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Epigrams Ancient and Modern by John Booth.
PREFACE.
" Omne epigramma fit inftar apis, fit aculeus ilH, Sint fua mella, fit et corporis exigui."
'* An Epigram fhould be, if right. Short, fimple, pointed, keen, and bright,
A lively little thing! Like wafp with taper body — bound By lines — not many — neat and round,
All ending in a fting."
ROM the prefent popular ufe of the word Epigram, we get but an im- perfe£t idea of what the Greeks in- tended that term to exprefs. Liter- ally fpeaking, it means an InfcriptioHy and was employed by that people to indicate the eulogy which they ufually infcrtbed upon their temples, ftatues, monuments, or trophies. From the very nature of the materials upon which fuch eulogies had to be engraven, the words, of neceffity, were required to be few. And, inafmuch as they were intended to catch the eye, and awaken the
vi Preface.
attention of every pafler-by, fimplicity and point were aimed at in their confl:ru6tion. In courfe of time this fpecies of compofition, which, per- haps, at firft was reftridted to record the name, charadter, or fome ftriking a£tion, of the deceafed, had a more extenfive fignification, and was ap- phed by that remarkable people to every occafion and fubjedl. Whilft Greece was yet in her in- fancy, her epigrams were the fole vehicles of her earlieft hiftory, the fole memorials of her honoured dead. They are appealed to by later writers with all the confidence that fure indif- putable teftimony is calculated to infpire. They ferve to chronicle each great event that interefted the people, whether of a foreign or domeftic charadter. Thus the hiftory of an epoch is fometimes contained in a few diftiches, which are eafily remembered, and referred to without trouble.
The Greek epigrams that have come down to us from upwards of fifty of their authors, are diftinguifhed for grandeur and noblenefs of fentiment, and for the chafte, elegant language in which they are exprefled. Fine thoughts, conveyed in natural and beautiful attire, are to the man of refined and cultivated tafte an ample equivalent for the fatire, or the wit, that
r
Preface, vii
are regarded as eflential ingredients in a modern epigram. And we ought, moreover, to bear in mind that all that has come down to us from that early period are but fragmentary productions of their lyric bards, and can furnifh but a forry gauge of the fait and the fmartnefs that may have marked their higheft efforts in this particular di- redlion. A people fo eminent in literature and in the fine arts, as difplayed in thofe monuments that remain, and which are ftill the confeffed
- ' ftandard of excellence " in the judgment of the
moft polifhed nations of modern times, would not, we may juftly conclude, have been inferior to any writers who came after them in that kind of compofition for which they have been confi- dered by the French wits infipid and defe6live.
With the exception of Martial, we have no one amongft the Romans of any great reputation as a writer of epigrams. Catullus has left us fome few which have been praifed for their fim- plicity and delicacy of expreflion, and for their clofe imitation of the patterns of the Greeks; and which, for thefe reafons, have obtained amongft good critics great praife and favour j but his poems generally are juftly reprobated for the vile, indecent thoughts that lie beneath this pretty outfide covering j and which render his
viii Preface.
verfes uriwholefome to read, and totally unfit for tranflation. There is no originality, but much of obfcenity, in the epigrams of Aufonius; and his reputation is of as little account as his verfi- fication. Martial, on the contrary, has left us a vaft number of epigrams, the creations of his own fertile imagination. Many of thefe refer to odious vices which, in his time, were common, and perhaps then little condemned; but which in modern days are unfit to be mentioned. In a confiderable number of them he endeavours to give point to the laft line or two; and in fome he fucceeds in exciting our admiration at his power of ridicule, wit, irony, fagacity, good fenfe, and knowledge of the world; but his thoughts are not always juft, his humour often borders upon affedtation, whilft his adulation of one of the moft execrable of the Roman Emperors is perfectly naufeating, and makes one blufh at the thought of the depths of moral depravity into which our nature can defcend.
In our own day, and in our own language, an epigram is underftood to mean a poem diftin- guifhed for its point, elegance^ and brevity; and confined to one principal thought or fubjedl j and fo briefly and pointedly exprefled, as to leave a forcible, or lafting, irapreflion on the mind. A
Preface. fac
facetious application of an old proverb, or of feme well-known paflage of hiftory, or of ancient mythology, or the lucky application of a motto from a claflical or modern author, are fome of the requirements looked for in a modern epigram. If one ftriking thought be uniformly purfued to a point through the entire poem, it may juftly, we think, be confidered as an epigram, though it be of confiderable length. Harmony and fmooth- nefs of verfification are eflentially neceflary to its fuccefs. In a word, the moderns feem to follow the Romans, and are not fatisfied if an epigram does not contain flinging perfonal fatire, humour, or wit, fo pointed as to create furprife or pleafure in the mind of the reader.
No one can doubt that the epigram may be turned to an admirable ufe in corredting offences againft good fenfe and good manners, by ridi- culing vanity, pride, arrogance, impertinence, affectation, or vulgarity of behaviour j but it has altogether paffed its legitimate bounds, when its fatire or point is aimed at natural defeCts, or at anything that is ftamped with the Divine ap- proval.
The collection of epigrams now offered to the public, confifts of tranflations of a confiderable number of thofe contained in the Greek Antho-
X Preface.
logy, and of Latin authors, ancient and modern.* It alfo embraces moft of thofe which were written by our own eminent poets who, though not de- voting much of their attention to this kind of writing, ftill amufed and occupied themfelves now and then with fuch compofitions; feemingly ex- cited by fome pafling event, or fingular eccentric perfon, who may have perhaps caufed offence, or given rife to merrythoughts. Selections have been made from periodical and ephemeral publi- cations of " the olden time," or of recent date, in which fuch morceaux piquants were likely to be found. Englifh verfions of German, French, Spanifh, and Italian authors who have indulged their fancies in fuch witty conceits, have received the attention they juftly merited; and from fuch fources many have been included in the work. The reader, too, will find fome epigrams which are not to be met with in any printed book or mifcellany. A few fcanty notes have been added, when abfolutely neceflary.
- Sufficient references, it is hoped, have been given to
afford eveiy facility to the claffical reader to confult the original text. To have fupplemented this deficiency, if fuch it fliould be confidered, to the fuUeft pra£ticable ex- tent, would have added confiderably to the expenfe of pub- lication, without neceflarily increafing the popularity of the work as a goffiping handbook.
Preface. xi
With all its faults and omiffions, the Editor hopes that as the taftes and underftandings of men vary as much as their faces, there will be found in the work materials enough to occupy and enliven the vacant hour, and, it may be, help to " drive dull care away."
The part devoted to Monumental Epigrams contains, it muft be admitted, fome epitaphs that are not ftriftly fpeaking of an epigrammatic na- ture; but whilft the Editor allows that fuch is the cafe, he hopes that, as many of thefe are quaint and Angularly exprefled, and may not yet have found a place in the works of thofe who have been "gleaners" and publifhers of epitaphs, they will, though failing in thofe charadteriftics expefted in epigrams, afFord pleafure and amufe- ment in their perufal.
Bromyard, January, 1863,
4'
INDEX OF AUTHORS.
■DDISON, 6,
205,239,256. Agathias, from the Greek of, 208. Aldrich, 7. Antipater of Sidon, from
the Greek of, 225, 229. Arabic, from the, 139. Archias, from the Greek
of, 212. Atterbury, 56, 296, Auftin, 73.
Aytoun's Both'welly 216, 217.
Barbour, 211, Barrington, 19. Bland, 330. Boileau, from, 7, 347. Booker, Luke, 244. Bourne, Vincent, from the
Latin of, 225, 229, 231,
272. Brougham, Lord, 342. Browne, Sir William, 21, Brun, Le, from the French
of, 157. Buchanan, from, 65, 75,
83,98. Burn, 17.
Burns, 55, 67, 305, 306,
343, 344- Butler, Sam., 89, 90, 91. Byron, Lord, 18, 61, 165,
180,204, 268,303, 337.
Cailly, De, from the
French of, 151. Callimachus, from the
Greek of, 228. Camden's Remains, 310. Campbell, Lord, from Li'ves
of the Chancellors, 85, 242. Canning, 42, 108. Catullus, from, 179. Chaucer, 234, 251. Chefterfield, 258. Chreftoleros, lib. \v, by
T.B., 99. Churchill, 55. 56, i75>249>
267, 268, 269, 270, 271, Clarke, 54. Coleridge, 8. T., xi, 97,
163. Coleridge, Hartley, 315. Corbet, Bifhop, 317. Cowley, from, 317. Cowper, 18, 26, 57, 83, 89,
91, 96, 198, 207, 220,
221, 222, 224, 227, 229,
230, 251, -260, 261, 262,
296.
XIV
Index of Authors.
Crabbe, 262. Croker, T. W., 190.
Denham, 255. Dibdin, 254, 259. Doddridge, Dr., 184.. Dryden, 94, 208, 220, 250, 252, 306.
Edgcumbe, Lord, 28. Elliot, Eb., 30. Epicharmus, from the
Greek of, 251. Erfkine, 8, 13, 14.3, 188.
Fawkes, 333. Fitzpatrick, General, loi. Flood, Sir Frederic, 134. Fox, C. J., 82, 193. French, from the, 133, 139,
147, 152, 310- Furetiere, from the French of, 156.
Garrick, D., 80,250, 300, 319.
Gay, 70,223,242,247,297.
Greek, from the, 7, 15, 22, 23, 24, 26, 31, 103, 105, 145, 148, 152, 156, 209, 211, 213, 215, 220, 222, 229, 231,245, 250, 251, 260, 2S0, 284, 286, 288, 299, 300, 329.
German, from the, 62.
Godelin, from the French of, 259.
Goldfmith, 6, 206, 260, 303, 323, 325, 329.
Gombauld, from the French of, 149.
Groves, 92.
Guichard, imitated from the French of, 146.
Hackett, 176.
Halifax, Earl of, 289.
Harrington, Sir J., 183.
Hay, 215.
Hayley, 319.
Heber, 81.
Hedylus, 213.
Henly, 250.
Herbert, George, 212, 266,
328. Herrick, 173. Hill, Aaron, 185. Hoadley, 51, 58. Hodgfon, 329, 330, 331. Hone's JVorks, from, 265. Hood, Thomas, 166, 167. Hook, Theodore, 42, 43,
197. Home, Bifhop, 225.
Jekyll, 124, 125. Jenner, Dr., 107. Ingoldfby Legends, by the
Author of, 74, 123, 262. Johnfon, Dr., 30, 217, 246,
249, 305. Jonfon, Ben, 171,249,297. Ifiodorus, from the Greek
of, 295, Italian, from the, 131, 140,
147, isi» 178.
Julianus, from the Greek of, 227.
Lamb, Charles, 164. Landor, W. S., 115, 167,
168. Lanfdowne, Lord, 238. Latin, from the, 66, 148. Leader, the, 171.
Index of Authors.
XV
Lennox, Lord W., iii. Leonidas, from the Greek
of, 307, 331- Lefling, from the German
of, 145, 151, 157, 159,
160. Lewis, the dramatift, 29. Lindfay, 248. Longfellow, 312. Lucian, from the Greek of,
1 1, 203, 231. Lucillius, from the Greek
of, II.
Luttrell, 287.
Malherbe, from the
French of, 258. Mandeville, B., M. D., 324. Manfell, 78. Martial, 3, 5, 16, 24, 26, 29,
37, 38,41, 51,53,62,74,
100, 150, 178, 181, 183,
215, 282. Martin, Theodore, 179. Marvel, Andrew, 6. Mafon, 325. Mafllnger, 218. Melandhon, from the Latin
of, 46. Meleager, parodied from the
Greek of, 267, Merivale, 264. Merrick, 237. Montgomery, James, 255. Moore, 152, 164, 167, 257,
304, 3+5- More, Sir Thomas, 134, 206.
Napleton, Rev. J. C, 91,
329. Nicarchus, from the Greek
of, II.
Notes and Qiieries, 81, 87, 88, 89, loi, 102, 123,
153, 197, 257, 324, 328. Nugent, Earl, 7.
Oldham, 238.
Old Humphrey, 314.
Owen, from the Latin of,
46, 52,96, 147,188,207,
226, 227, 264.
Palladas of Alexandria,
from, 207. Pananti, from the Italian of,
282. Pafehafius, from, 128. Philemon, from the Greek
of, 265. Philo, from the Greek of,
208. Pillet, Fabian, from the
French of, 137. Pindar, Peter, 45, 105, 129,
343- Pitt, Earl of Chatham, 316. Plato, from the Greek of,
105, 218, 267, 330. Pope, s, 45, 122, 141, 158,
176, 205, 216, 232, 237,
238, 254, 260, 290, 305,
317. Porfon, 16, 98, 108, 128,
153, 343- Prior, 7, 14, 59, 160, 162,
204, 303, 326, 351. Punch, 12, 77, 78, 1X1,112,
113, 114, 115, 346.
