I fhall lead you no more to the fold,
No more fhall I bring you together,
No more to a sweet little ewe

Shall I couple a merry bell-wether *.

Lack-a-day! how I'm alter'd of late,
As I fear by my visage appears,
Ah! I am not the fame as I was †,
For I'm older by fixty good years!

Oh! lift to this maxim, my friends,
Which at once is both NOVEL and TRUE,
"Ye too must resign your sweet breath,"
For who his past years can renew ?

What thanks to your love do I owe !
In the fun-fhine whenever I fleep,
Repofing my limbs on the ground,
How Iweet to be guarded-by fheep.

Let me copy your virtues fo rare,

Then receive my last thanks and laft figh,
Your fimplicity taught me to live,

Let your INNOCENCE teach me to die!

Then no more shall my mortified spirit
Use any unfortunate imp ill;
But all, whilft they envy, fhall own
The VIRTUES of-PETER-the fimple!

PAPER.

A POEM. By Dr. FRANK LIN.

SOME wit of old, fuch wits of old there were,

Whose hints fhow'd meaning, whose allufions care;

By one brave ftroke to mark all human kind,

Call'd clear blank paper ev'ry infant mind;

When ftill, as op'ning Senfe her dictates wrote,

Fair Virtue put a feal, or Vice a blot.

I am well aware of the objection the critics may make to my coupling an ewe to a bell-wether; but I fhall beg leave to refer them to Shakespeare's As You Like It, A&t ii. Scene 2d, an authority I conceive fully fufficient to answer any objection they may think proper to bring against me.

+ Non fum qualis eram.

Dd 3

The

The thought was happy, pertinent, and true;
Methinks a genius might the plan pursue.
I (can you pardon my prefumption?) I
No wit, no genius, yet for once will try.

Various the papers, various wants produce→
The wants of fashion, elegance, and ufe.
Men are as various; and, if right I fcan,
Each fort of paper reprefents fome man.

Pray note the fop-half powder and half lace,
Nice as a band box were his dwelling place:
He's the gilt-paper, which apart you store,
And lock from vulgar hands in the 'fcrutore.

Mechanics, fervants, farmers, and fo forth,
Are copy paper, of inferior worth;

Lefs priz'd, more useful, for your desk decreed,
Free to all pens, and prompt at ev'ry need.

The wretch whom Av'rice bids to pinch and spare,
Starve, cheat, and pilfer, to enrich an heir,
Is coarse brown paper; fuch as pedlars chufe
To wrap up wares, which better men will ufe.

Take next the mifer's contraft, who deftroys
Health, fame, and fortune, in a round of joys.
Will any paper match him? Yes, throughout,
He's a true finking paper, paft all doubt.

The retail politician's anxious thought.
Deems this fide always right, and that ftark naught i
He foams with cenfure, with applause he raves;
A dupe to rumours, and a tool of knaves;
He'll want no type his weakness to proclaim,
While fuch a thing as fool's-cap has a name.

The hafty gentleman, whofe blood runs high,
Who picks a quarrel, if you step awry,
Who can't a jeft, a hint, or look endure:
What is he? What? Touch-paper, to be fure.

What are our poets, take them as they fall,
Good, bad, rich, poor, much read, not read at all!
Them and their works in the fame lot you'll find;
They are the mere wafte-paper of mankind.

Obferve

Obferve the maiden, innocently sweet,

She's fair, white paper, an unfullied sheet;
On which the happy man whom fate ordains,

May write his name, and take her for his pains.

One inftance more, and only one I'll bring;

'Tis the great man who fcorns a little thing,

Whose thoughts, whofe deeds, whofe maxims are his own,
Form'd on the feelings of his heart alone;

True genuine royal paper is his breast;

Of all the kinds, moft precious, purest, best.

CHANSON de Monf. DELILLE, pendant le Ministère de Monf. de

TURGOT, 1755.

Sur l'Air "La bonne Avanture."

HONNEUR à nos beaux esprits,

Du bonheur François épris,
Grands économistes !

Par leurs foins, au tems d'Adam;
Nous reviendrons-c'eft leur plan:
Momus les affifte.

Ce n'eft plus de nos bouquins
Que vient la fcience;

En eux ces fiers paladins

Ont la fapience.
Les Colbert & les Sully

Nous paroiffent grands-mais, fy!

C'étoit l'ignorance!

On verra tous les états

Entr'eux fe confondre :

Les pauvres, fur leurs grabats,
Ne plus fe morfondre.
Des biens on fera des lots,
Qui rendront les gens égaux,-
Le bel œuf à pondre!

Du même pas marcheront
Nobleffe & roture;
Les François retourneront

Aux droits de la nature,
Adieu, parlemens & loix,
Et ducs, & princes, & rois,-
La belle avanture!

Lors,

Dd 4

Lors, devenus vertueux
Par philofophie,

Les François auront des dieux
A leur fantaifie.
Nous reverrons un oignon
A Jéfus damer le pion :-
La bonne folie !

Alors, adieu, fureté

Entre fœurs & freres, Sacremens & parentés

Seront des chimeres :

Chaque pere imitera
Noé* quand il s' enivra:
Liberté pleniere!

Plus des moines langoureux,

Des plaintives nonnes :

Au lieu d' adreffer aux cieux

Matines & nones,

Nous verrons ces bien heureux
Danfer, abjurant leurs vœux,
Galantes chaconnes.

Prifant des novations
La fiere fequelle,

La France des nations
Sera le modele:

Et cet honneur nous devrons
Aux Turgot & compagnons;
Befogne immortelle !

A qui nous devrons le plus
C'est à notre Maître;

Qui, fe croyant un abus,
Ne voudra plus l'être.

Ah! qu'il faut aimer le bien
Pour de roi n'être plus rien !
J'enverrois tout paitre,
Oh gué,

H

J'enverrois tout paitre!

Free IMITATION of the above.

AIL! great wits, and ftate phyficians,
Philofophic politicians,

Fraternizing difpofitions,

Dearest friends of France, Sir!

Ne faut-il pas lire Lot au lieu de Noé?

Soon

Soon fhall be reftor'd to man
Golden days-(fo runs their plan-
As when firft the world began :

Then let us laugh and dance, Sir!

Not from mufty volumes now, Sir,
Shall we wisdom seek to know, Sir
;
All muft to thefe heroes bow, Sir,
Sapience' felf poffeffing.
Sully once, in days far hence,-
Colbert-pafs'd for men of sense:-
Fudge-all fudge, and mere pretence,
Now the world's confeffing.

Rank fhall foon exift no longer,-
No diftinction but the ftronger;—
Decency with rags and hunger
Shall together lie, Sir.

Mixing what the world has got,
Each shall fairly take his lot,
Equals all-old claims forgot :-
Pretty fish to fry, Sir!

Lords and tinkers vis à-vis, Sir,
Shall fit down and fip their tea, Sir:
Frenchmen once again fhall fee, Sir,
Rights of Nature ruling.
Laws and juftice, then, adieu!

Princes, Dukes,-we want not you :---
Kings may ftrike their colours too:—

There 'll be dainty fooling.

Frenchmen, good and virtuous grown, Sir,
Through philofophy alone, Sir,

Shall have, each, a god of's own, Sir,

To his cut and fancy.
Chriftians having had their day,
Egypt's hallow'd onion may
Once again come into play

That's fomewhat like a tanfy!

Licence then all fins fhall cover,

Brother be receiv'd for lover,

Ties of blood be all got over,

Scruples nought that weigh, Sir,

Like the Ptolemies of old *,

Altered, for obvious reafons, from the original.

Or