I ■ H lil" ; 9 ^*- P v .iL'% °, j0^ K "W •■ „ V >*^^ * ■ ^^ A^ * * ♦ .aIV^^T At o \<* ' Live while you live,' the Epicure would say, And seize the pleasures of the present day. ' Live while you live,' the sacred Preacher cries, And give to God each moment as it flies. Lord, in my views let both united be ; I live in pleasure, when I live to thee. THE STAGE OF LIFE. Our life's a journey in a winter's day ; Some only break their fast, and so away ; Others stay dinner, and depart full-fed ; The deepest age but sups and goes to bed. INNOCENT THEFT. You tell us, Doctor, 'tis a sin to steal ; We to your practice from your text appeal. You steal a sermon, steal a nap ; and, pray, From dull companions don't you steal away ? EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. SUPERSTITION. This fav'rite maxim modern atheists boast, ' That fear first form'd the gods, tremendous host ■■ But let them say, the knotty point to clear, If fear made gods, who made almighty fea? ON A GAMESTER AND FREETHINKER. Jacta est alea. Here lies a sceptic, long in doubt If death could kill the soul or not ; Death ends his doubtfulness at last, Convinced, — but oh ! the die is cas; t POSSESSION. An evil spirit's on thee, friend ! of late, Even from the hour thou earnest to thy estate : Thy mirth all gone — thy kindness — thy discretion, The estate has proved to thee a most complete possessw a. Shame, shame, old friend ! would'st thou be truly blest. Be thy wealth's lord, not slave ! — possessor, not possess'd ELEGANT WIT. As in smooth oil the razor best is whet, So wit is by politeness sharpest set : Their want of edge from their offence is seen, Both pain us least when exquisitely keen. UNOBTRUSIVE BEAUTY. As lamps burn silent with unconscious light, So modest ease in beauty shines most bright ; Unaiming charms with edge resistless fall, And she who meant no mischief, does it all. ON THE DEATH OF AN EPICURE. At length, my friends, the feast of life is o'er, I've eat sufficient, I can drink no more : EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. My night is come ; I've spent a jovial day ; 'Tis time to part ; but oh ! what is to pay ? BE MAGNANIMOUS. How great thy might let none by mischief know But what thou canst by acts of kindness show: A power to hurt is no such noble thing ; The toad can poison, and the serpent sting. TKUE NOBILITY. That I was noble born, allow you must ; Chaste was my mother, and my father just. GUILTY GKEATNESS. When men of infamy to grandeur soar, They light a torch to show their shame the more. MONITION TO THE LADIES. MyrtilLA, rising with the dawn, Steals roses from the blushing morn ; But when Myrtilla sleeps till ten, Aurora steals them back again. on st. paul's cathedral. This is God's House ; but 'tis to be deplored More come to see the House than serve its Lord. GOOD ADVICE. That thou may'st injure no man, dovelike be, And serpentlike, that none may injure thee. WHICH SHOULD BE PITIED. Clergyman — I've lost my portmanteau. Traveller — I pity your grief Clergymanr-^AM my sermons are in it. Traveller — I pity the thief. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. A SERMON IN SEASON. To the church I once went, But I grieved and I sorrow'd ; For the season was Lent, And the sermon was bowow'd. PERPLEXITY. By our preacher perplex'd, How shall we determine ? ' Watch and pray,' says the text ; 1 Go to sleep,' says the sermon. THE PREACHERS. The specious sermons of a learned man, Are little else than flashes in the pan : The mere haranguing upon what they call Morality, is powder without hall: But he that preaches with a Christian grace, Fires at our vices, and the shot takes place. THE TEACHER TAUGHT. Upon some hasty errand Tom was sent, And met his parish curate as he went ; But, just like what he was, a sorry clown, It seems he past him with a cover'd crown. The curate stopp'd ; and, turning, sternly said — I doubt, my lad, you're far worse taught than fed .' ' Why, ay,' says Tom, still jogging on, ' that's true : Thank God, He feeds me; but I'm taught by you ! ' THE TRANSMIGRATION OF SOULS. Pythagoras taught in a system most dreary That through different bodies men's souls must pass; And so to give weight to his wonderful theory, The philosopher proved that himself was an ass. 5 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. ON THE OXFORD CLERGY WHO URGED THEIR BISHOP TO OPPOSE DR HAMPDEN. As once the Pope with fury full, When Luther laid his heavy knocks on, At the Eeformer loosed a Bull ; — So these at Hampden set an Ox-on. — Punch, 1818. AURICULAR CONFESSION. Punch tells you, my Lord Bishop, whether you think so or no, It's no use your trying at Brighton Auriculas to grow ; For that plant and others like it were tried here long ago, But the soil proved too stubborn, and the temperature too low. SHAKSPEARIAN FRAGMENT. Hark, hark, the clerk the service sings, The candlesticks arise ; We'll soon have water from the springs In salted fonts that lies. And winking Marys 5 heads begin To ope their canvas eyes ; With everything that Koman bin : — My good John Bull, arise. — Punch. THE CHURCHYARD AND ARCHDEACON HALE, The intramural churchyard's reeking pale Breathes health around it, says a reverend party ; But though the spot may keep a parson Hale, Can people who inhale its fumes be hearty ?— Punch. THE BISHOP AND THE ZULU. A Bishop there was of Natal, Who had a Zulu for a pal — Says this Caff re, ; Look here — Ain't this Pentateuch queer ? ' Which perverted my lord of Natal . BOOK II. AMATORY EPIGRAMS. From the Greek. As a garland once I made. In a bed of roses laid, Love I found ; with eager joy By the wings I seized the boy ; Crowning then an ample cup, In a bumper drank him up. Now along my veins he swims, Fluttering, tickling through my limbs From the Greek. His shafts, the terror of the skies, No more the God of love discover Now from fair Anna's azure eyes , With surer aim they wound the lover For Venus he mistook the maid, And laughing ran his arms to give her The bow she bent, her skill essayed, And emptied at my heart the quiver. From the Greek. My Helen is little and brown, but more tender Than the cygnet's soft down, or the plumage of doves And her form like the ivy is graceful and slender, Like the ivy entwined round the tree tliat it loves. 10 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. Her voice, not thy cestus, Goddess of pleasure, Can so melt with desire or with ecstasy burn ; Her kindness unbounded she gives without measure To her languishing lover, and asks no return. Such a girl is my Helen — then never, ah never, Let my amorous heart, mighty Venus, forget her : Oh, grant me to keep my sweet mistress for ever, — For ever — at least, till you send me a better. From the Greek. The man who first laid down the pedant rule That love is folly, was himself the fool ; For if to life that transport you deny, What privilege is left us— but to die? From Martial. Let Rufus weep, rejoice, stand, sit, or walk ; — Still he can nothing but of Ncevia, talk : — Let him eat, drink, ask questions, or dispute ; Still he must talk of Ncevia, or be mute. He wrote to his father ending with this line : ' I am, my lovely Ncevia ! ever thine.' — •-— Spectator, No. 113. From Martial. When Arria from her wounded side To Psetus gave the reeking steel, 1 1 feel not what I've done,' she cried ; ' What Psetus is to do I feel.' — Br Hoadley. From Martial. Come, Chloe, and give me sweet kisses, For sweeter sure girl never gave ; But why, in the midst of my blisses, Do you ask me how many I'd have ? I am not to be stinted in pleasure, Then, prithee, my charmer, be kind ; EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 11 For, while I love thee above measure, To numbers I'll ne'er be confined. Count the bees that on Hybla are plajdng ; Count the flowers that enamel its fields ; Count the flocks that on Tempe are straying ; Or the grain that rich Sicily yields. Go number the stars in the heaven ; Count how many sands on the shore : When so many kisses you've given, I still shall be craving for more. To a heart full of love let me hold thee, To a heart which, dear Chloe, is thine; With my arms I'll for ever enfold thee, And twist round thy form like a vine. What joy can be greater than this is ? My life on thy lips shall be spent ; But the wretch that can number his kisses, With few will be ever content. Sir 0. II. Williams. From Ausonius. Venus, take my votive glass ! Since I am not what I was ; What from this day I shall be, Venus, let me never see ! — Prior. ON A LADY WITH FINE EYES AND A BAD VOICE. Lucetta's charms our hearts surprise, At once, with love and wonder : She bears Jove's lightning in her eyes, But in her voice his thunder. CJEL1A ALTOGETHER. Yes, I'm in love, I feel it now, And Ccelia has undone me ; And yet I'll swear I can't tell how The pleasing plague stole on me. 12 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. ' Tis not her face that love creates, For there no graces revel : 'Tis not her shape, for there the fates Have rather been uncivil. 'Tis not her air, for sure in that There's nothing more than common ; And all her sense is only chat, Like any other woman. Her voice, her touch, might give th' alarm, - 'Twas both perhaps — or neither : In short, 'twas that provoking charm Of Caslia altogether. — Whitehead, Supposed to oe written in 1767. I GAVE, 'twas but the other day, Phillis a ticket for the play — 'Tis love such tricks imparts — When, holding up the card to me, She laughing said, ' Your emblem see ! ' And showed the knave of hearts. Amazed, I cried, ' What means my fair ? Colin will neither steal nor swear ; Your words I pray define.' She smiled and said, ' Nay, never start, He's sure a knave that steals a heart ; And, Colin, you have mine.' — Punch. FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE. ' A Temple to Friendship,' said Laura, enchanted, 'I '11 build in this garden — the thought is divine ! r Her temple was built, and she now only wanted An image of Friendship, to place on the shrine. She flew to the sculptor, who set down before her A Friendship, the fairest his art could invent ■ But so cold and so dull, that the youthful adorer Saw plainly this was not the Friendship she meant. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 13 Oh never,' she cried, 'can I think of enshrining An image whose looks are so joyless and dim : But yon little god, upon roses reclining, We'll make, if you please, sir, a Friendship of him.' So the bargain was struck ; with the little god laden, She joyfully flew to her shrine in the grove : Farewell,' said the sculptor, * you're not the first maiden Who came but for Friendship, and took away Love.' From Rousseau. Advanced in years, the goddess Venus Sought in a holy cloister rest, Bequeathing, dearest maid, between us All that her goddesship possess' d. Of an executor the duty She trusted to her eldest son ; But he, sad rogue l* seduced by beauty 3 Injustice to my right has done. Unfairly he the Cyprian treasures Allotted to his mother's heirs ; To you he gave the smiles and pleasures, To me he left the tears and cares. TO CYNTHIA. Ah ! tell me no more, my dear girl, with a sigh, That a coldness will creep o'er my heart ; That a sullen indifference will dwell on my eye When thy beauty begins to depart. Shall thy graces, O Oynthia ! that gladden my day, And brighten the gloom of the night, Till life be extinguish'd, from memory stray, Which it ought to review with delight ? Upbraiding, shall gratitude sa3 r , with a tear, ' That no longer I think of those charms Which gave to my bosom such rapture sincere, And faded at length in my arms ? ' 14 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. Why, yes ! it may happen, thou damsel divine : To be honest — I freely declare, That even now to thy converse so much I incline I've already forgot thou art fair. From the French. As charm' d I view these rills, and groves, and fields Thy form, my fair, I near me seem to see ! While nature to the sight her beauties yields, How can I then forbear to think on thee? From Marquis de Pezac. By thee, on the sand of this shore, Our cyphers in union were traced ; But the fugitive billows roll'd o'er, And the writing was quickly effaced. Yet this emblem of love, though so frail That the water soon swept it away, Not so soon, O thou false one, did fail As the passion 'twas meant to display. HERRICK, ON HIS GREY HAIRS. Fly me not, though I be grey ; Lady, this I know you'll say, Better look the roses red When with white commingled. Black your hairs are, mine are white ; This begets the more delight When things meet most opposite ; As in pictures we descry Venus standing Vulcan by. TO CHLOE. Dear Chloe, well I know the swain Who gladly would embrace thy chain, And who, alas ! can blame him ? EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. Affect not, Chloe, a surprise : Look but a moment on these eyes, Thou'lt ask me not to name him. TO A LADY. Forgive, fair creature, form'd to please ; Forgive a wandering youth's desire : Those charms, those virtues, when he sees, How can he see, and not admire ? While each the other still improves, The fairest face, the fairest mind, Sure all must grant, ' not he that loves, But he that loves you not, is blind.' FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE. Friendship is like the cobbler's tye, That binds two souls in unity : But love is like the cobbler's awj, That pierces through the soul and all. . TO GALL A. Galla, the seasons of each circling year, To thee, my Love, their choicest offerings bear ; Spring thy young cheek with bashful purple dies, And Summer lights her lustres in thine eyes ; Autumn her apples in thy bosom throws, And Winter clothes thee with her whitest snows. CHERISHED LOVE. Go — you may call it madness, folly, You shall not chase my gloom away ; There's such a charm in melancholy, I would not, if I could, be gay. Oh! if you knew the pensive pleasure That fills my bosom when I sigh, You would not rob me of a treasure Monarchs are too poor to buy. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. TO A FRIEND. Her image, who enslaves my mind, Urge me no longer to discover ; Fain would I sing, but, ah ! I find The bard can ill express the lover. Yet, trust me, he whose happier skill For terms could ransack earth, air, ocean, Might show, perhaps, more wit at will, But less of genuine emotion. Though Art the florid phrase deny, Yet Truth can never want expression, For that last language of the eye Is still in hers and Love's possession. TO SYLVIA. How canst thou smile at my despair, And bid me other nymphs adore ? Show me a girl but half so fair, And I will trouble thee no more. Hide then that neck, and lip, and eye, Since thus resolved to shun pursuit ; For Love will follow, like the fly That always seeks the fairest fruit. From Lessing. I ASk'd my fair, one happfy day, What I should call her in my lay ; By what sweet name, from Rome or Greece • Iphigenia, Clelia, Chloris, Laura, Lesbia, Delia, Doris, Dorimene, or Lucrece ? Ah ! replied my gentle fair, Beloved ! what are names but air ? lake thou whatever suits the line, Clelia, Iphigenia, Chloris, Laura, Lesbia, Delia, Doris — But don't forget to call me — thine. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW". 17 ON LOVE. I never knew a sprightly fair That was not dear to me ; And freely I my heart could share With every one I see : It is not this or that alone On whom my choice would fall ; I do no more incline to one Than I incline to all. The circle's bounding line are they, Its centre is my heart : My ready love, the equal ray That flows to every part. From Benserade. I SHALL expire with overwhelming woe, If cruel she remain ; I shall expire with pleasure's overflow, If mutual love she deign ! Thus 'tis decreed the woe that I endure Must last while I have breath : Since by the remedy, or by the cure, I meet with certain death. CUPID FOUND. From Tricot. I've found the boy so full of charms, The traitor Love, who fled thine arms ; Then, sorrowing Venus, now give over Thy search, for here's thy darling rover. I found him, but no shafts had he, No quiver — and his eyes were free. How sight he gain'd, or how his bow And darts he lost, seek not to know : But if, in time to come, thou fain His truant wanderings would'st restrain, 2 18 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. Either thy fillet once more bind Around his brows, thy boy to blind, Or to his ravish' d gaze assume My Laura's form, my Laura's bloom. TO A LADY OF A CHANGEFUL TEMPER. From Rabiotin. I WOULD rather,*dear girl, fewer claspings and kisses Keceive, and less mutable fondness obtain, Than be one day o'erwhelm'd with your lavishing blisses, And the next overwhelm'd by your cruel disdain. SILENT LOVE. If silent oft you see me pine, Nor in your presence dare to speak, It is because a love like mine Finds all expression faint and weak. It is because I oft have told The melancholy tale in vain, It is because your looks are cold, And seem to bid me hide my pain. Oh, why then are you silent still ? Why am I forced those eyes to read, To learn, from them, to guess your will, Which, were it known, should be obey'd. Whatever may the sentence be, W^hich from those lovely lips may come, It cannot seem so harsh to me, As thus in silence wait my doom. Ah, let thy tongue my fate explain, And I will try to bear my woe ; In love, as death, the greatest pain Is all to fear, and nothing know. From JBrossin. In the ages when innocence reign'd, 'twas a pleasure To listen to love, and encourage his fires ; EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 19 No splendour persuaded, they lavish' d no treasure But of cares, and attentions, and tender desires. But now, without fortune, 'twere surely more wise To renounce the delight that must lead to delusion ; For the lover, whose only expense is in sighs, Will be paid but w r ith hope for a life of profusion. FRUITLESS CARE. In vain, within my tortured breast, Its love-inspired sighs repressing, A stranger to the balms of rest, I smile, as though its balm possessing. In vain those tears that strive to flow, Tears of a heart now doom'd to languish, I check ; lest aught on earth should know How dark my fate, how deep my anguish . In vain ! for more than tears or sighs This sure my passion must discover, That, spite of care, my tell-tale eyes In every glance betray the lover ! LABOUR IN VAIN. In vain you strive, by every art, Once more to lure me to your arms ; For know, my free indignant heart Defies the magic of your charms. There was a time when all your oaths That fond undoubting heart believed ; Now, wisdom taught, the past it loathes, And scorns to be again deceived. My foolish love was doom'd to die : 'Twas you the fatal shaft that sped ; And now, capricious girl, you try With fruitless care to wake the dead. 20 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. THE FATAL MOMENT. It was but a moment ! 'twas but like a dream ! Of her musical voice I but just heard the sound ; And but just of her dark tender eyes caught the beam, As they smilingly roved o'er the landscape around. Yet, tho' brief was the moment, 'twas fatal to me, For that moment the peace of.my bosom destroy'd : Now in feverish slumbers her image I see, And, waking, my soul feels a sorrowful void. Thus, when Summer the pride of her beauty displays, From the gathering clouds dart their arrowy fires ; And the victim scarce views the sulphureous blaze, Scarcely breathes out a sigh, ere he falls and expires ! the way to discovee love. Lesbia rails, without ceasing, at me the whole day, And yet hang me, if Lesbia don't love me sincerely ' How d' you know it ? ' you cry — Why, 'tis just my own way ; Though I rail without ceasing, I still love her dearly ! ****** Lethe's dark oblivious wave Where, O where, didst thou discover ? Ere he languish to the grave, Tell thy lost, deserted lover 1 Yet, in vain a boon like this Wouldst thou give, should Pity let thee : He who once has known thy kiss Perish must, ere he forget thee. TO LAURA. From the French. Lo 1 where the bee from yonder rose, Fill'd with sweet plunder, flies ; EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 21 Yet still the flower as warmly glows, As rich its odours rise. So, dearest, by my ardent kiss Thy charms unchanged we see ; Then frown not, since my honied bliss Has nothing stolen from thee. MADAME DE MIREPOIX TO THE DUC DE NIVERNOIS, with a Loch of her Hair. Look, they are grey — but, turn'd to grey, These locks our union's date attest ; Poor spoil that age can bear away, But leaves me yet in friendship blest. No change in friendship's star appears, Whose lustre,, as in early prime, Flames in the winter of our years, Kindled by choice, and fed by time. No more the world our flame reproving, Will force our bosoms to repress it ; Grey hairs, beside the charm of loving, Allow the freedom to confess it. ANSWER OF THE DUC DE NIVERNOIS. Talk not of snowy locks — have done- Time runs the same, and let him run — To us what bodes the tyrant's rage ? He knows not tender hearts to sever, The little Loves are infants ever ; The Graces are of every age. To thee, Themira, when I bow, For ever in my spring I glow, And more in years approve thee. Could I to gay eighteen return, With longer ardour I might burn, But dearer could not love thee. 22 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. THE ORIGIN OE THE PEN". Love begg'd and pray'd old Time to stay, While he and Pysche toy'd together ; Love held his wings — Time tore away, But in the scuffle dropp'd a feather. Love seized the prize, and with his dart Adroitly work'd to trim and shape it — ' 0, Psyche ! though 'tis pain to part, This charm shall make us half escape it. Time need not fear to fly too slow, "When he this useful loss discovers ; A pen's the only plume I know, That wings his pace for absent lovers.' TULIPS AND ROSES. My Eosa, from the latticed grove, Brought me a sweet bouquet of posies, And ask'd, as round my neck she clung, If tulips I preferr'd to roses? ' I cannot tell, sweet wife,' I sigh'd, ' But kiss me ere I see the posies : ' She did, ' Oh, I prefer,' I cried, 4 Thy two lips to a dozen roses.' TO A LADY, WHO LAMENTED SHE COULD NOT SING. 1 Oh, give to Lydia, ye blest Powers ! ' I cried, A voice ! the only gift ye have denied.' — ' A voice ! ' says Venus, with a laughing air ? A voice ! strange object of a lover's prayer I Say — shall your chosen fair resemble most Yon Philomel, whose voice is all her boast ; Or, curtain'd round with leaves, yon mournful dove, That hoarsely murmurs to the conscious grove? ' 4 Still more unlike,' said I, ' be Lydia's note, The pleasing tone of Philomela's throat, So, to the hoarseness of the murmuring dove, She joins ('tis all I ask) the turtle's love ! ' EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 23 From Panard. Oh, how soft beam your eyes ! Oh, how tender their gaze ! If I dare to believe them, you love me most dearly : But does your heart feel what I learn from their rays 1 Oh, tell me, dear youth, are they speaking sincerely ? If you love not, alas ! with my peace do not play ; To allure me, no longer thus cruelly seek : And if then your heart has got nothing to say, Ob, let not your eyes with such eloquence speak. From Chanlieu. tell me not, with groundless fear, That, bending to some otber beauty, 1 may forget you 'once were dear, And vow to her my tender duty. No, loveliest ! no ; for though the youtb Who sees thy charms may break for ever All former vows of plighted truth, Faithless again shall he be never. . TO DELIA. Permitted, unreproved, to gaze, My favour'd rival idly strays : — O bless, whene'er thou wilt, my sight, This breast will beat with pure delight ! If he, who feels the tropic sun, Repairs to shade the warmth to shun, The dweller on the polar shores Ne'er sees him shine but he adores. From Patrix. Sighs, and looks, and soft attentions, Well a tender flame reveal: He who least his passion mentions, Oft is found the most to feel. 21 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. Though from his lips the fair one hears No word his wishes to discover, Yet he who serves, and perseveres, Plainly proves himself a lover. TO A MIRROR. From the Spanish. Since still my passion-pleading strains Have fail'd her heart to move, Show, mirror, to that lovely maid, The charms that made me love. Reflect on her the thrilling beam Of magic from her eye, So, like Narcissus, she shall gaze, And self-enamour'd die. From La Sabliere. So much I press'd, so much I pray'd, frrom Laura's lips I gain'd a kiss ; But swift as lightning through the shade, So swiftly fled my bliss. Love ! thou hast not done me right ! Had justice in thy mind a place, Thou hadst not destined my delight To live so brief a space. As long a time as I had press'd To gain the dear delicious treasure, So long, Love ! to make me blest, Should I have felt the pleasure. Coined from the Window of an obscure Lodging in Lslington. Stranger, whoe'er thou art, whose restless mind Like me within these walls is cribb'd, confined ; Learn how each want that heaves our mutual sigh% A. woman's soft solicitude supplies : EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. %l From her white breast retreat all rude alarms, Or fly the circle of her magic arms : While souls exchanged alternate grace acquire, And passions catch from passions mutual fire. What though to deck this roof no arts combine Such forms as rival every fair but mine : No nodding plumes, our humble couch above, Proclaim each triumph of unbounded love ; No silver lamp with sculptured Cupids gay, O'er yielding beauty pours its midnight ray ; Yet Fanny's charms could Time's slow flight, beguile, Soothe every care, and make this dungeon smile : In her what kings, what saints have wish'd, is given, Her heart is empire, and her love is heaven. THE INTOXICATION OF LOVE. The girl that I love lately gave me a kiss, And the dew of her lips seal'd the ravishing bliss : Of nectar the kiss, for her breath gave it bloom ; Her breath was the nectars delicious perfume. Now full flowing bumpers of rapture I prove, And tipsy with joy, I'm a Bacchus in love. THE VIOLET. The violet in her greenwood bower, Where birchen boughs with hazels mingle. May boast itself the fairest flower In glen, or copse, or forest dingle. Though fair her gems of azure hue Beneath the dewdrop's weight reclining, Fve seen an eye of lovelier blue, More sweet through watery lustre shining. The summer sun the dew shall dry, Ere yet the day be past its morrow ; Nor longer in my false love's eye Remain'd the tear of parting sorrow. 26 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. ON MYRTILLA. The Persians stretch their votive arms To Phoebus in his rising state ; I gaze on dear Myrtilla's charms, And meet those eyes that dart my fate. So the fond moth round tapers plays, Nor dreams of death in such bright fires ; With joy he hastes into the blaze, He courts his doom, and there expires. ON ONE INSENSIBLE OF THE PASSION HE HAD EXCITED. Thus by some stream's reflecting tide, The passing traveller often waits ; Views, unconcern'd, the waters glide, Nor heeds the image he creates. TIME AND LOVE. Time and Love are ever foes, Following still a different aim ; Where the rosy tyrant glows Steals old Time, and damps the flame. Angry Love a vengeful blow Oft inflicts, as rage inspires, And, where Time has scatter' d snow, Joys to wake the rebel fires. Men in every age and clime Equal still their triumphs prove ; Oft from Love forgetting Time, Oft from Time forgetting Love. From the Aoocvte Buondelmonie. Undee Friendship's fair disguise, Love, in smiling frolic, lies ; Or. affecting Anger, now, Furls, like Scorn, its wrinkled brow ; Nay, with Hatred's sullen mien Crafty Love is frequent seen ; EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 27 Pity's face too oft it wears, Bathed in subtle, well-feign'd tears : But beware Love's wanton wiles, O ! beware his tears and smiles ; Love in every form, believe, Still is Love, and will deceive. THE EXCHANGE OF HEARTS. We pledged our hearts, my love and I, I in my arms the maiden clasping ; I could not guess the reason why, But, oh ! I trembled like an aspen. Her father's leave she bade me gain ; I went, but shook like any reed ! I strove to act the man — in vain ! We had exchanged our hearts indeed. THE KISS. What a rout do you make for a single poor kiss ! I seized it, 'tis true, and I ne'er shall repent it : May he ne'er enjoj^ one, who shall think it amiss ; But, for me, I thank dear Cytherea who sent it. You may pout, and look prettily cross, but I pray, What business so near to my lips had your cheek ? If you will put temptation so pat in one's way, Saints, resist if ye can, but for me, I'm too weak. But come, my sweet Fanny, our quarrel let's end, Nor will I by force, what you gave not. retain ; By allowing the kiss, I'm for ever your friend, If you say that I stole it — why take it again. From Marat. What once I was, no more am I ; What once I was, alas ! can be no more ! On hasty pinions doom'd to fly, My blooming spring and summer now are o'er. 2S EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. Thee, beyond all the immortal powers, I served, Love ! and gloried to obey thee. But, were restored my vernal hours, More perfect homage would thy votary pay thee ! Imitation from Cornelius G alius. When Lesbia, to her lover dear, Though many a teasing trick expert in, Heard my approaching footsteps near, She slunk behind the window-curtain. Yet, as she tripp'd along, she turn'd, To watch if I perceived her running ; Her cheeks with crimson blushes burn'd, Her eyes glanced forth a smile of cunning. She spread her fingers o'er her face, And wish'd I might not wholly view her ; And yet she wish'd her hiding-place Should show me where I might come to her. ABSENCE. When the maid who possesses my heart Was content at my mansion to stay, Kapid time was in haste to depart, And the moments fled laughing away. But now, since I see her not near, And to seek her is not in my power, Every day is as long as a year, Every moment as slow as an hour. the inquiry. With beauty, with pleasure surrounded, to languish. — To weep, without knowing the cause of my anguish ; To start from short slumber, and wish for the morning,— To close my dull eyes when I see it returning ; Sighs sudden and frequent, looks ever dejected, — - Words that steal from my tongue, by no meaning con- nected ! EPIGRAMS OLD AND NW- 29 Ah ! say, fellow-swains, how these S3 T mptorns befell me ? They smile, but reply not — sure Delia can tell me ! INSCRIPTION FOE A STATUE OF CUPID. Whosoever thou art, thy master see ! He was, or is, or is to be. TO A LADf , WITH THE PRESENT OF A WATCH. With me while present, may thy lovely eyes Be never turn'd upon this golden toy ; Think every pleasing hour too swiftly flies, And measure time, by joy exceeding joy. But when the cares that interrupt our bliss, To me not always will thy sight allow, Then oft, with kind impatience, look on this, Then every minute count — as I do now. From Hontreuil. Why ask so oft, with fond alarms, If constant I'll remain ? And o'er my heart how r long thy charms Will hold their wonted reign ? No more these questions let me hear, Since I can ne'er reply : I do not know, my Sylvia dear, The day when I shall die. From Guarini. Why frown my fair I — The mighty bliss Was bought with equal smart; I rudely stole a rapturous kiss, I paid thee with my heart. Yes, false one, triumph in my woes, And joy these flowing tears to see ! 