Rebolledo, from the
Spanifh of, 132. Religio Clerici, from the,
3 39" Relph, 87.
XVI
Index of Authors.
Rochefter, 13, 52, ^69.
Rogers, 17, 43«
Rolt, Z97.
Rofe, Sir George, 42, 104,
121, 122. Rouffeau, from the French
of, 145- Rowan, A.R.,D.D., 266,
331-
Sannazarius, 56.
Savage, 253.
Saxe, J. G., 169, 170.
S. B., 186.
Scott, Sir Walter, 241, 2S4>
300. Senece, from the French of,
149. Shakfpeare, 230, 252, 253,
313. 318. Shenftone, 295. Sheridan, 72, 17 5* Shuttleworth, 266. Simmias, from the Greek
of, 309. Smith, Horace, 102. Smith, James, 42. Smith, Sidney, 166.
Sneyd, 55. , ^ , . Solon, from the Greek ot,
233- Spani(h,from the, 280, 311. Spenfer, 210, 254. Steele, 246. Swift, 4, 5, IS, 24> 34>46.
47. 53. 54. 58,75.76,77.
89, 96, 161, 312, 313,
316, 320, 330.
Tarleton, 216. Thackeray, 116, 117, 118. Times, The, from, 265. Trapp, Dr., 21. Tymnaeus, from the Greek of, 222.
Voltaire, 140, an.
Walcott, Dr. 33. Watts, 239. Wefley, John, 269. White, Kirke, 27. Wither, George, 235. Wright, J. H. C, 172.
Young, Dr., 77, 240, 289,
CONTENTS.
PART I.
Humorous, Witty, and Satirical Epigrams
Page
PART II. Moral and Panegyrical Epigrams
20 1
PART III.
Monumental Epigrams
293
ERRATA.
Page 5, line 25, for For read In.
" 1^' " ^' '"^^ ""^ ^^^^^ mourn,
„ 02, „ 12, for By read From.
» 75j 3j 24, for /fa/M«read Zaf/«.
'J 173,» 195 for f^^«read CA-/«,
„ T78, „ 25, for Z/^. /•;. read Martial, lib. ii.
„ 181, „ II, for Lii>. Hi. read Martial, Hi). Hi.
„ 183, „ 21, for i;^. xii. read Martial, lib. xii.
,, 190, „ 18, omit T. W. Croker. Author uncertain.
J! 205, „ 2, for that read wi)^/.
„ 21 8, „ 24, omit o/'afterya^nV.
5> ^75) 5> I7> for hand read band.
»' 275, „ i8j for hand read hand.
55 3I3> 3> 26, for hallo read hollo.
» 334> 5, ^} ^0'^ Suthland read Sutherland.
Part I.
HUMOROUS, WITTY, AND SATIRICAL EPIGRAMS.
Part I.
HUMOROUS, WITTY, AND SATIRICAL EPIGRAMS.
On the Fading of Sir Jojhua Reynolds^ s Colours.
(^-^^^ HE art of painting was at firft defign'd
To bring the dead, our anceftors, to mind; But this fame painter has reverfed the plan. And made the pifture die before the man.
Gaining a Lofs.
\ I OFFER love, but thou refped wilt have: Take, Sextus, all thy pride and folly crave: But know! I can be no vnzvis friend zndjlave.
Martial.
Joknfon^s Definitions incorreS.
In the diftionary of words, as our Johnfon aiErms, Purfe and Budget are nearly fynonymous terms; But perhaps upon earth there's no contraft fo great As Budget and Purfe in the diflionary of ftate; — The minifter's language all language reverfes. For filling his Budget is empt'ing our Purfes.
4 Humorous, Witty, and
A Prudent Choice.
When Lovelefs married Lady Jenny, Whofe beauty was the ready penny;
- ' I chofe her," fays he, " like old plate.
Not for the fafhion, but the weight."
On a Fat DoHor.
When Tadloe treads the ftreets, the paviers cry, " God blefs you. Sir 1" and lay their rammers by.
Woman's Influence.
Man flattering man not always can prevail; But woman flattering man can never fail.
You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come. Knock as you pleafe, there's nobody at home.
Swift. The Incurious.
Three years in London Bobadil had been. Yet not the lions nor the tombs had feen: cannot tell the caufe without a fmile; — The rogue had been in Newgate all the while.
Light-fingered Jack.
Jack, who thinks all his own that once he handles. For praftice-fake purloin'd a pound of candles. Was taken in the faft; — ah! thoughtlefs wight! To fteal fuch things as needs muft come to light.
To a Spendthrift difinherited.
His whole eftate, thy father, by his will. Gave to the poor — thou haft good title ftiU.
Satirical Epigrams. ^
Treafon. Treason does never profper: what's the reafon? Why, when it profpers, none dare call it treafon.
On One who made Long Epitaphs, Friend! for your epitaphs I'm grieved.
Where ftill fo much is faid; One half will never be believed.
The other never read. Pope.
jO» One who expended his Fortune in Horfe-racing. Jack ran fo long, and ran fo fall. No wonder he ran out at laft; He ran in debt; and then, to pay. He diftanced all — and ran away.
The Duke and the Dean. James Bridges and the Dean had long been friends; James is be-duked, and fo their friendfhip ends; And fure the Dean deferves a Iharp rebuke. From knowing James, to boaft he knows the Duke.
Swift. To Mrs. Mutable.
What though for beauty you may bear the bell; Yet, ever to ring changes founds not well.
The Humourijl; from Martial. For all thy humours, whether grave or mellow, Thou'rt fuch a touchy, tefty, pleafant fellow; Hall fo much wit, and mirth, and fpleen about thee, There is no living with thee nor without thee.
Addison.
6 Humorous, Witty, and
From Martial.
Thy beard and head are of a difFerent dye; Short of one foot, diftorted in an eye; With all thefe tokens of a knave complete, Should'ft thou be honeft, thou'rt a devilifli cheat.
Addison. On Charles the Second.
Of a tall ftature and a fable hue. Much like the fon of Ki(h, that lofty Jew; Ten years of need he fuffer'd in exile. And kept his father's afles all the while.
Andrew Marvel.
A Milk and Water Epigram.
" Are good folk very clean up town?'*
Enquired a ruftic o'er his porter: " Clean!" cried a cockney, juft come down, "They even walh their milk with water."
On a painted Lady.
Once, at a mafquerade, a painted fair Was wandering o'er the rooms in piteous cafe; " I've loft my mafk," Ihe cried, with mournful air;
- No," faid a friend, " you have it on your face."
The Clown's Reply.
John Trott was defired by two witty Peers To tell them the reafon why afles had ears. "An'tpleafe you," quoth John, "I'm not given to letters. Nor dare I prefume to know more than my betters; Howe'er from this time I ftiall ne'er fee your graces. As I hope to be faved, without thinking on afl'es."
Goldsmith.
Satirical Epigrams.
Oti a battered Beauty. Hair, wax, rouge, honey, teeth, you buy,
A multifarious flora! A mafk at once would all fupply.
Nor would it coft you more.
Five Reafons for Drinking. If on my theme I rightly think. There are five reafons why men drink: Good wine, a friend, becaufe I'm dry. Or left I fliould be by-and-bye. Or any other reafon why.
Aldrich.
From Boileau. You fay, without reward or fee. Your uncle cured me of a dangerous ill: I fay, he never did prefcribe for me: The proof is plain, I'm living ftill.
The changed Lover; from the Greek. I LOVED thee beautiful and kind. And plighted an eternal vow; So alter'd are thy face and mind, 'Twere perjury to love thee now.
Earl Nugent.
The Debt difcharged.
To John I owed great obligation: But John unhappily thought fit To publifh it to all the nation: Sure John and I are more than quit.
Prior.
8 Humorous, Witty, and
On Moore^s Tranjlation of Anacreon.
Oh! mourn for Anacreon dead; Oh! weep not for Anacreon fled; The lyre ftill breathes he touch'd before. For we have one Anacreon Moore. Erskine.
Monkijh Rhyme.
D^MON languebat, monachus bonus efle volebat: Sed cum convakiit, manet ut ante fuit.
When the devil was lick, the devil a monk would be; When the devil got well, the devil a monk was he.
'A Philofopbical Epigram.
Says the earth to the moon, " You're a pilfering jade; What you fteal from the fun is beyond all belief!" Fair Cynthia replies, " Madam earth, hold your prate; The receiver is always as bad as the thief."
On Death.
On Death, though wit is oft difplay'd. No epigram could e'er be made; Poets flop fliort, and lofe their breath, When coming to the point of Death.
On an Oxford Toaft with fine Eyes and a loud Voice.
Lucetta's charms our hearts furprife At once with love and wonder;
She bears Jove's lightnings in her eyes^ But in her voice his thunder.
Satirical Epigrams. 9
On Dr. Manners Sutto?i's Tranjlation to the See of Canterbury, on the Death of Moore ^
What fay you? the Archbifhop's dead — A lofs indeed! Oh! on his head
Pray God his bleffings pour! But if with fuch a heart and mind A Manners you his equal find.
How can you wifh for Moore?
On a Part of St. Marfs Church at Oxford being converted into a Law School.
Yes, yes, you may rail at the Pope as you pleafe.
But, truft me, that miracles never will ceafe.
See here — an event that no mortal fufpefted!
See Law and Divinity clofely conneded!
Which proves the old proverb, long reckon'd fo odd.
That the neareft the Church the fartheft from God.
On Mr. Sheepjhanks, a Tutor of Jefus College, Cam- bridge, fpelling the word Satire " Satyr.
The Satyrs of old were Satyrs of note, They'd the head of a man and the fhanks of a goat: Jut the Satyrs of Jefus all Satyrs furpafs, They've the fhanks of a fheep but the head of an afs.
On Bijhop Goodenough preaching before the Houfe of Lords.
- Tis well enough that Goodenough
Before the Houfe fhould preach;
For fure enough, full bad enough Were thofe he had to teach.
10 Humorous, Witty, and
The Bear and the Bijhop.
When Byron was at Trinity, Studying daffies and divinity. He kept a rugged Ruffian bear; Which bear would often fcratch and tear
And dance and roar — So much fo, that even men in the adjacent college. Said, " Within the fphere of their own knowledge.
They never knew fo great a bore!" Indeed the Mafter, then a Bifhop, was fo baited. He order'd that the beaft fhould quick be fold. Or, if not fold, at leaft tranflated. " What," faid Lord Byron, " what does the Mafter fay?
Send my friend away! No, give my compliments to Dr. Manfell, And fay, my Bear I certainly can fell: But 'twill be very hard — for tell him. Gyp, The poor thing's fitting for a fellowfhip."
On Jekyirs nearly being thrown down l/y a very Jmall Pig.
As Jekyll walk'd out in his gown and his wig. He happen'd to tread on a very fmall pig: " Pig of fcience," he faid, " or elfe I'm miftaken. For furely thou art an abridgment of Bacon."
Smatterers in Knowledge,
All fmatterers are more briik and pert Than thole that underftand an art; As little fparkles fhine more bright Than glowing coals that give them light.
Satirical Epigrams. ii
On a bad Singer.
Swans fing before they die: 'twere no bad thing Should certain perfons die before they fing.
Coleridge.
On the Death of a good Phyjicians from the Greek of Lucillius.
When Magnus fought the realms of night. Grim Pluto trembled for his right j " That fellow comes," he faid, " 'tis plain. To call my ghofts to life again."
From the Greek of Lucian. A DOCTOR fond of letters once agreed Beneath my care his fon fhould learn to read; The lad foon knew "Achilles' wrath" to fing. And faid by heart, " To Greece the direful fpring.'* " 'Tis quite enough, my dear," the parent faid,
- • For too much learning may confufe your head.
That wrath which hurls to Pluto's gloomy reign. Go tell your tutor, I can beft explain."
From the Greek of Nicarchus.
'Tis faid that certain death awaits
The raven's nightly cry; But at the found of Cymon's voice
The very ravens die.
" I OWE," fays Metius, " much to Colon's care. Once only feen, he chofe me for his heir." " True, Metius, hence your fortunes take their rife. His heir you were not, had he feen you twice."
12 Humorous, Witty, and
On the Malvern Waters. Those waters, fo famed by the great Dr. Wall, Confift in containing juft nothing at all.
From the Seat of War. Gaeta's defenders, 'twould feem, have a turn For the tailoring craft; for from Reuter we learn That, as foon as the news of an arm'ftice them reaches. They all fet to work. Sirs, repairing their breaches.
On a Student of All-Souls' College being unjujily fined. " Knowledge is power," fo faith the learned Bacon, And fure in that the fage was not miftaken: But happy would it be for All Souls' College, If, on the contrary. Power gave knowledge.
