How would a virtuous* Houbnbym neigh Difdain, To fee his Brethren brook th' imperious Rein; Bear Slavery's wanton Whip, or galling Goad, Smoak through the Glebe, or trace the deftin'd Road; And robb'd of +Manhood by the murderous Knife, Suftain each fordid Toil of fervile Life. Yet oh, what Rage would touch his generous Mind, To fee his Sons of more than human Kind; A Kind, with each exalted Virtue blest, Each gentler feeling of the liberal Breast, That meaneft Spawn of Man's Half-monkey Race; How are the THERONS of these modern Days, Chang'd from those Chiefs who toil'd for Grecian bays; Who fir'd with genuine Glory's facred Luft, Whirl'd the swift Axle through the Pythian duft. Theirs was the Theban Bard's recording Lay. Vid. GULLIVER's Travels. Voyage to the Houbnhyms. Greece! how I kindle at thy magic Name, And lo, where rapt in Beauty's heavenly Dream. Yet ah! no more the Land of Arts and Arms, Britannia watch! O trim thy withering Bays, *LEONIDAS. Recall Recall thy wonted Worth with confcious Pride, Haft bade thine Edwards and thine Henries rear To the pie-houfe Memory of NELL BATCHELOR, an Oxford Pye-Woman. I. TER E deep in the Duft, HE The mouldy old Cruft, Of Nell Batchelor lately was fhoven ; Of Pies, Puddings, and Tarts, II. When fhe'd liv'd long enough, A Puff by her Husband much prais'd; Now here he doth lie, And makes a dirt Pye, In hopes that her Cruft will be rais'd. THE CASTLE BARBER's SOLILOQUY. I Written in the late WAR. Who with fuch Succefs-alas! till The War came on- have hav'd the Caftle; Who by the Nofe, with Hand unfhaken, The boldeft Heroes oft have taken ; In humble Strain, am doom'd to mourn My My Soap fcarce ventures into Froth, WISDOM! to you my Verfe appeals; Our Trade how ill an Army fuits! In Caffock clad, for want of Breeches, *The Governor of Oxford-Cafile. Regard |