Wrong are you both, rejoins a quail
Confin'd within its wirey jail ;
Frequent from realm to realm I've rang'd,
And with the seasons, climates chang'd.
Mankind is not so void of grace,
But good I've found in ev'ry place.
I've seen sincerity in France;
Among the Germans complaisance;
In foggy Holland wit may reign;
I've known humility in Spain :
Freed was I by a turban'd Turk,
Whose life was one entire good work
And in this land, fair Freedom's boast,
Behold my liberty is lost.
Despis'd Hibernia have I seen
Dejected like a widow'd queen;
Her robe, with dignity long worn,
And cap of liberty, were torn ;
Her broken fife, and harp unstrung,
On the uncultur'd ground were flung;
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.
Ah! dire corruption, art thou spread
Where never viper rear'd its head?
And did'st thy baleful influence sow
Where hemlock nor the night-shade grow?
Hapless, disconsolate, and brave
Hibernia, who'll Hibernia save?
Who shall assist thee in thy woe?
Who ward from thee the fatal blow?
'Tis done, the glorious work is done,
All thanks to Heav'n and HARTINGTON
Qn the first Fir of the GOUT,
Thou! to man the earnest of fourscore,
Guest of the rich, unenvied by the poor
Thou that great Esculapius dost deride,
And o'er his galley-pots in triumph ride;
Thou that was wont to hover near the throne,
And under-prop the head that wears the crown;
Thon that dost oft' in privy councils wait,
And guard from sleep the drowsy eyes of state;
Thou that upon the bench art mounted high,
And warn'st the judges when they tread awry
Thon that dost oft' from pamper'd prelate's toe
Emphatically urge the pains below;
Thou that art always half the city's grace,
And add'st to solemn noddle solemn pace;
Thou that art us'd to sit on lady's knee,
To feed on jellies, and to drink cold tea;
Thou whose luxurious sense can scarcely bear
The velvet slipper, and the feather'd chair;
Whence does thy mighty condescension flow,
To visit my poor tabernacle ?- -Oh!
Her knee indulgent here no lady lends ;
To watch thy looks no liv'ry'd train attends ;
No costly jellies, and no chairs of down,
Invite soft slumbers, or the banquet crown,
Yet what I have for solace or for state,
I give, and envy for thy sake the great.
Jove, who vouchsaf'd in ancient times, 'tis said,
At poor Philemon's cot to take a bed;
Pleas'd with the mean, but hospitable feast,
First bid him ask, and granted his request-
O! then (for thou art of the race divine,
Begot on Venus by the God of Wine)
Since, not incognito thy visit paid,
I meet thee conscious of my wants dismay'd,
Do thou to entertain theè give me store,
Or with thy presence honour me no more.
A Sea-Chaplain's Petition to the Lieutenants in the Ward-Room, for the use of the Quarter-Gallery.
YOU that can grant, or can refuse the pow'r,
Low from the stern to drop the golden show'r,
When Nature prompts,-O patient deign to hear,
If not a parson's-yet a poet's pray'r!
Ere taught the def'rence to commissions due,
Presumptuous I aspir'd to mess with you;
But since the diff'rence known 'twixt sea and shore,
That mighty happiness I urge no more:
An humble boon, and of a diff'rent kind
(Grant Heav'n a diff'rent answer it may find!),
Attends you now- excuse the rhyme I write,
And though I mess not with you-let me sh—te.
When in old bards, Arion tunes his song,
The ravish'd dolphins round the vessel throng,
Verse sooth'd of old the monsters of the sea,
Let then what sav'd Arion, plead for me:
And, if my Muse can aught of truth divine,
The boon the Muse petitions shall be mine :
For sure this answer would be monstrous odd,
Sh-te with the common tars, thou man of God!
Of those more vulgar tubes that downward peep,
Near where the lion awes the raging deep,
The waggish youths, I tell what I am told,
Oft smear the sides with excremental gold;
Say then, when peas within the belly pent,
Roar at the port and struggle for a vent,
Say-shall I plunge on dung remissly down,
And with unseemly ordure stain the gown?
Or shall I (terrible to think) displode
Against th' unbutton'd plush the smoaky load?
The laugh of swabbers--heav'n avert the jest!
And from th' impending storm preserve your priest !
But grant that Cloacina, gracious queen!
Shou'd keep her od'rous shrine for ever clean,
Yet frequent must I feel the offensive spray,
When the toss'd vessel ploughs the swelling sea;
And, as I sit, incessant must I hear
The language of the nauseous galley * near,
Where blockheads by the list'ning priest unaw'd,
Tho' uncommission'd, dare blaspheme their God!