On Cheefe, Son-in-law ofVilliers, Bijhop of Durham,
receiving a Living of 1350/. a-year. Apollos was mighty in dodlrine, we're told, When doftrine was found in the good days of old: But there's doftrine more mitey in Shaftelbury's fees. For it's bred by corruption and comes from a Cheefe.
Punch.
The Traveller and Clergyman. C. I've loft my portmanteau. T. I pity your grief. C. All my fermons are in it. T. I pity the thief.
Alliteration on Cardinal Wolfey. Begot by Butchers, but by Bilhops bred. How high his Honour holds his haughty head.
Satirical Epigrams. 13
On a Pfalm-Jinging Clerk.
Sternhold and Hopkins had great qualms. When they tranflated David's pfalms.
To make the heart full glad: But had it been poor David's fate. To hear thee fing and them tranflate.
By Jove, 'twould have drove him mad.
Rochester.
I wouldn't live for ever,
I wouldn't if I could: But I needn't fret about it.
For I couldn't if I would.
On Mr. Hoyle, a very fat Man.
" All flefh is grafs," the Pfalmift faith;
If this be no miftake. Whene'er fat Hoyle's mown down by death
What loads of hay he'll make.
On a C lergyman' s Horfe biting him.
The fteed bit his matter;
How came this to pafs? He heard the good paftor
Cry, " All flefh is grafs."
On Mr. Hujband's Marriage.
This cafe is the ftrangeft we've known in our life. The hulband's a hufband, and fo is the wife.
Keen Sight.
Jack his own merit fees: this gives him pride. For he fees more than all the world befide.
14 Humorous, Witty, and
Medical.
One day the furveyor, with a figh and a groan. Said, " Doftor, I'm dying of gravel and ftone:" The Doftor replied, " This is true, then, though odd. What kills a furveyor's a cure for a road."
A would'be Benedick wrote as follows to a Female Relative: —
How comes it this delightful weather. That U and / can't dine together?
To which Jhe replied: —
My worthy Coz, it cannot B s U cannot come till after T.
The Converfe,
Yes, every poet is a fool: By demon ftration Ned can ftiow it; Happy could Ned's inverted rule Prove every fool to be a poet.
Marriage Griefs.
On his death-bed poor Lubin lies, '
His fpoufe is in defpair; With frequent fobs and mutual fighs.
They both exprefs their care.
" A different caufe," fays Parfon Sly,
" The fame effedl may give; Poor Lubin fears that he fhall die.
His wife that he may live."
Prior.
Satirical Epigrams. 15
George the Third's Phyjicians. The king eraploy'd three dodlors daily, Willis, Heberden, and Baillie, All exceeding fkilful men, Baillie, Willis, Heberden: But doubtful which moft fure to kill is, Baillie, Heberden, or Willis.
On Philpot, the new Bijhop of Worcejier. " A GOOD appointment? No, it's not," Said old beer-drinking Peter Watts; " At Worcefter one but hears Phil-pot, At generous Exeter, Phil-pots."
From the Greek. My friend, an eminent phyfician, Trufted his fon to my tuition: The father wifh'd me to explain The beauties of old Homer's ftrain. But fcarce thefe lines the youth had read, " Of thoufands number'd with the dead. Of ghaftly wounds and doling eyes. Of broken limbs and heart-felt Jighs" — " Great fage," exclaims the youth, " adieu! My fire can teach as well as you."
Madrigal. When two-fcore throats together fquall. It may be called a Mad-rig-al.
Swift.
The Laft Debt. His laft great debt is paid. Poor Tom 's no more: Laji debt! Tom never paid a debt before.
i6 Humorous, Witty, and
A Woman's Mind.
What is lighter than a feather? Duft, my friend, in drieft weather. What's h'ghter than the duft, I pray? The wind that wafts it far away. What is lighter than the wind? The lightnefs of a woman's mind. And what is lighter than the iaft? Nay! now, my friend, you have me faft.
On Twining, the Teaman.
It feems as if Nature, had curioufly plann'd
That men's names with their trades fliould agree;
There's Twining, the Teaman, who lives in the Strand, Would be whining, if robb'd of his T.
On the Latin Gerunds.
When Dido mourn'd, ^neas would not come. She wept in filence, and was Di-Do-Dumb.
PORSON.
From Martial.
He call'd thee vicious, did he? lying elf! Thou art not vicious, thou art vice itfelf.
To a bad Fiddler.
Old Orpheus play'd fo well, he moved Old Nick, Whilft thou mov'ft nothing but thy fiddle-fticic.
On Talleyrand's Death and Promotion.
The French Grand Chamberlain has cut his ftick. And been appointed Premier to Old Nick.
Satirical Epigrams. 17
The Book-Worms.
Through and through the infpircd leaves. Ye maggots, make your windings:
But, oh! refpeft his lordfhip's tafte. And fpare his golden bindings.
Burn.
Advice to Grumblers.
Old grumbling politicians cry.
Old England's bafis ftands awry;
Mend this, they fay; mend that, mend t'other. Spare, fpare, good people, your concern; Let this Old England ferve your turn. Till you can Ihow nsfuch another.
On Lord Ward, late Earl of Dudley ^ by Rogers.
Ward has no heart, they fay; but I deny it: He has a heart, and gets his fpeeches by it.
The charming Mary has no mind, they fay, I prove fhe has — it changes every day.
The Creed of Poverty,
In politics if thou wouldft mix.
And mean thy fortunes be: Bear this in mind, be deaf and blind.
Let great folks hear and fee.
Women^s Faults.
We men have many faults, but women have but two, There's nothing good they fay, and nothing good they do.
i8 Humorous, Witty, and
The World.
The world is a bundle of hay. Mankind are the afles that pull.
Each tugs it a different way.
And the greateft of all is John Bull.
Byron.
On Charles Dickens, whofe Fir ft Work was " Sketches by Boz."
Who the dickens " Boz" could be.
Puzzled many a learned elf: Till time unveil'd the myftery.
And " Boz" appear'd as Dickens' felf.
On an Album. An Album! prithee what is it?
A book like this I'm Ihown, Kept to be fiU'd with others' wit
By people who have none.
You aflc me, Roger, what I gain By living on a barren plain; This credit to the fpot is due, I live there without feeing you.
COWPER.
On Dr. Lettfom.
If any body comes to I,
I phyfics, bleeds, and fweats 'em; If, after that, they like to die.
Why, what care I, I Lettfom.
Satirical Epigrams. 19
Matrimonial "Jars.
Wife. You're a falfe cruel wretch, not a year after marriage To try to degrade me, and put down the carriage. Hujband. A lady, my dear, was the anfwering reproach. Is known by her carriage, but not by her coach.
Tranfported ConviSls. By Barrington, the celebrated Pickpocket. True patriots we: for be it underftood. We left our country for our country's good.
On Sir "John Hill, who wrote on all Subjects, and profejfed Phyjic and Botany.
For phyfic and farces, his equal there fcarce is. His farces are phylic, his phyfic a farce is.
A Lawyer's Declaration: the beft Fee, the Female.
Fee-simple and the fimple/^^.
And all x)\t fees in tail. Are nothing when compared with thee.
Thou bell o^ fees — fe-male.
The Mufical Conteji.
Some fay that Signor Bononcini, Compared to Handel, 's a mere ninny; Others aver, that to him Handel Is fcarcely fit to hold a candle. Strange, that fuch high difputes fliould be 'Twixt tweedle-dmn and tweedle-dee.
20 Humorous, Witty, and
Hoza to make a Shift. Nell, tried for ftealing linen, anfwer'd fwift, Compell'd through want, fhe did it — for a fliift.
Old GouWs Letter to a Friend on his Marriage, and the Reply, So you fee, my dear Sir, though I'm eighty years old, A girl of eighteen is in love with old Gould.
His Friend's Reply. A GIRL of eighteen may love Gold, it is true. But believe me, dear Sir, it is Gold without U.
The World.
This world is the beft we live in.
To lend, or to fpend, or to give in:
But to beg, or to borrow, or get a man's own,
'Tis the very worft world, Sir, that ever was known.
Another. The world of fools has fuch a ftore.
That he who would not fee an afs Mull bide at home, and bolt his door.
And break his looking-glafs.
The Ficar and Curate.
A Vicar, long ill, who had treafured up wealth. Told his Curate each Sunday to pray for his health; Which oft having done, a parilhioner faid. That the curate ought rather to wi(h he were dead.
- By my troth," fays the Curate, " let credit be given,
I ne'er pray'd for his death, but I have for his living."
Satirical Fpigrams. 21
Written on a Looking-glafs. I CHANGE, and fo do women too. Bur I refledl — which women never do.
Anjwer, by a Lady. If women reflefted, oh, fcribbler, declare. What man! faithlefs man, would be blefPd by the fair.
George the Second having fent a regiment of horfe to Oxford, and at the fame time a colledlion of books to Cambridge, Dr. Trapp wrote the following epi- gram: —
Our royal mafter faw, with heedful eyes,
The wants of his two Univerfities:
Troops he to Oxford fent, as knowing why.
That learned body wanted loyalty:
But books to Cambridge gave, as well difcerning
That that right loyal body wanted learning.
An Epigram which Dr. Johnfon, to fhow his contempt of the Whiggifh notions which prevailed at Cambridge, was fond of quoting: but, having done it in the pre- fence of Sir William Browne, the phyfician, was an- fwered by him thus: —
The king to Oxford fent his troop of horfe. For Tories own no argument but force: With equal care to Cambridge books he fent. For Whigs allow no force but argument.
Johnfon did Sir William the juftice to fay, " it was one of the happieft extemporaneous produflions he ever met with;" though he once comically confefled, that " he hated to repeat the wit of a Whig urged in fupport of Whiggifm."
22 Humorous, Witty, and
On a Bald Head. My hair and I are quits, d'ye fee; I firft cut him, he now cuts me.
Worfe than Bad. " My wife's fo very bad," quoth Will,
" I fear ftie ne'er can hold it; She keeps her bed." " Mine's worfe," quoth Phil,
" The jade has juft nowy«A/ it."
Wh;^ are Women beardlefs. How wifely Nature, ordering all below. Forbade a beard on woman's chin to grow. For how could fhe be fhaved (whate'er the fkill) Whofe tongue would never let her chin be Hill.
A late Bijhofs Charge to his Clergy poetized.
Hunt not, fifh not, fhoot not.
Dance not, fiddle not, flute not;
Be fure you have nothing to do with the Whigs,
But ftay at home, and feed your pigs;
And, above all, I make it my fpecial defire.
That, at leaft, once a week you dine with the Squire,
On an Ugly Fellow; from the Greek. Beware, my friend, of cryftal brook. Or fountain, left that hideous hook,
Thy nofe, thou chance to fee: Narciffus' fate would then be thine. And felf-detefted thou would'ft pine.
As felf-enamour'd he.
Satirical Epigrams. 23
The Rival Beauties; from the Greek. Three lovely nymphs, contending for the prize, Difplay'd their charms before my critic eyes: Superior beauties heighten'd every grace. And feem'd to mark them of celeftial race: But I, who, blelT'd like Paris, fear'd his fall, Swore each a Venus was — and pleafed them all.
On a Bad Singer. When fcreech-owls fcream, their note portends To frighten'd mortals, death of friends; But, when Corvino ftrains his throat. E'en fcreech-owls ficken at the note.
Retaliation; from the Greek.
The works of ancient bards divine,
Aulus, thou fcorn'fl: to read; And fhould poftericy read thine.
It would be ftrange indeed.
It blew a hard ftorm, and, in utmoft confufion. The iailors all hurried to get abfolution; Which done, and the weight of the fins they'd confeff'd Were transferr'd, as they thought, from themfelves to
the prieft: To lighten the fhip, and conclude their devotion. They toff'd the poor parfon foufe into the ocean.
On a Man named Nott.
There was a man who was Nott born.
His father was Nott before him. He did Nott live, he did Nott die,
And his epitaph was Nott o'er him.
24 Humorous, Witty, and
The Two Hujhands.
Poor John, who loft his darling wife. Went to a friend to fob and whine. Who, grieved to fee him io repine,
Exclaim'd, " Good man, upon my life, I wifh your accident were mine."
Dean Swift, on his own Deafnefs. Deaf, giddy, helplefs, left alone. To all my friends a burthen grown. No more I hear my church's bell. Than if it rang out for my knell.
At thunder now no more I ftart, Than at the rumbling of a cart: Nay, what's incredible, alack! I hardly hear a woman's clack.
On Female Inconftancj; from the Greek. Rich, thou hadft many lovers; poor, haft none;
So furely want extinguifhes the flame. And fhe who call'd thee once her pretty one.
And her Adonis, now inquires thy name.
" Where waft thou born, Soficrates, and where. In what ftrange country can thy parents live.
Who feem'ft, by thy complaints, not yet aware That want's a crime no woman can forgive?"
From Martial. If for mere wantonnefs you buy fo faft. For \^xy want, you muft fell all at laft.
