My chambers I equipt complete,

Made Friends, hired Books, and gave to eat ;

If haply to regale my friends on,

My Mother fent a haunch of Ven'fon,

I most respectfully entreated

The choiceft Company to eat it,

To wit, old BuZZARD, HAWK, and CROW,
Item, TOм THORNBACK, SHARK, and Co,
Attorneys all as keen and ftaunch

As e'er devour'd a Client's haunch ;
Nor did I not their Clerks invite
To taste said ven'son hash'd at night,
For well I knew that hopeful Fry
My rifing merit would defcry,
The fame litigious course pursue,
And when to fish of prey they grew,
By love of food and conteft led,

Would haunt the spot where once they fed;
Thus having with due circumfpection

Form'd my profeffional connexion,

My defk with precedents I ftrew'd,

Turn'd critic, danc'd, or penn'd an ode,
Studied the Ton, became a free
And eafy man of Gallantry:

But if while capering at my Glafs,
Or toying with some fav'rite Lass,
I heard th' aforefaid HAWK a coming,
Or BUZZARD on the staircase humming,
At once the fair angelic maid
Into my Coal-hole I convey'd,
At once, with serious look profound
Mine eyes commercing with the ground,
I feem'd like one estrang'd to fleep,
"And fix'd in cogitation deep,"
Sat motionless, and in my hand I
Held my Doctrina Placitandi,

And though I never read a page in't,

Thanks to that threwd well-judging Agent,
My Sifter's husband, Mr. SHARK,
Soon got fix Pupils and a Clerk,
Five Pupils were my ftint, the other
I took to compliment his Mother;
All round me came with ready money
Like Hybla bees furcharg'd with honey,
Which, as they prefs'd it fo genteelly,
And begg'd me to accept fo freely,
Seem'd all fo fond of SPECIAL PLEADING,
And all fo certain of fucceeding,

Kk4

I, who am always all compliance,
As well to Pupils as to Clients,
Took as genteelly as they paid it,
And freely to my purfe convey'd it;
That I might practically fhew,
And they in fpecial manner know
Ere they began their Pleas to draw,
What an AssUMPSIT meant in Law-
To wit for divers weighty fums
Of lawful cash at Pleader's Rooms,
By me faid Pleader, as was prudent,
Had and received to use of Student;
In short, I acted as became me,

And where's the Pleader than can blame me?
Not one of all the trade that I know,
E'er fails to take the Ready-rino,
Which haply, if this purfe receive,
No human art can e'er retrieve.
Sooner when Gallia's credit's flown
To fome Utopian world unknown,
ASTREA fhall on earth remain
The laft of the celeftial train,
To tender Affignais at Par
Triumphant in the Champ de Mar,
And when their deep laid projects fail,
And Guillotines no more avail,
Her baffled Statesmen fhall excife
Some new found region in the fkies,
And tow'ring in an air balloon
Pluck Requifitions from the Moon;
Sooner the dering wights who go
Down to the watery world below,
Shall force old Neptune to difgorge
And vomit up the ROYAL GEORGE,
Than He who hath his bargain made
And legally his cash convey'd,
Shall e'er his pocket reimburse
By diving in a Lawyer's Purfe.

Addrefs to Forgetfulness, From MERRY'S Pains of Memory. A Poem

HOU too, forgetfulness! whofe opiate charm

TH

Can hufh the paffions, and their rage difarm;
Approach, O kindly grant thy fuppliant, aid!
Wrap h.m in fweet oblivion's placid fhade;
Veil the gay, tranfitory scenes, that fled,
ike gleamy funfhine o'er the mountain's head;
Sink in the dark abyfs of endless night

The

The artificial phantoms of delight;
Nor let his early ign'rance, and mistake,
The fober blifs of age and reafon shake.
Hide from his heart each fuff'ring country's woe,
And o'er its chains thy cov'ring mantle throw;
Hide yon deluded agonizing train,

Who bleed by thousands on the purple plain;
Their piercing cries, their dying groans controul,
And lock up all the feelings of his foul.
Shield him from flander's perfecuting race,
Who feek to wound, and labour to disgrace,
Who view the humbleft worth with jealous eye,
The viper brood of black malignity!

So fhall, perchance, content with thee return,
'Mongft vernal fweets to raise his wintry urn;
To his retreat tranquillity repair,

"And freedom dwell a penfive hermit there.".
O! in retirement may be reft at last,
The prefent, calm, forgotten all the paft;
Befide the babling brook at twilight's clofe,
Tafte the foft folace of the mind's repose;
Lift the lorn nightingale's impreffive lay,
That foothes the evening of retiring May,
When the young moon her paly flag difplays,
And o'er the ftream the panting zephyr ftrays;
No heedlefs hours recall'd, no feftive roar,
That once deluded, but can please no more;
No wild emotions bid his comforts cease,
Or from his cottage drive the angel peace;
Nor vain ambition tempt his thoughts anew,
But ftill preserve the friendship of the few;
Still, ftill preferve the fond domestic smile,
Of her, whofe voice can ev'ry care beguile;
With meek philofophy his hours employ,
Or thrilling poetry's delicious joy;
And from the faded promifes of youth,
Retain the love of liberty and truth.

