Obrazy na stronie

culty in understanding, and which certainly has the better chance of being perfectly correct in the true English idiom, as it has been very carefully revised and altered by my worthy friend, Mr. Henry Dundas.

I have the honour to be,

My Lord,

Your Lordship's devoted servant,







YE gentle Nymphs, who rule the Song,
Who stray Thessalian groves among,
With forms so bright and airy;
Whether you pierce Pierian shades,
Or, less refin'd, adorn the glades,
And wanton with the lusty blades
Of fruitful Tipperary ;

Whether you sip Aonias' wave, kon
Or in thy stream, fair Liffy, lave;
Whether you taste ambrosial food,
Or think potatoes quite as good,
Oh, listen to an Irish Peer,'

Who has woo'd your sex for many a year.


Gold !—thou bright benignant pow'r !
Parent of the jocund hour,

Say, how my breast has heav'd with many a storm,
When thee I worship'd in a female form!

Thou, whose high and potent skill,

Turns things and persons at thy will!
Thou, whose omnipotent decree,
Mighty as Fate's eternal rule,
Can make a wise man of a fool,

grace e'en loath'd deformity:

Can straitness give to her that's crook'd,
And Grecian grace to nose that's hook'd;
Can smooth the mount on Laura's back,
And wit supply to those that lack:
Say, and take pity on my woes,

Record my throbs, recount my throes;

How oft I sigh'd,

How oft I dy'd:

How oft dismiss'd,

How seldom kiss'd;

How oft, fair Phyllida, when thee I woo'd

With cautious foresight all thy charms I view'd.
O'er many a sod,

How oft I trod,

To count thy acres o'er;

Or spent my time,

For marle or lime,

With anxious zeal to bore *!

How Cupid then all great and powerful sate,
Perch'd on the vantage of a rich estate;

When, for his darts, he us'd fair spreading trees,
Ah! who cou'd fail that shot with shafts like these!


Oh, sad example of capricious Fate!

Sue Irishmen in vain!

Does Pompey's self, the proud, the great,
Fail e'en a maid to gain?

What boots my form so tall and slim,
My legs so stout-my beard so grim?
Why have I Alexander's bend?
Emblem of conquest never gain'd!
A nose so long-a back so strait-
A chairman's mien-a chairman's gait ?
Why wasted ink to make orations?
Design'd to teach unlist'ning nations!

When Lord Mountmorres went down into the country, some years ago, to pay his addresses to a lady of large fortune, whose name we forbear to mention, his Lordship took up his abode for several days in a small public-house in the neighbourhood of her residence, and employed his time in making all proper enquiries, and prudent observation upon the nature, extent, and value of her property:—he was seen measuring the trees with his eye, and was at last found in the ct of boring for marle; when being roughly interrogated by one of the lady's servants, to avoid chastisement he confessed his name, and delivered his amorous credentials. The amour terminated as ten thousand others of the noble Lord's have done!

Why have I view'd th' ideal clock *,
Or mourn'd the visionary hour?
Griev'd to behold with weil-bred shock,
The fancy'd pointer verge to four?
Then with a bow, proceed to beg,
A general pardon on my leg-
"Lament that to an hour so late,"

" 'Twas mine to urge the grave debate!"
"Or mourn the rest, untimely broken !"
All this to say-all this to do,

In form so native, neat, and new,

In speech intended to be spoken !—
But fruitless all, for neither here or there,
My leg has yet obtain'd me place, or fair!


Pompeys there are of every shape and size :
Some are the Great y-clep'd, and some the Little,
Some with their deeds that fill the wond'ring skies,
And some on ladies' laps that eat their vittle!
'Tis Morres' boast-'tis Morres' pride,
To be to both ally'd!

* An allusion is here made to a speech published by the noble Lord, which, as the title-page imports, was intended to have been spoken; in which his Lordship, towards the conclusion, gravely remarks:-" Having, Sir, so "long encroached upon the patience of the House, and observing by the clock "that the hour has become so excessively late, nothing remains for me but to "return my sincere thanks to you, Sir, and the other gentlemen of this "House, for the particular civility, and extreme attention, with which I "have been heard:-the interesting nature of the occasion has betrayed me "into a much greater length than I had any idea originally of running into; "and if the casual warmth of the moment has led me into the least personal "indelicacy towards any man alive, I am very ready to beg pardon of him " and this House, Sir, fo. having so done."

That of all various Pompeys, he

Forms one complete epitome!

Prepar'd alike fierce Faction's host to fight,
Or, thankful, stoop official crumbs to bite-
No equal to himself on earth to own;

Or watch, with anxious eye, on Treasury-bone !
As Rome's fam'd chief, imperious, stiff, and proud;
Fawning as curs, when supplicating food!

In him their several virtues all reside,

The peerless Puppy, and of Peers the pride!


Say, Critic Buffo, will not powers like these,
E'en thy refin'd fastidious judgment please?
A common butt to all mankind,

'Tis my hard lot to be;

O let me then some justice find,
And give the BUTT to me!
Then dearest DE'L,

Thy praise I'll tell,

And with unprostituted pen.

In Warton's pure and modest strain,

Unwarp'd by Hope-unmov'd by Gain,

I'll call the "best of husbands," and "most chaste of men!"
Then from my pristine labours I'll relax :

Then will I lay the Tree unto the * Axe !
Of all my former grief-

Resign the bus'ness of the anxious chace,
And for past failures, and for past disgrace,

Here find a snug relief!

The vain pursuit of female game give o'er,

And, hound of Fortune, scour the town no more!

*This line is literally transcribed from a speech of Lord Mountmorres's, when Candidate some years ago for the Representation of the City of Westminster.

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