Satirical Epigrams. 25
Candour. As Tom was one day in deep chat with his friend. He gravely advifed him his manners to mend; That his morals were bad, he had heard it from many. " They lie," replied Tom, — " for I never had any."
The Keeper of Secrets.
Charles keeps a fecret well, or I'm deceived: For nothing Charles can fay will be believed.
The Dolor's Coat of Arms.
A DOCTOR, who, for want of ikill.
Did fometlmes cure, and fometimes kill.
Contrived at length, by many a pufF,
And many a bottle fill'd with fluff.
To raife his fortune and his pride;
And in a coach, forfooth, muft ride.
His family coat, long fince worn out.
What arms to take was all the doubt.
A friend, confulted on the cafe,
Thus anfwer'd, with a fly grimace:
" Take fome device in your own way,
Neither too folemn nor too gay;
Three ducks, fuppofe; white, grey, or black;
And let your motto be, ^ack! ^ack!"
I
On Dr. Fell, Bijhop of Oxford; Imitation of Martial.
I DO not love thee, Doftor Fell; The reafon why I cannot tell: But this, I'm fure I know fall well, I do not love thee, Doftor Fell,
2.6 Humorous, Witty, and
From Martial. 'Tis a mere nothing that you alk, you cry: — If you afk nothing, nothing I deny.
The Lawyer and the DoSlor. The doflor lives by fporting with our lives; And, by our follies fed, the lawyer thrives.
On an Old Woman; from the Greek. Mycilla dyes her locks, 'tis faid;
But 'tis a foul afperfion; She buys them black; they therefore need
No fubfequent immerfion.
On a Mifer; imitated from the Greek. A MISER, traverfing his houfe, Efpied, unufual there, a moufe. And thus his uninvited gueft Brifkly inquifitive addreff'd: " Tell me, my dear, to what caufe is it I owe this unexpefted vifit?" The moufe her hoft obliquely eyed, And, fmiling, pleafantly replied:
- • Fear not, good fellow, for your hoard!
I came to lodge, and not to board."
CowPER.
Another. They call thee rich; I deem thee poor. Since, if thou dareft not ufe thy ftore. But faveft it only for thine heir^ The treafure is not thine, but theirs.
CoWPER.
I
Satirical Epigrams. 27
A Man of Wit.
A , they fay, has wit; for what?
For writing? — No; for writing not.
Corporation Politenefs. As a weft-country mayor, with formal addrefs. Was making his fpeech to the haughty Queen Befs; " The Spaniard," quoth he, " with inveterate fpleen. Has prefumed to attack you, a poor virgin queen. But your Majefty's courage has made it appear That the Don had ' ta'en the wrong fow by the ear.'"
The Correfpondent and the Editor.
A CORRESPONDENT, fomething new Tranfmitting, fign'd himfelf X. Q. The editor his letter read. And begg'd he might be X. Q^Z.
On Bhomjield, the Poet.
Bloomfield, thy happy omen'd name Enfures continuance to thy fame; Both fenfe and truth this verdift give, WhWtfelds fhall bloom thy name fhall live!
Kirke White.
On the Telegraphic Wire connecting England and America.
John Bull and Brother Jonathan Each other ought to greet; They've always been extravagant. But now "make both ends meet."
28 Humorous, Witty, and
On an Ugly Fellow.
Let Dick Ibme fummer's day expofe Before the fun his monftrous nofe. And ftretch his giant-mouth to caufe Its fhade to fall upon its jaws; With nofe fo long, and mouth fo wide. And thofe twelve grinders fide by fide, Dick, with a very little trial. Would make an excellent fun-dial.
On Chatham and Temple.
Says " Gouty" * to " Gawkee,"f " Pray what do you mean?
Says "Gawkee" to "Gouty, "To mob King and Queen."
Says "Gawkee" to "Gouty," "Pray what's your in- tention?"
Says "Gouty" to "Gawkee," "To double my pen- fion." Lord Edgcumbe.
The Golden Age.
Why "golden," when that age alone, we're told, Was bleft with happy ignorance of gold? More juftly we our venal times might call " The golden age," for gold is all in all.
Commercial.
A LITTLE ftealing is a dangerous part. But ftealing largely is a noble art; 'Tis mean to rob a henrooft, or a hen, But ftealing thoufands makes us gentlemen.
• Earl of Chatham. f Lord Temple.
Satirical Epigrams. 29
Women and Marriage.
Lord Erfkine, at women prefuming to rail. Says, "Wives are tin canifters tied to our tail;" While fair Lady Ann, as the fubjeft he carries on. Feels hurt at his lordlhip's degrading comparifon. Yet wherefore degrading? confider'd aright, A canifter's ufeful, and polifh'd, and bright; And fhould dirt its original purity hide. That's the fault of the puppy to whom it is tied. Lewis, the Dramatijl.
Erjkine's Rejoinder.
When fmitten with love from the eyes of the fair, If marriage fhould not be your lot, A ball from a piftol will end your defpair — It'sfafer than canifter-fliot.
From Martial.
A DOCTOR, lately, was a captain made; It is a change of title, not of trade.
From Martial.
Both man and wife, as bad as bad can be; I wonder they no better fhould agree.
Sympathy.
A DOCTOR and an undertaker met;
They fpoke of illnefs, fees, of trade, and debt;
And well they might, for fuch a difmal day
Never was known for coughs and deaths to clay;
Parting in fog, thev both exclaim'd together,
" Good morning t'ye; this is rare co_^n weather."
30 Humorous, Witty, and
On Sir Thomas More, Chancellor of England. When More fonie time had Chancellor been. No more fuits did remain; The fame Ihall never more be feen. Till More be there again.
If the man who turnips cries. Cry not when his father dies, 'Tis a proof that he had rather Have a turnip than his father.
Dr. Johnson.
On a Hajly Marriage. Married 1 'tis well! a mighty bleffing! But poor's the joy, no coin pofleffing. In ancient times, when folk did wed, 'Twas to be one at " board and bed;" But hard's his cafe, who can't afford His charmer either bed or board.
Arithmetic.
Says Giles, " My wife and I are two;
Yet, faith, I know not why. Sir! Quoth Jack, " You're ten, if I fpeak true;
She's one, and you're a cypher."
For Trades^ Vnionifts.
What is a Unionift? One who has yearnings For an equal divifion of unequal earnings; Idler or bungler, or both, he is willing To fork out his penny and pocket your fhilling.
Eb. Elliot.
Satirical Epigrams. 31
From the Greek.
Poor in my youth, and wealthy in old age, Still muft I mourn my unpropitious fate;
When gold and pleafures could my mind engage, I pined in want; now fortune fmiles — too late.
Celia ajid Dean Swift.
Said Celia to a reverend Dean, " What reafon can be given. Since marriage is a holy thing,
That they have none in heaven?"
" They have," fays he, " no women there."
She quick returns the jeft: " Women there are, but I'm afraid
They cannot find a prieft,"
My Shirt. As Bayes, whofe cup with poverty was dafh'd. Lay long in bed, while his one ftiirt was wafh'd. The dame appear'd, and, holding it to view. Said, " If 'tis wafh'd again, 'twill wafh in two." " Indeed," cries Bayes; " then wafh it, pray, good
coufin. And wafh it, if you can, into a dozen."
Judgment in Chancery.
When houfe and lands are gone and fpent, Then judgment is moft excellent.
A Parody on the fame.
When port and fherry's gone and (pent, Then Barclay's beer's moft excellent.
32 Humorous, Witty, and
To Phillis.
Phillis, you little rofy rake,
That heart of yours I long to rifle;
Come, give it me; why fliould you make So much ado about a trifle?
Pollio's Library.
PoLLio, who values nothing that's within. Buys books, like beavers, only for their fkin.
Jack and Roger.
Jack, eating rotten cheefe, did fay, " Like Samfon, I my thoufands flay." " I vow," quoth Roger, " fo you do. And with the felf-fame weapon, too."
The Fop.
No wonder he is vain of coat or ring; Vain of himfelf, he may of anything.
Tax on AJfes.
" Why tax not afles?" Bob does fay; " Why, if they did, you'd have to pay."
On the Prifon Treading-mill, invented by Mr. Cubitt, of Ipfwich.
The coves in prifon, grinding corn for bread, Denounce thee, Cubitt, every ftep they tread; And, though the ancients ufed thee, fure 'tis hard The moderns cannot ufe the prifon-yard, — By law they work, and walk, and toil in fpite. Yet ne'er exceed two feet from morn till night.
Satirical Epigrams. 33
On a Par fan toho fell ajleep at a Party.
Still let him fleep, ftill let us talk, my friends, — When next he preaches we'll have full amends.
For Betteryfor Worfe.
"Nay, prithee, dear Thomas, ne'er rave thus and
curfe; Remember you took me * for better, for worfe.' " " I know it," quoth Thomas, " but then, madam, look
you,— You prove, upon trial, much worfe than I took you."
Sent to a Friend on receiving a Brace of Woodcocks.
My thanks I'll no longer delay
For birds which you've (hot with fuch fkill; But, though there was nothing to pay.
Yet each of them brought in a bill!
I mean not, my friend, to complain.
The matter was perfeftly right; And, when bills fuch as thefc come again,
I'll always accept them at fight.
Written by the late Dr. Walcott, on being advifed by Dr. Geach to drink Afs^s Milk, the latter declaring that it had been of great fervice to himfelf.
h^\i, Doftor, do you really think That afs's milk I ought to drink? 'Twould quite remove my cough, you fay. And drive all old complaints away. It cured yourfelf — I grant that's true. But then 'twas mother s milk to you.
D
34 Humorous, Witty, and
To the Author of a poor Sonnet on the River Dee.
Had I been U,
And in the Q,
As it would have been eafy to B,
I'd have let you C,
Whilft fipping my T,
Far better lines on the D.
Balance of Europe.
Now Europe's balanced, neither fide prevails. For nothing's left in either of the fcales.
Swift.
Dialogue. Between Harry, who had a better Library than Under/landing, and Dick, who had a better Vnderftanding than Library.
Quoth Harry, to his friend one day,
"Would, Richard, I'd thy head!"
" What wilt thou give for it?" Dick replied,
" The bargain's quickly made."
" My head, and all my books, I'd give.
With readinefs and freedom."
" I'd take thy books; but with thy head
I fear I ne'er could read 'em."
A Goofe's Reafon.
A GOOSE, my grannum one day faid. Entering a barn pops down its head;
I begg'd her then the caufe to fhow; She told me fhe muft waive the tafk. For nothing but a goofe would afk.
What nothing but a goofe could know.
Satirical Epigrams. 35
A Ready Anfwer.
Says Jack Wilkes to a lady, " Pray name, if you can. Of all your acquaintance, the handfomeft man?" The lady replied, " If you'd have me fpeak true. He's the handfomeft man that's the moft unlike you."
The Squabble.
Says Richard to Joe, " Thou'rt a very fad dog. And thou can'ft write verfes no more than a log." Says Jofeph to Dick, " Prithee, ring-rhime, get hence, Sure my verfe, at leaft, is as good as thy fenfe." Was e'er fuch a conteft recorded in fong? The one's in the right; and the other's not wrong.
Female Failings.
Seven times a day the juft men fin; So fpeaks the fage, our hearts to foften: Well, the juft women, they fall in! Aye, but no fage can tell how often.
A Man of Courage.
Sir Prim, a doughty man of war.
Who likes to fee the foe from far.
Once, being in a lonely place,
Shovv'd figns of fear in limbs and face;
His friend, perceiving him look pale.
Cries, " Captain! What? does courage fail?"
The hero ftiffly does deny
The charge, and makes this bold reply;
" I dread not man, nor fword, nor gun;
But, zounds! I'm lame, and cannot run."
36 Humorous, Witty, and
l^ofce Teipfum — Know Thyfelf — an Exception. From
the Chinefe of Confucius. I've not faid fo to you, my friend, and I'm not going, " Tou may find fo many people better worth knowing."
The Kings of Europe.
Why, pray, of late do Europe's kings
No jefter in their courts admit? They're grown fuch ftately folemn things.
To bear a joke they think not fit.
But though each court a jefter lacks. To laugh at monarchs to their face.
All mankind do, behind their backs. Supply the honeft jefter 's place.
On bearing of the Marriage of a Fellow of All Souls'
College.
Silvio, fo ftrangely love his mind controls, Has, for one Jingle body, left All Souls.
A Natural Prejudice.
A Cambridge Soph, juft freed from band and gown. Went to the fermon, with his friend in town. The dodor, not a Sherlock, I fuppofe, Soon lull'd his audience to a fweet repofe; When now the flumbrous charm was at an end. Up ftarts Cantab, and wakes his drowfy friend. He rubb'd his eyes, and curfed the ftupid preacher, •' And pray," fays he, "d'ye know this learned teacher?"
