When ripening youth with down o'ershades his chin,

And every female eye incites to sin;

The milk-maid (thoughtless of her future shame,)

With smacking lip shall raise his guilty flame;
The dairy, barn, the hay-loft, and the grove,
Shall oft be conscious of their stolen love.
But think, Priscilla, on that dreadful time,
When pangs and watery qualms shall own thy

crime.

How wilt thou tremble when thy nipple's prest, To see the white drops bathe thy swelling

breast!

Nine moons shall publicly divulge thy shame, And the young squire forestall a father's name. When twice twelve times the reaper's sweep

ing hand

With levell'd harvests has bestrown the land; On famed St. Hubert's feast, his winding horn Shall cheer the joyful hound, and wake the

morn:

This memorable day his eager speed

Shall urge with bloody heel the rising steed.
O check the foamy bit, nor tempt thy fate,
Think on the murders of a five-bar gate!
Yet, prodigal of life, the leap he tries,
Low in the dust his grovelling honour lies;
Headlong he falls, and on the rugged stone
Distorts his neck, and cracks the collar-bone.
O venturous youth, thy thirst of game allay:
Mayst thou survive the perils of this day!
He shall survive; and in late years be sent
To snore away debates in parliament.

The time shall come when his more solid

sense

With nod important shall the laws dispense;
A justice with grave justices shall sit;
He praise their wisdom, they admire his wit.
No greyhound shall attend the tenant's pace,
No rusty gun the farmer's chimney grace;
Salmons shall leave their covers void of fear,
Nor dread the thievish net or triple spear;
Poachers shall tremble at his awful name,
Whom vengeance now o'ertakes for murder'd
game.

Assist me, Bacchus, and ye drunken powers, To sing his friendships and his midnight hours!

Why dost thou glory in thy strength of beer, Firm cork'd and mellow'd till the twentieth

year:

Brew'd, or when Phoebus warms the fleecy sign,
Or when his languid rays in Scorpio shine?
Think on the mischiefs which from hence have
sprung!

It arms with curses dire the wrathful tongue;
Foul scandal to the lying lip affords,
And prompts the memory with injurious words.
O where is wisdom when by this o'erpower'd?
The state is censured, and the maid deflower'd!
And wilt thou still, O Squire, brew ale so
strong?

Hear then the dictates of prophetic song.
Methinks I see him in his hall appear,
Where the long table floats in clammy beer,

'Midst mugs and glasses shatter'd o'er the floor,
Dead drunk, his servile crew supinely snore;
Triumphant, o'er the prostrate brutes he stands,
The mighty bumper trembles in his hands;
Boldly he drinks, and like his glorious sires,
In copious gulps of potent ale expires.

SWEET WILLIAM'S FAREWELL TO BLACK-EYED
SUSAN.

ALL in the Downs the fleet was moor'd,
The streamers waving in the wind,
When black-eyed Susan came aboard.
Oh! where shall I my true-love find?
Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true,
If my sweet William sails among the crew.

William, who high upon the yard

Rock'd with the billow to and fro, Soon as her well-known voice he heard,

He sigh'd and cast his eyes below: The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands, And (quick as lightning) on the deck he stands.

So the sweet lark, high poised in air,

Shuts close his pinions to his breast, (If chance his mate's shrill call he hear,) And drops at once into her nest.

The noblest captain in the British fleet Might envy William's lip those kisses sweet.

O Susan, Susan, lovely dear,

My vows shall ever true remain; Let me kiss off that falling tear;

We only part to meet again. Change, as ye list, ye winds! my heart shall be The faithful compass that still points to thee.

Believe not what the landmen say,

Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind; They'll tell thee, sailors, when away,

In every port a mistress find: Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so, For thou art present wheresoe'er I go.

If to fair India's coast we sail,

Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright, Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale,

Thy skin is ivory so white. Thus every beauteous object that I view Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue.

Though battle call me from thy arms, Let not my pretty Susan mourn; Though cannons roar, yet, safe from harms, William shall to his, dear return. Love turns aside the bass that round me fly, Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye.

The boatswain gave the dreadful word,

The sails their swelling bosom spread; No longer must she stay aboard:

They kiss'd, she sigh'd, he hung his head. Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land: Adieu! she cries; and waved her lily hand.

THE COURT OF DEATH.

A FABLE.

DEATH, on a solemn night of state,
In all his pomp of terror sate:
Th' attendants of his gloomy reign,
Diseases dire, a ghastly train!
Crowd the vast court.

With hollow tone,
A voice thus thunder'd from the throne:

This night our minister we name,
Let every servant speak his claim;
Merit shall bear this ebon wand."

All, at the word, stretch'd forth their hand.
Fever, with burning heat possess'd,
Advanced, and for the wand address'd.
"I to the weekly bills appeal,
Let those express my fervent zeal;
On every slight occasion near,
With violence I persevere."

Next Gout appears with limping pace,
Pleads how he shifts from place to place;
From head to foot how swift he flies,
And every joint and sinew plies;
Still working when he seems suppress'd,
A most tenacious, stubborn guest.

