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This jeu d'esprit first appeared in Warton's Edition of Pope.
WITH beauty, with pleasure surrounded, to languish
To weep without knowing the cause of my anguish : To start from short slumbers, and wish for the morning
To close my dull eyes when I see it returning;
Ah, say, fellow-swains, how these symptoms befell
They smile, but reply not-Sure Delia will tell me!
Written, at the request of Miss Speed, to an old air of Geminiani:-the thought from the French.
THYRSIS, when we parted, swore
Ere the spring he would return-
And the bud that decks the thorn!
Idle notes! untimely green!
Speak not always winter past.
Mr. Etough, of Cambridge University, the person satirized, was as remarkable for the eccentricities of his character, as for his personal appearance. Mr. Tyson, of Bene't College, made an etching of his head, and presented it to Mr. Gray, who embellished it with the following lines. Mr. Etough was rector of Therfield, Herts, and of Colmworth, Bedfordshire.
THUS Tophet look'd; so grinn'd the brawling fiend,
Hosannas rung through hell's tremendous borders,
Suggested by a view of the Seat and Ruins of a deceased nobleman, at Kingsgate, Kent, in 1766. (The house was built as a correct imitation of Cicero's Formian Villa, at Baiæ.)
OLD, and abandon'd by each venal friend,
Here Holland form'd 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, dread to land.
Here mouldering fanes and battlements arise,
"Ah!" said the sighing peer, "had Bute been true, Nor M-'s, R-'s, B-'s friendship vain,
Far better scenes than these had bless'd our view, And realiz'd the beauties which we feign:
Purg'd by the sword, and purified by fire, Then had we seen proud London's hated walls; Owls would have hooted in St. Peter's choir, And foxes stunk and litter'd in St. Paul's."
THE CAMBRIDGE COURTSHIP.
This tart lampoon was written a short time previous to the election of a high-steward of the University of Cambridge, for which office the noble lord alluded to made an active
WHEN Sly Jemmy Twitcher had smugg'd up his face,
"Lord! sister," says Physic to Law, Such a sheep-biting look, such a pick-pocket air! Not I for the Indies:-You know I'm no prude, But his name is a shame, and his eyes are so lewd! Then he shambles and straddles so oddly-I fearNo-at our time of life 'twould be silly, my dear."
'I don't know," says Law, "but methinks for his look,
'Tis just like the picture in Rochester's book;
Then his character, Phyzzy,--his morals,—his life— When she died, I can't tell, but he once had a wife. They say he's no Christian, loves, drinking and
And all the town rings of his swearing and roaring!