- No!" cries the Soph, " but, ere the drone began,
I guefs'd our fate — for he's an Oxford man."
Satirical Epigrams. 37
Dame Fortune,]
Bad fortune is a fancy; fhe is jufl::
Gives the poor hope; and fends the rich diftruft.
Prefents.
A HAMPER I received of wine,
" As good," Dick fays, " as e'er vv'as tafted." And Dick may be fuppofed to know. For he contriv'd his matters fo. As every day with me to dine.
Much longer than the liquor lafted; If fuch are prefents — while I live. Oh! let me not receive, but give.
The Law-fuit.
A WEIGHTY law-fuit I maintain;
- Tis for three crab-trees in a lane.
The trees are mine, there's no difpute.
But neighbour Quibble crops the fruit.
My counfel. Bawl, in ftudied fpeech.
Explores, beyond tradition's reach.
The laws of Saxons and of Danes,
Whole leaves of Doomfday-book explains.
The origin of tithes relates.
And feudal tenures of eftates.
If now you've fairly fpoke your all,
" One word about the crab-trees. Bawl!"
From Martial.
Those verfes, Brawler, which thou'fl. read, are mine; But as thou'fl: read them zvrong, they'll pafs for thine.
38 Humorous, Witty, and
On Rogers the Poet, who was egotijlical.
So well deferved is Rogers' fame. That friends, who hear him moil, advife The egotift to change his name To " Argus," with his hundred I's!
- • Manners make the Man."
" This fplendid drefs was made for me;"
Cries Sugar Plum, the faucy cit; Obfervers anfwer, " That may be.
But you were never made for it."
ji Word and a Blow.
Thomas is fure a moft courageous man, '* A word and a blow," for ever is his plan; And thus his friends explain the curious matter, He gives the firft, and then receives the latter.
From Martial.
Thou fpeakeft always ill of me,
I fpeak always well of thee;
But, fpite of all our noife and pother.
The world believes nor one, nor t'other.
The Promife kept.
Thus, with kind words Sir Edward cheer'd his friend;
" Dear Dick! thou on my friendfhip may'ft depend;
I know thy fortune is but very fcant;
But, be aflured, I'll ne'er fee Dick in want."
Dick's foon confined — his friend, no doubt, would free
him: His word he kept — in want he ne'er would y^^ him.
Satirical Epigrams. 39
Miracles not ceafed.
The prophet Balaam was in wonder loft To hear his afs fpeak: afles now talk moft.
On the Derivation of the word News.
The word explains itfelf, without the mufe. And the four letters fpeak from whence comes news. From north, eajl, weJ},fouth, the folution's made. Each quarter gives account of war and trade.
Travellers defended.
'Tis ftated by a captious tribe. Travellers each other but tranfcribe; This charge to truth has no pretenfion. For half they write's their own invention.
The Univerfal Devotion.
Various religions various tenets hold.
But all one god acknowledge — namely, gold.
On two Butchers {their real names Bone and Skin) who attempted to raife the Markets.
. Two butchers thin,
Call'd Bone and Skin, Would ftarve the town, or near it;
But, be it known
To Skin and Bone, Thztjiejh and blood won't bear it.
On a Globe of the World.
Try ere you purchafe; hear the bauble ring; 'Tis all a cheat, a hollow, empty thing.
40 Humorous, Witty, and
On two ContraSlors for Rum and Grain.
To rob the public two contraftors come; One cheats in «rw, the other cheats in rum s Which is greater, if you can explain, A rogue in fpirit, or a rogue in grain?
Confolation.
Tom to a fhrew lives link'd in wedlock's fetter. Yet let not Tom his ftars too forely curfe:
As there's no hope his wife will e'er be better. So there's no fear (he ever can be worfe.
The Lawyer and Client,
Two lawyers, when a knotty cafe was o'er. Shook hands, and were as good friends as before. " Say," cries the lofing client, " how came ■you To be fuch friends, who were fuch foes jufl now?' " Thou fool!" one anfwers, " lawyers, though fo keen. Like fhears, ne'er cut themfelves, but what's between."
On B , Bijhop of Durham, and Barrington, the
Pickpocket.
Two names of late, in a different way. With fpirit and zeal did beftir *em.
The one was tranfported to Botany Bay, The other tranflated to Durham.
On Coleridge's Poem, " The Ancient Mariner'^
Your poem muft eternal be.
Dear fir, it cannot fail; For 'tis incomprehenfible.
And without head or tail.
Satirical Epigrams. 41
From Martial. Imitated.
When Clodius at your board extols The lufcious haunch, or ham and fowls, You rank him 'mongft your friends — 'tis true He loves your venifon, but not you; And could I like your lordfhip dine. He'd be as warm a friend of mine.
Vulgar Natures.
Tender-handed ftroke a nettle.
And it flings you for your pains; Grafp it like a man of mettle.
And it foft as filk remains. 'Tis the fame with vulgar natures;
Ufe them kindly they rebel; Be as rough as nutmeg-graters.
And the rogues obey you well.
Par Nobile Fratrum.
Two Congreves, at two different periods born. In different ways their country did adorn. One peacefully difplay'd each comic flight. The other higher foars 'midft war and fight; The fquibs of one could but affail men's pockets. But blood and death attend the other's rockets.
DiJJimilar Similitude.
Satyrs and Fawns on Tempe's lawns Crept forth from holes and corners;
But now-a-days how wide the fpace 'Tvj'ixt fatirijls zxA fawners.
42 Humorous, Witty, and
On a Caricature, in which three Wejiminfier Boys ap- pear placed in a Pair of Scales, outweighing an equal number of Etonians.
What mean ye, by this print fo rare.
Ye wits, of Eton jealous, But that we foar aloft in air.
While ye are heavy fellows?
Canning.
Reply to the fame, by Theodore Hook.
Cease, ye Etonians! and no more
With rival wits contend, Feathers, we know, will float in air.
And bubbles will afcend.
On Craven Street.
In Craven-ftreet, Strand, ten attorneys find place. And ten dark coal-barges are moor'd at its bafe; Fly, honefty, fly, to fome fafer retreat. There's craft in the river, and craft in the flireet.
James Smith.
Reply to the fame, by Sir George Rofe.
Why fliould honefty feek any fafer retreat. From the lawyers, or barges, odd rot 'em? For the lawyers zrtjuji at the top of the ftreet. And the barges zrtjuji at the bottom.
Love of Home.
For a hatred to home Peter needs no reproof. He's always at home, fave beneath his own roof.
i
Satirical Epigrams. 43
On Shelley's Poem, " Prometheus Unbound^'
Shelley ftyles his new poem, " Prometheus Unbound" And 'tis like to remain fo while time circles round; For furely an age would be fpent in the finding A reader fo weak as to pay for the binding.
T. Hook.
On Mr. Coke's {Earl of Leicejier) Second Marriage. — Interejiing to Gafmen.
When the coal is confumed, how great are the gains
To be made, as we know, from the coke that remains I The reverie may, however, fweet Anna confole. When her Coke fhall be gone, fhe will ftill have the coal! T. Hook.
On Mr. Milton, the Livery Stable-keeper.
Two Miltons, in feparate ages were born. The cleverer Milton 'tis clear we have got;
Though the other had talents the world to adorn, This lives by his mews, which the other could not!
Hook.
On the Departure of a certain Count for Italy, whence he fent fame Italian Mujic in f core for the Opera.
He has quitted the Countefs, what can fhe wifh more? She lofes one hufband, and gets back zfcore.
S. Rogers.
- ' Attend your Church," the parfbn cries j
To Church each fair one goes; The old go there to clofe their eyes.
The young to eye their clothes.
-44 Humorous, Witty, and
A Lellure on Heads.
" To this night's mafquerade (quoth Dick)
By pleafure I am beckon'd. And think t'would be a jolly trick
To go as Charles the Second."
Tom felt for repartee a thirft,
And thus to Richard faid: " You'd better go as Charles the Firjl,
For that requires no head."
Time Enough.
A CLERICAL prig, who one morn join'd the chafe. For which he had always an itching.
Was thrown from his horfe, and fell flat on his face, A dangerous, dirty, deep ditch in.
Each Nimrod that pafs'd him for help loud did cry.
But onward all eagerly panted; The whipper-in luftily roars, " Let him lie!
Till Sunday he will not be wanted."
The Gambler.
" To fortune I but little owe,"
A lofing gamefter cried; "Be thankful, then, for all muft know.
You owe enough befide."
On One who married his Mijirefs.
" God's nobleft work's an honeft man"
Says Pope's inftruftive line; To make an honejl woman, then,
Moft furely is divine.
Satirical Epigrams. 45
Carding and Spinning.
To fpin with art, in ancient times, has been
Thought not beneath the lady, nay, the queen. From that employ our maidens had the name
Oi fpinjier, which the moderns never claim. But fince to cards each damfel turns her mind,
And to that dear delight is fo inclined. Change the old name of fpinfter to a harder.
And let each dafhing belle be call'd a carder.
Pythagorean Philofophy.
Poor Peter was in ocean drown'd,
A harmlefs quiet creature; And when at length his corpfe was found
It had htcomt falt-petre.
A Mifer's Will.
"1 GIVE and devife" (old Euclio faid)
" My lands and tenements to Ned."
" Your money. Sir? " " My money! Sir, what all?
Why, well, then, if I muft — I give it Paul."
" The manor. Sir?" " The manor! hold! " he cried,
" I will not, cannot part with that," — and died.
Pope.
To Lord Nelfons by Peter Pindar, with his Lor drip's Night-cap, that caught fire on the Poet's Head, as he teas reading in bed.
Take your night-cap again, my good Lord, I defire.
For I wilh not to keep it a minute; What belongs to a Nelfon, where'er there is fire,
Is fure to be inftantly in it.
46 Humorous, Witty, and
The Client, from the Latin of Owen.
Clients returning, before thieves may fing. For back from London they can't money bring.
" Nee Pluribus impar. — On a very bad Book. From the Latin of MelanBhon.
A THOUSAND blots would never cure, this ftuiF; One might, I own, if it were large enough.
The Gay Widow.
Her mourning is all make-believe;
'Tis plain there's nothing in it; With weepers fhe has tipp'd her fleeve,
The while flie's laughing in it.
Courage mifplaced.
As Thomas was cudgell'd one day by his wife.
He took to the ftreet, and fled for his life;
Tom's three neareft friends came by in the fquabble.
And faved him at once from the flirew and the rabble;
Then ventured to give him fome fober advice:
But Tom is a perfon of honour fo nice.
Too wife to take counfel, too proud to take warning.
That he fent all the trio a challenge next morning.
Three duels he fought, and thrice ventured his life.
Went home, and was cudgell'd again by his wife.
Swift.
A Reajon for running away.
Owen Moore has run away. Owing more than he can pay.
Satirical Epigrams. 47
Irijh Wit: — Repartee. A Pat, an old joker, and Yankee, more fly. Once riding together, a gallows pafT'd by; Said the Yankee to Pat, " If I don't make too free. Give the gallows its due, and pray where would you be? " Why, honey," fays Pat, " faith, that's eafily known; I'd be riding to town by myfelf all alone."
Typographical Wit. " Ho! Tommy," bawls Type, to a brother in trade,
- ' The miniftry are to be changed, it is faid."
" That's good," replied Tom, " but it better would be With a trifling erratum." "What?" " Dele the r."
The Inqueft. Poor Peter Pike is drown'dj and, neighbours fay, " The jury mean to fit on him to-day." " Know'ft thou what for?" faid Tom. Quoth Ned,
" No doubt, 'Tis merely done to fqueeze the water out."
Optical Delujions. Tom runs from his wife to get rid of his trouble; He drinks, — and he drinks, — till he fees all things double; But, when he has ceafed the dire potions to mingle. Oh, what would he give to fee himkM Jingle!
k
Beauty and the Beafis. bright is thy beauty, fo charming thy fong. As had drawn both the beafts and their Orpheus along; But fuch is thy av'rice, and fuch is thy pride. That the beaflis muil have ftarved,and the poet have died.
Swift.
48 Humorous, Witty, and
A WiG-giJh Pun.
- ' No beirs have I," faid mournful Matt;
But Tom, ftill fond of gig, Cried out, " No hairs? don't fret at that.
When you can buy a wig."
Written on a Window ^ under a Vow againji Matrimony. The lady who this refolution fpoke. Wrote it on glafs, to fliow it might be broke.
On our imitating the French. The formal ape endeavours, all he can. With antic tricks to imitate a man; Parijian fops no lefs ambitious feem To have a face, an air, a tail like them. From whom our tafte thus only difagrees, Thefe mimic apes, — and we but mimic thefe.
On a Fair Pedant, Though Artemifia talks by fits. Of councils, fathers, claffics, wits,
Reads Malebranche, Boyle, and Locke; Yet in fome things methinks fhe fails; —
- Twere well if fhe would pare her nails,
And wear a cleaner fmock.
