We might our title to the mystery dread, And fear we drank not at the river-head. Griggs and Gregorians here their meetings hold, A kind of Masons, but without their sign; Although it leads him through the thorns and briers. The weaker many to the world will come, For comforts seldom to be found from home. When the faint hands no more a brimmer hold, The breath impeded, and the bosom cold; We should that comfort for ourselves ensure, Which friends could not, if we could friends, procure. Early in life, when we can laugh aloud, There's something pleasant in a social crowd, Who laugh with us—but will such joy remain, No more on hope and science to rely, Life's staff is useless then; with labouring breath And where the heart's first favourites yield their place. Men feel their weakness, and to numbers run, THE BOROUGH. LETTER XI. INNS. All the comforts of life in a tavern are known, The instant you enter my door you're my lord, With whose taste and whose pleasure I'm proud to accord; To the house of a friend if you're pleased to retire, You must all things admit, you must all things admire; You must eat what is praised, and must praise what you eat: At your wish we attend, and confess that your speech That I've faults is confess'd; but it won't be denied, 'Twas because the dull rogues wouldn't stay by their wine; That men drink shallow draughts, and so madden their brains. A difficult Subject for Poetry-Invocation of the Muse— Description of the principal Inn and those of the first Class-The large deserted Tavern-Those of a second Order Their Company-One of particular Description -A lower Kind of Public-Houses: yet distinguished among themselves-Houses on the Quays for Sailors— The Green-Man: its Landlord, and the Adventure of his Marriage, &c. THE BOROUGH. LETTER XI. INNS. MUCH do I need, and therefore will I ask, And far beyond the rest thou gav'st to shine |