The Works of the English Poets, from Chaucer to Cowper

Only something that was very like it; just so, Only something like brain is the brain of a beau.

The pineal gland, where the soul's residence is, Smelt desperate strong of perfumes, and essences, With a bright horny substance encompast around, That in numberless forms, like a diamond, was ground;

In so much that the soul, if there was any there, Must have kept pretty constant within its own sphere; [traces, Having bus'ness enough, without seeking new To employ all its time with its own pretty faces.

In the hind part o' th' head there was Brussels, and Mechlin,

[ling;

Seem'd so little us'd, that the beau, I dare say,
Never dazzled bis eyes much with looking that way.
The outside of this head, for its shape and its
figure,

Was like other heads, neither lesser nor bigger;
Its owner, as we were inform'd, when alive,
Had past for a man of about thirty-five.
He eat, and he drank, just like one of the crowd:
For the rest, he drest finely, laught often, talkt
loud;

Had talents in's way; for sometimes at a ball
The beau show'd his parts, and outcaper'd 'em all.

Some ladies, they say, took the beau for a wit, But in his head, truly, there lay-deuce a bit: And ribands, and fringes, and such kind of tack-He was cut off, alas! in the flow'r of his age, Billet-doux, and soft rhymes lin'd the whole cere- By an eminent cit, that was put in a rage: bellum; [vellum. The beau was, it seems, complimenting his wife, Op'ra songs and prickt dances, as 't were upon When his extreme civility cost him his life; A brown kind of lump, that we ventur'd to squeeze, For his eminence took up an old paring shovel, Disperst in plain Spanish, and made us all sneeze. And on the hard ground left my gem'man to grovel In short, many more of the like kind of fancies, Too tedious to tell, fill'd up other vacancies.

On the sides of this head were in several purses, On the right, sighs and vows; on the left, oaths and curses:

These each sent a duct to the root of the tongue,
From whence to the tip they went jointly along.
One particular place was observed to shine
With all sorts of colours, most wonderful fine;
But when we came nearer to view it, in troth,
Upon examination 't was nothing but froth.

A pretty large vessel did plainly appear [ear;
In that part of the scull, 'twixt the tongue and the
With a spongy contrivance distended it was,
Which the French virtuosos call galimatias;
We Englishmen nonsense; a matter indeed
That most peoples heads are sometimes apt to
breed;

Entirely free from it, not one head in twenty, But a beau's, 'tis presum'd, always has it in plenty.

Mighty hard, thick, and tough was the skin of his front,

And, what is more strange, not a blood vessel on't; From whence we concluded, the party deceast Was never much troubled with blushing at least: The os cribriforme, as full as could stuff, [snuff: Was cramm'd, and in some places damag'd, with For beaus with this ballast keep stuffing their crib, To preserve their light heads in a true equilib.

That muscle, we found, was exceedingly plain, That helps a man's nose to express his disdain, If you chance to displease him, or make a demand, Which is oft the beau's case, that he don't understand. [cle,

The reader well knows, 't is about this same musThat the old Latin poets all make such a bustle, When they paint a man giving his noddle a toss, And cocking his nose, like a rhinoceros.

Looking into the eye, where the musculi lay, Which are call'd amatorii, that is to say, Those muscles, in English, wherewith a man ogles, When on a fair lady he fixes his goggles, We found 'em much worn; but that call'd th' elevator, [Nature, Which lifts the eyes up tow'rds the summit of

Having finish'd our work, we began to replace The brain, such as 't was, in its own proper case. In a fine piece of scarlet we laid it in state, And resolv'd to prepare so extraordinary a pate; Which wou'd eas'ly be done, our anatomist thought, Having found many tubes, that already were fraught With a kind of a substance, he took for mercurial, Lodg'd there, he suppos'd, long before the beau's burial.

The head laid aside, be then took up the heart, Which he likewise laid open with very great art; And with many particulars truly we met, That gave us great insight into the coquet: But having, kind reader, already transgrest Too much on your patience, we 'll let the heart rest:

[tion, Having giv'n you the beau for to day's speculaWe'll reserve the coquet for another occasion.