The Par/on confuted. You tell us, Doftor, 'tis a fin to Jleal! We to your practice from your text appeal. Yon Jleal a {ermon,JieaI a nap; and, pray. From dull companions don't you Jlea/ ^way}
Satirical Epigrams. 49
The Fifiory.
Unhappy Chremes, neighbour to a peer,
Kept half his fheep, and fatted half his deer:
Each day his gates thrown down, his fences broke.
And injured ftill the more, the more he fpoke:
At length, refolved his potent foe to awe.
And guard his right, by ftatute and by law,
A fuit in Chancery the wretch begun:
Nine happy terms, through bill and anfwer, run,
Obtain'd his caufe, had cofts, and was undone.
On Sir Richard Blackmore's Poem, " Job:' Poor Job loft all the comforts of his life, And hardly faved a potflierd and a wife. Yet Job blefl"'d Heav'n, and Job again was bleft: His virtue was aflay'd — and bore the teft. But, had Heaven's wrath pour'd out its fierceft phial. Had he been thus burlefqued, without denial. The patient man had yielded to that trial: His pious fpoufe, with Blackmore on her fide, Muft have prevaii'd — Job had blajphemed and died.
On the fame. Thy fatire's harmlefs— 'tis thy profe that kills. When thou prefcrib'ft thy potions and thy pills.
To a Painted Lady.
Leave off thy paint, perfumes, and youthful drefs. And nature's failing honeftly confefs:^ Double we fee thofe faults which art would mend, Plain downright uglinels would lefs offend.
50 Humorous, Witty, and
EffeBual Malice. Of all the pens which my poor rhymes moleft, Cotin's the fliarpeft, and fucceeds the beft: Others outrageous fcold, and rail downright With ferious rancour, and true Chrijlian fpite: But he, more fly, purfues his fell defign. Writes fcoundrel verfes — and then fays they're mine.
On an Ugly Lady that patched much.
Your homely face, Flippanta, you difguife.
With patches, numerous as Argus' eyes:
I own that patching's requifite for you.
For more we're pleafed, if lefs your face we view:
Yet I advife, if my advice you'd a£k,
Wear but one patch, but be that patch a majk.
On Dr. Evans's cutting dozvn a Row of Trees at St. John's College, Oxford,
Indulgent Nature on each kind bellows
A fecret inftinft to difcern its foes:
The goofe, a (illy bird, avoids the fox;
Lambs fly from wolves; and failors fteer from rocks.
Evans, the gallows, as his fate, forefees.
And bears the like antipathy to trees.
7^e Merry Mourner.
Cries Ned to his neighbours, as onward they preft. Conveying his wife to the place of long reft, ♦' Take, friends, I befeech you, a little more leifure; For why ftiould we thus make a toil of a pleafure! "
Satirical Epigrams. 51
A Proper Retort.
A HAUGHTY courtier, meeting in the ftreets A fcholar, him thus infolently greets: " Bafe men to take the wall I ne'er permit; " The fcholar faid, " I do, and gave him it. "
Untainted Honour,
A LATE regulation requires that no ftain Taint the blood of the gentleman penfioners* train: This honour I doubt, then, will fall to the ground; For who, fprung from Adam, untainted is found?
From Martial. Her father dead — alone no grief Ihe knows: Th' obedient tear at ev'ry vilit flows. No mourner he, who muft by praife be fee'd! But he, who mourns in fecret, mourns indeed!
From the fame.
When, in the dark, on thy foft hand I hung. And heard the tempting fyren, in thy tongue; What flames, what darts, what anguifli I endured; But when the candle enter'd — I was cured.
From the fame. When dukes in town afk thee to dine. To rule their roaft, and fmack their wine; Or take thee to their country-feat. To make their dogs, or blefs their meat — Ah 1 dream not on preferment foon; Thou'rt not their friend— but their buiFoon.
HOADLEV.
52 Humorous, Witty, and
On Bardellay the celebrated Mantuan Thief; from the Latin of Owen.
A MONK, Bardella to be hang'd cheer'd up; And faid, — " To-night in heaven thou Jhalt fup." Bardel replied, — " This I keep falling-day. If you pleafe to accept my place, you may."
On the Piilure of Charles the Second. Behold a witty foolifli king
Whofe faith no man relies on! Who never faid a foolilh thing. Nor ever did a wife one.
Rochester.
On a full-length Portrait of Beau Najh, placed in the Rooms at Bath between the bujls of Sir I. Newton and Pope.
Immortal Newton never fpoke More truth than here you'll find:
Nor Pope himfelf e'er penn'd a joke More cruel on mankind.
The pifture, placed the bufts between.
Gives fatire all its ftrength: Wifdom and wit are little feen.
But folly at///// length.
The Plagiary.
Moore always fmiles whenever he recites;
He fmiles, you think, approving what he writes;
And yet in this no vanity is fhown;
A modejl man may like what's not his own.
Satirical Epigrams. 53
On the Grub-Jireet Writers. Of old, when the wags attack'd Colley Gibber, As player, as bard, and odaic wine-bibber. To a friend that advifed him to anfwer their malice. And check, by reply, their extravagant fallies; " No, no," quoth the laureate, with a fmile of much glee, " They write for a dinner, which they fha'nt get from me."
On Critics.
A POEM read without a name, They juftly praife, or juftly blame: For Critics have no partial views. Except they know whom they abufe.
Swift.
On feeing a Bijhop go out of Church, in the time of Divine Service, to wait on the Duke of Dorfet on his coming to Town.
Lord Pam in the church (could you think it?) kneel'd
down. When told that the Duke had juft come to town. His ftation defpifmg, una wed by the place. He flies from his God to attend on his grace; To the Court it was fitter to pay his devotion. Since God had no hand in his lordlhip's promotion.
From Martial.
You afk me why I have no verfes fent? For fear you fliould return the compliment.
Lie on! while my revenge fhall be. To fpeak the very truth of thee.
54 Humorous, Witty, and
On Rogers's Poem, " Ita/y."
Of Rogers's " Italy," Luttrell relates,
'Twould furely been difh'd if 'twere not for the plates.
Off Lord Ch eft er field and his Son.
Vile Stanhope! demons blufli to tell.
In twice two hundred places. Has fhown his fon the road to hell,
Efcorted by the Graces.
But little did th' ungenerous lad
Concern himfelf about them; For, bafe, degenerate, meanly bad.
He fneak'd to hell without them.
On feeing the Words *' Domus Ultima" infcribed on the vault belonging to the Dukes of Richmond in Chi- chefter Cathedral.
Did he, who thus infcribed the wall. Not read, or not believe St. Paul, Who fays there is, where'er it ftands. Another houfe, not made with hands? Or, may we gather from thefe words. That houfe is not a Houfe of Lords?
Clarke.
Mankind.
Man is a very worm by birth.
Vile reptile, weak and vain! Awhile he crawls upon the earth.
Then Ihrinks to earth again.
Swift.
Satirical Epigrams. 55
On T. Moore's Poems.
Lalla Rookh Is a naughty book By Tommy Moore, Who has written four; Each warmer Than the former. So the moft recent Is the leaft decent.
Sneyd.
On the late Lord Chancellor Wedderburne, Lord Loughborough.
To mifchief train'd e'en from his mother's womb.
Grown old in fraud, though yet in manhood's bloom.
Adopting arts by which gay villains rife
And reach the heights which honeft men defjjife.
Mute at the bar, and in the fenate loud.
Dull 'mongft the dulleft, proudeft of the proud;
A pert, prim prater, of the Northern race.
Guilt in his heart, and famine in his face.
Churchill.
A PRINCE can make a belted knight, A marquis, duke, and a' that; But an honeft man's aboon his might, Guid faith he mauna fa' that.
Burns.
On the Funeral of a Rich Mifer. What num'rous lights this wretch's corpfe attend. Who, in his lifetime, faved a candle's end I
56 Humorous, Witty, and
On Lord Cadogan.
By fear unmoved, by fhame unawed, OiFspring of hangman and of bawd; Ungrateful to the ungrateful men he grew by, A bold, bad, boill'rous, bluft'ring, bloody, booby.
Atterbury.
The Fate of Poets.
Smyrna, Rhodes, Colophon, Salamis, Chios, Argos,
Athenae; Cedite, jam ccelum patria Maeonidas eft.
Sannazarius.
Seven w^ealthy towns contend for Homer dead. Through which the living Homer begg'd his bread.
On the late Bijhop Warburton.
He was fo proud that fhould he meet The twelve Apoftles in the ftreet. He'd turn his nofe up at them all. And fhove his Saviour from the wall! Who was fo mean (meannefs and pride Still go together fide by fide) That he would cringe, and creep, be civil. And hold a ftirrup for the devil; If on a journey to his mind. He'd let him mount and ride behind; Who bafely fawn'd through all his life. For patrons firft, then for a wife; Wrote Dedications which muil make The heart of every Chriftian quake.
Churchill.
I
Satirical Epigrams. 57
On the Jetting up Butler s Monument in Wejlminjler Abbey.
Whilst Butler, needy wretch, was yet alive.
No generous patron would a dinner give;
See him when ftarved to death and turn'd to duft,
Prefented with a monumental buft.
The poet's fate is here in emblem fliown —
He aflc'd for bread, and he received a ilone.
On the late King's Statue on the top of Bloomjhury Spire.
The King of Great Britain was reckon'd before The Head of the Church by all good Chriftian people: His fubjedts of Bloomjhury have added one more To his titles, and made him the Head of the Steeple.
Flattery expojed.
A PRINCE, the moment he is crown'd. Inherits every virtue round. As emblems of the fovereign power. Like other baubles in the Tow'r; But, once you fix him in the tomb. His virtues fade, his vices bloom. His panegyrics then are ceafed. He grows a tyrant, dunce, or beaft. As fbon as you can hear his knell. This god on earth turns devil in hell.
On One Ignorant and Arrogant.
Thou may'ft of double ignorance boaft. Who know'ft not that thou nothing know'ft.
CoWPER.
58 Humorous, Witty, and
On the Celebrated Duke of Marlborough.
This world he cumber'd long enough. He burnt his candle to the fnuff; And that's the reafon, fome folks think. He left behind fo great a (link. Behold his funeral appears. Nor widow's iighs, nor orphan's tears. Wont at fuch times each heart to pierce. Attend the progrefs of his hearfe.
But what of that? his friends may fay.
He had thofe honours in his day;
True to his profit and his pride.
He made them weep before he died.
Come hither, all ye empty things!
Ye bubbles raifed by breath of kings!
Who float upon the tide of flate;
Come hither and behold your fate!
Let pride be taught by this rebuke
How very mean a thing's a duke;
From all his ill-got honours flung,
Turn'd to that dirt from whence he fprung.
Dean Swift.
Martial. Imitated.
With lace bedizen'd comes her man.
And I muft dine with Lady Anne;
A filver fervice loads the board;
Of eatables a flender hoard.
"Your pride, and not your vidluals, fpare!
I came to dine, and not to ftare."
Dr. Hoadley.
Satirical Epigrams. 59
On a dull Preacher, whofe Text was, " Watch and pray."
By our preacher perplex'd.
How Ihall we determine? " Watch and pray," fays the text,
" Go to fleep," fays the fermon.
The Remedy Worfe than the Difeafe.
I SENT for Radcliffe: was fo ill. That other doftors gave me over;
He felt my pulfe, prefcribed a pill. And I was likely to recover.
But when the wit began to wheeze, And wine had warm'd the politician.
Cured yefterday of my difeafe, I died laft night of my phyfician.
Prior.
CharaSier of an Old Rake.
Scorn'd by the wife, detefted by the good, Nor underftanding aught, nor underftood; Profane, obfcene, loud, frivolous, and pert; Proud, without fpirit; vain, without defert: AfFefling paffions vice has long fubdued; Defperately gay, and impotently lewd: And, as thy weak companions round thee fit. For eminence m folly, deem'd a toit.
On a Company of bad Dancers to good Mufic.
How ill the motion with the mufic fuits!
So Orpheus fiddled — and fo danced the brutes.
6o Humorous, Witty, and
Dr. Winter to Dr. Cheyney, on his books in favour of a Vegetable Diet.
Tell me from whom, fat-headed Scot,
Thou did'ft thy fyftem learn; From Hippocrate thou haft it not.
Nor Celfus, nor Pitcairn.
Suppofe we own that milk is good.
And fay the fame of grafs; The one for babes is only food,
The other for an afs.
Doftor! our new prefcription try,
(A friend's advice forgive;) Eat grafs, reduce thyfelf, and die;
Thy patients then may live.
Dr. Cheyney to Dr. Wynter: Reply.
My fyftem, Doftor, is my own.
No tutor I pretend; — My blunders hurt myfelf alone.
But yours your deareft friend.