30 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. How just to wound that heart's repose That gladly would have bled for thee ! Yet poor the triumph thou hast gain'd, And very soon will it be o'er ; That bosom, where thou long hast reign'd, Shall fondly throb for thee no more. Nor vainly think my tears, my sighs, Love's still un vanquish' d power proclaim ; Each drop that trickles from my eyes But helps to quench his dying flame. IMPROMPTU. To a Lady, who gave me two sweetmeat * lasses.' You gave me, dear Ellen, two kisses ! What mortal so dull that would spurn them 1 Yet, though they're the sweetest of blisses, I own that I die to return them ! HERRICK TO HIS MISTRESS, Objecting to him neither toying nor talking. You say I love not, 'cause I do not play Still with your curls, and kiss the time away ; You blame me, too, because I can't devise Some sport to please those babies in your eyes : By love's religion, I must here confess it, The most I love when I the least express it ! Small griefs find tongues ; full casks are ever found To give, if any, yet but little sound ; Deep waters noiseless are ; and this we know, That chiding streams betray small depth below : So when love speechless is, it doth express A depth in love, and that love bottomless. Now since my love is tongueless, know me such, Who little speak, because I love so much. TO A YOUNG LADY. Wlio wished not to be admired. An, foolish Delia! since you hate That people of your charms should prate, EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 31 Give me that face, that air divine, And in exchange accept of mine. Thus shall I gain my heart's desire, And set a raptured world on fire — You'll too be pleased (no longer doubt ye), As folks won't sav one word about ve. From the Italian. As, Venus, late you miss'd your boy, And anxious sought where he had stray'd, * One kiss,' you cried, ' I'll give with joy To him who knows where Cupid's laid.' Give me the kiss — for see he lies In the dark heaven of Eosa's eyes ; Or bid my Eosa's lips bestow The kiss, and yours I will forego. CUPID'S MISTAKE. At Laura's feet the God of Love His arrows and his quiver lays, Forgets he has a throne above, And with this lovely creature stays. Not Venus' beauties are more bright, But each appear so like the other, That Cupid has mistook the r'ght, And takes the nymph to be his mother. WINGED TIME. * Tell me,' said Laura, 'what may be The difference 'twixt a clock and me.' * Laura,' I cried, ' Love prompts my powers To do the task you've set them : A clock reminds us of the hours ; You cause us to forget them.' ON BEING EXPELLED A LADY'S COMPANY. Thus Adam look'd, when from the garden driven, And thus disputed orders sent from heaven : 32 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. Like him I go, though to depart I'm loth ; Like him I go, for angels drive us both : Hard was his fate ; but mine still more unkind ; His love went with him, but mine stays behind. From the Portuguese. You call me still your life ; oh, change the word : Life is as transient as the inconstant sigh. Say rather I'm your soul, — more just that name, For, like the soul, my love can never die. — Byron. ON ANNIE BREAD. ' Toast any girl but her,' said Ned 5 ' With every other flutter — I'll be content with Annie Bread, And won't have any out her ' A LAWYER CN WOMEN. Fee-simple and the simple fee, And all the fees in tail, Are nothing when compared with thee, Thou best of fees— fe-male. TO A LADY, WITH A PAIR OF GLOVES. Fairest, to thee I send these gloves ; If you love me, leave out the g, And make a pair of loves. LOVERS' LIES. Say, wherefore is it lovers' lie3 Cause to the world so much surprise, When every common fool must know, That Cupid always drew a bow ? printers' kisses. Print on my lip another kiss, The picture of thy glowing passion ; EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 33 Nay, this won't do — nor this — nor this — But now — Ay, that's a proof impression ! EESPONSE. But yet, methinks, it might be mended— Oh yes, I see it in those eyes ; Our lips again together blended, Will make th' impression a eeyise. Mrs Caddie k. self-deception. From Goethe. The curtain flutters to and fro ; Aha, Miss Fanny, jow Are watching there, to see, I know, If I am watching too ; And if the fit of jealous rage Is hot upon me still. Yes ! nothing, nothing can assuage My wrath, or ever will. How ! What ! The little wretch for me No such fond vigil holds ; It is the evening breeze, I see, That waves the curtain's folds. Aytoun and Martin. BOOK III. EPIGRAMS ON MARRIAGE AND MARRIED LIFE. From Martial. Welsh judges two, four military men, Seven noisy lawyers, Oxford scholars ten, Were of an old man's daughter in pursuit. Soon the curmudgeon ended the dispute, By giving her unto a thriving grocer. What think you ? did he play the fool, or no, sir ? Hay. From Martial. Of rank, descent, and title proud, Mere gentry Lady Susan could not bear ; She'd wed but with a duke, she vow'd, And so absconded with a player. — N. B. Halhed. From Martial. You'd marry the marquis, fair lady, they say ; You're right, we've suspected it long, But his lordship declines in a complaisant way, And, faith, he's not much in the wrong. JV, B. Halhed. TO A FINE WOMAN, TOO FOND OF PEAISING HER HUSBAND. You always are making a god of your spouse ; But this neither reason nor conscience allows : EPIGRAMS OLD AXD NEW. 35 Perhaps you will say, r Tis in gratitude due, And you adore him, because he adores you. Your argument's weak, and so you will find ; For you, by this rule, must adore all mankind. — Swift. OX A PALE LADY. TTeexce comes it, that, in Clara s face, The lily only has a place ; — Is it. that the absent rose Is gone to paint her husband's nose ? A LOYEES COXSOLATIOX. A misteess I've lost, it is true : But one comfort attends the disaster— That had she my mistress remain' d, I could not have call'd myself master. OX A LADY WHO BEAT HER HUSBAXD. Come hither. Sir John, my picture is here, What think you, my love, don't it strike you ? I can't say it does, just at present, my dear. But I think it soon will, 'tis so like you. COXXE"BIAL AFFECTIOX. It is a maxim in the schools, That women always doat on fools ; If so, dear Jack, I'm sure your wife Must love you as she does her life. A DAY ATTEE THE FAIR. POST-HASTE to church flew Xick and bride, The knot as speedily was tied ; Far from the busy town they seek A calm retreat, and stay'd a week, T\ Tien, with like speed as took them down, The pair arrive again in town. 36 EPIGKAMS OLD AND NEW. Nick's friends now crowd to wish him joy, When cries the now experienced boy — ' In vain you strive to soften fate, Your wishes are a week too late.' WOMAN'S WILL. Kind Katherine kiss'd her husband, with these words, * Mine own sweet Will, how dearly do I love thee ! ' ' If true,' quoth Will, ' the world no such affords.' And that 'tis true I durst his warrant be, For ne'er heard I of woman, good or ill, But always loved best her own sweet will. ON BEING ADVISED TO MAEEY. Sir, you are prudent, good, and wise, I own, and thank you from my heart ; And much approve what you advise, But let me think, before I start. For folks well able to discern, Who know what 'tis to take a wife, Say, 'tis a case of such concern, A man should think on't — all his life. STEELING- VALUE. When Loveless married Lady Jenny,«» Whose beauty was the ready penny ; I chose her, says he, like old plate, Not for the fashion, but the weight. BAD IS THE BEST. ' My wife's so very bad,' cried Will, I fear she ne'er will hold it — She keeps her bed.' — * Mine's worse,' said Pink ' The jade has just now sold it.' EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. ON EOOTE MARRYING MISS PATTEN. With a Patten to wife, Through the rough road of life May you safely and merrily jog ; May the ring never break, Nor the tie prove too weak, Nor the Foote find the Patten a clog. connubial disappointment. I TOOK jou,' deceiver, c for better for worse/ Submitting to wedlock's hard fetter ; While your worse part has daily grown still more perverse, I have not discover'd your better. MATEIMONY. Tom praised his friend, who changed his state, For binding fast himself and Kate In union so divine : ' Wedlock's the end of life,' he cried ; — /- ' Too, true, alas ! ' said Jack, and sigh'd — ' 'Twill be the end of mine.' CONSOLATION. Tom to a shrew lives link'd in wedlock's fetter, Yet let not Tom his stars too sorely curse ; As there's no hope his wife will e'er be better, So there's no fear she ever can be worse ! CHOICE AT TWENTY AND AT THIRTY. Maeia, just at twenty, swore That no man less than six feet four Should be her chosen one. At thirty she is glad to fix A spouse exactly four feet six, As better far than none. 38 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. THE IRISH PLACE HUNTER. A place under government Was all that Paddy wanted ; He married soon a scolding wife, And thus his wish was granted. NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND. 6 Come, wife,' said Will, f I pray you devote Just half a minute to mend this coat, Which a nail has chanced to rend.' * 'Tis ten o'clock,' said his drowsy mate. ' I know,' said Will, ' it is rather late, But it 's never too late to mend ! ' MARRIAGE. He who marries once may be Pardon'd his infirmity ; He who marries twice is mad ; But if you should find a fool Marrying thrice, don't spare the lad ; Flog him, flog him back to school. — Gotz. WISE AND WISER. Abel wants to marry Mabel ; Well, that's very wise of Abel : But Mabel won't at all have Abel ; Well, that's wiser still of Mabel. — Marot. A SETTLER. By one decisive argument Giles gain'd his lovely Kate's consent To fix the bridal day. ' Why in such haste, dear Giles, to wed ? I shall not change my mind,' she said ; ' But then,' says he, ( I may.' EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 39 OX EVENING. John's wife and John were tete-a-tete She witty was, industrious he. Says John, ' I've earn'd the bread we've ate.' ' And I,' says she, ' have urn'd the tea.' THE FORTUNATE WANT. How like is this picture, you'd think that it breathes ! "What life ! what expression ! what spirit ! It wants but a tongue. ' Oh no ! .' said the spouse, i That want is its principal merit. 5 CONNUBIAL COMPANY. '- My dear, what makes you always yawn ? ' The wife exclaim'd, her temper gone ; ' Is home so dull and dreary ? ' 'Not so, my love,' he said, 'not so ; But man and wife are one, you know, And when alone I'm weary ! ' MEN AND WOMEN. Thoughtless that ' all that's brightest fades,' Unmindful of that knave of spades, The sexton and his subs : How foolishly we play our parts ! Our wives on diamonds set their hearts, We set our hearts on clubs. — Sidney Smith. TULIPS AND EOSES. My Rosa from the latticed grove, Brought me a sweet bouquet of posies, And ask'd, as round my neck she clung, If tulips I preferred to roses ? ' I cannot tell, sweet wife/ I sigh'd, ' But kiss me ere I see the posies.' She did — ' Oh, I prefer,' I cried, 1 Thy two lips to a dozen roses.' 40 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. OF TWO EVILS, CHOOSE THE LEAST. ' Good-morning, dear Major,' quoth Lieutenant B— ' So you're married, I hear, to the little Miss E ; Is it true that she scarcely comes up to your knee ? ' It is, dear Lieutenant, and this I contest, That of all human evils the least is the best.' CONUNDRUM. Which is of greater value, prithee, say, The bride or bridegroom ? — must the truth be told ? Alas, it must ! The bride is given away ; The bridegroom's often regularly sold. — Punch. ON THE ROYAL MARRIAGE ACT, 1772. Quoth Dick to Tom, c This Act appears Absurd, as I'm alive ; To take the crown at eighteen years — The wife at twenty-five. ' The mystery how shall we explain ? For sure, as well 'twas said, Thus early if they're fit to reign, They must be fit to wed.' Quoth Tom to Dick, * Thou art a fool, And little know'st of life — Alas ! 'tis easier to rule A kingdom than a wife ! i MARRIAGE UNEQUAL. From Goethe. Alas, that even in a heavenly marriage, The fairest lots should ne'er be reconciled ; Psyche waxed old and prudent in her carriage, Whilst Cupid evermore remains a child. Aytoun and Martin. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 41 TO A EICH YOUNG WIDOW. I will not ask if thou can'st touch The tuneful ivory key, Those silent notes of thine are such As quite suffice for me. I'll make no question if thy skill The pencil comprehends, Enough for me, love, if thou still Can'st draw, — thy dividends. — Punch, 1852. ON A LADY FOND OF CARDS WHO MARRIED HER GARDENER. Trumps ever rule the charming maid ; Sure all the world must pardon her, If now they have turn'd up a spade ; — She married John the Gardener. THE FORTUNE TOLD. 1 I can tell you the first letter Of your handsome sailor's name.' ' I know every one, that's better, Thank you, gipsy, all the same.' * Ah ! my maiden, runs your text so, Then I see your doom is past, — And the day is Monday next.' ' No, Gipsy, it was Monday last.' EXCULPATION. From Goethe. Wilt thou dare to blame the woman for her seeming sudden changes, Swaying east and swaying westward, as the breezes shake the tree ? Fool, thy selfish thought misguides thee ; find the man that never ranges. Woman wavers but to seek him. Is not, then, the fault in thee ? Aytoun and Martin. 42 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. FOR BETTER AND WORSE. ' Nay, prithee, dear Thomas, ne'er rave thus and curse, Eemember you took me "for better, for worse." ' ' I know it,' quoth Thomas ; ' but then, madam, look you, You prove, upon trial, much worse than I took you.' hymen's dealings. Though matches are all made in heaven, they say, Yet Hymen, who mischief oft hatches, Sometimes deals with the house t'other side of the way. And there they make Lucifer matches. — Lover. 43 BOOK IV. EPIGEAMS ON SOCIAL LIFE AND SOCIAL FOLLIES. From Martial. Strephon most fierce besieges Chloe, A nymph not over young nor showy ; What then can Strephon's love provoke ? A charming paralytic stroke. From Martial. Though ' papa ' and ' mamma,' my dear, So prettily you call, Yet you, niethinks, yourself appear The grand-mamma of all. — Bouquet, 1784-. THE DINNER HUNTER. From Martial. Angling for dinner, Charles, at every line I read him, puts me to the blush : * Delicious ! ' ' charming ! ' ' exquisite ! ' ' divine ! c Hush, Charles, you've earn'd your victuals, hush ! ' ]\ r . B. Halhed, From Martial. Jack buys an ancient cottage, dismal, foul, And scarce a decent harbour for an owl, Near to a hospitable neighbour's seat : Jack will not lodge as well as he will eat. — Hay. 44 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. From Martial. The golden hair that Galla wears Is hers : who would have thought it ? She swears 'tis hers 5 and true she swears, For I know where she bought it. Sir John Harrington. ON A NEWLY-MADE BARONET. From Martial. Though I do ' Sir ' thee, be not vain, I pray, I ' Sir ' my monkey Jacko every day. From Martial. Lend Spunge a guinea ! Ned, you'd best refuse, And give him half. Sure that's enough to lose. From Martial. Poor poet Doggrel's house consumed by fire ! Is the muse pleased ? or father of the lyre ? O cruel fate ! what injury you do To burn the house, and not the master too ! — Hay. From Martial. ■His lordship bought his last gay birthday dress, And gay it was, for fourscore pound or less. Is he so good at buying cheap ? you say — Extremely good, for he does never pay. — Hay. From Martial. You ask a hundred guests unknown to me, And wonder, Richard, I refuse to come. Richard, I go abroad for company, For solitude I like to stay at home. — Hodgson. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 45 From Martial. Jack boasts he never dines at home, With reason too, no doubt ; In truth, Jack never dines at all Unless invited out. From Martial. Kate's teeth are black ; white lately Bell's are grown ; Bell buys her teeth, and Kate still keeps her own. Hodgson. From the French. Oxe day the great Henry, his courtiers among, Perceived an odd figure, but sorrily dress'd, Whose air, face, and manner were none of the best : The Monarch, who eyed our unknown 'mid the throng, Wish'd to learn what his name, and what rank he pos- sess' d : He calls him, ' And, pray, your employment explain ; Whom serve you ? ' The simpleton, turgid and vain, Made answer, { To none but myself I belong.' ' How I pity, my friend,' said the king, ' your disaster, You could never have had a worse fool for a master.' IN A STATUE OF JUSTICE, REMOVED IXTO THE MARKET-PLACE, Q. Tell me why Justice meets our eye, Baised in the market-place on high ? A. The reason, friend, may soon be told — 'Tis meant to show she's .to be sold, — Xhiretiere* THE APRIL-FOOL-MAKER. 1 To-day, 5 said Dick, ' is April day, And though so mighty wise you be, A bet, whate'er you like, I'll lay. Ere night I make a fool of thee.' 46 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. e A fool I may be, it is true ; But, Dick,' cried Tom, c ne'er be afraid ; No man can make a fool of you, For you're a fool already made.' A WORD AND A BLOW. Thomas is sure a most courageous man, * A word and a blow,' for ever is his plan ; And thus his friends explain the curious matter- He gives the first, and then receives the latter. ON A STONE THROWN AT A VERY GREAT MAN, BUT WHICH MISSED HIM. Talk no more of the lucky escape of the head, From a flint so unluckily thrown — I think very different, with thousands indeed, 'Twas a lucky escape for the stone. UNIVERSITIES. No wonder that Oxford and Cambridge profound, In learning and science so greatly abound ; Since some carry thither a little each day, And we meet with so few who bring any away. MANNERS MAKE THE MAN. i This splendid dress was made for me,' Cries Sugar Plum, the saucy cit : Observers answer, ' That may be ; But you were never made for it.' From Le Brun. Oh, shame to the manners, the times, and the age ! Our virtues no longer can women engage. Modern fair ones like lots at an auction are sold ; They are knock'd down to him who will bid the most gold. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 47 THE EETOET COURTEOUS. As Dick and Tom in fierce dispute engage, And, face to face, the noisy contest wage ; 1 Don't cock your chin at me,' Dick smartly cries. ' Fear not ! his head's not charged,' 1 a friend replies. ON KNOWING ONE'S FKIENDS. Said a thief to a wit, ' There's no knowing one's friends Until they've been tried and found steady/ Said the wit to the thief, ' All yours, I presume, Have been tried and found guilty already.' AN EXPLANATION. A teav'ller, some little time back, Was telling another a history, Whose manners betray'd a great lack Of sense to unravel the mystery. ' Why, sir, it is strange you can't see ! Or, perhaps, it don't meet your belief : 'Tis as simple as plain A B C ' Yes,' cries t'other, < but I'm D E F.' THE WATCH LOST IN A TAVERN. A watch lost in a tavern ! that's a crime ; Then see how men by drinking lose their time. The Watch kept Time ; and if Time will away, I see no reason why the Watch should stay. You say the key hung out, and you forgot to lock it, Time will not be kept pris'ner in a Pocket. Henceforth, if you will keep your Watch, this do, Pocket your Watch, and watch your Pocket too. Westminster Drollery. A RETORT. Quoth Doctor Squill of Ponder' s End, ' Of all the patients I attend, Whate'er their aches or ails, 48 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. None ever will my fame attack.' ' None ever can,' retorted Jack ; ' For dead men tell no tales.' ON ENCLOSING- COMMONS. Tis bad enough in man or woman To steal a goose from off a common ; But surely he's without excuse Who steals a common from a goose. THE REBUKE. A haughty courtier, meeting in the streets- A scholar, him thus insolently greets — 6 Base men to take the wall I ne'er permit' The scholar said, ' I do,' and gave him it. ON RECEIVING A PRESENT OF A BRACE OF WOODCOCKS. My thanks I'll no longer delay For birds which you've shot with such skill ; But though there was nothing to pay, Yet each of them brought in a bill ! I mean not, my friend, to complain, The matter was perfectly right ; And when bills such as these come again, I'll always accept them at sight. THE RULE OF THE ROAD. The rule of the road is a paradox quite Both in riding and driving along ; If you go to the left you are sure to go right, If you go to the right you go wrong : But in walking the streets 'tis a different case, To the right it is right you should bear, To the left should be left quite enough of free space For the persons you chance to meet there. — Punch. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 49 EQUALITY OF TAXATION. 'Taxes are equal, is a dogma which I'll prove at once,' exclaim'd a Tory boor : * Taxation hardly presses on the rich, And likewise presses hardly on the poor.' THE FASHION OF CRINOLINES. To beat their poor old Grandames' hoops Our modern dames endeavour : 'Tis the old rage again come round, ^ And digger round than ever ! — W. H. Draper. THE LAW. The law decides questions of Ileum and Tuum, By kindly arranging to make the thing Suum. KNOW THYSELF. One bowing to me, I'd seen long ago, Said I, ' Who art ? ' He said, 'I do not know.' I said, ' I know thee.' * I,' said he, ' know you ; But he who knows himself I never knew.' A MINIATURE CRITICISED. ' What ! hang from the neck of a lady ! ' cries Bill, 1 Was ever such folly or impudence known ? As to hanging, indeed, he may hang where he will, But as to the neck, let it be by his own.' A COCKNEY SPORTSMAN. A cockney sportsman, gunning, to a country squire declares, That he, one morn, ere breakfast time, shot three-and thirty hares. ' Indeed ! shot three- and -thirty hares ? ' ' Yes, truly ! ' look- ing big. t Then,' says the squire, ' you surely must have fired at a 50 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. ECONOMY. Tom taken by Tim his new mansion to view, He observed — ' 'twas a big one, with windows too few.' 6 As for that,' replied Tim, ' I'm the builder's forgiver, For taxes 'twill save, and that's good for the liver. 5 ' True,' says Tom, ' as you live upon farthings and mites, For the liver 'tis good — but 'tis bad for the lights.' ON LORD HUNTINGTOWER'S BANKRUPTCY. The office of law-maker clearly you see His Lordship is able to fill, For no one on earth could more competent be To the duty of drawing a till. — Punch. THE COLOSSEUM. Many with this inquiry go about, ' Who bought the Colosseum out and out ? ' George Kobins answers with contented grin, ' None bought it out and out ; I bought it in.' — Punch. MONEY. He that has money is bother'd about it, And he that has none is bother'd without it. ON A BALD HEAD. My hair and I are quits, d'ye see, I first cut him, he now cuts me. CRINOLINE. When lovely woman, hoop'd in folly, Grows more expansive every day, And makes her husband melancholy To think what bills he'll have to pay EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 51 When in the width of passion swelling With air-balloons her skirt may vie, The truth — (what hinders Punch from telling ?) Is that she looks a perfect — Guy. — Punch. JUSTICE AND CHARITY. The courts in Guildhall, for the Polish ball Closed their sittings no doubt from suspicion That in the hilarity, Justice and Charity, Being strangers, might come in collision. — Punch. MUCH CRY BUT LITTLE WOOL, BY LORD WEAVES. Friend Hog once promised me a pair of breeches, Wove from the fleecy flocks that swell his riches. I trusted him, forgetting, like a fool, That Hogs afford much cry, but little wool. CECIL STREET, STRAND. At the top of the street many lawyers abound, Below at the bottom the barges are found ; Fly, Honesty, fly to a safer retreat. For there's craft in the river and craft in the street. Punch. OX RED HAIR, Why scorn red hair ? — the Greeks we know (I note it here *in charity) Had taste in beauty, and with them The Graces all were xdpiTcii. — Punch. EFFECTS WITHOUT A CAUSE. Though sages swear, 'Without a cause There's no effect,' — its mockery; There are exceptions to all laws, — Who breaks domestic crockery ? — Punch. 52 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. DOMESTIC ECONOMY. Said Stiggins to his wife one day, ' We've nothing left to eat ; If things go on in this queer way We shan't make both ends meet.' The dame replied in words discreet, ' We're not so badly fed, If we can make but one end meat, And make the other bread. — Punch. DRESS V. DINNER. What is the reason, can you guess. Why men are poor, and women thinner ? So much do they for dinner dress, There's nothing left to dress for dinner. MODERN REFINEMENT. 1 Mamma,' said Mrs Meagrim's daughter, ' The superfluity of water Destroys its flavourality, And quite obnoxious makes the tea. BOOK V. EPIGRAMS ON PERSONS —LAUDATORY AND OTHERWISE. ON AN IGNORANT PHYSICIAN. . From the Greek. My friend, an eminent physician, Trusted his son to ray tuition : The. father wish'd me to explain The beauties of old Homer's strain. But scarce these lines the youth had read, ' Of thousands number'd with the dead, * Of ghastly wounds and closing eyes, * Of broken limbs and heartfelt sighs ' — * Great sage,' exclaims the youth, ' adieu : My sire can teach as well as you. ' ON A BAD MUSICIAN. From the Greek. Simillus, long in nature's spite, His patient powers of music tried ; And toil'd through each discordant night, Till every neighbour fled, or died. Except Origenes, to whom Kind fate (the fame misfortune fearing), To save him from an early tomb, Denied the dangerous sense of hearing. 54 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. ON THE POETEAITS OF PHAETON AND DEUCALION BY AN INDIFFEEENT PAINT EE. From the Greek. Menestbatus, no doubt you deem Your toils a due reward require : I'll throw Deucalion in yon stream, And fling your Phaeton in the fire. to a calumniatoe. From the Greek. Whilst in my absence, sir, you rail, Your labour of its end must fail : For who will then attend ? But when you praise me to my face, I own I feel the sad disgrace Of being call'd your friend. ON THE STATUE OF NIOBE. From the Greek. To stone the gods have changed her — but in vain- The sculptor's art has made her breathe again. TO A COXCOMB WITH A FEIGHTFUL COUNTENANCE. From the Greek. No more near yonder fountain stray, Nor in yon stream your face survey, Shunning Narcissus' cruel fate : He was by sad self-love betray'd To languish for a beauteous shade : And you will die with grief and hate. From the Greek. Cypeus must now two Yenuses adore ; Ten are the Muses, and the Graces four ; So charming's Flavia's wit, so sweet her face, She's a new Muse, a Yenus, and a Grace. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 55 ON ANACKEON. See old Anacreon hither reels : His tatter'd garment sweeps his heels; One careless slipper left behind Betrays the wandering of his mind : In transport, lo ! he strikes the strings ; Of wine, and potent love he sings. Haste, Bacchus, haste ! attend my call ; Or soon your favourite Bard will fall. ON LEONID AS AND HIS 300 SPARTANS. From the Greek. To stop the Persian monarch's way, In vain the swelling ocean rose ; In vain, his progress to delay, The lofty mountains interpose. Roused by the Spartan chief to fight, When, lo ! his slender band obeys, These turn'd th' unnumber'd hosts to flight : Blush, then, ye mountains and ye seas ! ON AN EMPTY MONUMENT RAISED TO THEMISTOCLES. From the Greek. To brave Themistocles, of deathless fame, Magnesia's grateful sons this marble raise : His mighty arm, and far-extended name. Bade Freedom's sacred flame more brightly blaze. To some remoter clime, and happier shore, Envy the Hero's ashes has convey' d : Magnesia's race with pious grief deplore These empty honours to such valour paid ! ON A PICTURE OF PHILOCTETES BY PARRHASIUS. From, the Greek. Your art, ingenious painter, can renew, The hero's sorrows, and his death-like hue, EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. Trace in the hollow eye the lingering tear, That speaks in silence all his inward care. Cease, artist, though thy skill we all commend, Must Philoctetes' misery never end ? ON PHILIP, FATHER OF ALEXANDER. From the Greek. Here rest I, Philiji, on th' JEgean shore, Who first to battle led JEmathia's pow'r, And dared what never monarch dared before : If there be man who boasts he more has done, To me he owes it, for he was my son. ON THE STATUE OF ALEXANDER. From tlie Greek. The sculptor's art can brass with life inspire, Show Alexander's features and his tire : The statue seems to say, with upcast eye, Beneath my rule the globe of earth shall lie ; Be thou, Jove, contented with thy sky. ON PLUTARCH'S STATUE. From the Greek. Wise, honest Plutarch ! to thy deathless praise, The sons of Eome this grateful statue raise : For why ? both Greece and Eome thy fame have shared, Their heroes written, and their lives compared. But thou thyself couldst never write thy own ; Their lives had parallels — but thine has none. — Dry den. From Martial. Fine lectures Attalus rehearses, Pleads finely, writes fine tales and verses ; Fine epigrams, fine farces vie With grammar and astrology ; He finely sings and dances finely, Plays tennis, fiddles most divinely. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 57 All finely done and nothing well ; Then if a man the truth may tell, This all-accomplish' d punchinello, Is a most busy, idle fellow. — Elton. ON AN ELEPHANT KNEELING TO CAESAR. From Martial. None taught him homage, but by instinct he Kneel'd down to you because a deity. — Peclte. From Martial. In all thy humours, whether grave, or mellow, Thou'rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow, Hast so much wit and mirth and spleen about thee, There is no living with thee or without thee. 1 Addison. HARD DRIVING. Thy nags (the leanest things alive) So very hard thou lov'st to drive, I heard thy anxious coachman say, It cost thee more in whips than hay. — Prior. THE MASQUERADE. ' To this night's masquerade,' quoth Dick, ' By Pleasure I am beckon 'd, And think 'twould be a pleasant trick To go as Charles the Second.' Tom felt for repartee a thirst, And thus to Kichard said : ' You'd better go as Charles the First, For that requires no head.' REASON FOR THICK ANKLES. ' Harry, I cannot think,' says Dick, 1 What makes my ankles grow so thick ? ' 58 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. ' You do not recollect,' says Harry, ' How great a calf they have to carry From Brebeuf. Hebe lies a man who into highest station, By dint of bribes and arts, contrived to slide ; And ne'er one service render' d to the nation, Except the lucky day on which he died. COEINNA. Cobinna's quite a fright to me, While Ned can only beauty see, With every grace her form adorning. We both are wrong, and both are right ; Ned sees her still by candle-light, But I have seen her in the morning ! A BACHELOR. From the French. Hebe lies a man who never married, He to the world, alas ! was know a By folly and by vice alone. Ah ! on the tomb to which his sire was carried, Well had it been could all have read This short memorial of the dead, — Here lies a man who never married ! OIn t an obganist, Wltose monument was raised by a music subscription . Hebe, beneath this cold stone^ Lies harmonious John, Who judiciously could impart Sounds adapted to move Or, grief, rapture, or love, Depress, raise, or ravish the heart. Nor let ancient songs claim To themselves all the fame, Comparisons leave them no room : EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 59 Their harmonious powers Built but walls and high towers, We've raised with our music this tomb. UBIQUITOUS JACK. Of all the men one meets about, There's none like Jack, he's everywhere ; At church, park, auction, dinner, rout, Go where and when you will, he's there. Try the West End, he"s at your back ; Meets you, like Eurus, in the East : You're call'd upon for i How do, Jack ? ' One hundred times a-day, at least. A friend of his one evening said, As home he took his pensive way, * Upon my soul, I fear Jack's dead, I've seen him but three times to-day.' From Chateau gir on. Pleasant, airy, and gay, my laughter exciting, Is the poet who pourM forth these numbers ; While this, cold and heavy, coy Somnus inviting, Has the power of promoting my slumbers : The one at my breakfast is constantly read, And the other I take when I'm going to bed. ONCE TOO MUCH. Young- Courtly takes me for a dunce, For all night long I spoke but once : On better grounds I think him such, He spoke but once, yet once too much. ON SOLOMON MENDEZ, ESQ. Hebe lies a man who never lived, Yet still from death was flying; Who, if not sick, was never well, And died for fear of dying ! 60 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW". THE UNSOLDIER-LIKE OFFICER. ' That soldier so rude, — he that swaggers in scarlet, Put him out of the court, I'll imprison the varlet/ As in judgment he sat, knowing Robinson said. ' A soldier I'm not,' quoth the hero in red ; 6 No soldier, my lord, but an officer I, A captain, who carries his sword on his thigh.' Stern Eobinson, then, with sarcastical sneer, Roll'd his sharp eagle-eye on the vain volunteer, And i Tipstaff/ he cried, as the captain grew bolder, ' Out, out with that officer, who is no soldier.'' THE CONSIDERATE FAIR. Chloe's the wonder of her sex : 'Tis well her heart is tender ; How might such killing eyes perplex, With virtue to defend her ? But nature graciously inclined, Not bent to vex but please us, Has to her boundless beauty join'd A boundless will to ease us. MIDAS AND HIS OPPOSITES. Midas, they say, possess' d the art, of old, Of turning whatsoe'er he touch'd to gold. This modern statesmen can reverse with ease, Touch them with gold, they'll turn to what you please. From Panis. Though Ne4 is short, he doubtless stands A masterpiece from Nature's hands ! His words and actions, past dispute, Exactly with his stature suit : In mind and body, all agree, A perfect miniature is he. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 61 THE WAVERER. Tom, weak and wavering, ever in a fright Lest he do something wrong, does nothing right. TO A DOG, Who attached an obnoxious Statesman, O DOG ! how hast thou lost the glory Of shining in immortal story ! Had thine been luckily the merit Of sterling English mastiff spirit, A surer hold thou wouldst have taken, And life have from his carcase shaken. Pale Liberty, her head uprearing, Had smiled again, our bosoms cheering ; And more than one glad grateful nation Had blest thee for its preservation ! From La Fresnaye. Jack says, 'tis prophesied, this very year The death of many a worthy man we'll see. But courage, Jack ! for thou hast nought to fear ; This terrible prediction threats not thee. THE TWO BOOKSELLERS. From the French. Old John, a bookseller, renown'd in the trade, By this traffic a fortune prodigious has made ; While young John, his son, who scrawls prose, Sir, and verse, By the bookselling trade has quite emptied his purse. Can you guess why so different a fate is assign'd For a pair to the same occupation confined ? Old John speculates, like a shrewd one, alone, On the works of those authors for merit well known ; But young John alas ! speculates on his own. 62 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. TO GANELON. From Scarron. The only means left thee to please the whole nation, Which thy life and thy crimes views with deep detestation, Is thyself, without further delay, to exhibit To the general gaze, from the height of a gibbet ; And gladly by me should the cost be defray'd, Were I perfectly sure I should ne'er be repaid. From JXAmlly. Look at me well ; then Adeline behold : In the same week we both began to live, Three days between our births our parents told : But surely fate has used me very ill ; Six months ago I counted thirty-five — That charming object is but twenty still. From Breoeuf. '• Lysander is a foolish wight ! ' The sneering Damon often cries ; And Damon certainly is right, For once Lysander thought him wise. ON SEEING A FOX-HUNTER PAINTED WITH A BOOK IN HIS HAND. Let poets and painters their fancy pursue, So they keep probability always in view ; But what censure does that silly fellow require, Who has painted a book in the hands of a squire ? THE ATHEIST CORRECTED. Indeed, Mr , it seems very odd, Whilst your eyes view his works, to deny there's a God ; EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 63 And assert that our actions he'll neither regard, Nor punish our vices, nor our virtues reward. What, no vengeance to come ? Well, if this be but true, How happy 'twill be for the devil and you ! D.D. AND M.D. How D.D. swaggers, M.D. rolls ! I dub them both a brace of noddies : Old D.D. has the cure of souls, And M.D. has the care of bodies. Between them both what treatment rare Our souls and bodies must endure ! One has the cure without the care, And one the care without the cure. ANCIENT MUSIC. A VIRTUOSO friend, a man of worth, With much surprise address'd my good Lord North : * I wonder how your Lordship can forbear The pleasure of our famous club to share, Who meet the ancient music to restore — Such harmony you never heard before. Pray come, my Lord ; the effect's beyond belief ; Brownlow attends.' — ' Yes, Sir ; but Tm not deaf.' THE SYCOPHANT HATER. Joe hates a sycophant. It shows Self-love is not a fault of Joe's. WIT AND NOVELTY. Andrews, 'tis said, a comedy has writ Replete throughout with novelty and wit. If it has wit, to both will I agree ; For wit from Andrews must be novelty. 64 EPIGEAMS OLD AND NEW. TO BUFO. If it be true, on Watts's plan That ' mind's the standard of the man ; ' < Though, Bufo, you are six feet three, Why, what a pigmy you must be ! WANT OF CHAEACTEE. Foe Jack's good life to certify, Nor friends nor strangers can be got ; Those, who don't know him, know not why; Those who do know him, know why not ! From the French. At the court of a monarch for grandeur renown'd, A child six years old such a talent displayed, That the courtiers, by hundreds, who listen'd around, Were bewilder' d, to hear the remarks that he made. One of these vow'd the infant would turn out a looby, Because, when grown up, one is ever a booby Whose infancy teem'd with a wit so commanding : The boy, who o'erheard him, replied with a leer, ' My lord, by this rule, in your childhood 'tis clear That your lordship enjoy'd a profound understanding.* ROSALINDA. To Bosalinda's eyes who not submit, Fall the proud victims of her conquering wit ; And all, whose dulness dares her wit despise, Bow to the piercing influence of her eyes. Thou, then, who wishest not her slave to be, Become but deaf and blind, and thou art free. ON A LADY'S FAN OF HER OWN PAINTING. Of danger careless, while the youth admires The emblematic toy on which thy art, In rich device, has shadow' d Hymen's fires, Love's sacred altar, and the votive heart ; EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 65 As from the author to the work he turns, The insidious flame steals on him by degrees, Till with the rapture all his bosom burns, And his heart proves the sacrifice he sees. ON A GIRL NINE YEARS OLD. Love's Queen, if what the poets say be true, And Wisdom's Goddess, childhood never knew. Pallas, 'tis said, sprang from the brain of Jove, Full-arm'd, and from the sea the Queen of Love. But had they, Miss, your wit and beauty seen, Yenus and Pallas both had children been ; They from the brightness of that radiant look A copy of young Yenus might have took. And from the pretty things you say, have told Plow Pallas talk'd when she was nine years old. ON TWO TWIN- SISTERS. Fair marble, tell, to future days, That here two virgin-sisters lie, Whose life employ'd each tongue in praise, Whose death gave tears to ev'ry eye. In stature, beauty, years, and fame, Together as they grew, they shone ; So much alike, so much the same, That death mistook them both for one. ON THREE HIGHLAND LADIES. From Scotia's mountains, hid in clouds, What heavenly forms descend ! No more, ye maids of English birth, To beauty's crown pretend. Forbear to boast your rosy bloom, A transitory dye ; Faint near these denizens of air, And inmates of the sky. 5 66 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. Nor strange, their beauty earlier dawns, And later knows decay ; Who, when from heaven their sisters fell, Dropt only half the way. TO A YOUNG LADY, W7io spohe in praise of liberty. Persuasions to freedom fall oddly from you ; If freedom we seek — fair Maria, adieu ! ON A LADY WHO WAS BLIND. Though beauteous Flavia heaven deprives of sight To view those charms that give the world delight ; Let not her heart, inspired with grief, complain — Had she beheld her form, she had been vain. One sense, in pure compassion, Heaven denies, And, to secure her virtue, dims her eyes. THE MONUMENT. Post Funera Virtus. A monster, in a course of vice grown old, Leaves to his gaping heir his ill-gain'd gold ; Straight breathes his last, straight are his virtues shown, Their date commencing with the sculptured stone. ON A YOUNG LADY WITH GREY HAIRS. Mark'd by extremes, Susannah's beauty bears Life's opposite extremes — youth's blossoms and grey hairs. Meet signs for one in whom combined are seen Wisdom's ripe fruit and roses of fifteen. TO A LADY, Wlio ashed the English of the GreeTt words to KaXov, the beautiful. Oh, but look in that mirror, and that will reflect What Plato presumed to explain : EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 67 Nay, blush not, Amelia, this heart would reject Adulation's impertinent strain/ For I ne'er could affix, I aver, to the phrase, An image so just and so true; Till that form I beheld with a soul-flushing gaze, And saw it embodied in you. ON MR NOTT. There was a man who was Nott born, His father was Nott before him, He did Nott live, he did Nott die. And his epitaph was Nott o'er him. ON MR WINTER. Here comes Mr Winter, Collector of Taxes, I advise you to give him whatever he axes, And that, too, without any nonsense or flummery, For though his name's Winter, his actions are summary . Tlieodore Hook, ON MR HUSBAND. This case is the strangest we've known in our life, The husband's a Husband, and so is the wife. on two misers, Wlw Tnonojjolized the com at Manchester. Two brethren thin, cail'd Bone and Skin, Have starved the town — or near it ; — But be it known, to skin and bone, That flesh and blood won't bear it, — Biron. ON A VILE MAN WHO HAD A NOBLE MONUMENT. If on his specious marble we rely, Pity a worth like his should ever die ; If credit to his real life we give, Pity a wretch like him should ever live. 63 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. ON A WORTHLESS PREDESTINARIAN. Here lies a man who by relation Depended upon predestination ; For which the learned and the wise His understanding did despise : But I pronounce, with loyal tongue, Him in the right, them in the wrong ; For how could such a wretch succeed, But that, alas ! it was decreed ? ON THE COUNTESS-DOWAGER OF PEMBROKE. Underneath this sable hearse, Lies the subject of all verse, Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother : Death, ere thou hast slain another, Fair, and wise, and good as she, Time shall throw his dart at thee. — Ben Jonson. Underneath this stone doth lie As much virtue as could die ; Which, when alive, did vigour give To as much beauty as could live : If she had a single fault, h Leave it buried in this vault. — Ben Jonson. ON SHAKESPEARE'S MONUMENT, AT STRATFORD- UPON-AVON Great Homer's birth seven rival cities claim ; Too mighty such monopoly of fame : Yet not to birth alone did Homer owe His wondrous worth ; what Egypt could bestow, With all the schools of Greece and Asia join'd, Enlarged the immense expansion of his mind. Nor yet unrivall'd the Mason ian strain, The British eagle and the Mantuan swan Tower equal heights. But, happier Stratford, thou With uncontested laurels deck thy brow ; Thy bard was thine unschool'd, and from thee brought More than all Egypt, Greece, or Asia taught. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW.. G9 Not Homer's self such matchless honours won ; The Greek has rivals, but thy Shakespeare none. ON CHARLES II. Here lies our mutton- eating king. Whose word no man relies on ; He never said a foolish thing, He never did a wise one. ON CHARLES II. By Andrew Marvell. Of a tall stature and a sable hue, Much like the son of Kish, that lofty Jew : Ten years of need he suffer'd in exile, And kept his father's asses all the while. ON COLBERT, MINISTER OF LOUTS XIV. From the French. Here lies the father of taxation : May Heaven, his faults forgiving, Grant him repose ; which he, while living, Would never grant the nation. ON MILTON. Three poets, in three distant ages born, Greece, Italy, and England did adorn. The first in loftiness of thought surpass'd ; The next in majesty ; in both the last. The force of nature could no farther go — To make a third, she join'd the other two. Dry den. ON MR MILTON, LIVERY-STABLE KEEPER. Two Milton s in separate ages were born ; The cleverer Milton 'tis clear we have got ; 70 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. Though the other had talents the world to adorn, This lives by his mews which the other could not ! Hook. AN EPITAPH. Heee lies the great — False marble, tell me where ? Nothing but poor and sordid dust lies here. — Cowley. EPITAPH ON SIR JOHN VANBURGH. Lie heavy on him, earth ! for he Laid many heavy loads on thee ! ON DR FELL, BISHOP OF OXFORD, D. 1686. In imitation of Martial. I do not love thee, Dr Fell ; The reason why I cannot tell. But this I'm sure I know full well, I do not love thee, Dr Fell. ON THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM'S DISGRACE AT COURT, 1687. When great men fall, great griefs arise In one, two, three, four families : When this man fell there rose great sorrow In Eome, Geneva, Sodom, and Gomorrah. ON WILLIAM III. DURING TWO CAMPAIGNS IN FLANDERS. The author sure must take great pains, Who pretends to write his story, In which of these two last campaigns He's acquired the greatest glory : For while that he march' d on to fight Like hero nothing fearing, Namur was taken in his sight, And Mons within his hearing. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 71 ON SIR ISAAC NEWTON. Nature, and nature's laws, lay hid in night : God said, ' Let Newton be ! ' and all was light. — Pope. ON DRYDEN'S WANTING- AN EPITAPH. That thou, great genius ! here on earth art thrown, With no inscription on the sacred stone, Is not thy brother poets' fault, but shame ; Since, unenjoying thy celestial name, They know not how to propagate thy fame. Thyself alone could thy own glory raise ; Thy verse alone record thy verse's praise : So thy own thoughts should thy own lines refme, As dust of diamonds makes the diamonds shine. ON THE CELEBRATED DISPUTE BETWEEN THE ANCIENTS AND MODERNS. Swift for the ancients has argued so well, 'Tis apparent, from thence, that the moderns excel. ON DEAN SWIFT'S INTENTION OF LEAVING HIS FORTUNE TO BUILD A MAD-HOUSE. To Madness, Swift bequeaths his whole estate ; Why should we wonder ? Swift is right in that : For 'tis a rule, as all our lawyers know, Men's fortune to the next of kin should go ; And 'tis as sure, unless old bards have lied, Great Wits to Madness are most near allied. WRITTEN ON A GLASS WITH THE EARL OF CHESTERFIELD'S DIAMOND PENCIL. Accept a miracle instead of wit ; See ! two dull lines by Stanhope's pencil writ. — Pope. 72 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. POPE ON THE PHYSICIAN WHO ATTENDED HIM DURING HIS LAST ILLNECS. ' Dunces, rejoice, forgive all censures past, The greatest dunce has kill'd your foe at last.' ON FOX, LORD HOLLAND, 0)i his retiring to a villa on the coast of Thanet. Old and abandon'd by each venal friend, Here Holland took the pious resolution, To smuggle a few years, and strive to mend A broken character and constitution. On this congenial spot he fix'd his choice, Earl Goodwin trembled for his neighbouring sand. Here sea-gulls scream, and cormorants rejoice, And mariners, though shipwreck'd, fear to land. ON MPS CORBET. Here lies a woman, good without pretence, Blest with plain reason, and with sober sense ; No conquest she, but o'er herself, desired, No arts essay' d, but not to be admired. Passion and pride were to her soul unknown, Convinced that virtue only is our own. So unaffected, so composed a mind ; So firm, yet soft, so strong, yet so refined : Heaven, as its purest gold, by tortures tried ; The saint sustained it, — but the woman died. — Pope. POPE ON HIMSELF. Under this marble, or under this sill, Or under this turf, or e'en what you will ; Whatever an heir, or one in his stead, Or any good creature, shall lay o'er his head ; Lies one who ne'er cared, and still cares not a pin, What they said, or may say, of the mortal within ; But who, living and dying, serene still and free, , Trusts in God, that, as well as he was, — he shall be. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 73 ON FREDERICK, PRINCE OF WALES. Here lies Fred, Who was alive, and is dead ; Had it been his father I had much rather. Had it been his brother, Still better than another. . Had it been his sister, Nobody would have miss'd her. Had it been the whole generation, Still better for the nation. But since 'tis only Fred, Who was alive, and is dead, There's no more to be said. ON THE DUCHESS OF HAMILTON VIEWING THE TRANSIT OF VENUS. They tell me Venus is in the sud, But I say that's a story ; Venus is not in the sun, She's in the observatory. ON MRS HOWARD, LADY SUFFOLK. O wonderful creature, a woman of reason, Never grave out of pride, never gay out of season ! When so easy to guess who this angel should be, Who would think Mrs Howard ne'er dreamt it was she. ANOTHER. I KNOW the thing that's most uncommon — Envy, be silent, and attend ! I know a reasonable woman, Handsome »nd witty, yet a friend. Not warp'd by passion, awed by rumour, Not grave through pride, nor gay through folly ; An equal mixture of good-humour, And sensible soft melancholy. 74 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. Has she no faults then, Malice says, Sir ? Yes, she has one, I must aver ; — When all the world conspires to praise her, The woman's deaf, and does not hear. — Pope. ON BISHOP ATTERBURY'S BURYING THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. ' I HAVE no hopes,' the Duke he says, and dies — * In sure and certain hope, 5 the prelate cries. Of these two noted Peers, I prithee say, man, Which is the lying knave — the priest or layman ? The Duke he stands an infidel confess'd ; , * He's our dear brother,' quoth the holy priest. The Duke, though knave, still brother dear, he cries, And who can say the reverend prelate lies ? ON MARSHAL SAXE. The eternal ferryman of Fate, When Saxe, incorrigibly great, Approach' d within his ken, Scowl' d at his freight, a trembling crowd, And, ' Turn out, ghosts,' he cried aloud, ' Here's Hercules again ! ' ON A WHOLE LENGTH OF MR NASH, Between the Busts of Sir Isaac Newton and Mr Pope, in the Rooms at Bath. Immortal Newton never spoke More truth than here you'll find ; Nor Pope himself e'er penn'd a joke More cruel on mankind. The picture, placed the busts between, Gives satire all its strength : Wisdom and Wit are little seen, But Folly at full length. — Chesterfield. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 75 ON MR NASH'S STATUE Not being placed in the Centre of the Pump-room, where the Clock stands. Quoth Nash to the clock, ' Stand out of my way : ' Quoth the clock, ' Mr Nash, 'tis too late in the day For you to command whom you ought to obey. ' You are no monarch now, your power's decried, And the whole corporation, to humble your pride, Have agreed, thus in public, to set you aside.'' TO A PERSON WHO WROTE ILL, AND SPOKE WORSE OF THE AUTHOR. Lie, Philo, untouch' d, on my peaceable shelf, Nor take it amiss, that so little I heed thee ! I've no envy to thee, and some love to myself — Then why should I answer, since first I must read thee. Pursue me with satire ; what harm is there in't ? But from all viva voce reflection forbear : There can be no danger from what thou shalt print, There may be a little from what thou shalt swear. ON PRIOR. Before Apollo's shrine I pray'd That I by verse to fame might rise ; * Bead the best poet/ Phoebus said, i And place his works before your eyes. 1 Best poet — great Phoebus, how, How may this pattern wit be found ? What age produced the man, whom thou With this high character hast crown'd ? * Does he among the dead reside, Or dwell with those who now survive ? Thus I — when Phoebus quick replied, ' Go, ask if Prior's still alive.' 76 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. PRIOR'S EPITAPH ON HIMSELF. Nobles and heralds, by your leave, Here lie the bones of Matthew Prior> The son of Adam and of Eve ; Let Bourdon or Nassau go higher. ON THE WORDS k ONE PRIOR, IN THE SECOND VOLUME OF BISHOP BURNET'S HISTORY. One Prior ! and is this, this all the fame The poet from the historian can claim ? No ! Prior's verse posterity shall quote, When 'tis forgot one Burnet ever wrote. COLLEY CIBBER. In merry old England it once was a rule, The king had his poet, and also his fool, But now we're so frugal, I'd have you to know it, That Cibber can serve both for fool and for poet. FREDERICK, KING OF PRUSSIA, CHARACTERIZED. King, warrior, philosopher, author, musician, Freemason, economist, bard, politician; If a Christian, how happy would Europe have been ; If he'd been but a man, how transported his queen. TO VOLTAIRE, On Ms censuring Milton' 's Allegory of Death and Sin. Thou art so witty, profligate, and thin, Thou seem'st a Milton, with his Death and Sin. — Young. GRAY ON HIMSELF. Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune, He had not the method of making a fortune ; Could love and could hate, so 'twas thought something odd ; No very great wit, he believed in a God : EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 77 A post or a pension he did not desire, But left Church and State to Charles Townshend and Squire. ON DR JOHNSON'S DICTIONARY. Talk of war with a Briton, he'll boldly advance That one English soldier will beat ten of France. Would we alter the boast from the sword to the pen, The odds are still greater, still greater our men ! In the deep mines of science though Frenchmen may toil, Can their strength be compared to Locke, Newton, and Boyle ? Let them rally their heroes, send forth all their powers, Their verse-men and prose-men, then match them with ours ! First Milton and Shakspeare, like gods in the fight, Have put their whole drama and epic to flight : In satires, epistles, and odes, would they cope ? Their numbers retreat before Dryden and Pope. And Johnson, well arm'd, like a hero of yore, Has beat forty French, and will beat forty more ! ON ARCHBISHOP SECKER. While Seeker lived, he show'd how seers should live ; While Seeker taught, heaven open'd to our eye ; When Seeker gave, we knew how angels give ; When Seeker died, we knew even saints must die. on burke. Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, We scarcely can praise it or blame it too much ; AVho, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind. And to party gave np what was meant for mankind. Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat To persuade Tommy Townsend to lend him a vote. Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining, And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining. Though equal to all things, for all things unfit ; Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit : 78 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. For a patriot too cool, for a drudge disobedient, And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient. In short, 'twas his fate, unemploy'd or in place, Sir, To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor. Goldsmith, PRESENTED TO BURKE, BY LORD ELLENBOROUGH. Oft 't has been said, on Irish ground No venomous reptile e'er was found : Truth stands reveal'd in Nature's work, She saved her venom to create a Burke. From Martial. Our Garrick's a salad, for in him we see Oil, vinegar, sugar, and saltness agree. Goldsmith. THE PETITION OF I. [In 1759, Dr Hill wrote a pamphlet entitled, ' To David Garrick, Esq., the Petition of I : in behalf of herself and sisters.' The purport was to charge Garrick with mispronouncing some words includ- ing the letter I : as, furm for firm, vurtue for virtue, and others. The pamphlet is now forgotten ; but the following epigram, which Garrick wrote on the occasion, deserves to be preserved, as one of the best in the English language.] If 'tis true, as you say, that I've injured a letter, I'll change my notes soon, and I hope for the better : May the just right of letters, as well as of men, Hereafter be fix'd by the tongue and the pen ! Most devoutly I wish that they both have their due, And that /may be never mistaken for TT. ON GARRICK AND BARRY, IN TIIE CHARACTER OF KING LEAR. The town has found out different ways To praise its different Lears : To Barry it gives loud huzzas, To Garrick only tears. EPIGRAMS OLD AXD NEW. 79 A king ? ' Ay, every inch a king ! ' Such Barry doth appear ; But Garrick's quite another thing, He's every inch King Lear. TO MRS FOX, OX THE WRITER S BIRTHDAY. Of years I have now half a century past, Yet not one of the fifty so blest as the last : How it happens my troubles thus daily should cease, And my happiness still with my years should increase- This defiance to Nature's more general laws You alone can explain, who alone are the cause. ON PITT'S BEIXG- PELTED BY THE MOB OX LORD MAYOR'S DAY, 1787. The City feast inverted here we find, For Pitt has his desert before he dined. EPITAPH FOR ROBESPIERRE. Here lies Robespierre — let no tear be shed : Reader, if he had lived, thou hadst been dead. OX HAXXAH MORE, WHEX HER DRESS CAUGHT FIRE. Vulcan to scorch thy dress in vain essays, Apollo strives in vain to fire tlry lays ; Hannah, the cause is visible enough, — ■ Stuff are thy garments, and thy writings stuff. A REPLY. Clothed in his filth, lo ! Epigram appears, His face distorted with a thousand sneers ; But still the cause is visible enough, — The writer envies Hannah's lasting stuff. ON HAXXAH MORE. Muses nine we had before : Kennicott has shown us More. 80 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. ON NELSON'S VICTORY OF THE NILE. Our ships at the Nile have created such terror, 4 Ex Nilo fit nil' proves a logical error. ON THE DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE'S CANVASSING FOR MR FOX. Array'd in matchless beauty, Devon's fair In Fox's favour takes a zealous part ; But, oh! where'er the pilferer comes — beware ! She supplicates a vote, and steals a heart. TO THE MEMORY OF NELL BATCHELOUR- THE OXFORD PIE -WOMAN. Here, into the dust, The mouldering crust Of Eleanor Batchelour's shoven ; Well-versed in the arts Of pies, custards, and tarts, And the lucrative skill of the oven. When she'd lived long enough, She made her last puff — A puff by her husband much praised : Now here she does lie, And makes a dirt-pie, In hopes that her crust shall be raised. ON BLOOMFIELD. Bloomfield, thy happy-omen'd name Insures continuance to thy fame. Both sense aud truth this verdict give, While fields shall bloom thy name shall live. H. K. White. EPITAPH ON ST. PAVIN. From Meubet. Saint Pavix lies beneath this tomb : Reader 1 mourn with tears his doom. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 81 Wast thou his friend ? thy soul resign To grief, and weep his fate and thine : Or wast thou not ? then weep thine own, That as his friend thou wast not known. ON DR EVANS CUTTING DOWN A ROW OF TREES AT ST JOHN'S COLLEGE, OXON. Indulgent nature on each kind bestows A secret instinct to discern its foes : The goose, a silly bird, yet shuns the fox ; Lambs fly from wolves ; and sailors steer from rocks. Evans the gallows as his fate foresees, And bears the like antipathy to trees. ON HOUGH, BISHOP OF WORCESTER. A Bishop by his neighbours hated, Has cause to wish himself translated : But why should Hough desire translation, Loved and esteem'd by all the nation ? Yet if it be the old man's case, I'll lay my life I know the place : 'Tis where God sends some that adore him, And whither Enoch went before him. TO THE DUCHESS OF BEAUFORT. Offspring of a tuneful sire, Blest with more than mortal fire ; Likeness of a mother's face, Blest with more than mortal grace : You with double charms surprise, With his wit, and with her eyes. ON DR LETTSOM. If anybody comes to I, I physics, bleeds, and sweats 'em ; If, after that, they likes to die, Why, then, of course I Lettsom. 6 82 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. IMPEOMPTU, To Dr Harrington When people borrow, it should be their care To send things back again — it is but fair; To gratitude and manners this is due. Therefore, good doctor, to the God of Song Eeturn his lyre — you've really had it long : Others must be obliged as well as you. ON THE BEAUTIFUL MISS GUNNINGS. Sly Cupid, perceiving our modern beaux' hearts Were proof to the sharpest and best of his darts, > His power to maintain, the young urchin, grown cunning, Has laid down his bow, and now conquers by Gunning. EXTEMPORE FROM LORD LYTTELTON TO LADY BPwOAVN. When I was young and debonnaire, The brownest nymph to me was fair ; But now I'm old and wiser grown, The fairest nymph to me is Brown. ON JEFFREY, THE EDINBURGH REVIEWER. RIDING ON A DONKEY. Short, but not so fat as Bacchus, Witty as Horatius Flaccus, As great a Jacobin as Gracchus, See little Jeffrey on a Jackass. — Sydney Smith. ON MR STRAHAN. Your lower limbs seem'd far from stout When last I saw you walk ; The cause I presently found out When you begun to talk. The' power that props the body's length In due proportion spread, In you mounts upwards, and the strength All settles in the head. — Smith. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 83 THE FOUR GEORGES. GrEOBGE the First was reckoned vile, Viler George the Second ; And what mortal ever heard Any good of George the Third ? When from earth the Fourth descended, Heaven be praised, the Georges ended ! — Landor. ON LOUIS PHILIPPE. Louis Philippe Has lost his sheep, And never again will find 'em : The people of France Have made an advance, And left their King behind 'em. — Punch, 1848. ON CHARLES X. AND LOUIS PHILIPPE. Charles and Phil went up the hill In France, across the water ; Charles fell down, and broke his crown, And Phil came tumbling after. — Punch. Noil confundar in cetemwn. Did Nicholas mean, say ye schoolmen so clever, To entreat he might not be confounded for ever ; Or did he intend with presumption unbounded To prefer a request to be never confounded ? The former supposed to have been his petition, There is hope for him yet in unfeigned contrition ; The latter's past praying for — merely delusion ; Old Nick has already been put to confusion. — Punch. ON THE CZAR NICHOLAS. Czar Nicholas is so devout, they say, His Majesty does nothing else than prey. — Punch. 84 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. ANOTHER. Czar Nicholas cried as lie look'd in the glass, ' Ha, ha ! why am I like a beautiful lass ? ' Well, why ? ' cried the empress. ' Because,' replied he, ' So many fine fellows are dying for me ! ' — Punch. ON SIR FRANCIS HEAD'S DEFENCE OF LOUIS NAPOLEON, 1851. There was a little Bart., And he took the little part Of the man with the bullets of lead, lead, lead. He wrote to the Times In defence of the crimes Disgraceful to the heart and the Head, Head, Head. Punch. NAP. III. Remember, remember, the man of December, Coup d'etat, stratagem, plot ; There's very good reason why just at this season He never should be forgot. — Punch. ON LORD DUNDONALD. You fight so well, and speak so ill, Your case is somewhat odd, Fighting abroad you're quite at home, Speaking at home — abroad. Therefore your friends, than hear yourself, Would rather of you hear ; And that your name in the Gazette, Than Journals, should appear. ON LORD BROUGHAM. ' 1 wonder if Brougham thinks as much as he talks ? : Said a punster perusing a trial" ; < I vow since his Lordship was made Baron TaiiX He's been Yaux (vox) et praeterea nihil.' — Punch. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 85 ANOTHER. Here, reader, turn youv weeping eyes, My fate a moral teaches ; The hole in Avhich my body lies Would not contain one-half my speeches. THE TWO ORATORS. When Palmerston begins to speak, He moves the House — as facts can prove. Let Urqukart rise with accents weak, The House itself begins to move. — Punch. MEN OF PEACE. Messieurs Cobden and Bright Disapprove of a fight, But the greatest good- will Entertain for a Mill. — Punch. ON CHARLES DICKENS. Who the dickens ' Boz ' could be Puzzled many a learned elf : Till time unveil' d the mystery, Aud ' Boz ' appeared as Dickens' self. ON IDA PFEIFFER. Through regions by wild men and cannibals haunted, Old Dame Ida Pfeiffer goes lone and undaunted ; But. bless you, the risk's not so great as its reckon'd, She's too plain for the first, and too tough for the second. Hannay THE CONSISTENCY OF GENERAL CALEB GUSHING. General C . is a dreffle smart man : He's ben on all sides thet give places or pelf ; But consistency still wuz a part of his plan, — He's ben true to one party, — an' thet is himself. 86 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. DISRAELI ON 'SHAM.' ' There is a word I never use, 'Tis Sham,' remarked the Asian Mystic. Henceforth, who'll venture to accuse Dizzy of being — egotistic ? — Punch. BIG BEN AND LITTLE BEN. BiO Ben is crack'd, we needs must own, Small Ben is sane past disputation ; Yet we should like to know whose tone Is most offensive to the nation. — Punch, EARL RUSSELL ON HIMSELF. Brave sires beget brave sons, 'tis said One Russell bravely lost his head, And so would I, Lord John ; But as my head may where it stands As well serve all my patriot ends, I'll rather keep it on. BOOK VI. EPIGEAMS ON" LITERATURE. From Martial. You come, — away flies every mother's son ; On Bagshot Heath you can't be more alone. If you ask why ? — you are bewitch'd with rhyme, And this, believe me, is a dangerous crime. — Hay. From Martial. The ancients all your veneration have, You like no poet on this side the grave. Yet pray excuse me, if, to please you, I Can hardly think it worth my while to die. — Hay. From Martial. With faulty accents and so vile a tone You quote my lines, I took them for your own. From Martial. ' Why ne'er to me,' the Laureate cries, ' Are poet Paulo's verses seat ? ' ' For fear,' the tuneful rogue replies, ' You should return the compliment." — Hodgson. POLITIAN TO LOREXZO DE MEDICI. While, burning with poetic fire, To you I tune the applausive lyre, EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. The jeering rabble slily note (And well they may) my threadbare coat : My shoes, that, gall'd by constant weariDg, Threaten to give my toes an airing. The rogues but ill conceal their smirking, While they remark my ragged jerkin ; They cry, I'm but a scurvy poet, And swear my shabby tatters show it. While you, Lorenzo, so bepraise me, Your flattery's sure enough to craze me ; But prove your eulogies sincere — Have mercy on my character, And (no great boon your bard beseeches) Send me, at least, a pair of breeches. TO MR POPE ON HIS DUNCIAD. The raven, rook, and pert jackdaw, (Though neither birds of moral kind,) Yet serve, if hang'd or stuff'd with straw, To show us which way blows the wind. Thus dirty knaves, or chatt'ring fools, Strung up by dozens in thy lay, Teach more by half than Dennis' rules And point instruction ev'ry way. With Egypt's art thy pen may strive : One potent drop let this but shed ; And ev'ry rogue that stunk, alive, Becomes a precious mummy, dead. ON ONE WHO MADE LONG EPITAPHS. Friend ! for your epitaphs I'm grieved, Where still so much is said ; One half will never be believed, The other never read. — Pope. From Swift. Arthur, they say, has wit ; for what ? For writing ? No ; for writing not. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 89 ON ERECTING A MONUMENT TO SHAKESPEARE, Under the direction of Pope, Lord Burlington, fye. To mark her Shakespeare's worth, and Britain's love, Let Pope design and Burlington approve : Superfluous care ! When distant times shall view This tomb grown old — his works shall still be new. THE FRIENDLY CONTEST. While Cam and Isis their sad tribute bring - Of rival grief to weep their pious king, The bards of Isis half had been forgot, Had not the sons of Cam in pity wrote ; From their learn'd brothers, they took off the curse, And proved their verse not bad — by writing worse. TO MR POPE ON HIS TRANSLATION OF HOMER. So much, dear Pope, thy English Iliad charms, When pity melts us, or when passion warms, That after-ages shall with wonder seek, Who 'twas translated Homer into Greek. ON THE BISHOP OF CLOYNE'S BOOK UPON TAR-WATER, 1744. Lo ! ev'ry subject Berkley treats With elegance and ease ! Tar breathes forth aromatic sweets, And metaphysics please ! Though, humbly first, the sage explores The virtues of the pine ; To loftiest themes he gentty soars, Physician and divine ! Here batter'd rakes, for taint or gout, A sure balsamic find ; Here sophs may learn what Plato thought Of the eternal mind. 90" EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. Henceforth let none the lawn decry, If Berkley's pious care Teach wits to own a Trinity, And beaux to relish tar. ON A CERTAIN POET. Thy verses are eternal, O my friend, For he that reads them, reads them to no end. ON A BAD TRANSLATION. His work now done, he'll publish, it no doubt; For sure I am, ' that murder will come out' ON A CERTAIN WRITER. Half of your book is to an index grown ; You give your book contents^ — your readers none. PARALLEL BETWEEN THE ANCIENTS AND MODERNS. Some for the ancients zealously declare, Others, again, our modern wits prefer ; A third affirms, that they are much the same, And differ only as to time and name : Yet sure one more distinction may be told, Those once w T ere new, but these will ne'er be old, ON pope's translation of homer. As oft, in vain, as he essay' d to tell, In foreign tongues, how Troy and Priam fell ; Old Homer has at last attain'd to speak In smoother accents than his native Greek. on boydell's shakspeare. Old father Time, as Ovid sings, Is a great eater up of things ; And, without salt or mustard, EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 91 Will gulp you down a castle wall, As clean as ever at Guildhall An alderman ate custard. • But Boydell, careful of his fame, By grafting it on Shakespeare's name, Shall beat his neighbours hollow : For to the Bard of Avon's stream Old Time has said (like Polypheme), e You'll be the last I'll swallow.' SHAKSPEARE RESTOEED. 'Tis generous, Theobald, in thee and thy brothers, To help us thus to read the works of others : Never for this can just returns be shown ; For who will help us e'er to read thy own. ON THE SETTING UP OF SAMUEL BUTLER'S MONUMENT IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. While Butler, needy wretch ! was yet alive, No generous patron would a dinner give : See him, when starved to death, and turn'd to dust, Presented with a monumental bust ! The poet's fate is here in emblem shown, He ask'd for bread, and he received a stone. ON A REGIMENT SENT TO OXFORD, AND A PRESENT OF BOOKS TO CAMBRIDGE, BY GEORGE I. The king observing, with judicious eyes, The state of both his universities, To one he sent a regiment ; for why ? That learned body wanted loyalty : To the other he sent books, as well discerning How much that loyal body wanted learning. THE ANSWER. The king to Oxford sent his troop of horse, For Tories own no argument but force : With equal care, to Cambridge books he sent, For Whigs allow no force but argument. 92 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. TO A CONTEMPTIBLE AUTHOR, WHO HAD WRITTEN THE EPITAPH OF A GOOD POET. From Le Brun. On Stephen's tomb thou writ'st the mournful line ! Why lived he not, alas ! to write on thine ? THE FRIENDLY CRITIC. t Yile Critic/ exclaim'd a poor author in pique, * In reviewing my work why abase it? You've injured my fame by your cursed critique, For nobody now will peruse it.' Quoth the critic, ' I'm glad to hear that, for my aim Was to save, not destroy reputation, And I could not more certainly ruin your fame, Than by giving your work circulation.' ON BOSWELL'S * JOURNAL OF A TOUR TO THE HEBRIDES.' When Jamie Boswell took his pen, The Doctor's sayings to record ; Professors look'd like common men, And Johnson of the clan the Lord. Whate'er the Doctor blunder 5 d out, Or be it prose, or be it verse, Jamie wrote down without one doubt, And prized it as it had been Erse. But could it be poor Johnson's fate To read these pages, as 'tis mine ; The folio thrown at Osborne's pate, Dear Jamie, would be thrown at thine. ON A FINE LIBRARY. With eyes of wonder the gay shelves behold, Poets, all rags alive, now clad in gold ; In life and death one common fate they share, And on their backs still all their riches wear. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 93 ON GIBBON. King George, in a fright Lest Gibbon should write The story of Britain's disgrace, Thought no means more sure His pen to secure, Than to give the historian a place. But his caution is vain. 'Tis the curse of his reign That his projects shall never succeed : Though he write not a line, Yet a cause of * Decline ' In the author's example we read. His book well describes How corruption and bribes Overthrew the great empire of Borne : And his writings declare A degeneracy there Which his conduct exhibits at home. Imitated from the French of Guichard. Ho, ho ! Master Mouse ! safe at last in my cage You're caught, and there's nothing shall save you from dying : For, caitiff! you nibbled and tore Shakespeare's page, When close by your nose Tupper's nonsense was lying, ON THE DEATH OF TOM OSBORNE THE BOOKSELLER. Of a dull heavy folio here rests the last page, And what is more true, the best half : It had nothing within it informing or sage, 'Twas unletter'd, and bound up in calf. ON WIT. True wit is like the brilliant stone Dug from the Indian mine, Which boasts two various powers in one, — To cut as well as shine. 94 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. Genius like that, if polish'd right, With the same gift abounds ; Appears at once both keen and bright, And sparkles while it wounds. Dr Brewster of Cambridge was put out of Commons for not attending Chapel, on which occasion he wrote the following Epigram, which procured his restoration. To fast and pray, we are by Heaven taught ; Oh, could I practise either as I ought ! In both, alas ! I err : my frailty such, I pray too little, and I fast too much. ON 'WHO WROTE EIKON BASILIKE ? ' < Y/ho wrote Eikon Basilike ? ' ' I,' said the master of Trinity, ' 1, with my little divinity, I wrote "Who wrote Eikon Basilike?" ' Whately. ON MOORE'S ANACREON. Oh ! mourn not for Anacreon dead ; Oh ! weep not for Anacreon fled ; The lyre still breathes he touch 'd before, For we have one Anacreon Moore. — Ersliine. ON MISS EDGEWORTH S WORKS. We everyday bards may ' anonymous ' sign ; That refuge, Miss Edgeworth, can never be thine. Thy writings, where satire and moral unite, Must bring forth the name of their author to light. Good and bad join in telling the source of their birth, The bad own their Edge, and the good own their worth. J. Smith. ON AN OFFICER WHO DECLINED THE DEGREE OF D.C.L. Oxford, no doubt, you wish me well, But, prithee, let me be : I can't, alas ! be D.C.L. Because of L.S.D.— Mansell. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW". 95 CHEAP DEGREES. Oxford, beware of over-cheap degrees, Nor lower too much accumulators' fees, Lest, unlike Goldsmith's land to ills a prey, Men should accumulate and wealth decav. — Mansell. THE MODEST POET. 'Tis said, most gracious Apollo, That Poets thou lovest to befriend ; Now this trade I'm determined to follow, So, low at thy altar I bend. But though thou'rt a patron most able, I'm a suitor so modest, I vow, That, give but two Bays in my stable, I won't ask for one on mv brow. RECIPE FOR A BIOGRAPHY. Take your facts from the last man; — let no "theft appal ye; Then, take thought from Carlyle, and take style from Macaulay ; Throw in plenty of ' sympathy,' — rubbing your eyes about Men whom, if living, you'd snub and tell lies about ; Pass the words to the critics, and fling your pen down, And your bran-new biography's out on the town. — Hannay. THE FOOL AND THE POET. Sir, I admit your general rule, That every poet is a fool ; But you yourself may serve to show it, That every lool is not a poet. — Pope. THE BATHOS. 'Since mountains sink to vales, and valleys die, And seas and rivers mourn their sources dry; When my old cassock,' said a Welsh divine, ( Is out at elbows, why should I repine ? ' — Porson. 96 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. ON BEING ASKED FOR 'SOMETHING ORIGINAL.' An original something, dear maid, you would wish me To write ; but how shall I begin ? For I'm sure I have nothing original in me, Excepting original Sin. — Campbell. TASTE AND FEELING. The French have taste in all they do, Which we are quite without ; For Nature, which to them gave gout, To us gave only gout. Answered impromtu. Condemn not in such haste, To letters four appealing ; Their ' gout ' is only taste, The English ' gout" is feeling. ON CROKER. They say his wit's refined. Thus is explain VI The seeming mystery — his wit is sxrainM. ROGERS S 'ITALY.' Of Eogers's - Italy,' Luttrell relates, ' It would have been disli'd but for its fine plates? ON THE SUBSCRIPTION FOR HOOD'S WIDOW. To cheer the widow's heart in her distress, To make provision for the fatherless, Is but a Christian's duty ; and none should Resist the heart-appeal of Widow Hood. ON SHELLEY'S 'PROMETHEUS UNBOUND.' Shelley styles his new poem, ' Prometheus Unbound, 1 And 'tis like to remain so, while time circles round ; EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 97 For surely an age would be spent in the finding A reader so weak as to pay for the binding. ON THE WORKS OF MR AINSWORTH. Says Ainsworth to Colburn, * A plan in my pate is To give my romance as A supplement gratis.' Says Colburn to Ainsworth, ' 'Twill do very nicely, For that will be charging Its value precisely.' — Punch. THE PLURALITY OF WORLDS. Says Brewster to Whewell, ' Let's fight a star duel, Though you 're very cruel to raise such a strife : What ! nature make worlds for mere lanterns or fuel ! I tell you all planets are swarming with life.' Says Whewell to Brewster, * You old cock or rooster, Why will you anew stir the question with me ? Excepting our planet, Creation's whole cluster Is as empty as you and your volume, Sir D. 5 Punch. ON A PLAGIARIST. A duke once declared — and most solemnly too — That whatever he liked with his own he would do. But the son of a duke has gone further, and shown He will do what he likes with what isn't his own. Punch. ON CAMPBELL'S 'LIVES OF THE CHANCELLORS.' Lives of great men misinform us, Campbell's Lives in this sublime, Errors frightfully enormous, Misprints on the sands of time. 7 98 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW, A DISTINCTION WITH A DIFFERENCE. Compare Correspondence with Articles ? Never Will readers incline to dispute these two rules, — Most persons who write for a journal are clever, Most persons who write to a journal are fools. Punch. on writing two essays preparatory to taking UP A D.D. The title D.D. 'tis proposed to convey To an ASS for a SSA. BOOK VII. PHILOSOPHICAL EPIGRAMS. ON A GAME AT CHESS. From the Greek. These toys can to a thinking mind The varying face of fortune show ; Life's mimic picture here we find, Where mixt with shades bright colours glow. That man an equal fame obtains Who or in life, or here at chess, Still master of himself, disdains Of grief, or joy, the mad excess. DIOGENES TO AEISTIPPUS. Cloy'd with ragouts, you scorn my simple food, And think good-eating is man's only good : I ask no more than Temperance can gi\e ; You live to eat, I only eat — to live. From the Greek, All hail, Remembrance and Forgetfulness ! Trace, Memory, trace whate'er is sweet or kind ; When friends forsake us, or misfortunes press, Oblivion, raze the record from our mind. 100 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. From Martial. Fortune, some say, doth give too much to many ; And yet she never gave enough to any. Sir J. Harrington. Or, He fawns for more, though he his thousands touch ; Fortune gives none enough, but some too much. From Martial. 'Tis a mere nothing that you ask, you cry ; If you ask nothing, nothing I deny. — Hay. A CURE FOR THE EVILS OF LIFE. Lord ! if our days be few, why do we spend And lavish them to such an evil end ? Or why, if they be evil, do we wrong Ourselves and Thee, in wishing them so long ? Our days decrease, our evils still renew, We make them evil, and thou mak'st them few. WHERE IS GOD? A pedant, to perplex a child, Ask'd, ' Where is God ? ' The pupil smiled, Embarrass'd not a jot ; For God's ubiquity he knew ; So straight replied, ' Fll tell when you Tell me where He is not.' EXPECTING AND KNOWING. Faith, Hope, and Love were question'd what they thought Of future glory which religion taught : Now Faith believed it to be firmly true, And Hope expected so to find it too ; Love answer'd, smiling with unconscious glow, ' Believe? expect? I know it to be so.' — John Wesley. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 101 SOLON'S SEPTENNIAL DIVISION OF TIME. The seven first years of life, man's break of day, Gleams of short sense, a dawn of thought display : When fourteen springs have bloom'd his downy cheek, His soft and bashful meanings learn to speak : From twenty-one proud manhood takes its date ; Yet is not strength complete till twenty -eight : Thence, to his five-and-thirtieth, life's gay fire Sparkles, burns bright, and flames in fierce desire : At forty -two his eyes grave wisdom wear. And the dark future dims him o'er with care : With forty -nine behold his toils increase, And busy hopes and fears disturb his peace ; At fifty '-six cool reason reigns entire, Then life burns steady, and with temp 'rate fire : But sixty -three unbends the body's strength, 'Ere th' unwearied mind has run her length : And when, from seventy, age surveys her last, Tired, she stops short, and wishes all were past. ON THE DEATH OF AN EPICTTEE. At length, my friends, the feast of life is o'er ; IVe eat sufficient — and I'll drink no more : My night is come ; I've spent a jovial day ; 'Tis time to part ; but oh ! — what is to pay ? THE OLD GENTRY. From Swift. That all from Adam first begun Sure none, but Whiston, doubts ; And that his son, and his son's son, Were ploughmen, clowns, and louts. — Here lies the only diff'rence now, Some shot off late, some soon ; Your sires in the morning left off plough, And ours in th' afternoon. 102 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW". WRITTEN IN AN INN, ON EDGE-HILL. Whoe'er has travell'd life's dull round, Where'er his various tour has been, May sigh to think how oft he found His warmest welcome at an inn. — Shenstone. SHORT-LIVED BEAUTY. Beauty is but a short-lived flower, Alas ! too subject to decay, That blooms, th' amusement of an hour, And sheds its glory with the day. Whoever ancient Phyllis knows, Will find this literally true ; Mark on her cheeks the blushing rose, Short-lived, as on the tree it grew. Though on the beauties of each feature Th' embellishments of art are laid, Yet, all her charms, to copy nature, Bloom in the morn, at ev'ning fade. RELIGION AND MORALITY. Beligion's path they never trod Who equity condemn ; Nor ever are they just to God Who prove unjust to men. WARNING. Hear ye that awful truth With which I charge my page, A worm is at the bud of youth And at the root of age. — Conger. CONTENTMENT. Let this plain truth those ingrates strike Who still, though bless' d, new blessings crave : That we may all have what we like, Simply by liking what we have. — Horatio Smith. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW". 103 PITY OR ENVY? If every man's internal care Were written on his brow, How many would our pity share Who raise our envy now! THE ALTERNATIVE. FOR every ill beneath the sun There is some remedy or none. Should there be one, resolve to find it ; If not, submit, and never mind it. TO HOPE. Ah ! woe is me ! from day to day I drag a life of pain and sorrow : Yet still, sweet Hope, I hear thee say. ' Be calm, thine ills will end to-morrow.' The morrow comes, but brings to me No charm disease or grief relieving ; And am I ever doom'd to see, Sweet Hope, thy promises deceiving ? Yet, false and cruel as thou art, Thy dear delusions will I cherish : I cannot, dare not, with thee part, Since 7, alas! with thee must perish. WISDOM AND PLEASURE. Let pleasure be granted to youth : But since human life is soon run, And has but — to speak sober- truth — Two moments — let wisdom have one, ON OMENS. Imitated from the French. Once on a time, as holy authors say, A Boman knight met Cato on the way ; 104 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 1 Kind sir/ quoth he, i your speedy counsel lend, Strange portents are abroad, that fright your friend ; A prodigy I've seen : — Last night a rat Eat my old shoe— what think you, sir, of that ? My wife is sick — and hence I surely spy She will recover, or myself will die.' Thus spake the knight, and thus the seer began — 1 Your idle fears dispel, and be a man. Eats will maraud ; and, if I augur true, Nor death, nor disappointment, thence ensue : If your old shoe, indeed, had eat the rat, I should have thought a prodigy in that.' ON SELF-CONCEIT. Hail, charming power of self-opinion ! For none are slaves in thy dominion : Secure in thee, the mind's at ease ; The vain have only one to please. ON SLEEP. Come, gentle sleep, attend thy votary's prayer, And though death's image, to my couch repair : How sweet, though lifeless, yet with life to lie ! And without dying, O how sweet to die ! Wart on (t ran slat ed*by Wolcot). TO A FRIEND IN DISTRESS. I WTSn thy lot, now bad, still worse, my friend, For when at worst they say things always mend. Cowper (translated from Owen). From Goethe. Or bathed in bliss, or overwhelm' d in woe, - The heart must still require a kindred heart : Divided joy bids double joy o'erflow, And pain divided loses half its smart. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 105 A RUSSIAN EPIGRAM. What is man's history? Born — living — dying, Leaving the still shore for the troubled wave — Struggling with storm-winds, over shipwrecks flying, And casting anchor in the silent grave. KNOW THYSELF. I'VE not said so to you, my friend, and I am not going ; As you may find so many folks better worth the knowing. Notes and Queries. LLNES ON LINES. Curved is the line of Beauty, Straight is the line of Duty ; Walk by the last, and thou shalt see The former always follow thee. FOOLS EVERYWHERE. The world of fools has such a store, That he who would not see an ass, Must bide at home, and bolt his door, And break his looking-glass. LOVE AND FOLLY. Love and Folly, while at school, Quarrelling on this or that ; He call'd her a silly fool ; She call'd him a saucy brat. Love strikes Folly with his bow ; Folly in a fury flies, And, in vengeance for the blow, Scratches out poor Cupid's eyes. Venus all in tribulation To the court of Jove repairs, And, as a just compensation, Jove his sovereign will declares. 106 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. ; Since he's blind,' the god decreed, ' And since Folly made him so, She the erring boy shall lead, She his guide where'er he go.' Ever since, as in a tether, She has been the urchin's guide ; They are always found together, Love and Folly at his side. Chevalier Lawrence. A LARGE HEART. wherefore should I murmur thus ? The world is very wide ; My heart shall be an omnibus, And carry twelve inside. Some hearts, like cabs, besides themselves, To one or two incline ; But omnibuses carry twelves : Such be this heart of mine. — Punch. 1 1 WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAYS.' I wouldn't live for ever, I wouldn't if I could : But I needn't fret about it, For I couldn't if I would. BOOK VIII. EPIGRAMS ON LAW AND LAWYERS. From the Greek. A plaintiff thus explain'd his cause To counsel learned in the laws : — ( My bondmaid lately ran away, And in her flight was met by A, Who, knowing she belong'd to me, Espoused her to his servant B. The issue of this marriage, pray, Do they belong to me or A ? ' The lawyer, true to his vocation, Gave sign of deepest cogitation ; Look'd at a score of books, or near, Then hemm'd, and said, ' Your case is clear ; Those children so begot by B, Upon your bondmaid, must, you see, Be yours, or A's : — now, this I say, They can't be yours if they to A Belong ; — it follows then, of course, That if they are not his, they're yours. Therefore, by my advice, in short, You'll take the opinion of the court.' THE LEARNED PLEADEE. From Martial. My cause concerns nor battery nor treason ; I sue my neighbour for this only reason — 108 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. That late, three sheep of mine to pound he drove ; This is the point the court would have you prove. Concerning Magna Charta you run on, And all the perjuries of old King John ; Then of the Edwards and Black Prince you rant, And talk of John o' Stiles and John o' Gaunt ; With voice and hand a mighty pother keep — Now pray, dear sir, one word about the sheep ! — Hay. INSCRIPTION FOR INNER-TEMPLE GATE. As by the Templars' hold you go, The Horse and Lamb display' d In emblematic figures, show The merits of their trade. That clients may infer from thence How just is their profession, The Lamb sets forth their innocence, The Horse their expedition. happy Britons ! happy isle ! Let foreign nations say, Where you get justice without guile, And law without delay. ANSWER TO THE ABOVE. Deluded men ! these holds forego, Nor trust such cunning elves ; These artful emblems tend to show Their clients, not themselves. 'Tis all a trick — these all are shams, By which they mean to cheat you ; But have a care, for you're the lambs, And they the wolves that eat you. Nor let the thought of no delay • To these their courts misguide you, 'Tis you're the showy horse, and they The jockeys that will ride you. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 109 THE CONSEQUENCE OF LAW. Once, says an author, where I need not say, Two travellers found an oyster in their way ; Both fierce, both hungry, the dispute grew strong, While, scale in hand, Dame Justice pass'd along. Before her each with clamour pleads the laws, Explain'd the matter, and would win the cause. Dame Justice, weighing long the doubtful right, Takes, opens, swallows it before their sight. The cause of strife removed, so rarely well, Then take, says Justice, take ye each a shell. A WISE SENTENCE. The constable of a country town Before a justice brought, Once on a time, a vagrant clown, In petty trespass caught. And long, with many a hum and ha, Much circumstance, much doubt, Enlarged on some supposed faux-pas, Could he have made it out. Then to his worship turn'd his speech, At every period's close, And ask'd what punishment could reach Enormities like those ? i What punishment ? ' with angry face The justice cried amain : * Make him this moment take my place, And hear your tale again.' JUSTICE WHY BLIND. Says Will to Mat, ' What cause can be assign'd Why sacred Themis still is pictured blind ? 3 ' Because,' says Mat, ' when towering vice prevails She may excuse the error of her scales ; For most, who know this present age agree, Whate'er she thinks — she does not care to see ! ' 110 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. From the French. One day a justice much enlarged On industry, as he discharged A thief from jail : ' Go work,' he said ; ' Go, prithee, learn some better trade, Or, mark my words, you'll rue it. 5 ' My trade's as good,' replied the knave, ' As any man need wish to have ; And if it don't succeed, d'ye see, The fault, sir, lies with you, not me, — You won't let me pursue it.' WRITTEN IN A LAWYER'S 'COKE UPON LITTLETON.' THOU, who labour'st in this rugged mine ! May'st thou to gold the unpolish'd ore refine ! May each dark page unfold its haggard brow ! Doubt not to reap, if thou canst bear to plough. — To tempt ,thy care may, each revolving night, Purses and maces swim before thy sight ! And when the wig thy visage shall enclose, And only leave to view thy learned nose, Safely may'st thou defy beaux, wits, and scoffers, While tenants in fee-simple stuff thy coffers. COMPLAINANTS AT LAW. Pleadings on pleadings rise, a mountain ! (In course of law the usual way 'tis) ; And words — beyond the power of counting — Yet not one word, or tittle, gratis. Month follows month, term term, and each, (O Law, ingenious in delay, Thy mysteries deep what thought can reach ?) Each party still has costs to pay. Complainant Bourke ; defendant Lisle ; Such are they while the suit depends : — ' A3V cries old Bramble, with a smile, ( But both complainants when it ends.' EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. HI Thus, of a turtle once, rare dish ! A case adjudged, reporters tell — Court, agents, lawyers, ate the fish : The parties — supped upon the shell. A CHANCERY SUIT. Imitated from the Latin of Vincent Bourne. Three inches of a party wall, 'Twixt Bourke and Lisle had kindled hate : Angry and long the strife — the Hall At last must settle the debate. A LEGAL PUN. As Jekyl was hastening with gown and with wig, He happened to tread on a very small pig. Cried he, ' That's a learn'd pig, or I'm much mistaken, For 'tis, you may see, an abridgment of Bacon.' THE REMEDY IS WORSE THAN THE DISEASE. You crack my pate, then bid me take the law : A foe will still advise us for the worse : From want of care I felt your angry paw, But I've sufficient to protect my purse. law's brevity. In a cause of three j^ears, for three pinches of snuff, There's a orief of three yards; I hope that's brief enough . IN STOLIDUM. A JUSTICE walking o'er the frozen Thames, The ice about him round began to crack : He said to his man, ' Here is some danger, James ; I prithee, help me over on thy back.' 112 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. COUNSEL ****. A weighty lawsuit I maintain — — 'Tis for three crab-trees in a lane. The trees are mine, there's no dispute, But neighbour Quibble crops the fruit. My counsel Bawl, in studied speech, Explores, beyond tradition's reach, The laws of Saxons and of Danes ; Whole leaves of Doomsday-book explains ; The origin of tithes relates, And feudal tenures of estates : If now you've fairly spoke your all, — One word about the crab-trees, Bawl. From the French. Beneath this stone a quibbling lawyer lies, For sixty years who squeezed his neighbour's purses ; If he can see you now, I'm sure he cries That you have paid no fee to read these verses. JUDGING BY NOT HEARING. ; Call silence ! ' the Judge to the officer cries ; ' This hubbub and talk, will it never be done 1 Those people this morning have made such a noise, We've decided ten causes without hearing one.' Baraton. VARIETIES IN LAWYERS. Mr Leach made a speech, Angry, neat, but wrong ; Mr Hart, on the other part, Was prosy, dull, and long. Mr Bell spoke very well, Though nobody knew about what; Mr Trower talk'd for an hour, Sat down, fatigued and hot. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 113 Mr Parker made the case darker, Which was dark enough without ; Mr Cooke quoted his book, And the Chancellor said, I doubt. JUSTICE. When painters or sculptors give Justice a face, On her eyes a broad bandage, to blind her, they place ; But methinks, with all proper respect to the law, She might judge so much better, the better she saw. Tie her hands if you please, and I care not how much, She maj look where she will — so you don't let her touch. THREE SONS. [Mr Baron Alderso^ and Mr Justice Patterson held Assizes at Cambridge, whenMr.Gunsow was appointed to preach the Assize sermon.] A Baron, a Justice, a Preacher — sons three : The Preacher, the son of a Gun is he ; The Baron, he is the son of a tree ; Whose son the Justice is I can't well see, But read him Pater-son, and all will agree That the son of his father the Justice must be. TIRE-SOME. Behold the sergeant full of fire, Long shall his hearers rue it ; His purple garments come from Tyre, His arguments go to it. A SUIT. Since Tom first went to law with Ned, And made the sad attack, 'Tis said he scarce has had a coat To put upon his back. But verily the case is such, That Tom has had a suit too much. 8 Hi EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. ON CRAVEN ST, STRAND. In Craven St, Strand, ten attorneys find place, And ten dark coal barges are moored at its base. Fly, honesty, fly to some safer retreat ! There's craft in the river, and craft in the street. James Smith, AN ANSWER. Why should honesty seek any safer retreat, From lawyers or barges? — oh ! rot 'em ! For the lawyers are just at the top of the street, And the barges are just at the bottom. Sir George Rose. ON A HOUSE ONCE OCCUPIED BY A LAWYEB, WHICH HAD BECOME A SMITH'S SHOP. The house a lawyer once enjoy 'd, Now to a smith does pass ; How naturally the iron age Succeeds the age of brass ! LAWYERS AND CLIENTS. Two lawyers, when a knotty case was o'er, Shook hands, and were as good friends as before. ' Say,' cries the losing client, ' how come you To be such friends, who were such foes just now ? ' ' Thou fool,' one answers, ' lawyers, thol so keen, Like shears, ne'er cut themselves, but what's between. BOOK IX. EPIGRAMS ON DOCTORS AND MEDICINE. From Martial. Diaultts, late who void of skill Profess'cl the healing art, Now acts, in league with Pluto still, The undertaker's part. — Bouquet. ON DR CADE, WHO DIED FROM USING- HIS OWN RECIPE. Cade, who had slain ten thousand men With that small instrument, a pen, Was sick ; unluckily, he tried The point upon himself, and died, ON THE DEATH OF DR EVANS OF KNIGHTSBRIDGE. EyANS, of worm-destroying note, With little folks, who breed 'em, Has all his life been poisoning worms, And now's consign'd to feed 'em. Thus 'twixt our doctor and his foes Accounts are pretty trim ; For many years he lived by those, And now thev live on him. THE PHYSICIANS OF GEORGE III. The king employ'd three doctors daily, Willis, Heberden, and Baillie ; 116 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. All exceeding skilful men, Baillie, Willis, Heberden, But doubtful which most sure to kill is, Baillie, Heberden, or Willis. TO DR HILL. Thou essence of dock, valerian, and sage, At once the disgrace and the pest of the age, The worst that we wish thee for all thy sad crimes Is to take thy own physic and read thy own rhymes. The Junto, with GavricK TO THE SAME. The wish should be in form reversed, To suit the doctor's crimes ; For if he takes his physic first, He'll never read his rhymes. — Ibid. DR WYNTER TO DR CHEYNE, ON HIS DIETETIC PLAN. Tell me from whom, fat-headed Scot, Thou didst thy system learn ; From Hippocrate thou hadst it not, Nor Celsus, nor Pitcairn. Suppose we own that milk is good, And say the same of grass ; The one for babes is only food, The other for an ass. Doctor ! one new prescription izy (A friend's advice forgive) ; Eat grass, reduce thyself, and die — Thy patients then may live. ANSWER BY DR CHEYNE. My system, doctor, is my own, No tutor I pretend ; My blunders hurt myself alone, But yours, your dearest friend. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 117 Were you to milk and straw confined, Thrice happy might you be ; Perl laps you might regain your mind, And from your wit get free. I can't your kind prescription try, But heartily forgive : 'lis natural you should bid me die, That you yourself may live. ON LOED GLENBERVIE, WHO HAD ABANDONED PHYSIC. Glenbervie, Glenbervie, What's good for the scurvy ? But why is the doctor forgot ? In his arms he should quarter A pestle and mortar, For his crest an immense gallipot. SENT WITH A COUPLE OF DUCKS TO A PATIENT, By the late Br Jenner. I'VE despatch'd, my dear Madam, this scrap of a letter, To say that Miss is very much better ; A regular doctor no longer she lacks, And therefore I've sent her a couple of quacks. THE REPLY. Yes ! 