A SONG.

WHY, prithee now, what does it signify
For to bustle, and make such a rout?
It is virtue alone that can dignify,

Whether clothed in ermin, or clout.
Come, come, and maintain thy discretion;
Let it act a more generous part;
For I find, by thy honest confession,

That the world has too much of thy heart. Beware, that its fatal ascendency

Do not tempt thee to moap and repine; With an humble, and hopeful dependency Still await the good pleasure divine. Success in a higher beatitude

Is the end of what's under the pole; A philosopher takes it with gratitude,

And believes it is best on the whole. The world is a scene, thou art sensible, Upon which, if we do but our best, On a wisdom, that's incomprehensible, We may safely rely for the rest: Then trust to its kind distribution,

And however things happen to fail, Prithee, pluck up a good resolution To be cheerful, and thankful in all.

EXTEMPORE VERSES,

UPON A TRIAL OF SKILL BETWEEN THE TWO
GREAT MASTERS OF THE NOBLE SCIENCE OF
DEFENCE, MESSRS. FIGG AND SUTTON.

LONG was the great Figg, by the prize fighting

swains,

Sole monarch acknowledg'd of Marybone plains;

But remain'd, like the ass 'twixt two bottles of hay,
Without ever moving an inch either way..

Till Jove, to the gods, signified his intention,
In a speech that he made them, too tedious to
mention;

out.

But the upshot on 't was, that, at that very bout, From a wound in Figg's side the hot blood spouted To the towns, far and near, did his valour extend, Her ladyship then seem'd to think the case plain; But Figg stepping forth with a sullen disdain, Show'd the gash, and appeal'd to the company [wound? If his own broken sword had not given him the

And swam down the river from Thame to Graves-
end;

Where liv'd Mr. Sutton, pipe-maker by trade,
Who, hearing that Figg was thought such a stout
blade,

Resolv'd to put in for a share of his fame,

And so sent to challenge the champion of Thame.

With alternate advantage two trials had past, When they fought out the rubbers on Wednesday

last.

To see such a contest, the house was so full,
There hardly was room left to thrust in your skull.
With a prelude of cudgels we first were saluted,
And two or three shoulders most handsomely
fluted;

Till wearied at last with inferior disasters,

All the company cry'd, "Come, the masters, the

masters."

Whereupon the bold Sutton first mounted the stage,

[gage; Made his honours, as usual, and yearn'd to enThen Figg, with a visage so fierce and sedate, Cane and enter'd the list with his fresh shaven pate;

Their arms were encircled by armigers two,
With a red ribbon Sutton's, and Figg's with a blue.
Thus adorn'd the two heroes, 'twixt shoulder and
elbow,

[bilbo. Shook hands, and went to't, and the word it was

round,

That bruises and wounds a man's spirit should
touch,

With danger so little, with honour so much!-
Well, they both took a dram, and return'd to the
battle,
[rattle;
And with a fresh fury they made the swords
While Sutton's right arm was observed to bleed,
By a touch from his rival; so Jove had decreed;
Just enough for to show that his blood was not
icor,
[liquor.

But made up, like Figg's, of the common red
Again they both rush'd with so equal a fire on,
That the company cry'd," Hold, enough of cold
iron.
[dram'd it,
To the quarter-staff, now lads." So first having
They took to their wood, and i' faith never sham'd'
[some,
The first bout they had was so fair, and so hand-
That to make a fair bargain, 't was worth a king's

it:

ransom;

And Sutton such bangs to his neighbour imparted, Would have made any fibres but Figg's to have smarted.

Then after that bout they went on to another, But the matter must end on some fashion or other; So Jove told the gods he had made a decree, That Figg should hit Sutton a stroke on the knee. Tho' Sutton disabled, as soon as he hit him, Would still have fought on, but Jove would not permit him; [to yield, was his fate, not his fault, that constrain'd him And thus the great Figg became lord of the field.

