A FRAGMENT IN IMITATION OF POPE. So, (if great things may be compared with small,) Some drowsy fiddler at a midnight ball, Lulled by his own dull strains and well-marked time To sure returns of one expected chime; (While frequent draughts of potent ale conspire, True to the precepts of its master's art; Th' unconscious crowd applaud the sprightly tone, And the man's praised for quavers not his own. FRAGMENT OF A MORAL EPISTLE. I KNOW there are to whom the world appears Who think each age finds out, in crime more bold, New modes of sinning, or improves the old. Let the just Muse give praise where praise is due, Oh could our age as well reform the rest! Time was, when fashion's fools would almost loathe The poor dull soul, who spoke without an oath : Mere affirmation could not credence gain; Would you seem serious, take God's name in vain; Oaths mark'd in repartee the lucky hit, Nor epithets could strength or grace bestow, Which were not summon'd from the realms below, Through all discourse the impious folly ran, Till swearing formed the finished gentleman. Now, without blasphemy may men converse, Nor need, for talk, themselves or neighbours curse. The vulgar vice may still our ears appal, Where draymen jostle, and where drunkards brawl; It still maintains some empire o'er the tongue, And fashion work a change where precepts fail! Feb. 22nd, 1826. |