'twas politic, truly, my very good friend, Thus a ' couple of quacks ' to your patient to send ; Since there's nothing so likely as * quacks,' it is plain. To make work for a ' regular doctor ' again. WHAT JENNER SAID LN ELYSIUM, ON HEARING THAT COMPLAINTS HAD BEEN MADE OF HIS HAVING- A STATUE IN TRAFALGAR SQUARE. England's ingratitude still blots The scutcheon of the brave and free ; I saved you from a million spots, And now you grudge one spot to me. — Punch, 118 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. TO DE LEACH, WHO ADVISED DRINKING ASSES' MILK. And, Doctor, do you really think That asses' milk I ought to drink ? 'Twould quite remove my cough, you say, And drive all old complaints away, It cured yourself ; I grant that's true ; But then 'twas mother's milk to you. — Br Wolcott. THE DOCTOR'S ARMS. A DOCTOR who, for want of skill, Did seldom cure and often kill, Contrived at length, by many a puff, And many a bottle fill'd with stuff, To raise his fortune and his pride, And in a coach, forsooth, must ride. His family coat, long since worn out, What arms to take was all the doubt. A friend, consulted on the case, Thus answer'd with a sly grimace : ' Take some device in your own way, Neither too solemn, nor too gay ; Three ducks, suppose, white, gray, or black, And let your motto be, Quack, quack. 5 From Fabian Fillet. His long speeches, his writings, in prose and in rhyme, Dr Julep declares are but meant to kill time. What a man is the doctor ! for do what he will, He something or somebody wishes to kill. TWO OF A TRADE. A doctor and an undertaker met ; They spoke of illness, fees, and trade, and debt ; And well they might, for such a dismal day Never was known for coughs and deaths to clay : Parting in fog, they both exclaim'd together, ' Good-morning t'ye ; this is rare coffin weather/ EPIGBJLMS OLD AND NEW. 119 ON A MEDICAL COXCOMB. When Florio for the sickly fair indites, And minds not what, so much as how he writes ; His patients, as his graceful form they scan, Cry with ill -omen xl rapture, ' killing man ! ' THE PRESCRIPTION. From Mariiniere. Would you wish to get well without failing, Of I know not what ill, which, I know not for why, For this fortnight has made you look feeble and ailing I prescribe you to buy, How much I can't say, of a root I know not, To mix, of I know not what simples, a potion, Pound, I know not what herbs, and of them make a lotion ; Which, applied piping hot, Will, for aught that I know, Make you eat, drink, and sleep, as a fortnight ago : But this I can venture for certain to say, Half the doctors in London prescribe the same way. ONLY HALF THE STORY. When quacks, as quacks may, by good luck, to be sure, Blunder out, at hap-hazard, a desperate cure ; In the prints of the day, with due pomp and parade, Case, patient, and doctor are amply display' d : All this is quite just, and no mortal can blame it : If they save a man's life, they've a right to proclaim it : But there's reason to think they might save more lives still, Did they publish a list of the number they kill. BAVIUS. By nature madman, and by study fool, Bavius turns doctor, and destroys by rule • 120 . EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. With heavy face o'er dubious health presides, Speaks without judgment, and by guess prescribes : Awkwardly gay, and stupidly alert, In every conversation tops his part ; Talks much of travel, books, and state affairs, And takes a thousand fashionable airs ! He rattles, plays quadrille, sometimes can drink, Make love en bete — do anything but think. Yet to convince this leaden lump can wound, He weds a fortune of six thousand pound ; And such the influence of Corinthian brass, As wit unquestion'd all his blunders pass ; For which a poorer, or less noisy fool, Would stand the butt of public ridicule ! You'll ask why Bavius meets a different fate ? The secret is — he has a good estate. From Pelisson. Would you send the man you hate Down to Pluto's dark dominions ? No bravoes hire to seal his fate, — Bid two physicians on him wait — Two of different opinions ! THE DOCTOR. Three faces wear the doctor ; when first sought, An angel's; and a god's, the cure half wrought ; But when, that cure complete, he seeks his fee, The devil looks less terrible than he. BOOK X. EPIGEAMS ON THE FINE AKTS. From the Greek. 'Tis a well-painted picture, but perish the art, That at two frightful objects for one makes us start. The skill of the painter, with nature at strife, This ugly squab figure has hit to the life ; But perish the art, that, when everything's done, Only makes two detestable objects of one. UNDER THE PICTURE OF THOMAS BRITTON, A MUSICAL MECHANIC. Thoug-h mean thy rank, yet, in thy humble cell, 1 Did gentle peace and arts unpurchased dwell. Well-pleased, Apollo thither led his train, And music warbled in her sweetest strain. Cyllenius so, as fables tell, and Jove Came willing guests to poor Philemon's grove. Let useless pomp behold, and blush to find So low a station, such a liberal mind. — Hughes. IMPROMPTU ON HOGARTH'S PRINT OF BATHOS, Or the Art of Sinking in Painting. All must old Hogarth's gratitude declare, Since he has named old Chaos for his heir ; And while his works hang round that anarch's throne, The connoisseurs will take them for his own. Churchill. 122 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. ON A PICTURE OF MRS ARABELLA HUNT, Brawn after Iter death, playing on a lute. Were there on earth another voice like thine, Another hand so blest with skill divine, The late afflicted world some hopes might have. And harmony retrieve thee from the grave. WRITTEN UNDER LADY 'S PORTRAIT. When age my throbbing heart shall tame, And even my fair one's form shall change, Youths of my constant hopeless flame Shall hear — and haply think it strange. But when, bright Portrait, thou hast proved What beauties did my heart assail, They'll wonder — not that I have loved — ■ But that I've lived to tell the tale. ON A FLOWER-PIECE BY VARELOT. When famed Varelot this little wonder drew, Flora vouchsafed the glowing work to view : Finding the painter's science at a stand, The goddess snatch'd the pencil from his hand ; And finishing the piece, she smiling said, Behold one work of mine, that ne'er shall fade. KITTY'S PICTURE. If beauteous Kitty boasts a charm, Her picture boasts the same ; With life the glowing cheeks are warm, The sparkling eyes on flame. How bold the strokes ! how free the air ! The colours how laid on ! We think 'twill leave the canvas bare, And walk, and talk, anon. So far, dear painter, all is well ; And could'st thou more express, Howe'er thy art the most excel, Thy piece would please the less : EPIGEAMS OLD AND NEW. 123 For he that Kitty's picture makes, Makes beauty's self appear ; But if it speaks as Kitty speaks, 'Tis folly's self we hear. THE LIKEXESS DISCOYEEED. WHEN Chloe's picture was to Chloe shown. Adorn'd with charms and beauties not her own ; Where Reynolds, pitying nature, kindly made Such lips, such eyes, as Chloe never had : Ye gods ! she cries, in ecstasy of heart, How near can nature be express' d by art ! Well, it is wondrous like ! — nay, let me die, The very pouting lip — the killing eye ! Blurt and severe, as Manly in the play, Downright replies- — Like, madam, do you say? The picture bears this likeness, it is true, The canvas painted is, and so are you. MES OPIE TO HEE HUSBAND, On his painting the picture of her friend, Mrs Tiviss, at her request. Hail to thy pencil ! Well its glowing art Has traced those features pictured on my heart : Now though in distant scenes she soon will rove, Still shall I here behold the friend 1 love ; Still see that smile endearing, truly kind, The eye's mild beam that speaks the candid mind, Which sportive oft, yet fearful to offend, By humour charms, but never wounds a friend. Within my breast contending passions rise When this loved semblance fascinates my eyes; Now pleased, I mark the painter's skilful line, Now joy, because the skill I mark'd was thine ; And while I prize the gift by thee bestow' d, My heart proclaims I'm of the Giver proud : Thus pride and friendship war with equal strife, And now the Friend exults, and now the Wife. 124 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. PRE-RAPHAELITISM. Claude's distances are too confused — One floating scene — nothing made out — For which he ought to be abused, Whose works have been so cried about. Give me the pencil whose amazing style Makes birds appear at twenty mile ; And to my view eyes, legs, and claws will bring. With every feather of each tail and wing. OK THE FADING OF SIR J. REYNOLDS' S PICTURES. The art of painting was at first designed To bring the dead, our ancestors, to mind ; But this great painter has reversed the plan, And made the picture die before the man. ON ART-UNIONS. That picture-raffles will conduce to nourish Design, or cause good colouring to flourish, Admits of logic-chopping and wise sawing, For surely lotteries encourage drawing. — T. Hood. chantrey's woodcocks. [In 1829 Sir F. Chantrey shot two woodcocks at one shot, and afterwards sculptured the birds in marble.] Their good and ill from the same source they drew, Here shrined in marble by the hand that slew. Lord Jeffrey. The carver's knife in vain their limbs shall sever, In Chantrey's marble they unite for ever. P. R. Duncan. Chantrey invented the best of gun-locks, Which cocks one hammer, and hammers two cocks. F. P. Muirliead. He hit the birds, and with an aim as true, And hand as skilful, hit their likeness too. — The same. With gun or chisel thou art doubly clever, Chantrey ! thy twins in death are twins for ever. Boulioii. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 125 Shall Chan trey be call'd a destroyer or not ? He slaughters indeed his two birds at one shot ; But. pitying his victims, with generous endeavour To make more amends, by his chisel so clever, He revives them to live on in marble for ever. Wrangham. THE MUSICAL CONTEST. Some say, compared to Bononcini, That Mynheer Handel's but a ninny : Others aver, that he to Handel Is scarcely fit to hold a candle. Strange that such difference should be 'Twixt Tweedledum and Tweedledee. — Swift. OX MADRIOALS. When two throats together squall, It may be called a Mad-rig-al(l). — Swift. WHICH is it? So rude and tuneless are thy lays, The weary audience vow — 'Tis not th' Arcadian swain that plays, Bat 'tis his herds that low. THE MUSICIAN IN DESPAIR. Unable to de scant in tunable rhyme, My spirits unstrung, and my pulse out of time ; Of no crotchet of note my slow heart is possess'd, Each jollity pa uses, each fancy's at rest. Unnatural Fate, too discordant by far, On all my gay lessons has doubled the bar ; Still sharply repeats it, denies me repose, And slurs all my measures, and varies my woes. When I bid her move slow, then she jigs it away, And basely acts counter to all I can say; 125 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. While raging I shake with a treble vexation, And A-MI is the tenor of each lamentation. My ideas turn'd grave, dance in concert no more, Or beat to those movements no time can restore ; Yon cliff while I scale that o'erlooks the flat plain, Where a strong chord shall end me, and with the first strain. THE POWER OF MUSIC. When Orpheus went down to the regions below, Which men are forbidden to see ; He tuned up his lyre, as old histories show, To set his Eurydice free. All hell was astonish'd a person so wise Should rashly endanger his life, And venture so far ; but how vast the surprise When they heard he was come for his wife ! To find out a punishment due to his fault, Old Pluto long puzzled his brain ; But hell had not torment sufficient, he thought, So he gave him his wife back again. But pity succeeding, found place in his heart, And, pleased with his playing so well, He took her again, in reward of his art ; Such merit had music in hell. ON A MUSICIAN" AND DANCING - MASTER, WHO DE- CAMPED WITH CASH SUBSCRIBED FOR A MUSICAL PUBLICATION. His time was fleet, his touch was fleet ; Our gold he nimbly finger' d, — Alike alert with hands and feet, His movements have not linger'd. Where lies the wonder of the case ? A moment's thought detects it : His practice has been thorough-bass, A chord will be his exit. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 127 Yet while we blame his hasty flight, Our censure may be rash : A traveller is surely right To chauge his notes for cash. From Baif. If to sing with a voice that would beat Stentor's hollow, Be finely to sing, thou may'st rival Apollo : But if that to sing without taste, ear, or science, And completely to set time and tune at defiance, Be vilely to sing, then we never shall see, Till the end of the world, a worse singer than thee. ON MAEGAEETTA, AN AWKWAED PEIMA DONNA. Whene'ee the Tuscan spreads her vocal charms, Our eyes defend our ears from soothing harms : Her steps deliver whom her strains enslave — She thrills to conquer, and she treads to save. ON SEEING A MISEE AT A CONOEET AT TATJXHALL. Music has charms to soothe a savage breast, To calm the tyrant, and relieve the opprest : But Yauxhall's concert's more attractive power Unlock'd Sir Richard's pocket at threescore. strange effect of music's matchless force, To extract two shillings from a miser's purse ! UNPLEASANT MUSIC. IN fields Bibaldo stray 'd May's tapestry to see ; And hearing on a tree A cuckoo sing, sigh'd to himself, and said, ' Lo how, alas ! even birds sit mocking me.' ON A BAD SINGEE. Swans sing before they die : 'twere no bad thing Should certain persons die before they sing. — Coleridge. BOOK XL CONVIVIAL EPIGRAMS. From the Greek. With me the rosy goblet share, With me enjoy the youthful hours, With me caress the frolic fair, With me compose the wreath of flowers ! Now drive with me dull thought away, With me defiance bid to sorrow, Be merry tliou with me to-day, And Til be wise with thee to-morrow ! From the Greek. Not the planet that, sinking in ocean, Foretells future storms to our tars ; Not the sea, when in fearful commotion Its billows swell high as the stars ; Not the thunder that rolls in October, Is so hateful to each honest fellow, As he who remembers, when sober, The tales that were told him when mellow. From the Greeh. On marble tombs let no rich essence flow, No chaplet bloom, no lamp suspended glow : Vain cost ! while yet I live these honours pay; Wine can but moisten ashes into clay. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 129 From the Greek. Kemark how wisely ancient art provides The broad-brim m'd cup, with flat expanded sides ; A cup contrived for man's discreeter use, And sober potions of the generous juice : But woman's more ambitious thirsty soul Soon long'd to revel in the plenteous bowl ; Deep and capacious as the swelling hold Of some stout bark, she shaped the hollow mould ; Then turning out a vessel like a tun, Simpering, exclaim'd, ' Observe ! I drink but one.' From Martial. Acerra smells of last night's wine, you say. Don't wrong Acerra ; he topes on till day. Elphinstone. FIVE REASONS FOR DRINKING. Translated from the Latin by Bean Aldrich. Good wine, a friend, or being dry. Or lest we should be by-and-by, Or any other reason why. A TOPING CLUB. The jolly members of a toping club Like pipe-staves, are but hoop'd ; And in a close confederacy link For nothing else, but only to hold drink. HOW SUMMER CAME. The Prince came in, and said 'twas cold, Then put to his head the rummer. Till swallow after swallow came, When ke pronounced it summer. PORT AND CLARET. Firm and erect the Caledonian stood ; Prime was his mutton, and his qlarel good 9 130 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. ' Let him drink port,' an English statesman cried. He drank the poison, and his spirit died. — John Home, THE DROPSICAL MAN. A JOLLY brave toper, who could not forbear, Though his life was in danger, old port and stale beer, Gave the doctors the hearing — but still would drink on, Till the dropsy had swell 5 d him as big as a tan. The more he took physic, the worse still he grew, And tapping was now the last thing he could do. Affairs at this crisis, and doctors come down, He began to consider ; so sent for his son. 'Tom, see by what courses I've shortened my life, I'm leaving the world ere I'm forty and five ; More than probable 'tis, that in twenty-four hours This manor, this house, and estate, will be yours : My early excesses may teach you this truth, That 'tis working for death to drink hard in one's youth.' Says Tom (who's a lad of a generous spirit, And not like young rakes, vvho're in haste to inherit), 'Sir, don't be dishearten' d, although it be true The operation is painful and hazardous too ; 'Tis not more than many a man has gone through. And then, as for years, you may yet be call'd young ; Your life after this may be happy and long.' ( Don't flatter me, Tom ? ' was the father's reply, With a jest in his mouth, and a tear in his eye : 'Too well, by experience, my vessels, thou know'st, No sooner are tapp'd, but they give up the ghost.' A PUN. Imitated from Martia I* A landlord of Bath put upon me a queer hum, I ask'd him for punch, and the dog gave me mere rum. Callidus imposuit nuper mihi Caupo, Raven nae, Cum peterum mixtuui, vendidet llle merum. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 131 THE BREWER'S COACHMAN. Honest William, an easy and good-natured fellow, Would a little too oft get a little too mellow. Body- coachman was he to an eminent brewer — No better e'er sat in a box, to be sure. His coach was kept clean, and no mothers or nurses Took that care of their babes that he took of his horses. He had these — ay, and fifty good qualities more, But the business of tippling could ne'er be got o'er : So his master effectually mended the matter, By hiring a man who drank nothing but water. i Now, William,' says he, ' you see the plain case, Had you drank as he does, you'd kept a good place.' ' Drink water ! ' quoth William, ' had all men done so, You never had wanted a coachman, I trow. They're soakers, like me, whom you load with reproaches, Who spend that you brewers may ride in your coaches. 5 ON A PUBLIC -HOUSE. Of this establishment how can we speak ? Its cheese is mity, and its ale is weak. PRESENTS. A hamper I received of wine, As good, Dick says, as e'er was tasted ; And Dick may be supposed to know, For he contrived his matters so As every day with me to dine Much longer than the liquor lasted: If such are presents, while I live, Oh ! let me not receive, but give. THE CANDID CONFESSION. A HUMOROUS fellow, in a tavern late, Being drunk and valiant, gets a broken pate ; The surgeon, with his instruments and skill, Scratches his skull deeper and deeper still To feel his brains, and try if they were sound ; And as he keeps ado about the wound, 132 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. The fellow cries, ' Good surgeon, spare your pains ; When I began this brawl I had no brains.' THE BRAINLESS TOPER. ' Brother bucks, your glasses drain.' ' Tom, 'tis strong, and sparkling red ' — ' Never fear, 'twon't reach my brain : ' 'No — that's true — but 'twill your head.' From Pannard. Clear brook, whose grateful murmur lulls the ear, Charming this melancholy shade, How sweet, beneath the foliage laid, To breathe repose, and taste the vernal year ! Near thee, No thought on grandeur or on wealth bestowing, I were the happiest, far, of men below : No — nought were wanting to my destiny, Could I but see old claret flowing, As now your limpid waters flow ! From Maynard. Come, my friend, let's push about The sparkling flask, and banish sorrow! Secure to-day ; for 'tis a doubt If sullen Fate will grant to-morrow ! A DRY SOUL. You often pity honest Ned, Condemn'd, you say, to write for bread : His liberal soul, till Dodsley pays, Still doom'd to fast — or chew the bays. Yet, by that jovial, ruddy look, Not gain'd by poring o'er his book ; That clammy ale, his table spilt on, That tankard, covered with a Milton ; By all these tokens, Ned, I fear, Writes not so much for bread — as beer. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 133 A COWARD. From Maijnard. Yes, I own that my courage was never so strong As to set at defiance Death's javelin, By driving me on, midst the first of the throng, To the storm of a hastion or ravelin. Who pleases may win of such deeds all the merit : To rival of Csesar the valorous spirit Is a thing that surpasses my skill. My humble desires only wish to be able, With my glass in my hand, and feet under the table, All my cares and my sorrows to kill. TO A POETICAL WINE-MERCHANT. From the French. Yottr exquisite verses, your exquisite wine, In all quarters, my friend, are well known ; The one even Bacchus might swear is divine, The other even Phoebus might own. THE TRANSFER. "Whence comes it, that in Clara's face The lily only has a place ? Is it, that the absent rose Is gone to paint her husband's nose ? EPITAPH. From the French. Here Bibo reposes : on earth while a dweller His sole occupation (indeed 'tis no fable) Was to go from the table to visit the cellar. And back from the cellar return to the table. BOOK XII. TOPOGRAPHICAL EPIGRAMS. HEAD-GEAR. The Turk in linen wraps his head, The Persian his in lawn too, The Russe with sable furs his cap, And change will not be drawn to. The Spaniard's constant to his block, The French inconstant ever, But of all felts that may be felt, Give me your English beaver. — Heywood. WRITTEN ON A PANE OF GLASS, AT LITTLEMORE, NEAR OXFORD. This little village serves to show What lengths the pride of man will go ; For, in whatever state or place, (As if contentment were disgrace,) Ambition prompts us to desi?e Another post, a little higher. Search this capacious globe all o'er, You still will wish a little more. — Dr Bacon. ON THE BRIDGE AT BLENHEIM. The lofty arch his high ambition shows, The stream, an emblem of his bounty, flows. Dr Ecanz. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 135 ON THE SAME. The minnows, as through this vast arch they pass, * Cry, How like whales we look ! thanks to your grace ! ' Pope. BLENHEIM HOUSE. * See, sir, see here's the grand approach — This way is for his Grace's coach ; There lies the bridge, and here's the clock ; Observe the lion and the cock, The spacious court, the colonnade, And mark how wide the hall is made ! The chimneys are so well design'd, They never smoke in any wind ; This gallery's contrived for walking, The windows to retire and talk in ! The council-chamber for debate, — And all the rest are rooms of state.' ' Thanks, sir,' cried I, ( 'tis very fine ; But* where d'ye sleep, or where d'ye dine? I find, by all that you've been telling, That 'tis a house, but not a dwelling.' ON THE RIVER DANUBE. See how the wand'ring Danube flows, Eealms and religions parting ! A friend to all true Christian foes, To Peter, Jack, and Martin. Now Protestant, and Papist now ; Not constant long to either ; At length an infidel does grow, And ends his journey, neither. — Swift. ON THE RIVERS OF ENGLAND AND AMERICA. In England, rivers are all males — For instance, Father Thames. Whoever in Columbia sails, Finds them Ma'amselles or Dames : 136 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. For there the softer sex presides, Aquatic, I assure ye ; And Mrs Sippi rolls her tides Eesponsive to 'Miss Souri. ON THE SOUTHAMPTON AND REDBRIDGE CANAL. Southampton's wise sons found the river so large, Though 'twould carry a ship, 'twould not carry a barge ; But soon this defect their sage noddles supplied, For they cut a snug ditch to run close to its side : Like the man, who, contriving a hole through his wall To admit his two cats — the one great, t'other small, When a great hole was made for great puss to pass through, Had a little hole cut for the little cat too. ON THE STATUE OF GEORGE I. ON THE STEEPLE OF BLOOMSBURY CHURCH. The king of Great Britain was reckon'd before The head of the church, by all good Christian people : His subjects of Bloomsbury have added one more To his titles, and made him the head of the steeple. ON A LEARNED DEVICE OVER THE GREAT GATE AT BLENPIEIM, A hvge Lion tearing a Cock in Pieces. Had Marlborough's troops in Gaul no better fought Than Van, to grace his fame, in marble wrought, No more in arms, than he in emblems, skill'd, The Cock had drove the Lion from the held. ON THE WIDE TROUSERS ONCE IN FASHION. The garb Dutch or Cossack in which our beau kind Parade up and down all so spruce, Of two towns in France ever put me in mind, And these are Toulon and Toulouse. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 137 ON THE PICTURE-GALLERY AT HATFIELD PLACE. Your room, though long and narrow, And as straight as any arrow, Will ne'er with your other rooms tally, But give it your son,* . 'Twill be excellent fun To hear it call'd Cranbourn Alley. — Ld Ersliine. LIVING IN CLOVER. The cit complains to all he meets, That grass will grow in Dublin streets, And swears that all is over ! Short-sighted mortal, can't you see - Your mourning will be changed to glee ? For then you'll live in clover. ON PAPER CREDIT IN SCOTLAND. To tell why banks thus in Scotland obtain, Kequires not the head of a Newton or Napier ; Without calculation the matter's quite plain, Where there's plenty of rags, you'll have plenty of paper. ON THE WEATHER OP SCOTLAND. Scotland ! thy weather's like a modish wife ; Thy winds and rain for ever are at strife ; Like thee the termagants their blustering try, And when they can no longer scold, they cry. Aaron Hill. BATH AND BRISTOL. [Impromptu by an Alderman at a public dinner in Bath, at which, members of the Bristol Corporation were present.] King Bladud once perceived his hogs A wallowing in these steaming bogs, From whence arise salubrious springs, Twice honour'd by the best of kings. * Viscount Cranbourn, son of the Marquis of Salisbury. 133 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. He drove them hence in mighty wrath, And built the stately town of Bath : — The hogs thus banish'd by their prince, Have lived in Bristol ever since. COLOGNE. In Coln, the town of monks and bones, And pavements fang'd with murderous stones, And rags and hags and hideous wenches, I counted two-and-seventy stenches. All well-defined, and several stinks ! Ye nymphs that reign o'er sewers and sinks, The river Khine, it is well known, Doth wash your city of Cologne ; But tell me, nymphs, what power divine Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine. — Coleridge. THE RIVER LESSE IN BELGIUM. Our Euclid may go to the wall, For we've solved what he never could guess ; How the fish in the river are small, But the river they live in is Lesse. ON THE QUEEN'S VISIT TO WALMER CASTLE. 'TWAS thought the Queen would this year go To Brighton as she did the former ; She changed her mind, because we know Brighton is cold, the Duke's is Walmer. ON THE NATIONAL GALLERY. The trustees of this place on such daubs spend their gold, That the picture is bought while the buyers are sold. Punch, 1853. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 139 BRIGHTON. Why bad drainage should frighten The people from Brighton Is what I can hardly explain ; I took purse, wife, and lodgings, And spite all my dodgings, I found there no end of a drain. — Punch. BOOK XIII. UNGALLANT EPIGRAMS. A WELL-MATCHED PAIE. A headstrong wife, who oft came in for blame, When charged with scant obedience, would reply, ' Why snarls my spouse ? our wishes are the same : He would the ruler be, and so would I.' Quarterly Review. TO LUCASIA, ON HER IVORY TEETH. LuCASiA, never blush to own The treasure which your lips disclose ; There nature vulgar teeth had sown, But finest polish'd ivory rose. These fear not age, that common foe, Who steals on beauty in its wane ; And, strung like pearl, that graceful row Will not, like others, cause a pain. Yet, if you can with equal skill, Let with the teeth the breath agree : You should enclose your scents, not ill, In that fair box of ivory. DISAPPOINTMENT. I TOOK you, deceiver, 'for better for worse,' Submitting to Wedlock's hard fetter : While your worse part has daily grown still more perverse, I have not discovered your better. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 141 AT HOME AND ABROAD. Says the wife of a Cantab, i Pray tell me how is it I'm your dear, and your love, when I go on a visit, But when I return I'm the plague of your life, And we pass all our time in reproaches and strife ? ' Says the Cantab, ' I'll tell you ; when you are afar, I do what 1 like, without hindrance or jar ; Though my rule you despise, you must bow to the laws That regulate matter, and this is the cause : Your attractions increase with diminish' d resistance, And the force of my love as the square of the distance.' E. Jermyn. THE UNFORTUNATE REQUEST. ' Dear Cupid,' I cried, 'do consult with your mother, To subdue my dear Chloe's insensible heart ! ' Kind Cupid obey'd ; Venus too play'd her part, And my Chloe at length fell in love— with another. ON MADAM BLAIZE, THE GLORY OF HER SEX. Good people all, with one accord, Lament for Madam Blaize, Who never wanted a good word— From those who spake her praise. The needy seldom pass'd her door, And always found her kind ; She freely lent to all the poor— Who left a pledge behind. She strove the neighbourhood to please With manners wondrous winning; And never follow'd wicked ways — Except when she was sinning. At church, with silks and satins new, With hoop of monstrous size ; She never slumber'd in her pew — But when she shut her eyes. Her love was sought, I do aver, By twenty beaux and more ; 11-3 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW". The king -himself has follow'd her — When she has walk'd before. But now, her wealth and finery fled, Her hangers-on cut short all ; The doctors found, when she was dead, Her last disorder — mortal. Let us lament in sorrow sore ; For Kent Street well may say, That, had she lived a twelvemonth more, She had not died to-day. — Goldsmith. 'HE THAT IS DOWN NEED FEAR NO FALL.' Tom to a shrew lives link'd in wedlock's fetter, Yet let not Tom his stars too sorely curse, As there's no hope his wife will e'er be better, So there's no fear she ever can be worse. From Breheuf. Phillis, each day your tongue, 'tis true, Attacks me with its slanderous sting, Yet, with a complaisance quite new, Your charms and virtues will I sing. Think not my strain will tedious be ; In no long compliments I deal — To make or hear them is to me The worst of punishments to feel. You have a boundless store of gold ; Not a guinea I inherit ; Now, Phillis, in few words Pve told All my crimes, and all your merit. SCRATCH YOUR HEAD. From a MS. 17th Cent. A woman lately fiercely did assayle Her husband with sharp touug, but sharper nayle ; But one that heard and saw it, to her saide, ' Why do you use him thus ? he is your heade.' EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 143 ' He is my heade, indeed,' saith she, ' 'tis true ; Sir, I may scratch my heade, and so may you.' THE WONDER. My heart still hovering round about you, I thought I could not live without you ; Now we've lived three months asunder, How I lived with you is the wonder. ONE OR TEN? Says Giles, ' My wife and I are one ; Yet faith, I know not why, Sir ! ' Quoth Jack, 'You're ten, if I speak true ; She's one, and you're a cipher.' THE THORN SURVIVES THE ROSE. As gay Lord Edward, in a lively freak, Kiss'd ancient Margaret, for the dame was kind, He found, although the rose had left her cheek, The thorn upon her chin remain' d behind. A LADY ON BEING ASKED WHAT THIS WORLD WAS LIKE. This world is a prison in every respect, Whose walls are the heavens in common ; The gaoler is sin, and the prisoners men, And the fetters are nothing but — women* THE FEMALE TULIP. Selinda sure's the brightest thing That decks our earth, or breathes our air : Mild are her looks like* opening spring, And like the blooming summer fair. But yet her wit's so very small, That all her charms appear to lie Like glaring colours on a wall, And strike no further than the eye. 144 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW". Our eyes luxuriously she treats, Our ears are absent from the feast : One sense is surfeited with sweets, Starved or disgusted are the rest. ■ So have I seen with aspect bright, And tawdry pride, a tulip swell, Blooming and beauteous to the sight, Dull and insipid to the smell. THE CHARMER IN THE DARK. From Martial. Whilst in the dark, on thy soft hand I hung, And heard the tempting syren in thy tongue, What flames, what darts, what anguish I endured ! But, when the candle enter'd, T was cured. THE PRETTY VIXEN. With angel face, and faultless form, How strange ! that you're not to my liking ; Yet, when you cuff your spouse, and storm, I own your beauty — vastly striking ! WOMEN'S FAULTS. We men have many faults ; Poor women have but two : — There's nothing good they say, There's nothing good they do. RELATED BY MARRIAGE. Loud bray'd an ass. Quoth Kate, ' My dear (To spouse, with scornful carriage), One of your relatives I hear.' ' Yes, love,' said he, ' by marriage.' EPIGRAMS OLD AXD NEW. 145 SHORT-LIVED LOVE. From the French of the Marquis de Peza. By thee on the sand of this shore, Our ciphers in union were traced ; But the fugitive billows roll'd o'er, And the writing was quickly effaced. Yet this emblem of love, though so frail That the water soon swept it away, Not so soon, thou false one ! did fail, As the passion 'twas meant to display. R. A. Davenport. OX A LADY'S SECRECY. 