A haggard spectre from the crew
Crawls forth, and thus asserts his due:
""Tis I who taint the sweetest joy,
And in the shape of love destroy:
My shanks, sunk eyes, and noseless face,
Prove my pretension to the place."

Stone urged his over-growing force;
And, next, Consumption's meagre corse,
With feeble voice that scarce was heard,
Broke with short coughs, his suit preferr❜d:
"Let none object my lingering way,
I gain, like Fabius, by delay;
Fatigue and weaken every foe
By long attack, secure though slow."

Plague represents his rapid power,

Who thinn'd a nation in an hour.

All spoke their claim, and hoped the wand,

Now expectation hush'd the band;

When thus the monarch from the throne:

"Merit was ever modest known.
What, no physician speak his right!
None here! but fees their toils requite!
Let then Intemperance take the wand,
Who fills with gold their zealous hand.
You, Fever, Gout and all the rest,
(Whom wary men as foes detest,)
Forego your claim; no more pretend;
Intemperance is esteem'd a friend;

He shares their mirth, their social joys,
And as a courted guest destroys.
The charge on him must justly fall,
Who finds employment for you all.

A BALLAD.

FROM THE "WHAT-D'YE-CALL-IT." "TWAS when the seas were roaring With hollow blasts of wind,

A damsel lay deploring,

All on a rock reclined. Wide o'er the foaming billows

She cast a wistful look;

Her head was crown'd with willows,
That trembled o'er the brook.
Twelve months are gone and over,
And nine long tedious days:
Why didst thou, venturous lover,

Why didst thou trust the seas?
Cease, cease, thou cruel ocean,
And let my lover rest:
Ah! what's thy troubled motion
To that within my breast?
The merchant, robbed of pleasure,
Sees tempests in despair;
But what's the loss of treasure
To losing of my dear?
Should you some coast be laid on
Where gold and diamonds grow,
You'd find a richer maiden,

But none that loves you so.

How can they say that nature

Has nothing made in vain; Why then beneath the water

Should hideous rocks remain? No eyes the rocks discover

That lurk beneath the deep, To wreck the wandering lover, And leave the maid to weep.

All melancholy lying,

Thus wail'd she for her dear; Repay'd each blast with sighing, Each billow with a tear; When o'er the white wave stooping,

His floating corpse she spied;

Then like a lily drooping,

She bow'd her head and died.*

[* What can be prettier than Gay's ballad, or rathei Swift's, Arbuthnot's, Pope's, and Gay's, in the "What-d'ye call-it,"-""Twas when the seas were roaring." I have been well informed that they all contributed.-CowPER to Unwin, Aug. 4, 1783.]

They both disdain in outward mien
The grave and solemn garb of Spleen,
And meretricious arts of dress,
To feign a joy, and hide distress;
Unmoved when the rude tempest blows,
Without an opiate they repose;
And, cover'd by your shield, defy
The whizzing shafts that round them fly.
Nor meddling with the gods' affairs,
Concern themselves with distant cares;
But place their bliss in mental rest,
And feast upon the good possess'd.

Forced by soft violence of pray'r,
The blithesome goddess soothes my care,
I feel the deity inspire,

And thus she models my desire.
Two hundred pounds half-yearly paid,
Annuity securely made,

farm some twenty miles from town,
Small, tight, salubrious, and my own;
Two maids that never saw the town,
A serving-man not quite a clown,
A boy to help to tread the mow,

And drive, while t'other holds the plough;
A chief, of temper form'd to please,
Fit to converse and keep the keys;
And better to preserve the peace,
Commission'd by the name of niece;
With understandings of a size
To think their master very wise.
May Heaven (its all I wish for) send
One genial room to treat a friend,
Where decent cupboard, little plate,
Display benevolence, not state.
And may my humble dwelling stand
Upon some chosen spot of land:
A pond before full to the brim,

Where cows may cool, and geese may swim;
Behind, a green, like velvet neat,
Soft to the eye, and to the feet;
Where od'rous plants in evening fair
Breathe all around ambrosial air;
From Eurus, foe to kitchen ground,
Fenced by a slope with bushes crown'd,
Fit dwelling for the feather'd throng,
Who pay their quit-rents with a song;
With op'ning views of hill and dale,
Which sense and fancy too regale,
Where the half-cirque, which vision bounds,
Like amphitheatre surrounds:
And woods impervious to the breeze,
Thick phalanx of embodied trees,
From hills through plains in dusk array
Extended far, repel the day.

Here stillness, height, and solemn shade
Invite, and contemplation aid:
Here Nymphs from hollow oaks relate
The dark decrees and will of fate,
And dreams beneath the spreading beech
Inspire, and docile fancy teach;
While soft as breezy breath of wind,
Impulses rustle through the mind:
Here Dryads, scorning Phoebus' ray,
While Pan melodious pipes away,

In measured motions frisk about,
Till old Silenus puts them out.
There see the clover, pea, and bean,
Vie in variety of green;

Fresh pastures speckled o'er with sheep,
Brown fields their fallow sabbaths keep,
Plump Ceres golden tresses wear,
And poppy top-knots deck her hair,
And silver streams through meadows stray,
And Naiads on the margin play,
And lesser Nymphs on side of hills
From plaything urns pour down the rills.

