For fhe was juft, and friend to virtuous lore, And pass'd much time in truly virtuous deed; And, in thofe elfins' ears, would oft deplore The times, when truth by popish rage did bleed; And tortious death was true devotion's meed; And fimple faith in iron chains did mourn, That nould on wooden image place her creed; And lawny faints in smould'ring flames did burn: Ah! dearest Lord, forefend, thilk days fhould e'er [return.

In elbow chair, like that of Scottish stem
By the sharp tooth of cank'ring eld defac'd,
In which, when he receives his diadem,
Our fovereign prince and liefest liege is plac'd,

The matron fate; and some with rank fhe grac'd,
(The fource of children's and of courtier's pride!)
Redrefs'd affronts, for vile affronts there pafs'd;
And warn'd them not the fretful to deride,
But love each other dear, whatever them betide.

Right well she knew each temper to defcry; To thwart the proud, and the submiss to raise; Some with vile copper prize exalt on high, And fome entice with pittance fmall of praise; And other fome with baleful sprig fhe 'frays: Ev'n abfent, fhe the reins of pow'r doth hold, While with quaint arts the giddy crowd she sways; Forewarn'd, if little bird their pranks behold, Twill whisper in her ear, and all the fcene unfold.

Lo

Lo now with ftate fhe utters the command!

Eftfoons the urchins to their tasks repair;
Their books, of ftature small, they take in hand,
Which with pellucid horn fecured are;

To fave, from finger wet, the letters fair:
The work fo gay, that on their back is feen,
St. George's high atchievements does declare;
On which thilk wight that has y-gazing been,
Kens the forth-coming rod, unpleafing fight, I ween!

Ah lucklefs he, and born beneath the beam Of evil ftar! it irks me whilft I write! As erft the bard by Mulla's filver stream, Oft, as he told of deadly dolorous plight, Sigh'd as he fung, and did in tears indite. For, brandishing the rod, she doth begin To loose the brogues, the ftripling's late delight! And down they drop; appears his dainty skin, Fair as the furry coat of whiteft ermilin.

O ruthful scene! when, from a nook obscure,
His little fifter doth his peril fee:

All playful as she fate, fhe grows demure;
She finds full foon her wonted spirits flee;
She meditates a pray'r to fet him free:
Nor gentle pardon could this dame deny,
(If gentle pardon could with dames agree)
To her fad grief that fwells in either eye,
And wrings her fo that all for pity she could die.

Nor longer can fle now her fhrieks command;
And hardly fhe forbears, thro' aweful fear,
To rufhen forth, and, with prefumptuous hand
To fay harsh juftice in its mid career.

On thee fhe calls, on thee her parent dear!
(Ah! too remote to ward the fhameful blow!)
She fees no kind domeftic vifage near,
And foon a food of tears begins to flow;
And gives a loofe, at lalt, to unavailing woe.

But ah! what pen his piteous plight may trace Or what device his loud laments explain? The form uncouth of his difguifed face? The pallid hue that dyes his looks amain? The plenteous fhow'r that does his cheek diftain ? When he, in abject wife, implores the dame, Ne hopeth aught of fweet reprieve to gain; Or when from high fhe levels well her aim, And, thro' the thatch, his cries each falling ftroke [proclaim. The other tribe, aghaft, with fore dismay, Attend, and conn their tasks with mickle care : By turns, aflony'd, every twig furvey, And, from their fellow's hateful wounds, beware; Knowing, I wift, how each the fame may fhare; 'Till fear has taught them a performance mect, And to the well-known cheft the dame repair; Whence oft with fugar'd cates the doth 'em greet, And gingerbread y-rare; now, certe, doubly fweet!

See

See to their feats they hye with merry glee,
And in befeemly order fitten there;

All but the wight of bum y-galled, he

Abhorreth bench, and ftool, and fourm, and chair; (This hand in mouth y-fix'd, that rends his hair ;) And eke with fnubs profound, and heaving breast. Convulfions intermitting! does declare

His grievous wrong; his dame's unjust beheft; And fcorns her offer'd love, and fhuns to be carefs'd.

His face befprent with liquid crystal shines,
His blooming face, that feems a purple flow'r,
Which low to earth its drooping head declines,
All fmear'd and fully'd by a vernal show'r.
O the hard bofoms of defpotic pow'r!
All, all, but fhe, the author of his shame,
All, all, but the, regret this mournful hour:
Yet hence the youth, and hence the flow'r, fhall
claim,

If fo I deem aright, tranfcending worth and fame.

Behind fome door, in melancholy thought, Mindlefs of food, he, dreary caitif, pines; Ne for his fellow's joyaunce careth aught, But to the wind all merriment refigns, And deems it fhame, if he to peace inclines; And many a fullen look afcance is fent, Which for his dame's annoyance he defigns; And still the more to pleasure him she's bent, The more doth he, perverfe, her haviour past refent.

Ah me! how much I fear left pride it be! But if that pride it be, which thus infpires, Beware ye dames, with nice difcernment fee Ye quench not too the sparks of nobler fires: Ah! better far than all the mufes' lyres, All coward arts, is valour's gen'rous heat; The firm fixt breast which fit and right requires, Like Vernon's patriot foul, more justly great Than craft that pimps for ill, or flow'ry false deceit.

Yet nurs'd with skill, what dazling fruits appear!
Ev'n now fagacious forefight points to show
A little bench of heedlefs bishops here,
And there a chancellor in embryo,

Or bard fublime, if bard may e'er be so,
As Milton, Shakespear, names that ne'er fhall die!
Tho' now he crawl along the ground fo low,
Nor weeting how the-mufe fhou'd foar on high,
Wifheth, poor ftarv'ling elf! his paper-kite may fly.

And this, perhaps, who, cens'ring the defign, Low lays the houfe which that of cards doth build, Shall Dennis be! if rigid fates incline, And many an epic to his rage fhall yield; And many a poet quit th' Aonian field; And, four'd by age, profound he shall appear, As he who now with 'fdainful fury thrill'd Surveys mine work; and levels many a fneer, And furls his wrinkly front, and cries, " What stuff

is here ?"

But