Sure such a concern, in the eyes of spectators,
Was never yet seen in our amphitheatres :
Our commons, and peers, from their several places,
To half an inch distance all pointed their faces;
While the rays of old Phoebus, that shot thro' the
sky-light,
[light;
Seem'd to make on the stage a new kind of twi-'T
And the gods, without doubt, if one could but
have seen 'em,
['em.
Were peeping there thro' to do justice between
Figg struck the first stroke, and with such a
vast fury,
[you;
That he broke his huge weapon in twain, I assure
And if his brave rival this blow had not warded,
His head from his shoulders had quite been dis-
carded;

Figg arm'd him again, and they took t'other tilt,
And then Sutton's blade run away from its hilt.
The weapons were frighted, but as for the men,
In truth, they ne'er minded, but at it again.

Such a force in their blows, you'd have thought
it a wonder,
[asunder;
Every stroke they receiv'd did not cleave them
Yet so great was their courage, so equal their skill,
That they both seem'd as safe as a thief in a mill:
While in doubtful attention dame Victory stood,
And which side to take could not tell for her
blood,
VOL. XV.

Now, after such men, who can bear to be told
Of your Roman and Greek puny heroes of old?
To compare such poor dogs as Alcides and The-
To Sutton and Figg would be very facetious. [seus
Were Hector himself, with Apollo to back him,
To encounter with Sutton-zooks, how he would
thwack him!

Or Achilles, tho' old mother Thetis had dipt him,
With Figg-odds my life, how he would have un-
ript him!

To Cæsar, and Pompey, for want of things juster, [pass muster: We compare these brave boys, but 't will never Did those mighty fellows e'er fight hand to fist once? No, I thank you; they kept at a laudable distance. What is Pompey the Great, with his armour be

girt,

[shirt?

To the much greater Sutton, who fought in his
Or is Figg to be par'd with a cap-a-pee Roman,
Who scorn'd any fence but a jolly abdomen?

VERSES SPOKEN AT THE BREAKING UP OF THE
FREE GRAMMAR SCHOOL, IN MANCHESTER.
THE THREE BLACK CROWS.

A TALE.

TALE-that will raise the question, I suppose,
What can the meaning be of three black crows?
It is a London story, you must know,

And happén'd, as they say, some time ago.
The meaning of it custom would suppress,
Till at the end-but come, nevertheless,
Tho' it may vary from the use of old,
To tell the moral 'till the tale be told,
We'll give a hint, for once, how to apply
The meaning first-and hang the tale thereby.
People, full oft, are put into a pother,
For want of understanding one another:
And strange, amusing stories creep about,
That come to nothing, if you trace them out;
Lies of the day, or month perhaps, or year,
That serve their purpose, and then disappear;
From which, meanwhile, disputes of ev'ry size,
That is to say, misunderstandings rise;
The springs of ill, from bick'ring, up to battle,
From wars and tumults, down to tittle tattle.
Such as, for instance, for we need not roam
Far off to find them, but come nearer home;
Such, as befall by sudden misdivining
On cuts, on coals, on boxes, and on signing,
Or (may good sense avert such hasty ills
From this foundation, this assembly) mills':
It may, at least it should, correct a zeal
That hurts the public or the private weal,.
By eager giving of too rash assent,
To note, how meanings, that were never meant,
Will fly about, like so many black crows,
Of that same breed of which the story goes.
Two honest tradesmen, meeting in the Strand,
One took the other, briskly, by the hand;
"Hark-ye," said he, "t is an odd story this
About the crows!"-"I don't know what it is,"
Replied his friend,-"No! I'm surprised at that;
Where I come from it is the common chat:
But you shall hear; an odd affair indeed!
And, that it happened, they are all agreed:
Not to detain you from a thing so strange,
A gentleman, that lives not far from Change,
This week, in short, as all the alley knows,
Taking a puke, has thrown up three black crows."
"Impossible!""Nay but it's really true;
I have it from good hands, and so may you”
"From whose, I pray?"-So having nam'd the man,
Straight to inquire his curious comrade ran.
"Sir, did you tell"-relating the affair-
"Yes sir I did; and if it 's worth your care,
Ask Mr. Such a-one, he told it me, [three-

But, by the by, 't was two black crows, not
Resolv'd to trace so wond'rous an event,

Whip, to the third, the virtuoso went.

