HORACE, BOOK III. ODE II. TO THE EARL OF OXFORD, LATE LORD TREasurer. How blest is he who for his country dies, Virtue repuls'd, yet knows not to repine, Virtue, to crown her favourites, loves to try Next, faithful silence hath a sure reward; MRS. HARRIS'S PETITION. 1699. To their excellencies the lords justices of Ireland †, Humbly showeth, So, when I came up again, I found my pocket feel But when I search'd, and miss'd my purse, Lord! But pray, Mary, can you tell what I have done Lord help me! said Mary, I never stirr'd out of this place: Nay, said I, I had it in Lady Betty's chamber, that's a plain case. So Mary got me to bed and cover'd me up warm: However, she stole away my garters, that I might do myself no harm. So I tumbled and tcss'd all night, as you may very well think, But hardly ever set my eyes together, or slept a wink. So I was a-dream'd, methought, that we went and search'd the folks round, And in a corner of Mrs. Dukes's box, ty'd in a rag, the money was found. So next morning we told Whittle †, and he fell a-swearing: Then my dame Wadger ‡ came; and she, you know, is thick of hearing. Dame, said I, as loud as I could bawl, do you know what a loss I have had? Nay, said she, my Lord Colway's § folks are all very sad; For my Lord Dromedary || comes a Tuesday without fail. Pugh! said I, but that 's not the business that I ail, Says Cary, says he, I have been a servant this five and twenty years, come spring, And in all the places I liv'd, I never heard of such a thing. Yes, says the steward **, I remember, when I was at my Lady Shrewsbury's, Such a thing as this happen'd just about the time of gooseberries. cham-So I went to the party suspected, and I found her full of grief, That I went to warm myself in Lady Betty's So, because I had been buying things for my lady I was resolv'd to tell my money, to see if it was right. Now, you must know, because my trunk has a very bad lock, Therefore all the money I have, which, God knows, is a very small stock, I keep in my pocket, ty'd about my middle, next to my smock. So when I went to put up my purse, as God would have it, my smock was unript, And, instead of putting it into my pocket, down it slipt; Then the bell rung, and I went down to put my lady to bed; And, God knows, I thought my money was as safe as my maidenhead. • The ensign of the lord treasurer's office. The Earls of Berkeley and of Galway. Lady Betty Berkeley, afterwards Germaine. (Now, you must know, of all things in the world, I hate a thief.) However, I am resolv'd to bring the discourse slily Now, Mrs. Dukes, you know, and every body understands, That though 'tis hard to judge, yet money can't go without hands. The devil take me! said she (blessing herself) if ever I saw 't! So she roar'd like a Bedlam, as though I had call'd her all to naught. So, you know, what could I say to her any more? I e'en left her, and came away as wise as I was before. Well; but then they would have had me gone to the cunning man! No, said I, 'tis the same thing, the chaplain will be here anon. So the chaplain came in. Now, the servants say he is my sweetheart, Because he's always in my chamber, and I always take his part. So, as the devil would have it, before I was aware, out I blunder'd, Parson, said I, can you cast a nativity, when a body's plunder'd? (Now, you must know, he hates to be call'd parson like the devil!) Truly, says he, Mrs. Nab, it might become you to be more civil; If your money be gone, as a learned divine says, d' ye see; You are no text for my handling; so take that from For that, he said, (an't please your excellencies,) I must petition you. The premisses tenderly consider'd, I desire your excellencies protection, And that I may have a share in next Sunday's collection; And over and above, that I may have your excellencies letter, With an order for the chaplain aforesaid or, instead of him, a better: And then your poor petitioner, both night and day, Or the chaplain (for 'tis his trade), as in duty bound, shall ever pray. ዓ. TO THE EARL OF PETERBOROW, WHO COMMANDED THE BRITISH FORCES IN SPAIN. MORDANTO fills the trump of fame, In journies he outrides the post, Sits up till midnight with his host, Talks politics, and gives the toast; Knows every prince in Europe's face, Flies like a squib from place to place, And travels not, but runs a race. From Paris gazette à-la-main, This day arriv'd, without his train, Mordanto in