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 you have been telling
That 'tis a house, but not a dwelling.'
ON HIS LYING IN THE SAME BED WHICH WILMOT, THE CELEBRATED EARL OF ROCHESTER, SLEPT IN AT ADDERBURY, THEN BELONGING TO THE DUKE OF ARGYLL, JULY 9, 1739.
1 WITH no poetic ardour fired,
press the bed where Wilmot lay; That here he loved, or here expired,
Begets no numbers, grave or gay.
2 Beneath thy roof, Argyll, are bred
Such thoughts as prompt the brave to lie
Stretch'd out in honour's nobler bed,
Beneath a nobler roof-the sky.
3 Such flames as high in patriots burn,
Yet stoop to bless a child or wife;
And such as wicked kings may mourn,
When freedom is more dear than life.
TO ALL YOU LADIES NOW AT LAND.'
1 To one fair lady out of Court,
And two fair ladies in,
Who think the Turk1 and Pope 2 a sport,
And wit and love no sin;
Come these soft lines, with nothing stiff in,
To Bellenden, Lepell, and Griffin.3
With a fa, la, la.
2 What passes in the dark third row,
And what behind the scene,
Couches and crippled chairs I know,
And garrets hung with green;
I know the swing of sinful hack,
Where many damsels cry alack.
With a fa, la, la.
3 Then why to Courts should I repair,
Where's such ado with Townshend ?
To hear each mortal stamp and swear,
And every speech with 'zounds!' end;
To hear 'em rail at honest Sunderland,
And rashly blame the realm of Blunderland.4
With a fa, la, la.
4 Alas! like Schutz I cannot pun,
Like Grafton court the Germans;
Tell Pickenbourg how slim she's grown,
Like Meadows 5 run to sermons;
''Turk:' Ulrick, the Turk.-Pope:' the author.- 'Bellenden, Lepell,
and Griffin' ladies of the Court of the Princess Caroline.
Ireland. Meadows:' see verses to Mrs Howe.
To Court ambitious men may roam,
But I and Marlbro' stay at home.
With a fa, la, la.
5 In truth, by what I can discern
Of courtiers, 'twixt you three,
Some wit you have, and more may learn
From Court, than Gay or me;
Perhaps, in time, you'll leave high diet,
To sup with us on milk and quiet.
With a fa, la, la.
6 At Leicester Fields, a house full high,
With door all painted green,
Where ribbons wave upon the tie,
(A milliner I mean ;)
There may you meet us, three to three,
For Gay can well make two of me.
With a fa, la, la.
7 But should you catch the prudish itch
And each become a coward,
Bring sometimes with you Lady Rich,
And sometimes Mistress Howard;
For virgins, to keep chaste, must go
Abroad with such as are not so.
With a fa, la, la.
8 And thus, fair maids, my ballad ends;
God send the king safe landing;1
And make all honest ladies friends
To armies that are standing;
Preserve the limits of those nations,
And take off ladies' limitations.
1God send the king safe landing :' this ballad was written anno 1717.
THE THREE GENTLE SHEPHERDS.
OF gentle Philips 1 will I ever sing,
With gentle Philips shall the valleys ring;
My numbers, too, for ever will I vary,
With gentle Budgell,2 and with gentle Carey.3
Or if in ranging of the names I judge ill,
With gentle Carey, and with gentle Budgell,
Oh! may all gentle bards together place ye,
Men of good hearts, and men of delicacy.
May satire ne'er befool ye, or beknave ye,
And from all wits that have a knack, God save ye!
ENGRAVED ON THE COLLAR OF A DOG WHICH I GAVE TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS.
I am His Highness' dog at Kew;
Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?
OZELL, at Sanger's call, invoked his Muse,
For who to sing for Sanger could refuse?
His numbers such as Sanger's self might use.
Reviving Perrault, murdering Boileau, he
Slander'd the ancients first, then Wycherley;
Which yet not much that old bard's anger raised,
Since those were slander'd most whom Ozell praised.
Philips Ambrose Philips.- Budgell:' Eustace Budgell.—3 Carey :' Henry Carey.
Nor had the gentle satire caused complaining,
Had not sage Rowe pronounced it entertaining;
How great must be the judgment of that writer,
Who the Plain Dealer damns, and prints the Biter!
WITH Scornful mien, and various toss of air,
Fantastic, vain, and insolently fair,
Grandeur intoxicates her giddy brain,
She looks ambition, and she moves disdain.
Far other carriage graced her virgin life,
But charming Gumley's lost in Pulteney's wife.
Not greater arrogance in him we find,
And this conjunction swells at least her mind :
Oh could the sire, renown'd in glass, produce
One faithful mirror for his daughter's use!
Wherein she might her haughty errors trace,
And by reflection learn to mend her face:
The wonted sweetness to her form restore,
Be what she was, and charm mankind once more!
1 DEAR, damn'd, distracting town, farewell!
Thy fools no more I'll tease:
1 'Mrs Pulteney :' the daughter of John Gumley of Isleworth, who acquired
his fortune by a glass manufactory.
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