Were you to milk and ftraw confined,
Thrice happy might you be; Perhaps you might regain your mind.
And from your wit get free.
I can't your kind prefcription try.
But heartily forgive; 'Tis nat'ral you Ihould bid me die.
That you yourfelf may live.
Satirical Epigrams. 6i
Tom Paine and Cobbett.
In digging up your bones, Tom Paine,
Will. Cobbett has done well; You vifit him on earth again.
He'll vifit you in hell.
Byron.
The Mutual Vouchers.
Carlo, you fay, writes well, fuppofe it true; You pawn your word for him, who'll vouch for you. So two poor knaves, who find their credit fail. To cheat the world, become each other's bail.
Lines written on a Pane of Glafs at an Inn.
Dust is lighter than a feather.
The wind much lighter is than either:
But, alas! frail womankind
Is far much lighter than the wind.
Friend, you miftake the matter quite! How can you fay that woman's light? Poor Comus fwears, throughout his life. His heavieji plague has been a wife.
applicable to Many.
Frank, who will any friend fupply.
Sent me ten guineas. " Come," faid I,
- • Give me a pen, it is but fair
You take my note." Quoth he, •* Hold there,
Jack! to the cafh I've bid adieu;
No need to \vafte my paper too."
62 Humorous, Witty, and
On the Barrennefs of the Highlands,
Had Cain been Scot, God had reverfed his doom; Nor forced to wander, but confined at home.
The Swifs and the Frenchman,
To a Swifs, a gay Frenchman in company faid, " Your foldiers are forced. Sir, to fight for their bread, Whilft for honour alone the French rufli to the field, — So your motives to ours. Sir, muft certainly yield." " By no means," cried the other; " pray why fhould
you boaft; Each fights for the thing he's in need of the moft."
The Suicide. By Martial.
When all the blandifhments of life are gone. The coward creeps to death — the brave lives on.
On the Invention of Gunpowder, From the German Epigrams,
King, Friend Kunz, I've heard grave people mention Gunpowder as the devil's invention.
Kunz. Whoe'er inform'd you fo was drunk; 'Twas firft invented by a monk.
King, Well, well, no matter for the name; A monk, or devil — 'tis much the fame.
Midas and his Oppojites, Midas, they fay, poflefs'd the art, of old. Of turning whatfoe'er he touch'd to gold. This modern ftatefmen can reverfe with eafe; Touch them with gold, they'll turn to what you pleafe.
Satirical Epigrams. 63
Gratitude.
If Ben to Charles a legacy has given.
The grateful Charles now wifhes him in heaven.
The Real Wonder.
I wonder'd not when I was told The venal Scot his country fold; But this I very much admire. Where on earth he found a buyer.
On Bijhop Atterburfs burying the Duke of Buckingham.
" I HAVE no hopes," the Duke he fays, and dies;
- ' In fure and certain hopes," the prelate cries.
Of thefe two noted peers, I prithee, fay man. Which is the lying knave — the prieft or layman? The Duke he Hands an infidel confefs'd; " He's our dear brother," quoth the holy prieft. The Duke the knave, ftill brother, dear, he cries. And who can fay the reverend prelate lies?
Equality.
I dream'd, that, buried in my fellow clay,
Clofe by a common beggar's fide I lay;
And, as fo mean a neighbour fhock'd my pride.
Thus, like a corpfe of confequence, I cried:
'•Scoundrel, begone! and henceforth touch me not;
More manners learn; and at a diftance rot!"
" How! fcoundrel! " in a haughtier tone, cried he;
" Proud lump of dirt, I fcorn thy words, and thee;
Here all are equal; now thy cafe is mine;
This is my rotting-place, and that is thine."
64 Humorous, Witty, and
He knows Himfelf.
FiTZ to the peerage knows he's a difgrace; So mounts the coach-box as his proper place.
Moral Arithmetic.
Flam, to my face, is oft too kind.
He over-rates both worth and talents:
But then he never fails, I find.
When we're apart — to ftrike the balance.
Diamond cut Diamond.
A Yorkshire man! and oftler ftill!
Ere this you might have been, Had you employ'd your native fkill. Landlord, and kept the inn. " Ah, Sir! " quoth John, " here 'twill ne'er do.
For, dang it, meyfter's Yorklhire too I "
On a Dutch Vejfel refujing to take up Major Money.
Beneath the fun nothing, there's nothing that's new;
Though Solomon faid it, the maxim's not true.
A Dutchman, for inftance, was heretofore known
On lucre intent, and on lucre alone.
Mynheer is grown honeft, retreats from his prey.
Won't pick up e'en Money, though dropp'd inhis way.
The Mifer. Thirsty Tantalus, (landing chin-deep in the river. Sees the water glide from him, untafted, for ever: And were Harpagus plunged in his gold to the chin, he Though to 'fcape from ftarvation, would ne'er touch a guinea.
Satirical Epigrams. 65
From Buchanan, DoLETUs writes verfes and wonders — ahem! When there's nothing in him, that there's nothing in them.
On the Rev. L. Eachard^s and Bijhop Gilbert Burnet's Hijlories.
Gill's Hiftory appears to me
Political anatomy;
A cafe of fkeletons well done.
And malefaftors every one.
His fharp and ftrong incifion pen
Hiftorically cuts up men.
And does with lucid fkill impart
Their inward ails of head and heart.
Lawrence proceeds another way.
And well-drefT'd figures does difplay:
His charafters are all in flelh.
Their hands are fair, their faces frefli;
And from his fweet'ning art derive
A better fcent than when alive:
He waxwork made to pleafe the fons,
Whofe fathers were Gill's fkeletons. •
.. Law and Phyjic.
If mortals would, as Nature didlates, live.
They need not fees to the phyfician give.
If men were wife, they need not have their caufe
Pleaded, prolong'd by the ambiguous laws.
Bartolus might, feelefs, go to bed.
And mice corrode Hippocrates unread.
1^6 Humorous, Witty, and
On a Lady who was painted; from the Latin,
It founds like paradox — and yet 'tis true, You're like your pidlure, though it's not like you.
On the Coffins of Dr. Sacheverell and Sally Salifbury being found together in the Vault of St. Andrews.
Lo! to one grave confign'd, of rival fame, A reverend dodlor and a wanton dame. Well for the world both did to reft retire. For each, while living, fet mankind on fire. A fit companion for a high-church prieft: He non-refiftance taught, and fhe profeft.
The Parfon verfus the Phyfician.
How D.D. fwaggers, — M.D. rolls!
I dub them both a brace of noddies; Old D.D. takes the care of fouls.
And M.D. takes the care of bodies. Between them both what treatment rare
Our fouls and bodies muft endure 1 One takes the cure without the care.
T'other the care without the cure.
On a Ventriloquijl.
The ftomach is a thrifty thing; So Juvenal of old did fing: I deem'd his faying was not footh; But now experience proves its truth: For here is one whofe ftomach's feats Procure the food his ftomach eats.
Satirical Epigrams. 67
A Good Hearing,
" I HEARD laft week, friend Edward, thou waft dead." " I'm very glad to hear it too," cries Ned. ■
The Papal Aggrejjion,
With Pius, Wifeman tries
To lay us under ban: O Pius, man unwife!
O impious Wife-man!
The World's Judgment.
From your home and your wife every evening you fly, Yet, " Oh, he's a refpedable man," people cry; And you gamble and fwear and drink hard every day. Yet, " Oh, he's a refpedlable man," neighbours fay; And your fons quite as looie as their fathers are grown, Yet, •* Oh, he's a refpeftable man," fays the town. If the morals of men by fuch meafure you fcan, Pleafe to tell us who's not a refpeftable man?
Next door to a Brute.
- To drink and love," faid Daphnis, **is my plan,
For life is fhort, and I am but a man." " Nay, Daphnis, not fo faft; for, thus inclined. In form a man, you're but a beaft in mind."
A falfe Face true.
That there is falfehood in his looks
I muft and will deny; They fay their mafter is a knave;
And fure they do not lie.
Burns.
68 Humorous, Witty, and
T:he Riddle read.
What means old Hefiod? Half exceeds the whole? Read me the riddle, there's a clever foul. Phyllis, the anfwer in yourfelf appears; For twenty-five you'd give your fifty years.
A Dilemma. I've loft the comfort of my life. Death came and took away my wife; And now I don't know what to do. Left Death fhould come, and take me too.
On Lord Dundonald.
You fight fo well, and fpeak fo ill.
Your cafe is fomewhat odd. Fighting abroad you're quite at homCj
Speaking at home — abroad.
Therefore your friends, than hear yourfelf.
Would rather of you hear; And that your name in the Gazette^
Than Journals, fhould appear.
The Univerjities.
No wonder that Oxford and Cambridge profound In learning and fcience fo greatly abound; Since fome carry thither a little each day. And we meet with fo few who bring any away.
Swift's Endowment of a Lunatic Hofpital. " Great wits to madnefs fure are near allied," This makes the Dean for kindred thus provide.
Satirical Epigrams. 69
To an Unfortunate Poet. Unthrifty wretch! why ftill confine Thy foul and homage to the Nine? 'Tis time to bid the Nine begone. And now take care of number one.
To a Briefiefi Barrijler.
If, to reward them for their various evil. All lawyers go hereafter to the devil; So little mifchief thou doft from the laws, Thou'It furely gQ below without a caufe.
On ^acks. When quacks, as quacks may, by good luck, to be fure. Blunder out, at haphazard, a defperate cure. In the prints of the day, with due pomp and parade, Cafe, patient, and doftor, are amply difplay'd: All this is quite juft, and no mortal can blame it. If they fave a man's life, they've a right to proclaim it: But there's reafon to think they might fave more lives ftill. Did thty publijh a lift of the numbers they kill.
The April Fool. " This," Richard fays, " is April-day,
And though fo mighty wife you be, A bet, whate'er you like, I'll lay.
Ere night I make a fool of thee."
- ' A fool I may be, it is true.
But, Dick (cries Tom), ne'er be afraid.
No man can make a fool of you. For you're a fool already made."
70 Humorous, Witty, and
Advice to a Dramatift. Your comedy I've read, my friend.
And like the half yoM pilfer' d beft; But fure the drama you might mend;
Take courage, man, zndi Jleal the reft!
Retaliation.
When we've nothing to dread from the law's fterneft
frowns. How we fmile at the barrifters' wigs, bands, and gowns. But no fooner we want them to fue or defend. Than their laughter begins, and our mirth's at an end.
To a Lawyer.
Read o'er a will, was't ever known But you could make that will your own; For when you read 'tis with intent To find out meanings never meant.
Gay.
The Will.
Jerry dying inteftate, his relatives claim'd, Whilft his widow moft vilely his mem'ry deemed:
- What!" cries fhe, ** muft I fufFer becaufe the old knave
Without leaving a will, is laid fnug in the grave?" That's no wonder," fays one, " for 'tis very well known, Since he married, poor man, he'd no will of bis own.
To DoSlor Abel , in his Sicknefs,
Abel! prefcribe thyfelf; truft not another:
Some envious leech, like Cain, may flay his brother!
Satirical Epigrams. yx
To Lord ■
We thought you without titles great. And wealthy with a fmall eftate. While, by your humbler felf alone. You feem'd unrated and unknown. But now, on Fortune's fwelling tide High-borne, in all the pomp of pride; Of grandeur vain, and fond of pelf; 'Tis plain, my lord, you knew yourfelf.
Churchill, the Poet, dtjfe£ledi written in 1 764. A MAN, without one feeling for his kind; Without one feed of goodnefs in his mind: Intent, on all he hates, to pour his rage, Refpedling neither merit, rank, nor age: His charafters to his own manners fuits; A bear, exhibiting a fhow of brutes: But deviates from Satire's moral plan, He makes a montter whom God made a man; And, while by flanders foul he courts applaufe. Appears the very villain that he draws.
The Alternative.
In heat of youth, poor Jack engaged a wife,
Whofe tongue, he found, might prove a fcourge for life;
Perplex'd, he ftill put off the evil day;
Grew lick at length — and juft expiring lay:
To which fad crifis having brought the matter,
" To wed or die" — Jack wifely chofe the latter.
72 Humorous, Witty, and
A Court Audience.
Old South, a witty churchman reckon'd. Was preaching once to Charles the Second, But much too ferious for a court. Who at all preaching made a fport: He foon perceived his audience nod. Deaf to the zealous man of God. The doftor ftopp'd; began to call, " Pray, wake the Earl of Lauderdale; My lord! why, 'tis a monftrous thing! You fnore fo loud, — you'll wake the king.
On a Difpute between Dr. Radcliffe and Sir Godfrey Kneller.
Sir Godfrey and Radcliffe had one common way Into one common garden — and each had a key. Quoth Kneller, " I'll certainly Hop up that door, If ever I find it unlock'd any more. " Your threats," replies Radcliffe, " difturb not my cafe. And, fb you don't paint it, e'en do what you pleafe."