a week from Spain. A messenger comes all a-reek, Mordanto at Madrid to seek; He left the town above a week. Next day the post-boy winds his horn, And rides through Dover in the morn: Mordanto 's landed from Leghorn. Mordanto gallops on alone; The roads are with her followers strown; This breaks a girth and that a bone. His body active as his mind, Returning sound in limb and wind, Except some leather lost behind. A skeleton in outward figure, His meagre corpse, though full of vigour, Would halt behind him, were it bigger. So wonderful his expedition, When you have not the least suspicion, He's with you like an apparition: Shines in all climates like a star; In senates bold, and fierce in war; A land commander, and a tar: Heroic actions early bred in, Ne'er to be match'd in modern reading, But by his name-sake, Charles of Sweden. THE PROGRESS OF POETRY. THE farmer's goose, who in the stubble But, when she must be turn'd to graze, And round the barren common strays, Hard exercise and harder fare Soon make my dame grow lank and spare: The steed, oppress'd, would break his girth, 醫醫 Or, stuff'd with phlegm up to the throat, His flesh brought down to flying case: JAMES THOMSON. JAME 66 During the AMES THOMSON, a distinguished British poet, stage of Drury-lane, his tragedy of " Sophonisha." born at Ednam, near Kelso, in Scotland, in 1700, It was succeeded by "Agamemnon;" "Edward was one of the nine children of the Rev. Mr. and Eleonora ;" and "Tancred and Sigismunda :" Thomson, minister of that place. James was sent but although these pieces were not without their to the school of Jedburgh, where he attracted the merits, the moral strain was too prevalent for the notice of a neighbouring minister by his propen-public taste, and they have long ceased to occupy the sity to poetry, who encouraged his early attempts, theatre. Through the recommendation of Dr. and corrected his performances. On his removal Rundle, he was, about 1729, selected as the trave from school, he was sent to the university of Edin-ling associate of the Hon. Mr. Talbot, eldest son of burgh, where he chiefly attended to the cultivation the Chancellor, with whom he visited most of the of his poetical faculty; but the death of his father, courts of the European continent. during his second session, having brought his mother tour, the idea of a poem on Liberty" suggested to Edinburgh for the purpose of educating her itself, and after his return, he employed two years children, James complied with the advice of his in its completion. The place of secretary of the friends, and entered upon a course of divinity. briefs, which was nearly a sinecure, repaid him for Here, we are told, that the explanation of a psalm his attendance on Mr. Talbot. "Liberty" at length having been required from him as a probationary appeared, and was dedicated to Frederic, Prince of exercise, he performed it in language so splendid, Wales, who, in opposition to the court, affected the that he was reproved by his professor for employing patronage of letters, as well as of liberal sentiments a diction which it was not likely that any one of his in politics. He granted Thomson a pension, to future audience could comprehend. This admo- remunerate him for the loss of his place by the nition completed the disgust which he felt for the death of Lord-chancellor Talbot. In 1746, approfession chosen for him; and having connected peared his poem, called "The Castle of Indolence," himself with some young men in the university who which had been several years under his polishing were aspirants after literary eminence, he readily hand, and by many is considered as his principal listened to the advice of a lady, the friend of his performance. He was now in tolerably affluent mother, and determined to try his fortune in the circumstances, a place of Surveyor-general of the great metropolis, London. Leeward Islands, given him by Mr. Lyttleton, bringing him in, after paying a deputy, about SOC a year. He did not, however, long enjoy this state of comfort; for returning one evening from Londo to Kew-lane, he was attacked by a fever, which proved fatal in August 1748, the 48th year of his He was interred without any memorial is Richmond church; but a monument was erected to his memory, in Westminster Abbey, in 1762, with the profits arising from an edition of his works published by Mr. Millar. It age. In 1725 Thomson came by sea