So shall my life forget to move; With smiles, and make me fit to live. And think each precious moment flies too fast. BELPHEGOR, A FABLE. FROM MACHIAVEL. ............Fagit indignata sub umbras. Virg. TH' infernal monarch once, as stories tell, Scarce one he question'd, but reply'd the same, Then to his peers and potentates around, [prov'd: He spoke; the list'ning crowds his scheme apBut who so much his prince or country lov'd, As thus, with fearless heart, to undertake This hymeneal trial, for their sake? At length with one consent they all propose That fortune shall by lot the task impose; The dreaded chance on bold Belphegor fell, Sighing h' obey'd, and took his leave of Hell. First in fair Florence he was pleas'd to fix, Bought a large house, fine plate, a coach and six; Dress'd rich and gay, play'd high, drank hard, and whor'd, And liv'd, in short, in all things like a lord: [state, Soft looks and sighs his passion soon betray'd, [fears? But ah, these happy moments last not long! For in one month his wife has found her tongue; All thoughts of love and tenderness are lost, Their only aim is who shall squander most; She dreams of nothing now but being fine, Whilst he is ever guzzling nasty wine; She longs for jewels, equipage, and plate, And he, sad man! stays out so very late! Hence ev'ry day domestic wars are bred, A truce is hardly kept while they 're abed; They wrangle all day long, and then at night, Like wooing cats, at once they love and fight. His riches too are with his quiet flown, And they once spent, all friends of course are gone; The sum design'd his whole ten years to last, Is all consum'd before the first is past: Where shall he hide? ab, whither must he fly? Legions of duns abroad in ambush lie, For fear of them, no more he dares to roam, And the worst dun of all, his wife 's at home. Quite tir'd at length with such a wretched life, He flies one night at once from debts and wife; But ere the morning dawn his flight is known; And crowds pursue him close from town to town: He quits the public road, and wand'ring strays Through unfrequented woods, and pathless ways; At last with joy a little farm he sees, Where liv'd a good old man, in health and ease; Matthew his name: to him Belphegor goes, And begs protection from pursuing foes, With tears relates his melancholy case, Tells him from whence he came, and who he was, And vows to pay for his reception well, When next he should receive his rents from Hell: The farmer hears his tale with pitying ear, And bids him live in peace and safety there; Awhile he did; no duns, no noise, or strife, Disturb'd him there;-for Matt had ne'er a wife. But ere few weeks in this retreat are past Matt too himself becomes a dun at last; Demands his promis'd pay with heat and rage, Till thus Belphegor's words his wrath assuage. "My friend, we devils, like English peers, "he cry'd, Though free from law, are yet by honour ty'd; Though tradesmen's cheating bills I scorn to view, I pay all debts that are by honour due; And therefore have contriv'd long since a way, Beyond all hopes thy kindness to repay; We subtile spirits can, you know, with ease Possess whatever human breasts we please, With sudden frenzy can o'ercast the mind, Let passions loose, and captive reason bind: Thus I three mortal bosoms will infest, He spoke, then fled unseen, like rushing wind, And now Belphegor, having thrice obey'd, With reason thinks his host is fully pay'd; Next free to range, to Gallia's king he flies, As dev'ls ambitious ever love to rise; Black hideous scenes distract his royal mind, From all he seeks relief, but none can find, And vows vast treasures shall his art repay, Whoe'er can chase the strange disease away: At length, instructed by the voice of fame, To Matthew sends; poor Matt reluctant came; Once more, Belphegor, my petition hear, She comes once more to seize you for her own;" And vows to deal no more with dev'ls or kings. From the commencement of the Spanish war in 1739, to the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, signed October 7, 1748, the land-tax was raised from two shillings to four shillings. In 1749 it was lowered to three shillings, at which rate it was continued till 1752, when Mr. Pelham, at that time the minister, reduced it to two shillings, at which rate it continued till the time of his death in 1754. This was one, amongst others, of those popular measures which gilded the evening of this minister's life, and rendered his death an object of public lamentation. To this event we owe this happy imitation, wrote soon after the land-tax act of that year passed. E. A SIMILE. CORINNA, in the country bred, Thus arm'd she 'ad long secur'd her honour For, to say truth, she thought it hard She saw by others freely tasted, So pouted, pin'd, grew pale, and wasted: At length a troop of horse came down, They saw and lik'd: the siege begun : At first to Hanover a plum Was sent:-They said--A trivial sum, They vow'd and swore they 'd cry out murder: They pish'd and frown'd-but still they granted: Are paid, t' oppose the French and Russians: 'T is right-he can't be wrong who did it: A PASSAGE IN OSSIAN VERSIFIED. THE deeds of ancient days