SONNET.

Sacred to the Memory of Penelope. By Sir Brook Boothby, Bart.

T

HOUGH fince my date of woe long years have roll'd,
Darkness ne'er draws the curtains round my head,

Nor orient morning opes her eyes of gold,
But grief pursues my walks, or haunts my bed.
Vifions, in fleep, their triftful fhapes unfold;
Show Mifery living, Hope and Pleasure dead,

ハ

Pale

Pale fhrouded beauty, kiffes faint and cold,

Or murmur words the parting angels faid.
Thoughts, when awake, their wonted trains renew;
With all their stings my tortured breast affail;
Her faded form now glides before my view;
Her plaintive voice now floats upon the gale.
The hope how vain, that time should bring relief!
Time does but deeper root a real grief.

DESCRIPTION OF THE PERSON AND HABITATION OF DESPAIR.

From Sauthey's Joan of Arc. An Epic Poem.

AN aged Man

Sat near, feated on what in long-past days
Had been fome fculptured monument, now fall'n
And half-obscured by mofs, and gathered heaps
Of withered yew-leaves and earth-mouldering bones :
And fhining in the ray was feen the track
Of flimy fnail obfcene. Compofed his look,
His eye was large and raylefs, and fix'd full
Upon the Maid; the blue flames on his face
Stream'd a drear light; his face was of the hue
Of death his limbs were mantled in a fhroud.
Then with a deep heart-terrifying voice,
Exclaim'd the fpectre, "Welcome to these realms,
Thefe regions of DESPAIR! O thou whose steps
By GRIEF conducted to these fad abodes

:

Have pierc'd; welcome, welcome to this gloom
Eternal; to this everlafting night;

Where never morning darts the enlivening ray,
Where never fhines the fun, but all is dark,
Dark as the bofom of their gloomy king!"
So faying he arofe, and by the hand
The virgin feized with fuch a death-cold touch
As froze her very heart; and drawing on,
Her, to the abbey's inner ruin, led

Refiftlefs through the broken roof the moon
Glimmer'd a scatter'd ray: the ivy twin'd
Round the dismantled column: imaged forms
Of faints and warlike chiefs, mofs-canker'd now
And mutilate, lay ftrewn upon the ground;
With crumbled fragments crucifixes fallen,
And rufted trophies; and amid the heap
Some monument's defaced legend spake
All human glory vain.

The loud blaft roar'd

Amid the pile; and from the tower the owl

Scream'd

Scream'd as the tempeft fhook her fecret neft.
He, filent, led her on, and often paus'd,
And pointed, that her eye might contemplate
At leisure the drear scene.

THE SORROWS OF SUNDAY; AN ELEGY.

From the Royal Tour, or Weymouth Amusement. By Peter Pindar, Ef The intended annihilation of Sunday's harmless Amufement, by three or four most outrageously zealous Members of Parliament, gave birth to the following Elegy. The hint is borrowed from a fmall compofition intituled "The Tears of Old May-Day."

MILR

WILD was the breath of morn: the blushing sky
Receiv'd the lufty youth with golden hair,
Rejoicing in his race, to run, to fly;

As Scripture fays, "a bridgroom débonnaire ;"
When, full of tears, the decent Sunday rose,

And wonder'd fad on Kensington's fair green:
Down in a chair fhe funk with all her woes,

And touch'd, with tenderest sympathy, the scene.
"O hard Sir Richard Hill!" exclaim'd the dame;
"Sir William Dolben, cruel man!" quoth she
"And Mr. Wilberforce, for fhame! for fhame!
To fpoil my little weekly jubilee.
"Ah! pleas'd am I the humble folk to view;
Enjoying harmless talk, and fport, and jeft;
Amid thefe walks their footsteps to pursue,
To fee them fmiling, and so trimly dreft.
"Since the Lord rested on the feventh day,
Which fheweth that Omnipotence was tir'd;
As Mofes, in old times, was pleas'd to fay,

er

(And Mofes was most certainly inspir'd;)

Why should not man too reft?" No!' cries Sir Dick;
At brother Rowland's let him knock his knees,

Pray, fweat, and groan; of this damn'd world be fick;
Of mangy morals crack the lice and fleas;

"Break Sin's vile bones-pull Satan by the nofe;
Scrub, with the soap and fand of Grace, the foul;

Give unbelief, the wretch, a rat's-bane dose;

And stop, with malkins of rich Faith, each hole.

Spit in foul Drunkenness's beaftly mug;

Kill, with fharp prayers, each offspring of the Devil;
Give to black blafphemy a Cornish hug;

And box, with bats of Grace, the ears of Evil.

"Sufan, the constant slave to mop and broom;
And Marian, to the fpit's and kettle's art;

Ah!