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It deals in numerous externals,
And is a legion of infernals;
Sometimes, in riot and in play,
'Tis breaking of the Sabbath day :
When 'tis consider'd as a passion,
I deem it lust and fornication.
We pay our debts in honour's cause,
Lost in the breaking of the laws:
'Tis for some selfish impious end,
To murder the sincerest friend;
But, would you alter all the clan,
Turn out an honourable man;
Why, take a pistol from the shelf,
And fight a duel with yourself.
Twas on a time, I say not when,
In Ely, or in Lincoln fen,

A Frog and Mouse had long disputes,
Held in the language of the brutes,
Who of a certain pool and pasture,
Should be the sovereign and master.
'Sir,' says the Frog, with boiling blood,
'I hold that my pretension's good;
'Nor can a Brute of reason doubt it,
'For all that you can squeak about it.'

The Mouse, averse to be o'erpower'd, Gave him the lie, and called him coward. Too hard for any Frog's digestion, To have his froghood call'd in question! A bargain instantly was made, No mouse of honour could evade.

On the next morn, as soon as light,
With desperate bullrushes to fight;
The morning came and man to man,
The desperate combatants began ¦
To such a height their ire they carried,
They often thrusted and they parried;
But, as these champions kept dispensing
Finesses in the art of fencing,

A furious Vulture took upon her
Quick to decide this point of honour,
And, lawyer-like, to make an end on't,
Devour'd both plaintiff and defendant.
Thus, often, in our British nation,
(I speak by way of application)
A lie direct to some hot youth,
The giving which, perhaps, was truth,
The treading on a scoundrel's toe,
Giving an unintention'd blow,
Disputes in politics and law,
About a feather and a straw;

A thousand trifles not worth naming,
In drinking, jockeying, and gaming,
Shall cause a challenge's inditing,
And set two loggerheads a fighting;
Meanwhile the Father of Despair,
The Prince of vanity and air,

His quarry, like an hawk, discovering,
O'er their devoted heads hangs hovering,

Secure to get in his tuition,

T

These volunteers for black perdition.p.

FABLE XIII.

THE COUNTRY SQUIRE AND THE MANDRAKE.

By Smart.

THE sun had rais'd above the mead,
His glorious horizontal head;

Sad Philomela left her thorn,

The lively linnets hymn'd the morn ;
And nature, like a blooming bride,
Her blushes spread on ev'ry side;
The cock, as usual, crow'd up Tray,
Who nightly with his master lay;
The faithful Spaniel gave the word,
Trelooby at the signal stirr'd,

And, with his gun, from wood to wood,
The man of prey his course pursu❜d;
The dew and herbage all around,

Like pearls and emeralds on the ground;
Th' uncultur'd flowers that rudely rise,
Where smiling freedom art defies;
The lark, in transport, tow'ring high,
The crimson curtains of the sky,
Afflicted not Trelooby's mind-
For what is beauty to the blind?
The amorous voice of sylvan love y
Form'd charming concerts in the grove;
Sweet Zephyr sigh'd on Flora's breast,
And drew the blackbird from her nest;

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'Her robe with dignity long worn, 'And cap of liberty were torn ;

Dejected like a widow'd queen; mesecih, inte

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'Her broken fife, and harp unstrung

'On the uncultur'd ground were flung; aston 'Down lay her spear, defil'd with rust, 'And book of learning in the dust; 'Her loyalty still blameless found, 'And hospitality renown'd;

'No more the voice of fame engross'd, 'In discontent and clamour lost.

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Hapless, disconsolate and brave, 'Hibernia! who'll Hibernia save? 'Who shall assist thee in thy woe, 'Who ward from thee the fatal blow?'

FABLE XI.

FASHION AND NIGHT.

By Smart.

FASHION-whom half the world, and more,

With blind idolatry adore—

Various herself in various climes,

She moulds the manners of the times,
And turns, in every age or nation,

The chequer'd wheel of variegation :

True female, that ne'er knew her will, Still changing, tho' immortal still. One day, as the inconstant maid Was careless on her sofa laid, Sick of the sun, and tir'd with light, She thus invok'd the gloomy Night: 'Come-these malignant rays destroy, "Thou screen of shame, and rise of joy. 'Come from thy western ambuscade, Queen of the rout and masquerade : Nymph, without thee no cards advance, • Without thee halts the loitering dance; ''Till thou approach, all, all's restraint, 'Nor is it safe to game or paint;

'The belles and beaux thy influence ask, 'Put on the universal mask.

Let us invert, in thy disguise,
That odious nature we despise.'

She ceas'd-the sable-mantled dame, With slow approach, and awful, came ; And, frowning with sarcastic sneer, Reproach'd the female rioteer:

That nature you abuse, my fair,

'Was I created to repair.

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'And contrast with a friendly shade,

'The pictures Heav'n's rich pencil made; 'And with my sleep-alluring dose,

To give laborious Art repose;

• To make both noise and action cease, 'The queen of secresy and peace.

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