6 She's secret as the grave,' allow I do ; I cannot doubt it : But 'tis a grave with tombstone on, That tells you all about it. OX A PAIXTED LADY. Iris, you are unjust to say That Damon is a perjured lover ; For. though no more he owns your sway, No breach of faith can I discover. That you a Yenus were, he swore, Nay, swore in beauty you surpass'd her But still he meant not to adore A goddess made of paint and plaster. THE BEARDLESS SEX. How wisely Nature, ordering all below, Forbade a beard on woman's chin to grow ! For how could she be shaved, whate'er the skill. Whose tongue would never let her chin be still 1 A HAPPY DEFECT. Sixce no woman could live unless constantly heard, Nature, seeing the danger, would give her no beard, — 10 116 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. So made her face smooth, — for how could she shave Wlio her tongue could not hold though her throat it would save ? ON A VAIN BEAUTY. Is Molly Fowle immortal ? No ! Yes ; but she is ! — I'll prove her so, — She's fifteen now, and was, I know, Fifteen full fifteen years ago ! — Hans de Veil. ON A LADY'S LIBRARY. To Chloe's study shall we go, For ladies now all read, you know : Oh, what a splendid sight is there ! ; Twould make the dullest hermit stare. There stand, all ranged in proud array, Each French romance and modern play ; Love's Magazine of flames and darts, Whole histories of eyes and hearts. But oh, view well the outward scene, You'll never need to look within : What Chloe loves, she plainly shows, For, lo ! her very boohs are beaux. PHILLIS S AGE. How old may Phillis be, you ask, Whose beauty thus all hearts engages ? To answer is no easy task ; For she has really two ages. Stiff in brocade, and pinch'd in stays, Her patches, paint, and jewels on : All day let envy view her face, And Phillis is but twenty-one. Paint, patches, jewels laid aside, At night astronomers agree, The evening has the day belied ; And Phillis is come forty-three. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 147 CAUTION. A scholar was about to marry. His friend said, ' Ere thou dost, be wary ; So wise art thou that I foresee A wife will make a fool of thee.' — W. S. Landor. HOW TO USE A FAN. Amelia waved her fan with glee, And being in a playful mood, She gave the airy toy to me, And bade me flirt it, if I could. The pleasing toil 1 quick began, But jealous pangs my bosom hurt : ' Madam, I cannot flirt a fan, But with your leave I'll fan a flirt/ ON A LADY WHO BOASTED OP HER PRETTY FEET. 'No wonder Mary's feet are small,' Jack one day smiling said, ' If Nature stole a part from thence To form a thicker head/ ' In point of stealing, sure,' cries Dick, ' That, Nature had no hand in ; And if she made her head so thick, ; Twas not with understanding.' MY THREE WIVES. Though marriage by some folks Be reckon' d a curse, Three wives I did marry For better or worse — ■ The first for her person, The next for her purse, The third for a warming-pan, Doctress, and nurse. — Bastard. 148 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. THE LACONIC FEMALE. Celia her sex's foible slmns ; Her tongue no length of larum runs ; Two phrases answer every part — One gain'd, one breaks her husband's heart : I will, she said, when made a bride ; — I won't — through all her life beside. THE WEDDING-DAY. Keeplng- Tom's wedding-day, his friends Boozed till their brains were addled ; They drank his bridal day ! Tom sigh'd, — 'That same day I was saddled. 3 THE DANDY S REVENGE. The demon of fashion Sir Fopling bewitches, The reason his lady betrays ; For as she is resolved upon wearing the breeches, In revenge he has taken the stays. OPPOSITE EFFECTS FROM LIKE CAUSES. That opposite effects may flow From the same cause, 'tis clear 's no hum ; For money makes the mare to go, But also makes the men to come. TO A STOUT ELDERLY LADY. You ask me, your servant, to give you in rhyme, Some apt definitions of space and of time. If your ladyship look'd at your form and your face, You'd gain excellent notions of time and of space. BOOK XIV. HISTORY IN EPIGRAMS. ON HOMER. From Colophon some deem thee sprung ; From Smyrna some, and some from Chios ; These noble Salamis have sung, While those proclaim thee born in Ios ; And others cry up Thessaty, The mother of the Lapithae. Thus each to Homer has assign 'd The birthplace which best suits his mind ; But if I read the volume right, By Phoebus to his followers given, I'd say, they are mistaken quite, And that his real country's Heaven ; While for his mother, she can be No other than Calliope. Antipater of Sid on (Mervvale). ON MILTIADES. MlLTiADES ! thy valour best (Although in every region known). The men of Persia can attest, Taught by thyself at Marathon. ON HERODOTUS. The muses to Herodotus, one day, Came, nine of them, and dined ; And in return, their host to pay, £ql C \ 54rey left a book behind. 150 EPIGRAMS OLD AND KE¥. ON ALFRED THE GREAT. Keplete with soul, the monarch stood alone, And built on Freedom's basis England's throne A legislator, patriot, warrior, sage, He died the light of a benighted age. — Dibdin. THE MAID OF ORLEANS. Fair Amazon ! the cruel foe Who to the flames consigned. Thy form, his scorn of laws display'd, And base perfidious mind ! But just was Fate, by such a death Who raised thee to the sky ; For she who like Alcides lived, Should like Alcides die. — Mallieroe. THE RED AND WHITE ROSES. While Eed and White Eose dwelt as neighbours long, Their rivalry for foremost place was strong ; But now both roses in one blossom blend, In happiest mode the quarrel finds its end. A single rose springs up, and blooms, 'tis true ; Yet hath it all th' endowments of the two ; Since in itself of either rose the grace, Form, beauty, colour, health, and strength find place. Let him who's loved either rose alone, Find the whole charm still in the blended one. But woe to him who union hates and scorns ; For this same rose hath yet for foes its thorns. Quarterly Review. ON SIR THOMAS MORE, CHANCELLOR OF ENGLAND. When More some years had Chancellor been, No more suits did remain ; The same shall never more be seen, Till More be there again. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW". 151 UNDER THE STATUE OF EDWARD VI., IN ST THOMAS'S HOSPITAL. On Edward's brow no laurels cast a shade, Nor at his feet are warlike spoils display' d : Yet here, since first his bounty raised the pile, The lame grow active, and the languid smile. See this, ye chiefs, and, struck with envy, pine ; To kill is brutal, but to save, divine ! ELIZABETH. If ever royal virtues crown'd a crown, If ever courage dwelt with courtesy, If ever Princess put all princes down For valour, wisdom, prudence, equity, — This, this was she — who, in despite of death, Eeigns still adored, admired Elizabeth. Spain's rod, Rome's ruin, Netherlands' relief, Heaven's gem, earth's joy, world's wonder, nations' chief (!!!) SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. Nature ! to Old England still Continue these mistakes ; Give us for all our Kings, such Queens, And for our Dux, such Drakes. ON THE EXECUTION OF THE EARL OF ESSEX. When noble Essex, Blount, and Danvers died, One saw them suffer who had heard them tried ; And, sighing, said : ' When such brave soldiers die, Is J t not great pity, think you ? ' * No,' said I ; * There is no man of sense in all the city Will say 'tis great, but rather little pity.' Sir John Harrington. ON SIR WALTER RALEIGH. HADST thou served the heroine all thy days, Had Heaven from storms of envy screen'd thy bays ; 152 EPIGKAMS OLD AND NEW. Haclst thou still flourish'd in a warlike reign, Thy sword had made a conquest like thy pen ! But nought to such untimely fate could bring The valiant subject, but a timorous King. TO THE HOUSEHOLD. What can the cause be, when the king hath given His poet sack, the household will not pay ? Are they so scanted in their store, or driven For want of knowing the poet to say him nay? Well they should know him ; would the king but grant His poet leave to sing his household true, He'd frame such ditties of their store and want, Would make the very green-cloth to look blue ; And rather wish in their expense of sack, To the allowance from the king to use, As the old bard should no canary lack, "Twere better spare a butt than spoil his muse. For in the genius of a poet's verse, The king's fame lives. Go now, deny his tierce. Ben Jon son. TO CARDINAL RICHELIEU. Sick of a life, possess'd in vain, I soon shall wait upon the ghost Of our late monarch ; in whose reign, None, who had merit, miss'd a post. Then will I charm him with your name, Then all your glorious wonders done ; The power of France,— the Spaniard's shame, The rising honours of his son. Grateful, the royal shade will smile, And dwell, delighted, on your name ; Sweetly appeased his griefs beguile, And drown old losses in new fame. EPIGRAMS OLD AZS'D XEW. 153 But when lie asks me. in what post I did your wish'd commands obey, And how I shared your favours most ; — What would you please to have me say ? ISIaynard. JS.B. To this the cardinal answer'd — i Nothing.' TEE COMMONS TO CHAELES II. In all humanity we crave Our Sovereign may be our slave ; And humbly beg that he may be Be tray 'd by us most loyally. And if he please once to lay down His sceptre, dignity, and crown, We'll make him, for the time to come, The greatest Prince in Christendom. THE ANSWER. Charles at this time, having no need, Thanks you as much as if he did. — Rochester OX DRYDEX. Drydex, in immortal strain, Had raised the table-round again, But that a ribald king and court Bade him toil on, to make them sport; Demanded for their niggard pay, Fit for their souls, a looser lay, Licentious satires, song and play : The world defrauded of the high design, Profaned the God-given strength, and marred the lofty line. — Walter Scott. TO THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH. By various means th' immortal Homer seeks To raise the fame of his heroic Greeks : 154 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. For one, from coast to coast confusedly hurl'd, To give him room, the bard invents a world ; Whilst one for ever in the trenches lies, And, where he gain'd so many battles, dies : In thee the double character unites, Ulysses wanders, and Achilles rights. THE TWO CHURCHILLS. John Churchill, Bulie of Marlborough, and Churchill the Poet. In Anna's wars immortah Churchill rose, And, great in arms, subdued Britannia's foes ; A-greater Churchill now demands our praise, And the palm yields to the poetic bays. Though John fought nobly at his army's head, And slew his thousands with the balls of lead ; Yet must the hero to the bard submit, Who hurls, unmatch'd, the thunderbolts of wit. ON A MAGAZINE BUILT IN DUBLIN. Behold a proof of Irish sense ; Here Irish wit is seen ; When nothing's left that's worth defence They build a magazine. — Swift. GEORGE II. In most things I did as my father had done, I was false to my wife, and I hated my son : My spending was small, and my avarice much ; My kingdom was English, my heart was High Dutch : At Dettingen fight I was known not to blench ; I butcher'd the Scotch and I bearded the French ; I neither had morals, nor manners, nor wit ; I wasn't much miss'd when I died in a fit. Here set up my statue, and make it complete, With Pitt on his knees at my dirty old feet. — Thackeray epigrams old and new. 155 war proclaimed at brentford Britain at length her wrath declares, And fierce to meet the foe prepares : Bellona mounts her iron car, Graced with the implements of war : Augusta sounds the dread alarm, And all our ports their galleys arm : Bristol and York have heralds sent, Denouncing George's dire intent; Nay, Brentford now proclaims defiance ; — Let Bourbon tremble at th' alliance ! ON THE YOUNG- PRETENDER'S LANDING IN SCOTLAND, — 1745. Pretender in the Isle of Egg I Wiry then we must be watching : For, is it not too plain, I beg, Some mischief is a hatching. And mischief, if you let it hatch, Is difficult to quell — A faction therefore you should watch, And crush it in the shell. ON THE EARL OF MACCLESFIELD. When the seals were deliver'd to Macclesfield's charge, Each God for approving gave reasons at large : But Apollo excepted ; and said, so much wit, With such eloquence join'd, for that charge was unfit : Lest the injured, who at his tribunal appear'd, And put in their complaints, with intent to be heard ; Should feed on the honey, that dropp'd from his tongue, And charm'cl by his speaking, forget their own wrong : Minerva too added, ' His prudence is such, As not to indulge his own judgment too much. And whoe'er he consults, I plainly foresee, Must be some who knows less of the matter than he, Old authors, for instance — then men shall bemoan, That he such opinions prefers to his own.' 156 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. Jove heard ; and thus calmly deliver'd his thoughts : ' No man is more guilty of these and such faults, Yet still I've one reason, for which he is given, To show men how justice is practised in- heaven.' ON THE CORONATION OF GEORGE THE THIRD, September 22, 1761. Three monarchs now, of Brunswick's honour'd race, Shall, with the same great name, our annals grace. The first, though view'd by party's envious eyes, Contending factions own, was — good and wise. Through a long reign, brave, mild, and just approved, Our second George we style e the ?vell-beloved, } But now a youth ascends the British throne , Whom every royal virtue calls her own ! Unenvied he his native right obtains, And in the heart of every Briton reigns. Proceed, young prince, a patriot king complete, And George the Third henceforth be George the Great. ON MR PITT'S RETURN TO HIS COUNTRY-SEAT, In October, 1761. Britannia long her hapless fate had mourn 'd, By factions rent at home, by Europe scorn'd : Successless wars her languid councils show ; Her troops still fly before th 5 insulting foe : No more her fleets triumphant rule the main, For aid whilst sick'ning commerce sues in vain. To guide her tott'ring bark, a pilot fit At length she seeks — and casts her eyes on Pitt. Pitt left his rural seat, and active rose, Retrieved her credit and subdued her foes : From pole to pole, on every hostile shore, Again her flag's display'd, her cannons roar ; The lakes of Canada our triumphs hear, And Afric's sons the name of Pitt revere. Nay more, he bids e'en civil discord cease, And sees each boisterous faction hush'd in peace ; EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 157 Then quits the helm, without a title great, And seeks once more at Hayes a calm retreat. Great Chncinnatus thus, at Rome's request, Left his lone farm, and took th' imperial vest : With heaven-born zeal his patriot breast inspired ; Thus saved his country, triumph'd, and retired. OX THE EARL OF CHATHAM. Shall Chatham die and be forgot? Oh no ! — Warm from its source let grateful sorrow flow ; His matchless ardour fired each fear-struck mind. His genius soar'd when Britons droop'd and pined. Garrick, OX THE FRENCH ARMY (1760). The toast of each Briton in war's dread alarms, ' O'er bottle or bowl, is ' Success to our arms? Attack'd, put to flight, and soon forced from each trench, ' Success to our legs ' is the toast of the French. GEORGE III. Give me a royal niche — it is my due, The virtuousest king the realm e'er knew. I through a decent reputable life Was constant to plain food, and a plain wife. Ireland I risk'd, and lost America ; But dined on legs of mutton every day. My brain, perhaps, might be a feeble part, But yet I think I had an English heart. When all the kings were prostrate, I alone Stood face to face against Napoleon ; Nor ever could the ruthless Frenchman forge A fetter for old England and old George. I let loose flaming Nelson on his fleets ; I met his troops with Wellesley's bayonets. Triumphant waved my flag on land and sea : Where was the king in Europe like to me ? Monarchs exiled found shelter on my shores; My bounty rescued kings and emperors. 158 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW, But what boots victory by land and sea ? What boots that kings found refuge at my knee ? I was a conqueror, but yet not proud ; And careless, even though Napoleon bow'd. My guns roar'd triumph, but I never heard ; Old England thrill'd with joy, I never stirr'd. What care had I of pomp, or fame, or power — A crazy old blind man in Windsor tower ? — Thackeray. ON GEORGE III. RESTORED TO HEALTH BY A VISIT TO WEYMOUTH. O Sovereign of an isle renown'd for undisputed sway, Where'er o'er yonder gulf profound her navies wing their way, On juster claims she builds at length her empire of the sea, And rightly deems those waves her strength, which strength restored to thee. — Cowper. reigning and raining. How monarchs reign is easily explain'd, For thus upon their tombs it might be chiselled : As long as George the Third could reign, he reign' d, And when no longer he could reign, he mizzled. ON THE BURNING OF LORD MANSFIELD'S HOUSE, TO- GETHER WITH HIS MSS., BY THE MOB, IN 1780. When wit and genius meet their doom In all-devouring flame, They tell us of the fate of Eome, And bid us fear the same. O'er Murray's loss the Muses wept, They felt the rude alarm ; Yet bless'd the guardian care that kept His sacred head from harm. There memory, like the bee that's fed From Flora's balmy store, EPIGRAMS OLD AND STEW. 159 The quintessence of all he read Had treasured up before. The lawless herd, with fury blind, Have done him cruel wrong ; The flowers are gone, but still we find The honey on his tongue. OX HEARING IT OBSERVED THAT PITT HAD PROVED HIMSELF A BAD ARITHMETICIAN. For addition, Pitt's talents let ail men revere, Since he adds to our debt thirty millions a-year ; In subtraction his skill to suspect will be rash, Who contrives from the bank to subtract all the cash : And though feeble his efforts to multiply men, He can multiply taxes again and again. In division what mortal can say he wants nous ? Who so artfully works in dividing the house. Then, ye patriots, be still ! to your murmurs a truce ! What we were, what w r e are, think ! and spare your abuse, For w r e ail must agree that Will Pitt can reduce. on mr pitt s being pelted by the mob on lord mayor's day, 1787. The City feast inverted here we find, For Pitt had his dessert before he dined. BY HORACE Vv'ALPOLE, ON BECOMING EARL OF ORFORD. An estate and an earldom at seventy-four ; Had I sought them, or wish'd them, "'twould add one fear more, — That of making a countess, when almost fourscore : But Fortune, who scatters her gifts out of season, Though unkind to my limbs, has still left me my reason ; And, whether she lowers or lifts me, I'll try, In the plain simple style I have lived in, to die ; For ambition too humble, for meanness too high. 160 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. ON NAPOLEON I. I. Says Old Nick to his crony, old Emperor Nero, As together they sat in a sulphury bovver, ' I'm resolved now to finish my Corsican hero, By crowning his wishes with absolute power/ Says Nero, ' Great King of Hell's gloomy dominion, Ponder well what your Majesty's going to do ; His ambition's so boundless, that 'tis my opinion He never will rest till he overturns you.' II. When Emperor Nap. to France return'cl, He much admired his boy ; The nurse, whose anxious bosom burn'd To increase the father's joy, ' How much he talks ! ' ' How much he's grown ! ' Would every moment cry, ' Besides, he's learn'd to run alone ; ' Says Boney, ' So have I ! ' ON HEARING THAT HIS SPURS HAD BEEN FOUND IN THE IMPERIAL CARRIAGE AFTER WATERLOO. These Napoleon left behind, Flying swifter than the wind ; Needless to him when buckled on, Wanting, no spur but Wellington. Lord Ershlne IY. i A NEW Achilles, I,' spake Gaul's stern chief, Nor spake a lie — albeit he was a thief : For like Achilles, to the untimely grave Hosts had he hurl'd, the bravest of the brave ; Insate of wrath, stiffneck'd, implacable, Wrecker of towns ; — and fleet of foot as well : So like was he in much ; yet not in all ; — The heel that slew the Greek has saved the Gaul. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 161 Of all hard-named generals that caused much distraction, And poor Boney's hopes so ill-naturedly cross 5 d, The hardest of all, and the keenest in action, That Eussia produces, is General Frost. VI. Says Boney to Johnny, l I'm coming to Dover ; ' Says Johnny to Boney, ' You're better at home : ' Says Boney to Johnny, ' I mean to come over ; ' Says Johnny to Boney, ' You'll be overcome.' BRITISH PLUCK. Sure England, single-handed, still may hope With all the hosts of boasting France to cope : Since single-handed Nelson on the main, Could crush the fleets combined of France and Spain. OX THE EARL OF CHATPIAM AND SIR RICHARD STRAHAN, Leaders of the unfortunate Walclieren Expedition. The Earl of Chatham with his sword drawn, Was waiting for Sir Richard Strahan ; Sir Richard, burning to be at 'em, Was waiting for the Earl. of Chatham. ON THE MAID OF SARAGOSSA. * * * * It is for this the Spanish maid aroused, Hangs on the willows her unstrung guitar, And, all unsexed, the anlace hath espoused, Sung the loud song, and dared the deed of war? And she, whom once the semblance of a scar Appall'd, an owlet's larum chill'd with dread, Now views the column-scattering bayonet jar, The falchion flash ; and o'er the yet warm dead, Stalks with Minerva's step where Mars might quake to tread. — Byron. 11 162 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. WELLINGTON AND THE MINISTERS, 1813. So gentle in peace Alcibiades smiled, While in battle he shone forth so terribly grand, That the emblem they graved on his seal was a child • With a thunderbolt placed in its innocent hand. Oh, Wellington ! long as such ministers wield Your magnificent arm, the same emblem will do ; For, while they're in the council and you in the field. We've the babies in them, and the thunder in yov. Moore. THE CONGRESS AT VIENNA. In cutting, and dealing, and playing their cards, Eevoking and shuffling for tricks and rewards, The kings have been changed into knaves, and the rest Of the honours have either been lost or suppress'd. THE INQUISITION RE-ESTABLISHED IN SPAIN IN 1815. To Spain, entranced in golden dreams, Fair freedom comes ; and tempting seems The heav'nly apparition : But ah ! when, waking, Spain essay'd To hold the all-enchanting maid, She clasp'd the — Inquisition. ON THE LATE WILLIAM WILBERFORCE, ESQ., M.P. Thy country, Wilberforce, with just disdain, Hears thee by cruel men and impious call'd Fanatic, for thy zeal to loose the enthrall'd From exile, public sale, and slavery's chain. Friend of the poor, the wrong' d, the fetter-gal I'd, Fear not lest labour such as thine be vain. Thou hast achieved a part ; hast gain'd the ear Of Britain's senate to thy glorious cause : Hope smiles, joy springs, and though cold caution pause And weave delay, the better hour is near That shall remunerate thy toils severe By peace for Afric, fenced with British laws. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 163 Enjoy what thou hast won, esteem and love From all the just on earth, and all the blest above. Cowper. ON THE DEATH OF QUEEN CHARLOTTE. The death of the queen has caused great perturbation ; We must mourn by. command, throughout the whole nation ; The theatres closed, the poor actors, forlorn, Must starve : other subjects can eat while they mourn. What follows is plain ; — 'tis believed in all corners The mourners are actors, the actors are mourners. C. Mathews. PITT AND FOX. On folly every fool his talent tries ; It asks some toil to imitate the wise : Though few like Fox can speak — like Pitt can think Yet all like Fox can game — like Pitt can drink. Drop upon Fox's grave a tear, 'Twill trickle to his rival's bier ; O'er Pitt's the solemn requiem sound, From Fox's shall the notes rebound. ON THE WHIG ASSOCIATES OF THE PRINCE-REGENT NOT OBTAINING OFFICE. Ye politicians, tell me, "pray, Why thus with woe and care rent ? This is the worst that you can say : ' Some wind has blown the wig away, And left the Hair Apparent.'' — Charles Lamb. ON THE LATE PRINCE-REGENT STANDING BETWEEN Till COFFINS OF HENRY VIII. AND CHARLES I. Famed for contemptuous breach of sacred ties, By headless Charles see heartless Henry lies ; 164 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. Between them stands another sceptred thing, It moves, it reigns — in all but name a king. Charles to his people, Henry to his wife, In him the double tyrant starts to life: Justice and death have mix'd their dust in vain, Each royal vampire wakes to life again. Ah ! what can tombs avail, since these disgorge The blood and dust of both to mould a George ? THE TEIAL OF QUEEN CAROLINE. On hearing it asserted that she had not received a fair trial. 'Tis false: — the trial of the Queen was fair, Therefore, another time pray change your story ; Of Law and Justice she has had her share, For everything brought forward was Per- JURY. QUEEN CAROLINE'S TRIAL. [The examination of witnesses began amidst thunder and lightning and ended at the moment of an eclipse.] When Giiford commenced his attack on the Queen, Loud rattled the thunder, red lightnings were seen ; When Copley summ'd up all he proved had been done, 'Twas almost a total eclipse of the sun : In the whole of the case we may clearly remark, Accusation in thunder and proof in the dark. PRINCE GORTSCHAKOFF'S DESPATCH. Though Victory refused our arms to bless, We ran away with wonderful success. THE DEFENCE OF GAETA. Gaeta's defenders, 'twould seem, have a turn For the tailoring craft ; for from Reuter we learn That, as soon as the news of an arm'stice them reaches, They all set to work, sirs, repairing their breaches. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 165 THE INSURRECTION IN POLAND. 'Twas the Bussian's conscription, the papers declare, Made the nation fling off his control ; So it is not the pole that has stirr'd up the bear, But the bear who has stirr'd up the Pole. — Fun. ON GARIBALDI. When Garibaldi ceased his high command, And sheath' d his sword — that sword a bright and keen one — Nought in his pocket put he but his hand, A mighty hand — and nobler still, a clean one. THE MATCHLESS BUDGET OF 1871. Quoth Lucifer Lowe, Ex luce I'll show" iAicellum — light profit crescendo ; But, alas ! not a spark Has illumined the dark Of his lucus a non lucendo. THE FRENCH, 1871. The cock of glory is the cock Francais, Demoralized he is not by defeat : He crows right loudly when he wins the day, And loudly yet when he is soundly beat. BOOK XV. POLITICAL EPIGRAMS. AN APT COMPARISON. The snake, tradition's tale avers, Casts once a-year his speckled skin ; Yet no improvement change infers — 'Tis still the self-same snake within. Too like the supple courtier's trim, Who turns and twists, occasion's slave '; 'Tis change of sides, not change of him ! New knavery — but the same old knave ! A REPRESENTATIVE. To represent is hut to personate, Which should be truly done at any rate. Thus they who 're fairly chose without a fee Should give their votes, no doubt, with liberty But when a seat is sold by the venal tribe, He represents them best — who takes a bribe. REPRESENTATION OF WOMEN. Should women sit in parliament, A thing unprecedented, A great part of the nation then Would be Miss-Represented. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 167 WHIG GOVERNMENT. * The Queen is with us,' Whigs exulting say, 1 For when she found us in she let us stay. 3 It may be so ; but give me leave to doubt, How long she'll keep you when she finds you out. PROXIES. ' By proxy I pray, and by proxy I vote,' A graceless peer said to a churchman of note ; Who answer' d, ' My lord, then Fll venture to say, You'll to heaven ascend in a similar way.' THE JACOBIN'S EVASION. When Tom had seditiously dared to exclaim, That in England we wanted no king, And was brought to the justice for uttering the same, He contrived his accusers to fling. i Please your worship,' said Tom, ' that I said do I grant, And in what I've affirm'd I'll be steady ; For Englishmen surely no monarch can want, That have such a good one already. 5 MOBS AND NOBS. As the late Traded Unions by way of a show, Over Westminster Bridge strutted five in a row, * I feel for the bridge,' whispered Dick in a shiver ; 1 Thus tried by the mob it may sink in the river.' Quoth Tom, a crown lawyer, ' Abandon your fears, As a bridge it can only be tried by its piers.' trades' unionists. What is a Unionist ? one who has yearnings For an equal division of unequal earnings ; Idler or bungler or both, he is willing To fork out his penny and pocket your shilling. Eb. Elliot, the Corn-Law Rhymer, 168 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. THE LEGION OF HONOUR. Addressed to M. de Caze, on a certain nomination to the Legion of Honour. Dans les terns affreux ITT. The coves in prison, grinding corn for bread, Denounce thee, Cubitt, every step they tread ; And, though the ancients used thee, sure 'tis hard The moderns cannot use the prison-y&nZ. By law they work, and walk, and toil in spite, Yet ne'er exceed two feet from morn till night. ON OXFORD FEES. When ' Alma Mater ' her kind heart enlarges, Charges her graduates, graduates her charges ; What safer rule could guide the accountant's pen, Than that of doubling fees for Dublin men. — Mansell. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 203 THE EMPTY GUN. As Dick and Tom in fierce dispute engage, And, face to face, the noisy contest wage ; ' Don't coch your chin at me/ Dick smartly cries : ' Fear not — his head's not charged,' a friend replies. THE MEDDLER. ' Will and Hal love their bottle.' Well, Prattle, why not ? Drink as much as they can, 'twill not make you a sot. ' Surface revels all night, and sleeps out half the day.' Well, Prattle, his pranks will not turn your head grey. 6 Charles is ruin'd by gambling, begs alms to subsist.' Well, Prattle, subscribe or withhold as you list. Be less busy, good Prattle, with other's affairs ; Keep an eye to concerns of your own, and not theirs. You're in risk of arrest, Prattle, that's your concern. None will lend you a doit, and you've no means to earn : I could preach thus a week, did my taste so incline, But, Prattle, your scrapes are no business of mine. ON THE ATLANTIC CABLE. John Bull and Brother Jonathan Each other ought to greet ; They've always been extravagant, But now 'make both ends meet.' THE MISER AND THE DERVISE. The miser, Sherdi, on his sick-bed lying, Affrighted, groaning, wheezing, praying, sighing, Expecting every hour to lose his breath — Enter a dervise — ' Holy Father, say, As life seems parting from this sinful clay, What can preserve me from the jaws of Death ? ' * A sacrifice, dear son — good joints of meat, Of lamb and mutton, for the priest and poor ; Nay, from the Koran should' st thou lines repeat, Those lines may possibly thy health restore.' 204 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. * Thank ye, dear Father ; you have said enough ; Your counsel has already given me ease : Now, as my sheep are all a great way off, I'll quote our holy Koran, if you please.' ON CERTAIN JEW CLOTHING ESTABLISHMENTS. Half Hebrew, half English, the slopseller Moses Cries clo'es ail the week, but on Saturday closes. R. Sitripsoh. ON WALTZING. At first they move slowly, with caution and grace, Like horses when just setting out on a race ; For dancers at balls, like horses at races, Must amble a little to show off their paces. The music plays faster, their raptures begin, Like lambkins they skip, like te-totums they spin ; Now draperies whirl, and noAv petticoats fly, And ankles at least are exposed to the eye : O'er the chalk-cover'd ball-room in circles they swim, He smiles upon her, and she smiles upon him : Her hand on his shoulder is tenderly placed, His arm quite as tenderly circles her waist; They still bear in mind as they're turning each other, The proverb — ' One good turn's deserving another : ' And these bodily turns often end, it is said, By turning the lady's or gentleman's head. WEST COUNTRY POLITENESS. As a west country ma}^or, with formal address, Was making his speech to the haughty Queen Bess ; ' The Spaniard,' quoth he, ' with inveterate spleen, Has presumed to attack you, a poor virgin queen ; But your Majesty's courage has made it appear That the Don had ta'en the wrong sow by the ear,' EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 205 LANDLORDS AND TENANTS. Says his landlord to Thomas, ' Your rent I must raise, Vm so plaguily pinch' d for the pelf.' 1 Raise my rent ! ' replies Thomas, ' your honour's main good — For I never can raise it myself !