The Mufes found him meek, untaught, and mild,
Confirm'd their choice, and nurs'd the favourite child.
Eafe and goodnature were his focial friends;
With all this worth-here human glory ends!

LINES

Written on a pedeftal which fupported the ftatue of MıNERVA (in a Gentleman's garden at Parfon's Green) by a Lady who had decorated it with flowers on the day ap pointed for returning God thanks for the peace made by Lord SD.

*

WHILE venal fenates, facred rights prophane,
And in God's temple praise th' ambitious Thane;
While + fainted roof corruption's enfign waves,
And fast and pray'r, but marks out fools and knaves,
While their pure worship shall at court find grace,
The fool a peerage, and the knave a place;
Ah! turn my Muse from all the selfish train,
From all the dull, the venal, and the vain;
O come! O finile! whilft I a wreath entwine,
And fondly dedicate to Fox this shrine,

*Meant not of Lord B. but his reprefentative.

The flag on St. Margaret's church, which invites the pious of Stephens, to attend prayers there, or in the Houfe of Peers.

At

At cheerful morn-bright noon-or penfive eve,
Thou, patriot, thou-fhalt here my vows receive;
Here the first tribute of the fpring fhall bloom,
And here thy genius cheer ftern winter's gloom:
What tho' these roses feek their native earth,
(Emblems of envy pining at thy worth)

What tho' these jafmines, fair and frail, fhall fade,
And cutting winds destroy the lime's gay fhade;
Thy virtues ftill thefe laurels fhall proclaim,
In verdure bright, and lafting as thy fame.
Nor thou, fair goddefs, blame the fond defign,
For all fhall own-bis praife, his honour's thine

AN ODE

TO EIGHT CATS BELONGING TO ISRAEL MENDEZ,

A JEW.

SCENE, the Street.

The TIME, Midnight-the Poet at his Chamber Window.

SINGERS of Ifrael, oh ye fingers fweet!

Who, with your gentle mouths from ear to ear,
Pour forth rich fymphonies from street to street,
And to the fleepless wretch the night endear.

Lo! in my fhirt, on you thefe eyes I fix,
Admiring much the quaintnefs of your tricks;

Your frifkings, crawlings, fquawls, I much approve :

Your fpittings, pawings, high-rais'd rumps,
Swell'd tails, and Merry-Andrew jumps,

With the wild minstrelfy of rapt'rous love.

How fweetly roll your goofeb'rry eyes,

As loud

am'rous cries,

you tune your
And, loying, fcratch each other black and blue!
No boys, in wantonnefs, now bang your backs;
No curs, nor fiercer mastiffs, tear your flax,

But all the moon-light world feems made for you.

Singers of Ifrael, you no parfons want

To tie the matrimonial cord;

You c. Il te matrimonial f.rvice cant

Like our firit parents take each other's word:
On no one ceremony pleas'd to fix-

To jump not even o'er two sticks.

You want no furniture, alas!

Spit, fpoon, difh, frying-pan, or ladle; No iron, pewter, copper, tin, or brafs; Nor nurses, wet or dry, nor cradle, Which custom, for our Christian babes, enjoins, To rock the staring offspring of your loins..

Nor of the lawyers you have need,
Ye males, before you seek your bed,

To fettle pin-money on Madam :

No

No fears of cuckoldom, heav'n blefs ye, Are ever harbour'd to diftrefs ye, Tormenting people fince the days of Adam.

No schools you want for fine behaving,
No powdering, painting, washing, shaving,
No night-caps fnug-no trouble in undreffing,
Before you feek your strawy neft,
Pleas'd in each other's arms to rest,
To feast on love, Heav'n's greatest bleifing.

Good Gods ye fweet love-chanting rams!
How nimble are you with your hams
To mount a houfe, to feale a chimney-top ;
And, peeping down the chimney's hole,
Pour in a tuneful cry, th' empaffion'd soul,
Inviting Mifs Grimalkin to come up.

Who, fweet obliging female, far from coy,
Answers your invitation note with joy,

And scorning 'midst the ashes more to mope;
Lo! borne on Love's all-daring wing,
She mounteth with a pickle-herring spring,
Without th' affiftance of a rope.

Dear moufing tribe, my limbs are waxing cold
Singers of Ifrael fweet, adieu, adieu!

I do fuppofe you need not now be told,
How much I wish that I was one of you.

The following SONGS fung in HARLEQUIN FORTU• NATUS, are faid to be written by R. B. SHERIDAN, Efq.

SONG, Mr. BANNISTER.

WHEN 'tis night, and the mid-watch is come,
And chilling mifts hang o'er the darken'd main,
Then failors think of their far distant home,
And of those friends they ne'er may fee again.
But when the fight's begun,

Each ferving at his gun,

Should any thought of them come o'er our mind,
We think but should the day be won,

How 'twill cheer their hearts to hear,
That their old companion he was one.

Or, my lad, if you a mistress kind

Have left on fhore, fome pretty girl and true, Who many a night doth liften to the wind,

And fighs to think how it may

fare with you:

O when the fight's begun,

Each ferving at his gun,

Should any thought of her come o'er your mind,

Think only, fhould the day be won,

How 'twill cheer her heart to hear

That her own true love was one.

SONG,