Thus shelter'd, free from care and strife, May I enjoy a calm through life; See faction, safe in low degree, As men at land see storms at sea, And laugh at miserable elves, Not kind, so much as to themselves, Cursed with such souls of base alloy, As can possess, but not enjoy; Debarr'd the pleasure to impart By avarice, sphincter of the heart; Who wealth, hard earn'd by guilty cares, Bequeath untouch'd to thankless heirs. May I, with look ungloom'd by guile, And wearing virtue's liv'ry-smile, Prone the distressed to relieve, And little trespasses forgive, With income not in fortune's power, And skill to make a busy hour, With trips to town life to amuse, To purchase books, and hear the news, To see old friends, brush off the clown, And quicken taste at coming down, Unhurt by sickness' blasting rage, And slowly mellowing in age. When Fate extends its gathering gripe, Fall off like fruit grown fully ripe, Quit a worn being without pain, Perhaps to blossom soon again.

But now more serious see me grow, And what I think, my Memmius, know.

Th' enthusiast's hope, and raptures wild, Have never yet my reason foil'd. His springy soul dilates like air, When free from weight of ambient care, And, hush'd in meditation deep, Slides into dreams, as when asleep; Then, fond of new discoveries grown, Proves a Columbus of her own, Disdains the narrow bounds of place, And through the wilds of endless space, Borne up on metaphysic wings, Chases light forms and shadowy things, And, in the vague excursion caught, Brings home some rare exotic thought. The melancholy man such dreams, As brightest evidence, esteems; Fain would he see some distant scene Suggested by his restless Spleen, And Fancy's telescope applies With tinctured glass to cheat his eyes.

Such thoughts, as love the gloom of night,
I close examine by the light;

For who, though bribed by gain to lie,
Dare sunbeam-written truths deny,
And execute plain common sense
On faith's mere hearsay evidence?

That superstition mayn't create, And club its ills with those of fate, I many a notion take to task, Made dreadful by its visor-mask. Thus scruple, spasm of the mind, Is cured, and certainty I find; Since optic reason shows me plain, I dreaded spectres of the brain; And legendary fears are gone, Though in tenacious childhood sown. Thus in opinions I commence Freeholder in the proper sense, And neither suit nor service do, Nor homage to pretenders show, Who boast themselves by spurious roll Lords of the manor of the soul; Preferring sense from chin that's bare, To nonsense throned in whisker'd hair.

To thee, Creator uncreate,

O Entium Ens! divinely great!-
Hold, Muse, nor melting pinions try,
Nor near the blazing glory fly,
Nor straining break thy feeble bow,
Unfeather'd arrows far to throw;
Through fields unknown nor madly stray
Where no ideas mark the way.
With tender eyes, and colours faint,
And trembling hands, forbear to paint.
Who, features veil'd by light, can hit?
Where can, what has no outline, fit?
My soul, the vain attempt forego,
Thyself, the fitter subject, know.
He wisely shuns the bold extreme,
Who soon lays by th' unequal theme,
Nor runs, with wisdom's sirens caught,
On quicksands swallowing shipwreck'd thought:
But conscious of his distance, gives
Mute praise, and humble negatives.
In One, no object of our sight,
Immutable and infinite,
Who can't be cruel or unjust,
Calm and resign'd, I fix my trust;

To him my past and present state
I owe, and must my future fate.
A stranger into life I'm come,
Dying may be our going home,
Transported here by angry Fate,
The convicts of a prior state:
Hence I no anxious thoughts bestow
On matters I can never know.
Through life's foul way, like vagrant, pass'd,
He'll grant a settlement at last;

And with sweet ease the wearied crown
By leave to lay his being down.

If doom'd to dance th' eternal round
Of life, no sooner lost but found,
And dissolution soon to come,

Like sponge, wipes out life's present sum,
But can't our state of pow'r bereave
An endless series to receive;

Then, if hard dealt with here by fate,
We balance in another state,
And consciousness must go along,
And sign th' acquittance for the wrong
He for his creatures must decree
More happiness than misery,
Or be supposed to create,
Curious to try, what 'tis to hate:
And do an act, which rage infers,
'Cause lameness halts, or blindness errs.
Thus, thus I steer my bark, and sail
On even keel with gentle gale;
At helm I make my reason sit,
My crew of passions all submit.

If dark and blust'ring prove some nights,
Philosophy puts forth her lights;
Experience holds the cautious glass,
To shun the breakers, as I pass,
And frequent throws the wary lead,
To see what dangers may be hid:
And once in seven years I'm seen
At Bath or Tunbridge, to careen.
Though pleased to see the dolphins play,
I mind my compass and my way.
With store sufficient for relief,
And wisely still prepared to reef,
Nor wanting the dispersive bowl
Of cloudy weather in the soul,

I make (may heaven propitious send
Such wind and weather to the end)
Neither becalm'd, nor overblown,
Life's voyage to the world unknown.