senseOut-ye pretending Varlets !- hence.'

The Connoisseurs depart in haste, Despis’d-detected--and disgrac'd.




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m. By William Whitehead.
A GRECIAN Youth, of talents rare,
Whom Plato's philosophic care-
Had form’d for virtue's nobler view, .
By precept and example too, "
Would often boast his matchless skill,
To curb the steed, and guide the wheel;
And as he pass'd the gazing throng
With graceful ease, and smack'd the thong,
The idiot wonder they express'd ';',
Was praise and transport to his breast. ...

At length quite vain, he needs would shéw
His master what his art could do; '."
And bade his slaves the chariot lead
To Academus' sacred shade.
The Youth arriv'd, with forward air,
Bows to the Sage, and mounts the car;
The lash resounds, the coursers spring,
The chariot marks the rolling ring,
And gath'ring crowds, with eager eyes
And shouts, pursue him as he flies.

Triumphant to the goal return'd, With nobler thirst his bosom burn'd;

And now along th' indented plain,
The self-same track he marks again,
Pursues with care the nice design,
Nor ever deviates from the line.

Amazement seiz’d the circling crowd;
The youths with emulation glow'd ;
E'en bearded sages hail'd the boy,
And all, but Plato, gaz'd with joy.
For he, deep-judging Sage, beheld
With pain the triumphs of the field ;
And, when the Charioteer drew nigh,
And, flush'd with hope, had caught his eye,

* Alas! unhappy Youth,' he cried, • Expect no praise from me, and sigh'd. • With indignation I survey is is irrid • Such skill and judgment thrown away.

The time profusely squander'd there,
On vulgar arts beneath thy care,'' wird

If well employ'd, at less expence, • Had taught thee honour, virtue, sense, • And rais'd thee from a Coachman's fate, • To govern 'men, and guide the state.'is ;




. By Graves. A WOLF and Lamb, one sultry day, . To the same meadow chanc'd to stray: By thirst constrain'd they sought the rill That issu'd from a neighb'ring hill. . The Wolf stood near the fountain's head; The Lamb some distance down the mead...) Isgrim, who dearly lov’d disputes, ; .; With fell intent the Lamb salutes : : .

You, Sir, stand off! you tread the brink in; • And mud the stream so, there's no drinking!'.

The harmless Lamb, with much surprize, . Looks up, and, trembling, thus replies: . . • I can't conceive how that can be, Sir; . 1 "The stream runs down from you to me, Sir!';

You can't conceive! Come, don't be saucy; Ill let you know, Sir, what the laws say, • Besides you mutter'd, so and so, • Behind my back, six months ago.'

Upon my word, Sir, you mistake
. (Don't angry be, for Heaven's sake;)

I never could have such intention,
Nor was I born the time you mention.'

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