By Mr, SCOTT, of Trinity-College, Cambridge.

A DIALOGUE betwixt a Poet and his FRIEND.

Go

F. OOD friend, forbear-the world will say 'tis fpite,

Or disappointment goads you thus to write_:) Some lord hath frown'd; some bishop paft dispute At surly distance fpurn’d your eager suit, Preferr'd a dull vile clod of noble earth, And left neglected genius, wit, and worth.

P. Regards it me what snarling critics say?
'Tis honeft indignation points the way. .
Thanks to my stars my infant sleeps are o'er,
And dreams delusive catch my thoughts no more.

Let

Let clumfy DOGMATUS, with fimp'ring face, Supply the nurfe's, or the footman's place, Make coffee, when my lady calls, or whey, And fetch, and carry, like a two-legg'd tray; Let bluft'ring GNATHO fwear with patriot rage, To poor, old, tott'ring TIMON bent with age, "Had you, my lord, the horfe at MINDEN led, "'Sdeath, what deftruction would your grace have made? "Like Wantley's dragon you had roar'd, and thunder'd, "And eat'n up Frenchmen hundred after hundred ;" Thus mean and vile let others live, not I, Who fcorn to flatter, and who fear to lye. What honeft man

F. Stop, or you ne'er can thriveSure you're the ftrangeft, fqueamish wretch alive! What, in the name of wonder, friend, have you, In life's low vale, with honefly to do? "Tis a dead weight, that will retard you still, Oft as you ftrive to clamber up the hill. Strip, and be wife-strip off all bashful pride, Throw cumbrous honour, virtue, truth afide, Truft up, and girt like VIRRO, mend your pace, The first, the nimbleft fccundrel in the race. Go copy TREBIUS

P. Copy TREBIUS?-Hum

And forfeit peace for all my life to come.
Should I devote my fifter's virgin charms
To the vile lewdnefs of a patron's arms,

Too

Too fure my father's injur'd ghost would rise,
Rage on his brow, and horror in his eyes;
Would haunt, would goad me in the focial hall,
Or break my rest—tho' slumb'ring in a stall.
Oh gracious God, of what thin flimfy gear
Is fome men's confcience!-

F. Hold, you're too fevere

Think when temptations ev'ry sense affail,

How ftrong they prove, and human flesh how frail!
When Satan came, by righteous heav'n ordain'd,
To tempt the leader of the Christian band,
He drew, he caught him from the barren wafte,
And on the temple's tow'ring fummit plac'd;
And now-a-days, or fage experience lies,

From church preferments great temptations rise.
Spare TREBIUS then-e'en you yourself may yield—

P. Not, friend, 'till vanquifh'd reafon quits the field:
Then I, poor madman, 'midst the mad and vain,
May Judas-like betray my God for gain;

At HELLUO's board, where fmokes th' eternal treat,
And all the fat on earth bow down, and eat,
A genuine fon of LEVI may adore

The golden calf, as AARON did before.
Then welcome the full levee, where refort
Crouds of all ranks to pay their morning court;
The well-rob'd dean with face fo fleek, and fair,
And tatter'd CoDRUS pale and wan with care,

Whofe yearly-breeding wife, in mean attire,
To feed her hungry brats muft spin for hire.
Hail medley dome, where like the ark we find
Clean, and unclean, of ev'ry fort and kind!

Hail medley dome, where three whole hours together,
(Shiv'ring in cold, and faint in fultry weather)
We brook, athirst and hungry, all delay,
And wear in expectation life away!

But hush! in comes my lord-important, big,
Squints thro' his glass, and bustling shakes his wig,
Whofe faucy curls, confin'd in triple tye,

With conftant work his bufy hands supply.

He ftops, bows, ftares--and whispers out aloud, "What spark is yon, that joftles thro' the croud?” Sir William's heir-enough-my dear, good friend, "Sir William liv'd-I think-at Ponder's end;

"Yes-yes-Sir William liv'd"

Then on he goes,

And whispering this grand fecret crams his nofe
Into your wig, and squeezing every hand,

""Tis mine to ferve you, Sir-Your's to command".
Thus kindly breathing many a promise fair,
He feeds two rows of gaping fools with air;
Unmeaning gabbles fet retines of speech,
As papifts pray, or prelates us'd to preach,
Makes himself o'er in truft, to keep his ground,
And FAIRLY GULLS HIS CREDITORS ALL ROUND.
With warm delight his words poor CODRUS hears,
Sweet as the fancy'd mufic of the spheres ;
Then trudges jocund home thro' mire and clay,
While pleafing thoughts beguile the long long way;

A fnug

A snug warm living skims before his eyes, His tithe pig gruntles, and his grey goose fies; His lonely Thatter'd.cot, all patcht with mud, And hemm'd around by many a fragrant flood, Chang'd to a neat, and modern houfe he sees, Built on high ground, and shelter'd well with trees ś Spacious in front the chequer'd lawns extend, With useful ponds, and gardens at the end, Where art and nature kindly join to bring The fruits of Autumn, and the flowers of Spring. No more a fun-burnt bob the preacher wears, Or coat of ferge, where ev'ry thread appears : Behold him deckt in spruce and crim array, With cafíock short, and veft of raven-grey ; In powder'd pomp the spacious grizzle flows, And the broad beaver trembles o'er his nose. Ah dear delufions, tempt his thoughts no more, Leave him untortur'd by desire, though poor! What can advance, in these degenerate days, When gold, or intrest all preferment sways, A wretch unbleft by Fortune, and by birth? Alas, not TERRICK's parts, or TalBo'r's worth Else long, long since had honest Butler Thone High in the church religion's spotless sun; Had beam'd around his friendly light to chear The lonely, way-worn, wandring traveller ; Chac'd error's black and baleful fades away, And pour'd thro' every mind refiftless day. Alas, the change! far in a lowly vale, 'Midft ftraggling huts, where some few peasants dwell,

C2

He