to the capital, where he soon found out his college acquaintance, Mallet, to whom he showed his poem of " Winter,' then composed in detached passages of the descriptive kind. Mallet advised him to form them into a connected piece, and immediately to print it. was purchased for a small sum, and appeared in 1726, dedicated to Sir Spencer Compton. Its merits, however, were little understood by the public; till Mr. Whateley, a person of acknowledged taste, happening to cast an eye upon it, was struck with its beauties, and gave it vogue. His dedicatee, who had hitherto neglected him, made him a present of twenty guineas, and he was introduced to Pope, Bishop Rundle, and Lord-chancellor Talbot. In 1727, he published another of his seasons, "Summer," dedicated to Mr. Doddington, for it was still the custom for poets to pay this tribute to men in power. In the same year he gave to the public his "Poem, sacred to the memory of Sir Isaac Newton," and his 66 Britannia.' His "Spring" was published in 1728, addressed to the Countess of Hertford; and the Seasons were completed by the addition of "Autumn," dedicated to Mr. Onslow, in 1730, when they were published collectively. As nothing was more tempting to the cupidity of an author than dramatic composition, Thomson resolved to become a competitor for that laurel also, and in 1728, he had the influence to bring upon the Thomson in person was large and ungainly, t a heavy, unanimated countenance, and having nothing in his appearance in mixed society in cating the man of genius or refinement. He was however, easy and cheerful with select friends, tr whom he was singularly beloved for the kindness of his heart, and his freedom from all the malignant passions which too often debase the literary cha racter. His temper was much inclined to indolence, and he was fond of indulgence of every kirasi; in particular he was more attached to the pleasures of sense, than the sentimental delicacy of his writings would induce a reader to suppose. For the moral tendency of his works, no author has deserved more praise; and no one can rise from the perusal of be pages, without being sensible of a melioration of tis principles or feelings. The poetical merits of Thomson, undoubted's stand most conspicuous in his Seasons, the first lorf composition, perhaps, of which natural description | tion to his fame has principally arisen from his The subject proposed. Inscribed to the Countess of Hertford. The season is described as it affects the various parts of Nature, ascending from the lower to the higher; with digressions arising from the subject. Its influence on inanimate matter, on vegetables, on brute animals, and, last, on man; concluding with a dissuasive from the wild and irregular passion of love, opposed to that of a pure and happy kind. COME, gentle Spring, ethereal Mildness, come, And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud, O Hertford, fitted or to shine in courts And see where surly Winter passes off, Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blasts: His blasts obey, and quit the howling hill, The shatter'd forest, and the ravag'd vale; While softer gales succeed, at whose kind touch, Dissolving snows in livid torrents lost, The mountains lift their green heads to the sky. As yet the trembling year is unconfirm'd, And Winter oft at eve resumes the breeze, Chills the pale morn, and bids his driving sleets Deform the day delightless: so that scarce The bittern knows his time, with bill ingulpht To shake the sounding marsh; or from the shore The plovers when to scatter o'er the heath, And sing their wild notes to the listening waste. At last from Aries rolls the bounteous Sun, And the bright Bull receives him. Then no more [thin, Th' expansive atmosphere is cramp'd with cold; Forth fly the tepid airs; and unconfin'd, Drives from their stalls, to where the well-us'd plough Lies in the furrow, loosen'd from the frost. stalks, With measur'd step; and liberal throws the grain Be gracious, Heaven! for now laborious man Ye generous Britons, venerate the plough; And o'er your hills, and long withdrawing vales, Let Autumn spread his treasures to the Sun, Luxuriant and unbounded: as the Sea, Far through his azure turbulent domain, Your empire owns, and from a thousand shores Wafts all the pomp of life into your ports; So with superior boon may your rich soil, Exuberant, Nature's better blessings pour |