* ON TWINING, THE TEAMAN. It seems as if nature had curiously plann'd That men's names with their trade should agree ; There's Twining, the teaman, who lives in the Strand, Would be whining, if robb'd of his T. — Hook. ON GROWING BALD. My hair and I are even now I see ! I've cut my hair, till now my hair cuts me. A CLOCK'S HARDSHIPS. A mechanic his labour will often discard If the rate of his pay he dislikes : But a clock — and its case is uncommonly hard — Will continue to work though it strikes ! Thomas Hood, KNOT AND CANNOT. Mr Burke once intended a lady to please — Observing some work that was pinn'd to her knees — By asking what work she had got ? ' I'm knotting,' she answer'd, ' 'tis tiresome work, But pretty, when done ; can you knot, Mr Burke ? ' ' No, madam,' said he, ' I can not.' IMPROMPTU, IN RETURN FOR A BRACE OF SNIPES. My thanks I'll no longer delay For the birds which you shot with such skill ; But though there was nothing to pay, Yet each of them brought in his bill. 206 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. I mean not, my friend, to complain, The matter was certainly right ; And when tills such as these come again, I'll always accept them at sight. TRANSFORMATION. Poor Peter was in ocean drown'd, A harmless, quiet creature ; And when at length his corpse was found, It had become salt-petre. ON AN ABSCONDING DEBTOR. Owen Moore has run away, Owing more than he can pay. light-flnger'd jack. Jack, who thinks all his own that once he handles, For practice-sake purloin'd a pound of candles, Was taken in the fact : — Ah ! thoughtless wight ! To steal such things as needs must come to light. ON MAC-ADAM, THE ROAD-MAKER. ' My Essay on Roads,' quoth Mac- Adam, 'lies there, The result of a life's lucubration ; But does not the title-page look rather bare ? I long for a Latin quotation.' A Delphin editiou of Virgil stood nigh, To second his classic desire ; When the road-maker hit on the shepherd's reply : ' Miror magis, — I rather add mire.' Notes and Qaenc. BEER, OR FRENCH WINE? No ale or beer (says Gladstone) we should drink, Because they stupefy and dull our brains. But sour French wine, as other people think, Our English stomachs often sorely pains. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 207 The question, then, is which we most should dread — An aching stomach or an aching head ? J. R. C. Wrigltt. APOLOGY FOR KNOCKING- A PRINTER'S TEETH OUT. I must confess that I was somewhat warm : I broke his teeth. Bat where's the mighty harm ? My works, he said, would not afford him meat : And teeth are useless, when there's nought to eat. T. Sheridan. THE KEEN SPORTSMAN. Hark. forward, cries the Squire ; his hounds Dash o'er his neighbour Crabtree's grounds, AVho call'd aloud (although too late), I wish your honour would but do To other folks as you're done to ; Let them not run through my estate. My friend, replies the laughing Squire, I'm doing just what you desire ; To all the country 'tis well known, I don't mind running through my own. AVOID EXTREMES. The damsel too prudishly shy Or too forward, what swain would possess ? For the one will too often deny, And the other too soon will say, yes. AT EIGHTY-FOUR. At fourscore and four did Mr Calonne Oft ride at full speed, very near ; A man once call'd out, past whom he had flown, — ■ ' After what are you riding ? ' Said Mr Calonne, ' Sir, after my eighty-fourth year.' 208 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. THE SHIRT MULTIPLIED. As Bayes, whose cup with poverty was dash'd, Lay long in bed, while his one shirt was wash'd, The dame appear'd, and, holding it to view, Said, 'If 'tis wash'd again, 'twill wash in two,' ' Indeed ! ' cries Bayes, ' then wash it, pray, good cousin, And wash it, if you can, into a dozen.' ON OYSTER-SHELLS. Here lies the remains of bones, whose birth Famed Colchester claim'd, all of true native worth : Though rich, they were humble, and never aspired ; Their sweetness all praised, and their taste all admired : True emblems of beauty and health they appear'd ; Though their heads had no hair, yet each wore a long beard. By all ranks beloved, yet how strange to relate, Though mankind they befriended, (disastrous fate !) They were torn from their beds, robb'd, and left to decay, And though others they fed, fell to hunger a prey ! Alas ! they were disttd, unrepining they fell, And too poor for a coffin, each had but a shell ! Written on the window of the Deanery House of St Patrick's, in Dublin. Are the guests of this house still doom'd to be cheated ? Sure the fates have decreed they by halves should be treated. In the days of old John,* if you came here to dine, You had choice of good meat, but no choice of good wine : In Jonathan's] reign, if you come here to eat, You have choice of good wine, but no choice of good meat. O Jove ! how fully might all sides be blest Would' st thou but agree to this humble request: Put both Deans in one ; or, if that's too much trouble, Instead of the Dean, make the deanery double ! * The former Dean. t Dr Swift. MISCELLANEOUS EPIGKAMS. PART III. SENTIMENTAL AND DIDACTIC. OLD AGE. From the Greek. Age is the heaviest burden man can bear, — Compound of disappointment, pain, and care ; For when the mind's experience comes at length, It comes to mOurn the body's loss of strength ; Eesign'd to ignorance all our better days, Knowledge just ripens when the man decays ; One ray of light the closing eye receives, And wisdom only takes what folly leaves. R. Cumberland. From Martial. , A drop of amber, from the weeping plant, Fell, unexpected, and embalm' d an ant: The little insect, we so much contemn, Is, from a worthless ant, become a gem. THE PEICE OF FREEDOM. Adapted from Martial. Parson ! 'tis false ; 111 ne'er believe With liberty you wish to live : You hug your chains, and cut your jokes On us, poor independent folks. — But would you then indeed be free ? Come, I'll prescribe — without a fee. U 210 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. First, then, 'tis plain you love to eat, And haunt the tables of the great : You shun the man, and think him poor, That cannot give you ' four and four.' Indeed, my friend, this must not be ; A parasite can ne'er be free. Next, doctor, you must drink no wine. — Why so ? Saint Paul, that great divine, Says, i Drink a little.' — That's not the question ;• You can't afford it. — But for digestion A glass of cider, or old mead, Or e'en mild ale, will do the deed. Then, you're a .captain in your dress ; A good black frieze would cost you less, And look more venerable too, Than that grey cloth — which I call blue. Talk what you please, you'll ne'er be free, If you despise economy. ■• Perhaps, too, you may think a wife Amongst the requisites of life : Why, take some healthy farmer's daughter, Some BlousalUul — nay, spare your laughter : She'll mend your shirts, inspect your brewing ; — A lady, sir, would be your ruin. Your pars'nage-house, I own, is mean.; But see ! that fragrant jessamine ; See ! how that woodbine round the door And lattice blooms ! — What would you more ? Oh ! doctor, could you but despise Life's pompous superfluities ; Could you but learn to live content With what indulgent Heav'n has sent ; Whate'er your lot, you'd live more free Than any prince — in Germany. From Martial. Thrice twenty years you've seen your grass made hay ; Your eyebrows, too, proclaim your hair is grey : EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 211 Yet through all quarters of the town you run : At every ball and levee you make one : No great man stirs but you are at his -heels, And never fail both those who have the seals : You never miss St James's, ever chat Of lord or bishop this, or gentle that. — To youth leave trifles; — have you not been told, That, of all fools, no fool is like the old ? THE FEAILTY OF MAN. Can he be fair, that withers at a blast ? Or he be strong, that airy breath can cast T Can he be wise, that knows not how to live 1 Or he be rich, that nothing hath to give? Can he be young, that's feeble, weak, and wan ? So fair, strong, wise, so rich, so young is man. So fair is man that death (a parting blast) Blasts his fair flower, and makes him earth at last ; So strong is man, that with a gasping breath, He totters, and bequeaths his strength to death ; So wise is man, that if with death he strive, His wisdom cannot teach him how to live ; So rich is man, that (all his debts being paid) His wealth's the winding-sheet wherein he's laid ; So young is man, that, broke with care and sorrow, He's old enough to-day to die to-morrow : Why brag'st thou, then, thou worm of five feet long ? Thou'rt neither fair, nor strong, nor wise, nor rich, nor young. — Quarles. IIAEDSHIP UPON THE- LADIES; OE, THE DEUDGEEY OF CAEDS. What though, fair nymphs, your business is to play, *Tis hard you must be busy night and day. Why should you want the privilege of men, Not take some small diversion now and then ! Had women been the makers of our laws, (And, that they were not, I can see no cause,) The men should drudge at cards, from morn to night ; And female pleasure be to read and write. — Sivift. 212 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. THE VOWELS. We are little airy creatures, All of different voice and features ; One of us in glass is set, One of us you'll find, in jet ; T'other you may see in tin, And the fourth a box within : If the fifth you should pursue, It can never fly from you. — Swift. Imitation of Martial. My suit's kind granter first I prize ; Next, him who speedily denies : On you, what term shall I bestow, — Who grant not, and deny me slow ? THE TRULY RICH. They're richer who diminish their desires, Though their possessions be not amplified, Than monarchs, who, in owning large empires, Have minds that never will be satisfied. For he is poor that wants what he would have : And rich, who having nought, doth nothing crave. Sir T. Urchard. TOWN-LIFE AND COUNTRY- LIFE. T. How dull's a country life ! sage JBvfo cries : C. Dull as your life in town, his friend replies. T. How can you bear the same things o'er and o'er ? C. Yet what can Bath or London, pray, give more ? T. You eat and drink, and stroll about your fields; — C. Such are the joys your fav'rite town life yields. Yet, whilst our fields are green, our flow'rs are sweet. You breathe in smoke — and tread the dusty street. T. To shift the scene we've various public places ; — C. Yet still you meet the same dull-busy faces. T. Then fresh and fresh we read the daily news : C. Content, some weekly journal I peruse. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW". 213 T. Can you the rooms, cards, company resign I C. Yes ; for health, ease, good air, and wholesome wine. T. But you've no neighbours. — C. Yes, we have a few ; And then — we're seldom plagued with folks like you. THE INVISIBLE. Written at College, 1717. What mortal burns not with the love of fame 1 Some write, some fight — some eat themselves a name. For fame beau Frightful haunts each public place, And grows conspicuous for — his ugly face. Laura, the rural circle's constant boast, Sighs for the Mall, and longs to be a toast. The priestling, proud of doctrine not his own, Usurps a scarf — and longs to preach in town. Verus, though bless'd with learning, sense, and wit, Yet prides himself in never showing it : Safe in his cell, he shuns the staring crowd, And inward shines, like Sol behind a cloud. For fame let fops to distant regions roam, Lo ! here's the man — who never stirs from home ! That unseen wight — whom all men wish to see ; Illustrious grown — by mere obscurity. IRRESOLUTION. From Martial. Between the pulpit and the bar While thus you hesitate and trifle, You're growing older than old Parr ! Johnny, indeed you waste your life ill. If toward the Church your zeal draws strong, Three curacies are just now vacant ; If not, the law goes on ding-dong, — Rouse up, and try what you can make on't : Let us, at least, an effort see ; Be something — anything, for money ! For while you're doubting what to be, You're likely to be nothing, Johnny. 214 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. MR POPE TO THE DUCHESS OF QUEEN SBURY. Did Celia's person and her sense agree, What mortal could behold her and be free ? But nature has, in pity to mankind, Enrich'd the image, but defaced the mind. — Pope. THE ANSWER. Had Pope a person equal to his mind, How fatal would it be to womankind ; But nature, who does all things well ordain, Deform'd the body, but enrich'd the brain. ON MISS FANNY CARELESS. Careless by name, and Careless by nature ; Careless of shape 5 and Careless of feature. Careless in dress, and Careless in air; Careless of riding in coach or in chair. Careless of love, and Careless of hate ; Careless if crooked, and Careless if straight : Careless at table, and Careless in bed ; Careless if maiden, and Careless if wed. Careless at church, and Careless at play ; Careless if company go, or they stay. E'en Careless at tea, not minding chit-chat; So Careless ! she's Careless for this or for that. Careless of all love or wit can propose ; She's Careless — so Careless — there's nobody knows. Oh ! how could I love thee, thou dear Careless thing ! (0 happy, thrice happy ! — I'd envy no King !) Were you careful for once to return me your love, I cared not how Careless to others you prove. I then should be -Careless how Careless you were ; And the more Careless you, still the less I should care. ON ONE who thought he had a MEANS OF FLYING TO THE MOON. And will Volatio quit this world so soon, And fly to his own native seat, the moon ? EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 215 'Twill serve, however, in some little stead, That he sets qut with such an empty head, Doddridge. INSCRIPTION ON AN URN AT LORD CORK'S, TO THE MEMORY OF THE DOO HECTOR. Stranger, behold the mighty Hector's tomb ! See ! to what end both dogs and heroes come. These are the honours by his master paid To Hector's manes and lamented shade : Xor words nor honours can enough commend The social dog — nay, more, the faithful friend ! From nature all his principles he drew : By nature faithful, vigilant, and true : His looks and voice his inward thoughts express'd ; He growl' d in anger, and in love caress'd. No human falsehood lurk'd beneath his heart. Brave without boasting, generous without art. When Hector's virtues, man, proud man, displays, Truth shall adorn his tomb with Hector's praise. THE COUNTRY-HOUSE. SlCK of the noise and smoke of town, Old Simon, fat and wealthy grown, Resolved to seek some snag retreat, And build himself a country-seat. One day, in his perambulation, He spies a tempting situation. The house perhaps you oft have seen, Fast by the road on Turnham-green : Seven windows in the front are thrust, Spite of the sunshine and the dust : The road a cheerful prospect yields ; The walls are blank that face the fields. Twice ten stage-coaches, twice a day, Here from and to the town convey Old gouty cronies of the city, Who, in the country, wax full witty : 216 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. Whole summer's days they sit and smoke, And on poor travelers crack their joke. Oar cit' the stage convej^s to town, And in the evening brings him down : For Simon 's heart, nor think it strange, Still hankers after the exchange ; And thrice a week he must peruse The Chronicles and London news. His conversation this supplies - With murders, rapes, and robberies, The price of stocks — and bankruptcies. Thus does our friend, from day to day, Contrive to huddle life away ; And thus this country-mouse you see Still busy — as a summer's bee. ' Is this,' said I, ( your snug retreat ? I'd rather live in Newgate-street ; Or if, forsooth ! one must be chopping, I'd take a country-house — at Wapping.' LIFE. Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law, Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw ; Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight, A little louder, but as empty quite : Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse the riper sage, And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age ; Pleased with this bauble still, as that before, Till tired he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er. — Pvj)e. On seeing the words i Domus Ultima J inscribed on the Vaults of the Duke of Richmond, in the Cathedral oj Chichester. Did he who thus inscribed this wall Not read, or not believe St Paul, Who says there is, where'er it stands, ' Another house not made with hands ? ' EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 217 Or shall we gather from these 'words, That house is not a House of Lords. TO MISS THIiALE. Wear the gown, and wear the hat ; Snatch thy pleasures while they last ; Hadst thou nine lives, like a cat, Soon those nine lives would be pass'd. Br Johnson. ON MENTAL ABILITY. Too much or too little wit, Doth only render the owner fit For nothing but to be undone, Much easier than if he"d none. — S. Butler. ON A BEAUTIFUL YOUTH STRUCK BLIND BY LIGHTNING. Sure 'twas by Providence design'd, Bather in pity than in hate, That he should be, like Cupid, blind, To save him from Narcissus' fate. — Goldsmith. THE PROVOST AND TRUTH. At college, once of late, Was seen the modest face of Truth ; The provost met the blushing j^outh, And ask'd what brought him to their gate 1 * 'Twas'for admission, sir, I came.' ' Your name, young man ? ' He gave his name. 'Fly,' cried the doctor, in a fury : ' Fly, or this instant, I assure ye, I'll bawl aloud — The Churdi in danger ! ' • You may refuse me,' said the stranger ; i But to your cost you soon may learn That Truth is sure to have his turn : Old Father Chronos is my sire, And grants whatever I require.' 918 EPIGEAMS OLD AND NEW. ON A BEOKEN CORNELIAN HEART. Ill-fated heart ! and can it be That thou should'st thus be rent in twain ? Have years of care for thine and thee, Alike been all employ'd in vain ? Yet precious seems each shatter'd part, And every fragment dearer grown, Since he who wears thee, feels thou art A litter emblem of his own. ON RAILWAY ACCIDENTS. Short was the passage through this earthly vale, By turnpike roads when mortals used to wend ; But now we travel by way of the rail, As soon again we reach the journey's end. ON A DISSATISFIED MAN. Still restless, still chopping and changing about : Still enlarging, rebuilding, and making a rout ; Little Timotlry, outre as it may appear, Pulls down and builds up again, ten times a- year With this altering rage, poor dissatisfied elf ! What a pity it is he don't alter himself. CONSISTENCY. Though George, with respect to the wrong and the right, Is of twenty opinions 'twixt morning and night ; If you call him a turn-coat, you injure the man — He's the pink of consistency, on his own plan ; While to stick to the strongest is always his trim, 'Tis not he changes side, 'tis the side changes him. 11 r it ten wider a print representing persons skating. O'er crackling ice, o'er gulfs profound, With nimble glide the skaters play ; O'er treach'rous pleasure's rlow'ry ground, Thus lightly skim and haste away. — l)r John ton. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 219 ON A STINGY FOP. Curio's rich sideboard seldom sees the light, Clean is his kitchen, and his spits are bright ; His knives and spoons, all ranged in even rows, No hands molest, or fingers discompose ; A curious jack, hung up to please the eye, For ever still, whose flyers never fly ; His plates unsullied, shining on the shelf ; For Curio dresses nothing but himself. Written on the leaves of a Fan. Flavia the least and slightest toy Can with resistless art employ : This fan in meaner hands would prove An engine of small force in love ; Yet she, with graceful air and mien, Not to be told, or safely seen, Directs its wanton motion so, That it wounds more than Cupid's bow ; Gives coolness to the matchless dame, To every other breast a flame. TYRANNY UNIVERSAL. Better we all were in our graves Than live in slavery to slaves ; Worse than the anarchy at sea, Where fishes on each other \)vey ; Where, every trout can make as high rant O'er his inferiors as our tyrants, And swagger while the coast is clear ; But should a lordly pike appear, Away you see the varlet scud, Or hide his coward snout in mud. Thus, if a gudgeon meet a roach, He dares not venture to approach, Yet still has impudence to rise, And, like Domitian, leap at flies. 220 E PI & RAMS OLD AND NEW. THE AGRICULTURAL LABOURER. Our vicar still preaches of ' love of one's neighbour,' But that's a scarce article, friends, hereabout ; I was shut in the house when I couldn't find labour, And put into gaol when I look'd for it out. The gentry say deartfy and distress are all gammon, And shut up their hearts to the labourers' appeal ; Though to them it seems humbug to talk about famine, To us 'tis no humbug the famine to feel. Punch, 1846. THE LAW OF NATURE. Big fleas have little fleas to plague, perplex, and bite 'em, Little fleas have lesser fleas, and so ''ad infinitum.'' Fielder. Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory ; Colours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken. Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, Are heap'd for the beloved's bed ; And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on. — Shelley. FORGIVENESS. It is the duty of a man To bless his greatest foe, And shield the arm that late was raised To work his direst w r oe. Just so the scented sandal -tree, In all its pride and bloom, Sheds on the axe that lays it low A sweet and rich perfume. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 221 TWO WRETCHES. Rich Gripe doth all his thoughts and cunning bend To increase that wealth he wants the soul to spend : Poor Shifter doth his whole contrivance set To spend that wealth he wants the sense to get. How happy would appear to each his fate, Had Gripe his humour, or he Gripe's estate ! Kind Fate and Fortune, blend them, if you can ; And, of two wretches, make one happy man. — Walsh. UNCHARITABLENESS NOT CHRISTIAN. I know not if 'twas wise or well To give all heathens up to hell — Hadrian — Aurelius — Socrates — And others, wise and good as these ; I know not if it is forbid, But this I know — Christ never did. FARMING IN THE OLDEN TIME. The man to the plough, The wife to the cow, The girl to the sow, The boy to the mow, — And your rents will be netted. FARMING IN MODERN DAYS. Best man tally ho ! The girl piano ; The wife silk and satin ; The boy Greek and Latin, — xind you'll all be gazetted. Earth walks on earth like glittering gold ; Earth says to earth, We are but mould ; Earth builds on earth castles and towers ; Earth says to earth, All shall be ours. 222 epigrams old and new. folly and wisdom. To borrow Folly's cap and bells, Though Wisdom oft descends ; Yet Folly, to her cost, doth find That Wisdom never lends. That Wisdom oft hath play'd the fool, Is seen in every age ; But here the bargain ends, for ne'er Hath Folly play'd the Sage. — Colton. EPITAPH. O'er this marble drop a tear : Here lies fair Rosalind ; All mankind was pleased with her, And she with all mankind. THE LAND OP BULLS. To find out the cause of Ould Ireland's distress, The nobs of the nation are puzzling their wigs ; But the cattle-show leads us to hazard this guess, The peasants are starving to fatten the pigs. This explains the strange stories recorded with stress In the Times, and indeed all the papers you touch ; While. men die of hunger induced by distress, The pigs and the calves die of eating too much. Punch. PROCR A STINATION. WHEN sloth puts urgent business by, To-morrow's a new day she'll cry ; And all her morrows prove it true — They're never used and therefore new. ON A MISER. Iron was his chest, Iron was his door, His hand was iron, His heart was more. EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. 223 VULGAR NATURES. Tender-handed stroke a nettle, And ifc stings you for your pains ; Grasp it like a man of mettle, And it soft as silk remains. 'Tis the same with vulgar natures, Use them kindly, they rebel ; But be rough as nutmeg graters, And the rogues obey you well. TO LORD NELSON, ON HIS LORDSHIP'S NIGHT-CAP TAKING EIRE ON THE POET'S HEAD. Take your night-cap again, my good lord, I desire, For I wish not to keep it a minute ; V\ r hat belongs to a Kelson, where'er there is fire, Is sure to be instantly in it. — Peter Pindar. THE WORD 'NEWS.' The word explains itself without the muse, And the four letters speak whence comes the News. From North, East, West, and South this word is made E&ch part gives tidings of our war and trade. WHICH ? Des Barreaux, impotent and old, Assumes a very solemn brow ; The man is alter' d, we are told — How much reform'd we cannot know. When reformation thus begins, With legs so weak, and eyes so dim, 'Tis doubtful if he quits his sins, Or if his sins have quitted him. ON THE PHRASE 'KILLING TIME. —TIME SPEAKS. There's scarce a point wherein mankind agree 80 well as in their boast of killing me : I boat,t of nothing ; but, when TYe a mind, I think I can be even with mankind. 224 EPIGRAMS OLD AND NEW. THE UPSTART RICn MAN. Bred to fetch porter to and fro, And stun the streets with ' Pots below ! ' You've found, Punch, none knows how or whence, The means of cash and consequence. Now, for stale crumbs and vapid beer, You feast on costliest wines and cheer ; Or in rich splendid rooms repose, Where erst you dared not thrust your nose ; And own the street, by lucky hap, Where stands your early master's tap. But I, a gentleman, alas ! At schools was doom'd my youth to pass. — Well may I deem my parents sots, — Oh that I had but carried pots ! — Hang pedagogues, and burn all books, If pot-boys come to rival Dukes. JESTS. All things are big with jest; nothing that's plain, But may be witty, if thou hast the vein. — Herbert. JOHN CHILDS AND SON, PRINTERS. INDEX. INTRODUCTION. If a thousand arch epigrams are not enough One day in Chelsea meadows walking Take a portion of wit The qualities rare in a bee that we meet What is an epigram ? A dwarfish whole TAGE 2 1 1 1 1 MORAL AND ECCLESIASTICAL. A Bishop there was of Natal Abundance is a blessing to the wise An evil spirit's on thee, friend ! of late As in smooth oil the razor best is whet As lamps burn silent with unconscious light . . As once the Pope with fury full At length, my friends, the feast of life is o'er . . By our preacher perplex'd Circles are praised not that abound Clergyman — I've lost my portmanteau Hark, hark, the clerk the service sings Here lies a sceptic, long in doubt How great thy might let none by mischief know 'Live while you live,' the Epicure would say . . Myrtilla, rising with the dawn On parent knees, a naked new-born child Our life's a journey in a winter's day Punch tells you, my Lord Bishop, whether you think Pythagoras taught in a system most dreary . . That I was noble born, allow you must That there's no God John gravely swears 15 226 INDEX. That thou may'st injure no man, dovelike be The intramural churchyard's reeking pale The specious sermons of a learned man This fav'rite maxim modern atheists boast This is God's House ; but 'tis to be deplored . . tfhracians ! who howl around an infant's birth To the church I once went Upon some hasty errand Tom was sent * What a frail thing is beauty ! * says Baron le Cms When men of infamy to grandeur soar ' You tell us, Doctor, 'tis a sin to steal AMATORY. { A Temple to Friendship/ said LaUra, enchanted Advanced in years, the goddess Venus Ah, foolish Delia ! since you hate Ah ! tell me no more, my dear girl, with a sigh As a garland once I made As charm'd I view these rills, and grove3, and fields As, Venus, late you miss'd your boy At Laura's feet the God of Love But yet, methinks, it might be mended — By thee, on the sand of this shore Come, Chloe, and give me sweet kisses Dear Chloe, well I know the swain Fairest, to thee I send these gloves Fee-simple and the simple fee Fly me not, though I be grey Forgive, fair creature, form'd to please Friendship is like the cobbler's tye Galla, the seasons of each circling year Go — you may call it madness, folly Her image, who enslaves my mind His shafts, the terror of the skies . . How canst thou smile at my despair I ask'd my fair, one happy day I gave, 'twas but the other day I never knew a sprightly fair I shall expire with overwhelming woe I've found the boy so full of charms . . INDEX. 227 I would rather, dear girl, fewer claspings and kisses If silent oft you see me pine In the ages when innocence reign'd 'twas a pleasure In vain, within my tortured breast In vain you strive, by every art It was but a moment ! 'twas but like a dream ! Lesbia rails, without ceasing, at me the whole day Lethe's dark oblivious wave Let Rufus weep, rejoice, stand, sit, or walk . . Lo ! where the bee from yonder rose Look, they are grey — but, turn'd to grey Love begg'd and pray'd old Time to stay Lucetta's charms our hearts surprise . . My Helen is little and brown, but more tender My Rosa, from the latticed grove O tell me not, with groundless fear . . * Oh, give to Lydia, ye blest Powers ! ' I cried Oh, how soft beam your eyes ! Oh, how tender their Permitted, unreproved, to gaze Print on my lips another kiss Say, wherefore is it lovers' lies Sighs, and looks, and soft attentions Since still my passion-pleading strains So much I press'd, so much I pray'd Stranger, whoe'er thou art, whose restless mind Talk not of snowy locks — have done — * Tell me,' said Laura, ' what may be . . The curtain nutters to and fro The girl that I love lately gave me a kiss The man who first laid down the pedant rule The Persians stretch their votive arms The violet in her greenwood bower . . Thus Adam look'd, when from the garden driven Thus by some stream's reflecting tide Time and Love are ever foes . . ' Toast any girl but her,' said Ned Under Friendship's fair disguise Venus, take my votive glass . . "We pledged our hearts, my love and I What a rout do you make for a single poor kiss ! "What once I was, no more am I When Arria from her wounded side When Lesbia, to her lover dear gaze ! PAGE 13 18 13 19 19 20 20 20 10 20 21 22 11 9 22 23 22 23 23 32 32 23 24 24 21 21 31 33 25 10 23 25 31 26 26 32 26 11 27 27 27 10 2S 228 INDEX. "When the maid who possesses my heart Whosoever thou art, thy master see ! Why ask so oft, with fond alarms Why frown my fair ? — The mighty bliss With beauty, with pleasure surrounded, to languish With me while present, may thy lovely eyes . . Yes, false one, triumph in my woes . . Yes, I'm in love, I feel it now You call me still your life ; oh, change the word You gave me, dear Ellen, two kisses You say I love not, 'cause I do not play MARRIAGE AND MARRIED LIFE. A place under government Abel wants to marry Mabel Alas, that even in a heavenly marriage A mistress I've lost, it is true By one decisive argument Come hither, Sir John, my picture is here ' Come, wife,' said Will, ' I pray you devote . . 'Good-morning, dear Major,' quoth Lieutenant B He who marries once may be How like is this picture, you'd think that it breathes ' I can tell you the first letter I took you, deceiver, ' for better for worse ' . . I will not ask if thou can'st touch It is a maxim in the schools John's wife and John were tete-a-tete ! Kind Katherine kiss'd her husband, with these words Maria, just at twenty, swore ' My dear, what makes you always yawn V . . My Rosa from the latticed grove 'My wife's so very bad,' cried Will ' Nay, prithee, dear Thomas, ne'er rave thus and curse Of rank, descent, and title proud Post-haste to church flew Nick and bride Quoth Dick to Tom, ' This Act appears Sir, you are prudent, good, and wise Though matches are all made in heaven, they say Thoughtless that ' all that's brightest fades ' . . INDEX. 