shall be my theme; Melvina, three old bended firs look down? ON SEEING THE EARL OF CHESTERFIELD AT A BALL, AT BATH. WRITTEN IN 1770. In times by selfishness and faction sour'd, Vouchsafes each night these brilliant scenes to grace, PREFACE. THE following ode was found in the cabinet of a best judges, to be the most perfect composition of late celebrated writer; and is esteemed, by the the kind that is any where to be met with amongst the productions of the numerous lyric poets of modern times. I BEG leave to present to your lordship the following ode; for at whose shrine can it be offered with more propriety than at your lordship's, whose taste for poetry, as well as for every other part of polite literature, is so justly and so universally acknowledged? Your lordship has yourself made no inconsiderable figure in the lyric; but I will Trap, in his Prælectiones Poeticæ, thus describes That learned and judicious critic, Dr. Joseph not so much flatter you, even in a dedication, as the most excellent composers of lyric poems or to affirm, that you have perfectly succeeded. I odes: Conceptus omnium ardentissimi; a vulallow, that the very few pieces with which you garibus cogitatis remotissimi; methodum fugere have favoured the public, are as elegant and beau-fieri videntur, nihilo licet plus artis insit. Sentenvidentur; transitiones affectant, quæ nulla arte tiful as any in our language: I own, that in every tiarum nexus et copulas negligere amant; modo one of them there are just conception, lively ima- abrupto et improviso poema incipiunt, et finiunt; gination, correct expression, and clear connection; et furore quodam usitatis legibus et regulis supe but I know your lordship's goodness will pardon mulis venia vel obtenta prius, aut petita. Which, riore, ab hoc ad illud devolant, nulla loquendi forme, when I presume to assert, that all these ex- for the benefit of ladies and gentlemen, I thus cellences are utterly repugnant to the noble translate: "Their conceptions are the most daring frenzy and sublime obscurity of the ode; both and most remote from all vulgar ideas, or common which are sufficiently visible in this, which I have sense; they seem to fly from all method; they here the honour to lay before your lordship, and art, though in them there is a great deal; they affect transitions, which appear to be void of all which I take to be a model of perfection: my ob- are fond of neglecting all connections; they begin and end their poem in a manner abrupt, sudden, and unexpected; and, with a madness superior to all the laws and rules of writing, dash about from one thing to another, without obtaining pardon, or even condescending to ask it." These rules have been observed with great diligence, and some success, by most of the writers of modern odes; but have never been adhered to with that happy exactness, as in the piece which is now before us. It begins in a manner the most abrupt and unex advantages of the British empire, because they refuse to submit to the authority and jurisdiction of the British legislature; offering at the same time to enter into alliance of friendship and treaties of commerce with them, as with any other sovereign independent state. Not any one of those who are recorded in the history of this country in the renowned list of her ablest statesmen, had he lived at this time, could have foreseen with more saga-pected, and ends as abruptly as it begins. It opens city what was likely to happen from that sad business, or with greater wisdom provided a remedy to prevent it, than what the dean's propositions contained. But, alas! they were not attended to by those who only at that time could endeavour to carry them into execution; and, after a long struggle, in which much blood was spilt, enormous treasures wasted, and two British armies compelled to go into captivity, the parent state suffered the disgrace of being compelled to surrender that, of which the dean of Gloucester long before, with the soundest policy, advised her to make a free-will offering. This pamphlet was the foundation of the preceding short poem, written about a year after it, in which the author, with that conciseness as to the matter, and humour in the manner, so peculiar to himself, recommends and supports the dean's plan. E. with a most sublime speech of a giant, supposed to have run mad from some disappointment in ambition or love; and this, in conformity to the strictest laws of criticism, and the example of our most admired writers of odes, is so artificially contrived, that the reader, however sagacious he may be, cannot possibly discover, before be arrives at the end of the second stanza, whether it is the speech of the giant or the poet, or any speech at all. The transition from the giant's speech, to that beautiful description of the morning, is truly Pindaric; the sudden apostrophe to the Sun is perfectly sublime; and that to the Moon no less tender and pathetic: the descriptions of the four seasons are wonderfully picturesque, and are not, as usual, copies drawn from the scenery of Italian groves, and the plains of Arcadia, but true originals, taken on the spot in old England, and formed |