It was not two black crows, it was only one,
The truth of that you may depend upon.
The gentleman himself told me the case-
"Where may I find him?"-"Why in such a
place."

Away goes he, and having found him out, "Sir, be so good as to resolve a doubt-" Then to his last informant be referr'd,

And beg'd to know, if true what he had heard;.
"Did you, sir, throw up a black crow?"-"Not
"Bless me! how people propagate a lie! [1—"
Black crows have been thrown up, three, two, and

one;

And here, I find, all comes, at last, to none!
Did you say nothing of a crow at all?—"
The matter over."-" And, pray sir, what was 't?"
"Crow-crow-perhaps I might, now I recall
"Why I was horrid sick, and, at the last,
I did throw up, and told my neighbour so,
Something that was-as black, sir, as a crow,"

⚫ VERSES

SPOKEN ON THE SAME OCCASION WITH THE
PRECEDING.

'Tis not to tell what various mischief springs
From wrong ideas fix'd to words, or things;
When men of hasty, and impatient thought,
Will not examine matters as they ought;
But snatch the first appearance, nor suspect,
What is so oft the case, their own defect.

Defect which, if occasion offers, makes
The most absurd, ridiculous mistakes,
To say no worse for evils to recite
Of deeper kind is not our task to night;
But just to versify a case, or two,
That grave divines relate; and, when they do,
Justly remark that, in effect, the prone
To hasty judgment make the case their own.

When Martin Luther first grew into fame,
His followers obtain❜d a double name;
Some call'd them Martinists, and some again
Express'd by Lutherans the self same men;
Meaning the same, you see, and same the ground;
But mark the force of diff'rence in the sound:
Two zealous proselytes to his reform,
Which then had rais'd an universal storm,
Meeting, by chance, upon a public walk,
Soon made religion subject of their talk;
It's low condition both dispos'd to own,
And how corrupt the church of Rome was grown;
In this preliminary point indeed, -
Tho' strangers to each other, they agreed;
But, as the times had bred some other chiefs,
Who undertook to cure the common griefs,
They were oblig'd, by farther hints, to find,
If in their choice, they both were of a mind:
After some winding of their words about,

"Sir"-and so forth. "Why yes; the thing is To seek this secondary problem out,

fact,

Tho' in regard to number not exact;

1 Alluding to some local matters then in agitation at Manchester, particularly an application to parliament to destroy the custom of grinding wheat at the school mills.

"I am," declar'd the bolder of the two,
A Martinist and so, I hope, are you."-
"No:"said the other, growing somewhat bot,
"But I'll assure you, sir, that I am not;
I am a Lutheran; and live, or die,
Shall not be any thing beside, not I."—
"If not a Martinist," -his friend reply'd,
Truly I care not what you are beside."-

hus fray began; which critics may suppose,
lat for spectators, would have come to blows;
And so they parted, matters half discuss'd,
All in a huff, with mutual disgust.

The prose account in Dr. More, I think, lelates the story of two clowns in drink; The verse has cloth'd it in a different strain; ut, either way, the gentle hint is plain, hat-'tis a foolish bus'ness to commence Dispute on words without regard to sense. Such was the case of these two partizans. ere is another of a single man's more absurd, if possible, than this, [yes." Just I go on, and tell it you? (Chorus) "Yes A certain artist, I forget his name, Fad got for making spectacles a fame,

helps to read—as, when they first were sold,
as writ, upon his glaring sign, in gold;
d, for all uses to be had from glass,

s were allow'd, by readers, to surpass :
ere came a man, into his shop, one day,
Are you the spectacle contriver, pray?"
Yes, sir," said he, "I can, in that affair,
mtrive to please you, if you want a pair."-
Can you? pray do then."-So, at first, he chose
place a youngish pair upon his nose;

-not a

d book produc'd, to see how they would fit, I'd how he lik'd 'em Like 'em?Then sir, I fancy, if you please to try, [bit."ese in my hand will better suit your eye."No, but they don't."-" Well, come, sir, if you re is another sort, we'll e'en try these; [please, somewhat more they magnify the letter; sir?" Why now I'm not a bit the

better."