229 Tom praised his friend, who changed his state Tom to a shrew lives link'd in wedlock's fetter Trumps ever rule the charming maid "Welsh judges two, four military men Whence comes it, that, in Clara's face When Loveless married Lady Jenny . . Which is of greater value, prithee, say Wilt thou dare to blame a woman for he: changes With a Patten to wife You always are making a god of your spouse You'd marry the marquis, fair lady, they say sudden SOCIAL LIFE AND SOCIAL FOLLIES. A cockney sportsman, gunning, to a country squire declares A haughty courtier, meeting in the streets A trav'ller, some little time back A watch lost in a tavern ! that's a crime Angling for dinner, Charles, at every line As Dick and Tom in fierce dispute engage At the top of the street many lawyers abound Friend Hog once promised me a pair of breeches He that has money is bother'd about it His lordship bought his last gay birthday dress Jack boasts he never dines at home Jack buys an ancient cottage, dismal, foul Kate's teeth are black ; white lately Bell's are grown Lend Spunge a guinea ! Ned, you'd best refuse ' Mamma,' said Mrs Meagrim's daughter Many with this inquiry go about My hair and I are quits, d'ye see My thanks I'll no longer delay No wonder that Oxford and Cambridge profound Oh, shame to the manners, the times, and the age One bowing to me, I'd seen long ago One day the great Henry, his courtiers among Poor poet Doggrel's house consumed by fire 1 . . Quoth Doctor Squill of Ponder's End Said a thief to a wit, ' There's no knowing one's friends Said Stiggins to his wife one day 230 IXDEX. Strephon most fierce besieges Chloe Talk no more of the lucky escape of the head ' Taxes are equal, is a dogma which Tell me why Justice meets our eye The courts in Guildhall, for the Polish ball The golden hair that Galla wears The law decides questions of Meum and Tuum The office of law-maker clearly you see The rule of the road is a paradox quite 1 This splendid dress was made for me ' Thomas is sure a most courageous man Though I do 'Sir' thee, be not vain, I pray . . Though 'papa' and 'mamma,' my dear Though sages swear, ' Without a cause 'Tis bad enough in man or woman ... To beat their poor old Grandames' hoops ' To-day,' said Dick, 'is April day Tom taken by Tim his new mansion to view . . ' What ! hang from the neck of a lady ! ' cries Bill What is the reason, can you guess When lovely woman, hoop'd in folly Why scorn red hair ? — the Greeks we know . . Tou ask a hundred guests unknown to me PERSONS,— LAUDATORY AND OTHERWISE. A Bishop by his neighbours hated A monster, in a course of vice grown old A virtuoso friend a man of worth Accept a miracle instead of wit Andrews, 'tis said, a comedy has writ Array'd in matchless beauty, Devon's fair At the court of a monarch for grandeur renown'd Before Apollo's shrine I pray'd Big Ben is crack'd, we needs must own Bloomfield, thy happy-omen'd name Brave sins beget brave sons, 'tis said Charles and Phil went up the hill Chloe's the wonder of her sex Clothed in his filth, lo ! Epigram appears Corinna's quite a fright to me INDEX. 231 Cyprus must now two Venuses adore Czar Nicholas cried as he look'd in the glass . . Czar Nicholas is so devout, they say Did Nicholas mean, say ye schoolmen so clever Dunces, rejoice, forgive all censures past Fair marble, tell, to future days Fine lectures Attalus rehearses For Jack's good life to certify From Scotia's mountains, hid in clouds George the First was reckoned vile Gineral C. is a dreffle smart man Great Homer's birth seven rival cities claim . . 'Harry, I cannot think,' says Dick Here, beneath this cold stone Here comes Mr Winter, Collector of Taxes Here, into the dust Here lies a man who by relation Here lies a man who into highest station Here lies a man who never lived Here lies a man who never married Bfere lies a woman, good without pretence . . Here lies Fred Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such Here lies our mutton-eating king Here lies Robespierre — let no tear be shed Here lies the great — False marble, tell me where ? Here lies the father of taxation Here, reader, turn your weeping eyes Here rest I, Philip, on th' JEgean shore How D.D. swaggers, M.D. rolls! I do not love thee, Dr Fell . . ' I have no hopes,' the Duke he says, and dies — I know the thing that's most uncommon I wonder if Brougham thinks as much as he talks ? If anybody comes to I If it be true, on Watts's plan If on his specious marble we rely If 'tis true, as you say, that I've injured a letter Immortal Neioton never spoke In all thy humours, whether grave or mellow Indeed Mr , it seems very odd Indulgent nature on each kind bestows In merry old England it once was a rule 232 INDEX. Jack says, 'tis prophesied, this very year Joe hates a sycophant. It shows King, warrior, philosopher, author, musician Let poets and painters their fancy pursue Lie heavy on him, earth ; for he Lie, Philo, untouched, on my peaceable shelf Look at me well ; then Adeline behold Louis Philippe Love's Queen, if what the poets say be true ' Lysander is a foolish wight ! ' Mark'd by extremes, Susannah's beauty bears Menestratus, no doubt you deem Messieurs Cobden and Bright Midas, they say, possess'd the art, of old Muses nine we had before My friend, 'an eminent physician Nature, and nature's laws, lay hid in night Nobles and heralds, by your leave No more near yonder fountain stray . . None taught him homage, but by instinct he O dog ! how hast thou lost the glory . . O wonderful creature, a woman of reason Of a tall stature and a sable hue Of all the men one meets about Of danger careless, while the youth admires Offspring of a tuneful sire Oft 't has been said, on Irish ground . . Of years I have now half a century past Oh, but look in that mirror, and that will reflet Old and abandon'd by each venal friend Old John, a bookseller, renown'd in the trade One Prior ! and is this, this all the fame Our Garrick's a salad, for in him we see Our ships at the Nile have created such terror Persuasions to freedom fall oddly from you . .. Pleasant, airy, and gay, my laughter exciting Quoth Nash to the clock, ' Stand out of my way Kemember, remember, the man of December Saint Pavin lies beneath this tomb See old Anacreon hither reels Short, but not so fat as Bacchus Simillus, long in nature's spite Sly Cupid, perceiving our modern beaux' hearts INDEX. 233 Swift for the ancients has argued so well Talk of war with a Briton, he'll boldly advance 'That soldier so rude, — he that swaggers in scarlet That thou, great genius ! here on earth art thrown The author sure must take great pains The City feast inverted here we find The eternal ferryman of Fate The only means left thee to please the whole nation There is a word I never use . . There was a little Bart. There was a man who was Nott born The sculptor's art can brass with life inspire . . The town has found out different ways They tell me Venus is in the sun This case is the strangest we've known in our life Thou art so witty, profligate, and thin Though beauteous Flavia heaven deprives of sight Though Ned is short, he doubtless stands Three poets, in three distant ages born Through regions by wild men and cannibals haunted Thy nags (the leanest things alive) To brave Themistocles of deathless fame To Madness, Swift bequeaths his whole estate Tom, weak and wavering, ever in a fright Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune To Rosalinda's eyes who not submit To stone the gods have changed her — but in vain To stop the Persian monarch's way ' To this night's masquerade,' quoth Dick Two brethren thin, call'd Bone and Skin Two Miltons in separate ages were born Underneath this sable hearse Underneath this stone doth lie Under this marble, or under this sill Vulcan to scorch thy dress in vain essays When great men fall, great griefs arise When I was young and debonnaire When Palmerston begins to speak When people borrow, it should be their care While Seeker lived, he show'd how seers should live Whilst in my absence, sir, you rail Wise, honest Plutarch ! to thy deathless praise Who the dickens e Boz' could be 234 INDEX. You fight so well and speak so ill Young Courtly takes me for a dunce Your art, ingenious painter, can renew Your lower limbs seem'd far from stout PAGE 84 59 55 82 LITERATURE. A duke once declared — and most solemnly too — • . . . . 97 An original something, dear maid, you would wish me . . 96 Arthur, they say, has wit ; for what ? . . . . 88 As oft, in vain, as he essay'd to tell . . . . 90 Compare Correspondence with Articles ? Never . . . . 98 Condemn not in such haste . . . . . . . . 96 Friend ! for your epitaphs I'm grieved . . . . 88 Half of your book is to an index grown . . . . 90 His work now done, he'll publish it, no doubt . . 90 Ho, ho ! Master Mouse ! safe at last in my cage . . 93 King George, in a fright . . . . . . . . 93 Lives of great men misinform us . . . . . . 97 Lo! ev'ry subject Berkley treats . . ... . . 89 Of a dull heavy folio here rests the last page . . . . 93 Of Rogers's * Italy,' Luttrell relates . . . . . . 96 Oh ! mourn not for Anacreon dead ! . . . . . . 94 Old father Time, as Ovid sings . . ' . . . . 90 On Stephen's tomb thou writ'st the mournful line ! . . . . 92 Oxford, beware of over-cheap degrees . . . . 95 Oxford, no doubt, you wish me well . . . . . . 94 Says Ainsworth to Colburn . . . . . . . . 97 Says Brewster to Whewell, ' Let's fight a star duel . . . . 97 Shelley styles his new poem, * Promethus Unbound,' . . . . 96 ' Since mountains sink to vales, and valleys die . . 95 Sir, I admit your general rule . . . . . . 95 Some for the ancients zealously declare . . . . 90 So much, dear Pope, thy English Iliad charms . . 89 Take your facts from the last man ; — let no theft appal ye 95 The ancients all your veneration have . . . . 87 The French have taste in all they do . . . . 96 The king observing, with 'judicious eyes . . . . . . 91 The king to Oxford sent his troop of horse . . . . 91 The raven, rook, and pert jackdaw . . . . . . 88 The title D.D. 'tis proposed to convey . . . . 98 INDEX. 235 They say his wit's refined. Thus is explain'd Thy verses are eternal, O my friend . . *Tis generous, Theobald, in thee and thy brothers 'Tis said, O most gracious Apollo To cheer the widow's heart in her distress To fast and pray, we are by Heaven taught To mark her Shakespeare's worth, and Britain's love True wit is like the brilliant stone . . ' Vile Critic/ exclaimed a poor author in pique We everyday bards may * anonymous ' sign . When Jamie Boswell took his pen ' 1 . . While Butler, needy wretch ! was yet alive . While, burning with poetic fire While Cam and Isis their sad tribute bring * Who wrote Eikon Basilike ? ' 'Why ne'er to me,' the Laureate cries With eyes of wonder the gay shelves behold . With faulty accents and so vile a tone You come, — away flies every mother's son 90 91 95 96 92 94 92 91 94 87 92 87 87 PHILOSOPHICAL. A pedant, to perplex a child . . . . . . . . 100 Ah ! woe is me ! from day to day . . . . . . . . 103 All hail, Remembrance and Forgetfulness ! . . . . 99 At length, my friends, the feast of life is o'er . . . . 101 Beauty is but a short-lived flower . . . . . . . . 102 Cloy'd with ragoftts> you scorn my simple food . . 99 Come, gentle sleep, attend thy votary's prayer . . . . 104 Curved is the line of Beauty . . . . . . . . 105 Faith, Hope, and Love were question'd what they thought . . 100 For every ill beneath the sun . . . . . . . . 103 Fortune, some say, doth give too much to many . . . . 100 Hail, charming power of self -opinion ! . . .. . . . 104 Hear ye that awful truth . . . . . . . . . . 102 He fawns for more, though he his thousands touch . . . . 100 I've not said so to you, my friend, and I am not going . . 105 I wish thy lot, now bad, still worse, my friend . . . . 104 I wouldn't live for ever . . . . . . . . . . 10(5 If every man's internal care . . . . . . . . . . 103 Let pleasure be granted to youth . . . . . . . . 103 236 INDEX. Let this plain truth those ingrates strike Lord ! if our days be few, why do we spend Love and Folly, while at school O wherefore should I murmur thus ? . . Once on a time, as holy authors say . . Or bathed in bliss, or overwhelm'd in woe Religion's path they never trod That all from Adam first begun : These toys can to a thinking mind . . The seven first years of life, man's break of day The world of fools has such a store . . ' Tis a mere nothing that you*ask, you cry What is man's history ? Born — living — dying Whoe'er has travell'd life's dull round LAW AND LAWYERS. A Baron, a Justice, a Preacher — sons three A justice walking o'er the frozen Thames A plaintiff thus explain'd his cause . . A weighty lawsuit I maintain- As by the Templars' hold you go As Jekyl was hastening with gown and with wig Behold the sergeant full of fire Beneath this stone a quibbling lawyer lies ' Call silence ! ' the judge to the officer cries Deluded men ! these holds forego In a cause of three years, for three pinches of snuff In Craven St, Strand, ten attorneys find place Mr Leach made a speech My cause concerns nor battery nor treason O thou, who labour'st in this rugged mine ! . . Once, says an author, where I need not say . . One day a justice much enlarged Pleadings on pleadings rise, a mountain J Says Will to Mat, * What cause can be assign'd Since Tom first went to law with Ned The constable of a country town The house a lawyer once enjoy'd Three inches of a party wall . . . . Two lawyers, when a knotty case was o'er • . IXDEX. 237 When painters or sculptors give Justice a face "Why should honesty seek any safer retreat . . You crack my pate, then bid me take the law PAGE 113 114 111 DOCTORS AND MEDICINE. A doctor and an undertaker met A doctor, who for want of skill And, Doctor, do you really think By nature madman, and by study fool Cade, who had slain ten thousand men Diaulus, late who void of skill England's ingratitude still blots Evans, of worm-destroying note Glenbervie, Glenbervie His long speeches, his writings, in prose and in rhyme I've despatch'd, my dear Madam, this scrap of a letter My system, doctor, is my own Tell me from whom, fat-headed Scot The king employ'd three doctors daily The wish should be in form reversed Thou essence of dock, valerian, and sage Three faces wear the doctor ; when first sought "When Florio for the sickly fair indites When quacks, as quacks may, by good luck to be sure Would you send the man you hate Would you wish to get well without failing . Yes ! 'twas politic, truly, my very good friend THE FINE ARTS. All must old Hogarth's gratitude declare Chantrey invented the best of gun-locks Claude's distances are too confused Hail to thy pencil ! Well its glowing art He hit the birds, and with an aim as true His time was fleet, his touch was fleet If beauteous Kitty boasts a charm If to sing with a voice that would beat Stentor's hollow In fields Ribaldo stray'd 238 INDEX. Music has charms to soothe a savage breast . . Shall Chantrey be call'd a destroyer or not ? . . Some say, compared, to Bononcini So rude and tuneless are thy lays Swans sing before they die : 'twere no bad thing That picture-raffles will conduce to nourish . . The art of painting was at first designed The carver's knife in vain their limbs shall sever Their good and ill from the same source they drew Though mean thy rank, yet, in thy humble cell 'Tis a well-painted picture, but perish the art Unable to descant in tunable rhyme Were there on earth another voice like thine . . When age my throbbing heart shall tame When Chloe's picture was to Chloe shown Whene'er the Tuscan spreads her vocal charms When famed Varelot this little wonder drew . . When Orpheus went down to the regions below When two throats together squall With gun or chisel thou art doubly clever PA.GE 127 125 125 125 127 124 124 124 124 121 121 125 122 122 123 127 122 126 125 124 CONVIVIAL. A hamper I received of wine A humorous fellow, in a tavern late A jolly brave toper, who could not forbear A landlord of Bath put upon me a queer hum Acerra smells of last night's wine, you say . . ' Brother bucks, your glasses drain ' . . Clear brook, whose grateful murmur lulls the ear Come, my friend, let's push about Firm and erect the Caledonian stood Good wine, a friend, or being dry Here Bibo reposes : on earth while a dweller Honest William, an easy and good-natured fellow Not the planet that, sinking in ocean On marble tombs let no rich essence flow Of this establishment how can we speak ? Remark how wisely ancient art provides The jolly members of a toping club The Prince came in, and said 'twas cold 131 131 130 130 129 132 132 132 129 129 133 131 123 128 131 129 129 129 INDEX. 239. Whence comes it, that in Clara's face "With me the rosy goblet share . . . . Yes, I own that my courage was never so strong You often pity honest Xed . . Your exquisite verses, your exquisite wine . . PAGE 133 128 133 132 133 TOPOGRAPHICAL. Had Marlborough's troops in Gaul no better fought In Coin, the town of monks and bones In England, rivers are all males King Bladud once perceived his hogs Our Euclid may go to the wall Scotland ! thy weather's like a modish wife See how the wand'ring Danube flows ' See, sir, see here's the grand approach Southampton's wise sons found the river so large The cit complains to all he meets The garb Dutch or Cossack in which our beau kind The king of Great Britain was reckon'd before The lofty arch his high ambition shows The minnows, as through this vast arch they pass The trustees of this place on such daubs spend their The Turk in linen wraps his head This little village serves to show To tell why banks thus in Scotland obtain Twas thought the Queen would this year go Why bad drainage should frighten . . Your room, though long and narrow . . gold 136 133 135 137 138 13T 135 135 138 137 136 136 134 135 138 134 134 137 138 139 137 UNGALLANT. A headstrong wife, who oft came in for blame A scholar was about to marry A woman lately fiercely did assayle . . Amelia waved her fan with glee As gay Lord Edward, in a lively freak By thee on the sand of this shore Celia her sex's foible shuns 140 147 142 147 143 145 143 240 INDEX. ' Dear Cupid,' I cried, 'do consult with your mother Good people all, with one accord How old may Phillis be, you ask How wisely Nature, ordering all below I took you, deceiver, 'for better for worse * Iris, you are unjust to say Is Molly Fowle immortal ? No ! Keeping Tom's wedding-day, his friends Loud bray'd an ass. Quoth Kate, ' My dear Lucasia, never blush to own My heart still hovering round about you ' No wonder Mary's feet are small ' . . Phillis, each day your tongue, 'tis true Says Giles, ' My wife and I are one . . Says the wife of a Cantab, ' Pray tell me how is it Selinda sure's the brightest thing ' She's secret as the grave,' allow Since no woman could live unless constantly heard That opposite effects may flow The demon of fashion Sir Fopling bewitches . This world is a prison in every respect Though marriage by some folks To Chloe's study shall we go Tom to a shrew lives link'd in wedlock's fetter We men have many faults Whilst in the dark, on thy soft hand I hung . With angel face and faultless form . . You ask me, your servant, to give you in rhyme HISTORY IN EPIGRAMS. 'A new Achilles, I,' spake Gaul's stern chief An estate and an earldom at seventy-four Behold a proof of Irish sense Britain at length her wrath declares . . Britannia long her hapless fate had mourn'd . By various means th' immortal Homer seeks Charles at this time, having no need Drop upon Fox's grave a tear Dryden, in immortal strain Fair Amazon ! the cruel foe . . INDEX. 241 PA.QE Famed for contemptuous breach of sacred ties . . . . 163 For addition, Pitt's talents let all men revere . . . . . . 159 From Colophon some deem thee sprung . . . . . . 149 Gaeta's defenders, 'twould seem, have a turn . . . . 164 Give me a royal niche — it is my due . . . . . . 157 How monarchs reign is easily explain'd . . . . . . 158 If ever royal virtues crown'd a crown . . . . . . 151 In all humanity we crave . . . . . . . . . . 153 In Anna's wars immortal Churchill rose . . . . . . 154 In cutting, and dealing, and playing their cards . . . . 162 In most things I did as my father had done . . . . . . 154 It is for this the Spanish maid aroused . . . . . . 161 Miltiades ! thy valour best . . . . . . . . . . 149 O had'st thou served the heroine all thy days . . . . 151 O Nature ! to Old England still . . . , . . . . 151 O Sovereign of an isle renown'd for undisputed sway . . 158 Of all hard-named generals that caused much distraction . . 161 On Edward's brow no laurels cast a shade . . . . . . 151 On folly every fool his talent tries . . . . . . . . 163 Pretender in the Isle of Egg . . . . . . . . 155 Quoth Lucifer Lowe . . " . . . . . . . . 165 Replete with soul, the monarch stood alone . . . . . . 150 Says Boney to Johnny, ' I'm coming to Dover ' . . . . 161 Says Old Nick to his crony, old Emperor Nero . . . . 160 Shall Chatham die and be forgot ? Oh no ! . . . T . . 157 Sick of a life, possess'd in vain . . . . . . . . 152 So gentle in peace Alcibiades smiled . . . . . . 162 Sure England, single-handed, still may hope . . . . 161 The City feast inverted here we find . . . . . . 159 The cock of glory is the cock Frangais . . . . . . 165 The death of the ojaeen has caused great perturbation . . 163 The Earl of Chatham with his sword drawn . . . . . . 161 The muses to Herodotus, one day . . . . . . . . 149 These Napoleon left behind . . . . . . . . . . 160 The toast of each Briton in war's dread alarms . . . . 157 Though Victory refused our arms to bless . . . . . . 164 Three monarchs now, of Brunswick's honour'd race . . . . 156 Thy country, Wilberforce, with just disdain . . . . . '. 162 Tis false : — the trial of the Queen was fair . . . . . . 164 To Spain, entranced in golden dreams . . . . . . 162 'Twas the Russian's conscription, the papers declare . . . . 165 What can the cause be, when the king hath given . . . . 152 When Emperor Nap. to France return'd . . . . . . 160 16 242 INDEX. When Garibaldi ceased his high command When Gifford commenced his attack on the Queen . , When More some years had Chancellor been . . When noble Essex, Blount, and Danvers died When the seals were deliver'd to Macclesfield's charge When wit and genius meet their doom While Red and White Rose dwelt as neighbours long Ye politicians, tell me, pray POLITICAL. As the late Traded Unions by way of a show • By proxy I pray, and by proxy I vote Dans les terns affreux d'autrefois France Stant si malade, je n'ose pas dire ' Gen'nle Cass, sir, you needn't be twitchin' your collar He that bombards and runs away He wants a new blade, for the old one has flown His degradation is complete I'm a Member ! I'm a Member ! I'm a straight-spoken kind o' creetur Let Lyndhurst chide till tired and hoarse My countrymen, that they may pay the rent No wonder Tory landlords flout Oh Darby ! — for so . . Our fathers fought to publish the debates Parson Wilbur he calls all these argimunts lies Peel's patronage of Dr Reid Quoth a Quidnunc to Derby, * How corner it, I wonder Should women sit in parliament Sir Edward says I want to raise a riot Strange is it, proud Pontefract's borough should sully Take them editors that's crowin ' The oddest of all oddities * The Queen is with us,' Whigs exulting say . . The snake, tradition's tale avers The Whigs by their Budget were only inclined 1 This long word comes only from parler, to speak Three hundred articles and odd Tis said that Peel . . . . . . . • Tomkins will clear the land, they say INDEX. 243 To represent is but to personate Treason does never prosper ; what's the reason ? We read, Ledru, that there were three What is a Unionist ? one who has yearnings When Henry Brougham turns a Tory When lickspittles would praise When Tom had seditiously dared to exclaim Whoever 'd ha' thought sech a pisonous rig Why are St Alban's voters PA.GE 166 168 173 167 170 175 167 169 173 MISCELLANEOUS. I. SATIRICAL. A Banker from Lombard Street, Temple Bar through A certain statesman, found to have the stone A parson, of too free a life A Pat, an odd joker, and Yankee, more sly . . * A Yorkshire man ! and ostler still ! . . ' Affront me,' cries Phill, ' all my friends you shall lose As Quin and Foote one day walk'd out As Thomas was cudgell'd one day by his wife Beneath the piazza two wags chanced to pass 'Cause Charles delights to hear himself Cease, ye Etonians ! and no more Curio, whose hat a nimble knave had snatch'd Fitzmall, who drinks witli knights and lords For honour, sordid Aulus ! which you share . . For rigging our vessels wire-rope obtains praise Frank carves very ill, yet will palm all the meats Fribble, while you with pride advance He knew the seat of Paradise His whole estate, thy father, by his will" 1 How blest, my dear brother,' said Sylvia one day Hunt not, fish not, shoot not * I laugh,' a would-be sapient cried I yawn when you read ! — Am I wrong then ? — Oh no In vain, poor sable son of woe Jack his own merit sees — Tliis gives him pride John puffs himself. — Forbear to chide John Trott was desired by two witty peers . . 194 186 187 177 184 189 178 182 194 192 185 179 190 190 193 182 191 181 193 192 179 184 189 185 195 194 180 244 INDEX. PAGE Long have I grieved for dismal times . . . . . . 183 Lucas, with ragged coat, attends . . . . . . . . 177 My debtor Paul looks pale and harass'd . . . . . . 181 My wealthy master now resolved to seek . . . . . . 176 Ned, in a long and sleepy poem . . ... . . . , 195 No one longs half so much as a Scot or a Swiss . . . . 191 Old South, a witty churchman reckon'd . . , «, . . 182 Pamphlet last week, in his fantastic fits . . . . . . 180 Paul, I have read your book, and, though you write ill . . 180 Poor dog, whom rival poets strive . v . . . . . . 193 Possess'd of one great hall for state .i ~ J . . . . . . 188 Pride is his pity, artifice his praise . . .. .. ..188 Quoth Harry to his friend, one day . . . . . . . . 188 Robin ! known throughout the land . . . . . . . . 183 Says Chloe, ' Though tears it may cost . . . . . . 187 Says the squire to the parson, ' If you were to lie . . . . 181 So great thy art — that while we view'd . , . . . . 189 So many thousands for a house . . . . . . . . 184 Some wiseacres sadly their noddles perplex . . . . . . 183 Sound sleeps yon guardian of the night . . . , . . 182 Squander, who ne'er through sickness keeps his bed . . . . 189 Such fine-spun pain does want excite . . . . . . 186 That bootless host of high-born beggars . . . . . . 187 That there is falsehood in his looks . . . . , . . . 189 The astrologers did all alike presage . . . . , . . . 176 The only fair traders in London that are . . . . . . 181 The vilest of compounds while Balderdash vends . . . . 176 This pair in matrimony . . . . . . . . . . 189 Three colonels, in three distant counties born , , . . 180 Thus when a barber and a collier fight . . . . . . 193 'Tis often said that, do the most they can . . . . . . 194 Tom Goodfellow came to his fortune on Sunday . . . . 186 Tom is a purse-proud and impudent blockhead . . . . 194 To rob the public two contractors come , . . . . . 185 To sit a guest at Timon's sumptuous board . . . . . . 187 To this dark cave three gates pertain . . . . . . 190 Venit ad Euphratum, rapidis perterritus undis . . . . 178 Virgil, whose magic verse enthrals . . . . . . . . 187 Walking out the other day . . . . . . . . . . 177 "We grease the axle that it may not creak . . . . . . 188 What mean ye, by this print so rare . . . . . . . . 185 When Eve brought wo to all mankind . . . . . . 179 When Hercules, by Omphale subdued . . . . . . 191 INDEX. 2545 PAGE When MacGrath reign'd o'er Arthur's crew . . . . . . 177 "Where'er the diamond's busy point could pass . . . . 190 While the faculty doubt whence La Grippe can arise . . . . 193 ' Who lives there, honest fellow ? ' said a travelling stranger . . 184 Why does our friend thus fill his house . . . . . . 190 With fear, on the Euphrates' shore . . . . . . . . 178 Would you follow a calling from peril quite free . . . . 192 Young Damon vows, nay, hear him swear . . . . . . 180 You say you'll spend a thousand pound . . . . . . 186 1 You see,' said our host, as we enter'd his doors . . . . 181 You who, on coach-box mounted, whirl along . . . . 185 II. HUMOROUS. A lord that purposed, for his more avail . . . . . . 201 A mechanic his labour will often discard . . . . . . 205 A thief stole a teapot, in a window placed . . . . . . 199 All mortal things are frail — and go to pot . . . . . . 200 Are the guests of this house still doom'd to be cheated . . 208 As a west country mayor, with formal address . . . . 204 As Bayes, whose cup with poverty was dash'd . . . . 208 As Dick and Tom in fierce dispute engage . . . . . . 203 As two jolly draymen were taking their round . . . . 198 At first they move slowly with caution and grace . . . . 204 At fourscore and four did Mr Calonne . . . . . . 207 Bestride an ant, a pigmy great and tall . . . . . . 201 B} good authors we're told . . . . . . . . . . 198 Collisions four . . . . . . . . . . . . 200 1 Ha ! hark ! ' cries Harry ; ' there goes distant thunder ! . . 197 Half Hebrew, half English, the slopseller Moses . . . . 204 Hark forward, cries the Squire ; his hounds . . . . . . 207 Here lies the remains of bones, whose birth . . . . . . 208 I must confess that I was somewhat warm . . . . . . 207 In ancient times 'twas all the rage . . . . . . . . 201 It seems as if nature had curiously plann'd . . . . . . 205 Jack, who thinks all his own that once he handles . . , . 206 Je suis, ce que je suis ,. .. .. .. .. 199 John Bull and Brother Jonathan . . . . . . . . 203 Lycus was ask'd the reason, it is said . . . . . . 196 Mr Burke once intended a lady to please . . . . . . 20 5 My barber, like a sluggish knave . . . . . . . . 200 246 INDEX. 'My Essay on Roads,' quoth Mac-Adam, 'lies there My hair and I are even now I see My thanks I'll no longer delay Nell, tried for stealing linen, answer'd swift . . No ale or beer (says Gladstone) we should drink O most ungrateful man, not only you O thou, that high thy head dost bear Old Captain Humdrum Owen Moore has run away Poor Peter was in ocean drown'd Quoth Dermot (a lodger at Mrs O'Flynn's) Roger.! if with thy magic glasses Says his landlord to Thomas, ' Your rent I must raise . Says Richard to Tom, with a good deal of heat Says the earth to the moon, ' You're a pilfering jade The coves in prison, grinding corn for bread The damsel too prudishly shy The first of all the royal infant males The miser, Sherdi, on his sick-bed lying ' These beer-shops,' quoth Barnabas, speaking in alt They say he has no heart ; but I deny it Though nature thee of thy right hand bereft . Thy beard and head are of a different dye To Mars old Esculapius yields . . When ' Alma Mater ' her kind heart enlarges When Mrs Fry and Mrs Steele When Parliament people petition their friends 'Will and Hal love their bottle.' Well, Prattle, why not ? III. SENTIMENTAL AND DIDACTIC. A drop of amber, from the weeping plant Age is the heaviest burden man can bear . . All things are big with jest ; nothing that's plain And will Volatio quit this world so soon At college, once of late Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law Best man tally ho ! . . Better we all were in our graves Between the pulpit and the bar Big fleas have little fleas to plague, perplex, and bite Bred to fetch porter to and fro INDEX. 247 PAOS Can he be fair, that withers at a blast? . . . . . . 211 Careless by name, and Careless by nature . . . . . . 214 Curio's rich sideboard seldom sees the light . . . . - . 219 Des Barreux, impotent and old . . . . . . . . 223 Did Celia's person and her sense agree . . . . . • 214 Did he who thus inscribed this wall . . . . . . 216 Earth walks on earth like glittering gold . . . . . . 221 Flavia'the least and slightest toy . . . . . . . . 219 Had Pope a person equal to his mind . . . . . . 214 How dull's a country life ! sage Bufo cries . . . . . . 212 I know not if 'twas wise or well . . . . . . . . 221 Ill-fated heart ! and can it be . . . . . . . . 218 Iron was his chest . . . . . . . . . . . . 222 It is the duty of a man . . . . . . . . . . 220 Music, when soft voices die . . . . . . . . 220 My suit's kind granter first I prize . . . . . . . . 212 O'er crackling ice, o'er gulfs profound . . . . . . 218 O'er this marble drop a tear . . . . . . . . . . 222 Our vicar still preaches of ' love of one's neighbour ' . . . . 220 Parson ! 'tis false ; I'll ne'er believe . . . . . . . . 209 Bich Gripe doth all his thoughts and cunning bend . . . . 221 Short was the passage through this earthly vale . . . . 218 Sick of the noise and smoke of town . . . . . . 215 Still restless, still chopping and changing about . . . . 218 Stranger, behold the mighty Hector's tomb 1 . . . . 215 Sure 'twas by Providence design'd . . . . . . . . 217 Take your night-cap again, my good lord, I desire . . . . 223 Tender-handed stroke a nettle . . . . . . . . 223 The man to the plough . . . . . . . . . . 221 There's scarce a point wherein mankind agree . . . . 223 The word explains itself without the muse . . . . . . 223 They're richer who diminish their desires . . . . « . 212 Though George, with respect to the wrong and the right . . 218 Thrice twenty years you've seen your grass made hay . . 210 To borrow Folly's cap and bells . . . . . . . . 222 To find out the cause of Ould Ireland's distress . . . . 222 Too much or too little wit . . . . . . . . . . 217 "We are little airy creatures . . . . . . . . . . 212 Wear the gown, and wear the hat . . . . . . . . 217 What mortal burns not with the love of fame ? . . . . 213 "What though, fair nymphs, your business is to play . . . . 211 When sloth puts urgent business by . . . . . . . . 222 JOHN CHILDS AND SON, PRINTERS. 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