TO ONE WHO PUBLISHED IN PRINT WHAT HAD BEEN ENTRUSTED TO HIM BY MY FIRESIDE. TWO things hast thou made known to half the nation, My secrets and my want of penetration : For O! far more than all which thou hast penn'd It shames me to have call'd a wretch like thee my friend! "Obscuri sub luce maligna." VIRG. SCARCE any scandal, but has a handle; In truth most falsehoods have their rise; Truth first unlocks Pandora's box, * HOW OW seldom, friend! a good great man inherits Honour or wealth with all his worth and pains! It sounds like stories from the land of spirits If any man obtain that which he merits Or any merit that which he obtains. *This and the reply to it were reprinted in The Friend, Dec. 28, 1809. REPLY TO THE ABOVE. FOR shame, dear friend, renounce this canting strain ! What would'st thou have a good great man obtain ? Or throne of corses which his sword had slain ? And CALM THOUGHTS, regular as infant's breath : And three firm friends, more sure than day and night, HIMSELF, his MAKER, and the ANGEL DEATH! OLD HARPY jeers at castles in the air, And thanks his stars, whenever Edmund That such a dupe as that is not his heir- A young man's idlest hopes are still his pleasures, TO A VAIN YOUNG LADY. DIDST thou think less of thy dear self Far more would others think of thee! Sweet Anne! the knowledge of thy wealth Boon Nature gave wit, beauty, health, That moment would'st thou become rich in ! Sweet Anne! thou wert, indeed, bewitching. FROM me, Aurelia! you desired Well! you're the Fair by all admired— FOR A HOUSE-DOG'S COLLAR. WHEN thieves come, I bark: when gallants, I am still So perform both my master's and mistress's will. N vain I praise thee, Zoilus ! IN In vain thou rail'st at me! Me no one credits Zoilus ! And no one credits thee! EPITAPH ON A MERCENARY MISER. A POOR benighted Pedlar knock'd One night at Sell-all's door, The same who saved old Sell-all's life 'Twas but the year before ! And Sell-all rose and let him in, Not utterly unwilling, But first he bargain'd with the man, And took his only shilling! That night he dreamt he'd given away his pelf, Walk'd in his sleep, and sleeping hung himself! And now his soul and body rest below; And here they say his punishment and fate is To lie awake and every hour to know How many people read his tombstone GRATIS. A DIALOGUE BETWEEN AN AUTHOR AND HIS FRIEND. Author. Come; your opinion of my manuscript ! Friend. Dear Joe! I would almost as soon be whipt. Author. But I will have it! Friend. If it must be had hesitating) You write so ill, I scarce could read the hand— Author. A mere evasion! Friend. And you spell so bad, That what I read I could not understand. Mopooopia, OR WISDOM IN FOLLY. TOM SLOTHFUL talks, as slothful Tom beseems, What he shall shortly gain and what be doing, Then drops asleep, and so prolongs his dreams And thus enjoys at once what half the world are wooing. EACH Bond-street buck conceits, unhappy elf! FROM AN OLD GERMAN POET. THAT France has put us oft to rout With powder, which ourselves found out; For we have genius, France has wit. To Frenchmen's wives each travelling German goes, ON THE CURIOUS CIRCUMSTANCE THAT IN THE GERMAN LANGUAGE THE SUN IS FEMININE AND THE MOON MASCULINE. OUR English poets, bad and good, agree To make the Sun a male, the Moon a she. |