Ho! Here take these that magnify still more; do they fit?"" Like all the rest before."n short, they tried a whole assortment thro', all in vain, for none of 'em would do: operator, much surpris'd to find odd a case, thought, sure the man is blind; That sort of eyes can you have got?" said he. hy, very good ones, friend, as you may see.” es, I perceive the clearness of the ball. 5, let me ask you-can you read at all?" o, you great blockhead! if I could, what need paving you for any helps to read?" so he left the maker in a heat, olr'd to post him for an arrant cheat.

Thus to hint that a kingdom will flourish the most, [post; Where the men in high station are fit for their And disgraces attend, both on person and station, If regard be not had to due qualification; He invented, they tell us, this fable of old, Which the place I am in now requires to be told.

The beasts, on a time, when the lion was dead, Met together in council to choose them a head; And, to give to their new constitution a shape Most like to the human, they fix'd on the Ape; They crown'd, and proclaim'd him by parliament And never was monkey so like to a man. [plan,

The Fox, being fam'd for his cunning and wit, Was propos'd to their choice, but they did not think fit

To elect such a sharper, lest, watching his hour,
He should cunningly creep into absolute pow'r;
No fear of king Ape, or of being so rid;

He would mind his diversion, and do as they did,

Sly Reynard, on this, was resolv'd to expose Poor Pug, whom the senate so formally chose; And having observ'd, in his rambles, a gin, Where a delicate morsel was nicely hung in, He let the king know what a prize he had found, And the waste, where it lay, was his majesty's ground,

"Show me where," said the Ape; so the treasure

was shown,

Which he seiz'd with paw royal, to make it his [own; But the gin, at same time, was dispos'd to resist, And clapping together caught Pug by the wrist; Who perceiv'd, by his fingers laid fast in the stocks,

[Fox. What a trick had been play'd by his subject the "Thou traitor!" said he-" but I'll make thee anon,

An example of vengeance"-and so he went on,
With a rage most monarchical.-Reynard, who
ey'd
[ply'd,
The success of his scheme, gave a sigh, and re-
"Well! adieu royal sir! 'twas a cruel mishap,
That your majesty's grace did not understand
trap!"

DULCES ANTE OMNIA MUSE.

SPOKEN ON THE SAME OCCASION.

Of all companions, that a man can choose,
Methinks, the sweetest is an honest Muse;
Ready, the subject proper, and the time,
To cheer occasion with harmonic rhyme;
Of all the Muses (for they tell of nine)
Melpomene, sweet flowing Mel. be mine.

Her's the judicious, and the friendly part,
To clear the head, to animate the heart;
Their kindred forces tempering to unite,
Grave to instruct, and witty to delight;
With judginent cool, with passions rightly warm,
She gives the strength to numbers, and the charm:

Her lines, whatever the occasion be,
Flow without forcing, natural and free:

No stiff'ning of 'em with poetic starch,
Whether her bard is to be grave, or arch:
Of diff'rent topics, which the times produce,
She prompts the fittest for the present use.

She decks, when call'd, when honour'd to attend
On sacred Piety, her best lov'd friend,-
Decks with a grace, and arms with a defence,
Religion, virtue, morals, and good sense;
Whatever tends to better human mind,
Sets Mel. at work, a friend to all mankind.

A foe, but void of any rancour, foe
To all the noisy bustlings here below;
To all contention, clamour, and debate,
That plagues a constitution, church, or state;
That plagues a man's ownself, or makes him will
His other self, his neighbour, any ill.