Happy the man + admitted oft to ride
Within the ward-room, where his tools abide,
The man of leather-he, when Nature calls,
Can for the needful space repose his awls,
And, while I squeeze o'er some ignoble seat,
Can disembogue his vile burgoo in state;
While peeping Nereids smoke the Christian jest,
The honour'd cobler and neglected priest,
And swear by Styx, and all the pow'rs below,
In good old heathen days 'twas never so.
Ah! what avails it, that in days of yore,
Th' instructive lashes of the birch I bore!
For four long years with logic stuff'd my head,
And feeding thought went supperless to bed,
Since you with whom my lot afloat is thrown,
(O! elegance of taste to land unknown)
Superior rev'rence to the man refuse,
Who mends your morals, than who mends your
But Crispin saves your purse, you answer-true,
Nor does your priest without his offerings sue:
Whene'er compell'd to use the fragrant hole,
In some bye nook I'll leave a moral scroll :
* A place near the cook.room always throng'd with the ships people.
A cobler who used to mend the lieutenants shoes in the quarter gallery.
The moral scroll, who next succeeds may reach,
And to his brains apply it, or his br—h,
Thus shall your fingers find a just excuse,
And one sea chaplain boast his works of use.
And as yourselves from time to time repair,
To drop the reliques of digestion there,
Still may your pork an easy exit gain,
Nor make you form one ugly face in vain.
Still may your flip, refin'd to amber flow,
In streams salubrious, to the brine below;
Nor ever in too hot a current hiss,
But may all holes prove innocent like this:
Thus grant my suit (as grant unhurt you may),
Your chaplain then without your groats will pray
An Epitaph out of a church-yard in Dorsetshire, answered by a gentleman. on the widower's marrying again in a fortnight.
A gentleman has caused a marble to be erected in St. Anne's church-yard, Westminster, for the late King Theodore, Baron Neuhoff, with the fol lowing inscription:
Near this place is interred
THEODORE, King of Corsica,
Who died in this parish Dec. 11, 1756,
Immediately after leaving
The King's Bench prison,
By the benefit of the late act of insolvency:
In consequence of which
He registered his kingdom of Corsica
For the use of his creditors.
The grave, great teacher, to a level brings
Heroes and beggars, galley slaves and kings;
That Theodore this moral learn'd, ere dead,
Fate pour'd its lessons on his living head,
Bestow'd a kingdom, and deny'd him bread.
* Every common seaman pays a groat a month out of his pay to the chaplain, but the lieutenants pay nothing.
An ACCOUNT of Books published in 1758.
An Estimate of the Manners and Principles of the Times, by the Author of Essays on the Characteristics. Davis and Reymers.
FEW books have met with a
warmer reception or severer censure than the work before us. Its great success arose partly from the circumstances of the time when it appeared, partly from its own merit. It appeared at a time when our ill success in the war had infused so general a discontent into the minds of all people, that even a severe national satire was not then disagreeable to the public disposition. And as to the work itself, though the observations it contains were many of them not absolutely new; yet they were so methodized, the connection and relation of the several reigning vices and follies were so well marked, and their necessary influence on the prosperity of the state were so well displayed, that it had an appearance of being both new and useful.
The disadvantageous picture given of modern times in this work, revived a topic which has often been discussed with far more zeal and curiosity than real advantage; the dispute concerning the prefer ence of ancient and modern times. Vetera admirari, præsentia sequi, has ever been the disposition of mankind. Always discontented with the present state of things, to which however we always conform our selves, we naturally lament those periods of our lives which we have passed, and the ages that have passed before us. We are apt to take
our examples of what we ought to shun from the present, and therefore more odious vice; and our examples of what we ought to follow from departed, and therefore less envied and more venerable virtue. These dispositions have led several to throw virtue as far backward as possible, and very extravagantly to maintain that the world is continu ally degenerating.
Another sort of philosophers have however lately appeared, who take a very different course; they assert that they can discover no superiorities that any former age has over the present. That the degeneracy of the times has been the complaint even of the times which we admire. Etas parentium pejor avistulit, &c. is one of the oldest complaints in the world. That if we were to suppose mankind proceeded in an uniform progress in degeneracy and corruption, it is inconceivable how human society could have subsisted to this time. On the whole, they conclude that the race of men has been much the same in all ages.
This opinion, full as extravagant as the former, is much more pernicious; it has been found one of the most useful topics for spreading vice and corruption, and in its best consequence can only induce a dull acquiescence in our present condition. An uniform progression in vice is an opinion supported by no reason: and can only be considered as a poetical exaggeration: but, on the other hand, a man must shut his eyes in good earnest, not to perceive that nations
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