The dimpled ftream; the winding fhade; Soft themes! fhould pleafing thoughts fuggest.. Rich in my felf, I'd frown on gold, The idly-buftling crowd below. But now recollecting, that he was talking of impoffibilities (confidering the ill fuccefs that had always attended him) he breaks into the following rapture, which you will perhaps think tolerable. Ah me! in what romantic feats, Too tranfient, vifionary fweets, That fudden gleam, then fade away? So to poetic mind in fleep, Gay habits, coaches, guineas rife: Break but the charm, the glitt'ring heap, And all the wild creation dies. After making a compliment to Mr. POPE, he goes on. When GRAECIANS liv'd, aufpicious times! Glory infpir'd the facred rage: How faint the Mufe in ALBION's clime Then fculpture wak'd the mimic ftone; He afterwards fpeaks of the strong passion which men · had then for learning. No No grov❜ling views could then controul So to the radient fcource of light, After taking notice of the honour that was paid to poets in GREECE and ITALY, and how after the neglect of arts, the ROMAN empire was over-run with vices of every kind, he proceeds. Be it, O fcience! radiant maid, To thy immortal honour told, That whilft thy heavenly dictates sway'd, 3 But when thy fmiles no more cou'd charm, Then down finks thy devoted head: I fhould exceed the limits of your paper, were I to tranfcribe any farther; so shall break off with affuring you, that what I have told you concerning the education of my friend is matter of fact; of the truth whereof you fhould certify your felf, were not you journalists a kind of invifible gentlemen. On On STEPHEN DUCK. Duck! preferr'd by bounteous Queen Thy notes our ears with pleasure treat, More than AMPHION thou haft done, } To Mr. STEPHEN DUCK, the celebrated WILTSHIRE Poet and Thresher, on his late Preferment by her Majefty. I. LD HOMER, tho' a bard divine, (If not by fame bely'd,) Stroll'd about GREECE; old ballads fung; A beggar liv'd and dy'd. II. Fam'd II. Fam'd MILTON too, our BRITISH bard, Who as divinely wrote, Sung like an angel, but in vain ; And dy'd not worth a groat. III. Thice happy Duck! a milder fate Well haft thou thresh'd thy barns and brains, IV. O! may she still new favours grant, And make the laurel thine! Then fhall we fee next NEW-YEAR'S ODE By far the last out-shine. Grubftreet Journal, No 42. To Mr: BAVIUS, Secretary to the Society of SIR, GRUBSTREET. Have frequently been exercis'd by a rural adminiftrator of juftice; have gone through feveral courses of his difcipline; but being now remov'd beyond the sphere of his activity, I give the following out-lines of the gentleman, my skill in drawing not enabling me to fill the figure proper fhades. with W Ithout his worship's leave, he's very proud, He ftill behaves with ftable impudence, With totering diction and inceffant brawl, Mov'd Mov'd by no fpring but intereft and spight, Long has he made a buftle for the ftate, Then laughs alone, whilft others in difdain In fordid hurt all day he makes decrees With fapient air: tobacco, bread and cheese. Promifcuoufly chews; at night o'ercome With ropy belch, he takes a bed at home. Recognizance and warrant join their aid, Make good deficiences, and help the trade: A certain yearly compofition quits The clerk; the juftice takes the perquifites. His worship rides in chaife; but time must tell, Grub |