Life, as Mel. thinks, a short, uncertain lease,
Demands the fruits of friendship and of peace;
Arms and the man her sister Clio sings,
To her she leaves your heroes and your kings;
To sound the present, or to act the past,
And tread the stage in buskin, and bombast.

With nymphs and swains fond Mel. would strow
the fields,
[shields;
With flocks and herds, instead of spears and
Recall the scenes that blest a golden age,
E'er mutual love gave way to martial rage;
And bards, high soaring above simpler phrase,
To genuine light preferr'd the glaring blaze.

She scorns alike, ignobly to rehearse
The spiteful satire, or the yenal verse;
Free in her praise, and in her censure too,
But merit, but amendment is her view;
A rising worth still higher to exalt,
Or save a culprit from a future fault.

No sour, pedantical, abusive rage,
No vicious rant defiles her freest page;
No vile indecent sally, or prophane,
To pleasure fools, or give the wise a pain;
Her mirth is aim'd to mend us, if we heed,
And what the chastest of her sex may read.

She looks on various empires, various men,
As all one tribe, when she directs the pen;
She loves the Briton, and she loves the Gaul,
Swede, Russ, or Turk, she wishes well to all:
They all are men, all sons of the same sire,
And must be all belov'd, if Mel. inspire.

It would rejoice her votaries to see All Europe, Asia, Africa agree; "But the new world, new England's dire alarms! Should not Melpomene now sing to arms?"No, she must ever wish all war to cease, While folks are fighting, she must hold her peace.

Content to hope that, what events are due
Will bless new England, and old England too;
Friend to fair traders, and free navigation,
And friend to Spain, but foe to depredation:
And friend to France, but let heroic Clio
Demolish French encroachments at Ohio.

Safe from all foreign and domestic foes
Be all your liberties in verse or prose:
Be safe abroad your colonies, your trade,
From guarda-costas, and from gasconade :

A COUNTRY fellow and his son, they tell
In modern fables, had an ass to sell:
For this intent they turn'd it out to play,
And fed so well, that by the destin'd day,
They brought the creature into sleek repair,
And drove it gently to a neighb'ring fair.

As they were jogging on, a rural class
Was heard to say: "Look! look there, at ti
And those two blockheads trudging on each side
That have not, either of 'em, sense to ride;
Asses all three!"-And thus the country folks
On man and boy began to cut their jokes.

Th' old fellow minded nothing that they said, But ev'ry word stuck in the young one's head; And thus began their comment there upon: "Ne'er heed 'em, lad."-" Nay, faither, do get o "Not I indeed."-" Why then let me, I pray. "Well do; and see what prating tongues will say

The boy was mounted; and, they had not gut Much farther on, before another knot, Just as the ass was pacing by, pad pad, Cried, "O! that lazy looby of a lad! How unconcernedly the gaping brute Lets the poor aged fellow walk a foot."

Down came the son, on hearing this account And begg'dand pray'd, and made his father mou Till a third party, on a farther stretch, "See! see!" exclaim'd, "that old hard heart wretch!

How like a justice there he sits, or squire; While the poor lad keeps wading thro' the mire

"Stop," cried the lad, still deeper vex'd in mi "Stop father; stop; let me get on behind." Thus done, they thought they certainly sho please,

Escape reproaches, and be both at ease;
For having tried each practicable way,
What could be left for jokers now to say?

Still disappointed, by succeeding tone,
"Hark ye, you fellows! Is that ass your own?
Get off, for shame! Or one of you at least,
You both deserve to carry the poor beast;
Ready to drop down dead upon the road,
With such an huge, unconscionable load."

On this, they both dismounted; and some say Contriv'd to carry, like a truss of hay, The ass between 'em; prints, they add, are seen With man and lad, and slinging ass between: Others omit that fancy in the print,

As overstraining an ingenious hint.

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The Works of the English Poets, from Chaucer to Cowper ..., Volumul 15