- ' You're fmart," rejoins Kneller, " but fay what you
will, I'll take anythingyr(7/y7 you — but potion or pill."
On feeing the wife of Sir Ralph Payne in tears, which fhe faid were caufed by the death of her monkey. Alas! poor Ned; My monkey's dead; I had rather by half It had been Sir Ralph.
Sheridan.
Satirical Epigrams. 73'
Liberty in Danger. On the new A8 againjl Swearing, written in 1747.
Since firft the Norman* fix'd his ftandard here,
Britons have claim'd a right to curfe and fwear.
In vain the preacher, with his milk-white hand.
Denounced damnation on a guilty land:
With " D— mn you. Jack! each friend his friend ftill
greets; And " Blood and thunder! echoes through our ftreets. But ftronger fanftions now our pulpits arm, Prifons and mulfts th* abandon'd wretch alarm: The fear of hell, 'twas found, could nought avail; But ev'n a Captain trembles at a jail: The ]ofs of money, fure, though not of foul, Muft ftrike vice dumb, and blafphemy control: Sailors themfelves henceforth Ihall grow more civil. And dread De Veil,| at leaft, though not the devil.
The Mother's Choice.
These panting damfels, dancing for their lives, Are only maidens waltzing into wives. Thofe fmiling matrons are appraifers fly, Who regulate the dance, the fqueeze, the figh. And each bafe cheapening buyer having chid. Knock down their daughters to the nobleft bid!
Austin.
• The Normans are fuppofed to have introduced this cuftom of fwearing.
-|- An adtive Middlefex Juftice at that time.
74 Humorous, Witty, and
On Lord Chancellor Shaftejburj. For clofe defigns and crooked counfels fit. Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit; Reftlefs, unfix'd in principles and place; In power unpleafed, impatient of dilgrace; A daring pilot in extremity.
Plealed with the danger when the waves ran high. He fought the ftorms: but for a calm unfit,^ Would (leer too near the fands to boaft his wit. In friendlhip falfe, implacable in hate, Refolved to ruin or to rule the ftate. Then feized with fear, yet ftill afFefting fame, Ufurp'd a patriot's all-atoning name.
New-made Honour. Imitated from Martial.
A FRIEND I met, fome half-hour fince —
" Good morrow. Jack!" quoth I; The new-made knight, like any prince
Frown'd, nodded, and pafs'd by; When up came Jem — " Sir "John, yourjlave!"
" Ah, James; we dine at eight — Fail not" — (low bows the fupple knave)
" Don't make my lady wait." The king can do no wrong? As I'm a finner.
He's fpoilt an honeft tradefman, and my dinner. By the Author of the Ingoldjby Legends.
From Martial: Lib. ii. Epig. 20.
Paul fo fond of the name of a poet is grown. With gold he buys verfes, and calls them his own: Go on. Mailer Paul, nor mind what the world fays; They are furely his own, for which a man pays.
Satirical Epigrams. 75
On the Death of Oliver Goldfmith and his intended Monument.
The other day, Sam faid to Ralph, " Who's to make Goldfmith's epitaph?" " None living can;" four Ralph replied, "He fhould have wrote it ere he died."
On Dr. Cadets dying by his own Recipe,
Cade, who had flain ten thoufand men.
With that fmall inftrument, a pen.
Being fick, unluckily he tried
The point upon himfelf, and died. •
On a Window,
The glafs, by lovers' nonfenfe blurr'd.
Dims and obfcures our fight; So, when our paffions Love has ftirr'd.
It darkens reafon's light.
Swift.
Another, at Chejler.
The church and clergy here, no doubt, ^
Are very near a-kin; Both weather-beaten are without.
And empty both within.
Swift.
On Pope y alius II. From the Italian of Buchanan.
Thy father Genoefe, thy mother Greek, Born on the feas: who truth in thee would feek? Falfe Greece, Ligurid s faHe, and falfe the fea; Falfe all: and all their falfehoods are in thee.
76 Humorous, Witty, and
On a Pt8ure of a Martyrdom.
'Tis an exquifite martyrdom, Dazvb, that you paint: You murder the hangman as well as the faint!
The Prifoners.
" We all are innocent " the prifoners cry; '* Believe us, none here willingly would //>.
Upon a Window where there was no Writing before.
Thanks to my ftars, I once can fee A window here from fcribbling free!
Here no conceited coxcombs pafs.
To fcratch their paltry drabs on glafs;
Nor party fool is calling names.
Or dealing crowns to George and James,
Swift.
The Royal Marriage ASl, pajjed 1772, gave rife to many jeu-d'efprits, one of which is the following: —
Quoth Dick to Tom, *' This Aft appears
Abfurd, as I'm alive: To take the crown at eighteen years,
The wife at twenty-five.
"The myftery how fliall we explain?
For fure, as well 'twas faid. Thus early if they're lit to reign.
They muft be fit to wed."
Quoth Tom to Dick, " Thou art a fool.
And little know'ft of life; Alas! 'tis eafier far to rule
A kingdom than a wife."
Satirical Epigrams. 77
On the Votvels.
We are little airy creatures. All of different voice and features; One of us in glafs is fet. One of us you'll find in jet. T'other you may lee in tin. And the fourth a box within. If the fifth you Ihould purfue. It can never fly from you.
Swift.
To a Miferly Bachelor,
Thou art juft like a fnail, with thy treafure and pelf, Becaufe thou doft keep all thy houfe to thyfelf.
To Voltaire y ridiculing Milton* s Allegory of Sin and Death.
Thou art fo witty, profligate, and thin. At once we think thee, Satan, Death, and Sin.
Dr. Young.
On the Marriage of Ebenezer Sweet and Jane Lemon.
How happily extremes do meet in Jane and Ebenezer! She no longer four, but fweet, and he a Lemon fqueezer.
The two Bijhops: from Durham to Oxford and back. Says Cheefy to Soapy, " Your chaplains are Popey,
Who knocks at my door other vouchers muft bring." Says Soapy to Cheefy, ** Your ethics are eafy.
You hold that preferment fhould come with a ring."
From Punch.
78 Humorous, Witty, and
On feeing an old Abbey whitewajhed.
How awful once thy ancient face. How fpoilt by vain renewing;
Of old, thy gravity was grace, — Now fprucenefs thy undoing.
Thou who waft once a reverend fage.
Alike in faft and {how. Art now ridiculous in age.
And look'ft a batter'd beau.
On Oxford Fees.
When ** Alma Mater" her kind heart enlarges. Charges her graduates, graduates her charges; What fafer rule could guide the accountant's pen Than that of doubling fees for Dublin men.
Rev. H. L. Mansell.
The Churchwardens' Petition.
" Prithee, my Lord, from your new Cheele,*
Some fcanty parings take. And our poor Paftors' bread therewith
More palatable make."
The Bifhop's Reply.
Said Villiers, " Nothing can be fpared
For thefc three pious men: The Cheefe that's with my daughter pair'd,
Muft not be pared again."
From PxmcH,
• Son-in-law of the B'lfhop of Durham, who had given him a living valued at conliderably more than 1000/. a-year.
Satirical Epigrams. 79
More Bijhops v. Better Pay for Curates.
A CERTAIN party's crying out, " More bifhops for our Church!
We muft have more, or, without doubt. Shall foon be in the lurch."
It is not bifhops, I think, we need.
Of fuch we have a ftore; ' But let us raife, and help, and fpeed. And give our curates more!
There's Sam of Oxford, famed for foap.
And Durham, famed for cheefe. Who roam about in ftole and cope. In rank, and wealth, and eafe.
But look below! fee parfon Wroe,
As learned quite as they. But who can fcarce the wants fupply
Of every paffing day.
With feedy coat, and feedy veft.
In pulpit he appears. The ready butt of wittol's jeft.
And wealth's all bitter fneers.
■ Follow him home — if home he has — 'Tis comfortlefs and cold. Should this fo be? fad fight to fee So bare a Chriftian fold:
And this while palaces are rife!
Oh, Pope! thou fure did'ft jeft, When from thy tongue the fentence fprung,
" Whatever is is beft."
Author unknown.
So Humorous, Witty, and
Off Mr. Pities being pelted by the Mob, on Lord Mayor' s-day, 1787.
The City-feaft inverted here we find. For Pitt had his defert before he dined.
On Addington's Inefficient Cabinet,
If bloclcs can from danger deliver. Two places are fafe from the French;
The firft is the mouth of the river. The fecond the Treafury Bench.
On Dr. GoldfmitFs Chara£ieriftical Cookery.
Are thefe the choice difhes the doftor has fent us? Is this the great poet whofe works fo content us? This Goldfmith's fine feaft, who has written fine books? Heaven fends us good meat — but the devil fends cooks,
D. Garrick.
Pope, Devil, and Pretender,
Our three great enemies remember.
The Pope, the Devil, and the Pretender.
AH wicked, damnable, and evil.
The Pope, the Pretender, and the Devil.
I wilh them all hung on one rope.
The Devil, the Pretender, and the Pope.
To a Lady who kept her Five-pound Notes in her Bible,
Your Bible, Madam, teems with wealth, Within the leaves it floats; Delightful is the facred text. But heavenly are the notes.
Satirical Epigrams. 8i
Footman Tom and Dr. Toe*
'TwixT Footman Tom and Dr. Toe
A rivallhip befel. Which ihould become the fav'ritc beau. And bear away the belle.
The Footman won the lady's heart;
And who can wonder? No man: The whole prevail'd againft the part —
'Twas Foot-vazvi verfus Toe-vxiXi.
Heber.
On the fame.
Dear lady, think it no reproach.
It fhow'd a generous mind. To take poor Thomas in the coach.
Who rode before behind.
Dear lady, think it no reproach. It Ihow'd you loved the more. To take poor Thomas in the coach. Who rode behind before. Author unknown. From " Notes and ^eries.^
Reafon why Wales has no Poet.
'Tis faid, O Cambria, thou haft tried in vain To form great poets; and the caufe is plain. Ap-Jones, Ap-Jenkins, and Ap-Evans found Among thy fons, but no Ap- olio's found.
- Halliwell, called Dr. Toe from his lamenefs, was a Fellow of
Brafenofe College.
G
82 Humorous, Witty, and
On Gibbon's Promotion to the Board of Trade, in 1779. King George in a fright. Left Gibbon fhould write The ftory of Britain's difgrace, Thought no means more fure His pen to fecure Than to give the hiftorian a place.
But his caution is vain,
'Tis the curfe of his reign
That his projedls fhould never fucceed;
Though he wrote not a line.
Yet a caufe of decline
In our author's example we read.
His book well defcribes
How corruption and bribes
O'erthrew the great empire of Rome;
And his writings declare
A degeneracy there,
Which his condudl exhibits at home.
Right Hon. C. J. Fox.
On a Royal Librarian, who guarded Beauties he could not enjoy.
Tom NumfcuU's fitted, beyond meafure. For keeping fafe the royal treafure; Learning to guard's the good man's lot. Nor does he take of it a jot; He never has been e'en fufpedled. And on him none was e'er detedled.
Satirical Epigrams. 83
On obferving fome Names of little note recorded in the Biographia Britannica,
O FOND attempt to give a deathlefs lot. To names ignoble, born to be forgot! In vain recorded in hiftoric page. They court the notice of a future age; Thofe twinkling tiny luftres of the land Drop one by one from fame's neglefting hand! Lethasan gulphs receive them as they fall. And dark oblivion foon abfbrbs them all.
So when a child, as playful children ufe, Has burnt to tinder a ftale laft year's news. The flame extinft, he views the roving fire. There goes my lady, and there goes the fquire; There goes the parfon, O illuftrious fpark! And there, fcarce lefs illuftrious, goes the clerk.
COWPER.
To an ugly, talkative Old Maid. If you'd be married, firft grow young; Wear a mafk; and hold your tongue.
Jiff Philautus. From the Latin of Buchanan.
Narcissus loved himfelf we know. And you, perhaps, have caufe to ftiow
Why you fhould do the fame; But he was wrong: and, if I may, Philautus, I will fay,
I think you more to blame. He loved what others loved; while you Admire what other folks efchew.
84 Humorous, Witty, and
On the Donkeys of Brighton. Though Balaam's afs got many a thwack.
Yet was his fortune rare. He bore a Prophet on his back.
And faw an Angel fair.
Is not your fortune far more bright,
Ye Brighton donkeys, fay? Who carry Spirits* every night.
And Angels every day?
The Modern Courtier. Fox populi, vox Dei.
Pray fay what's that which fmirking trips this way. That powder'd thing, fo neat, fo trim, fo gay? Adorn'd with tambour'd veil, and fpkngled fword That fupple fervile thing? Oh! that's a Lord! You jeft — that thing a Peer? an Englifli Peer? Who Ihould, with head, eftate, and confcience clear, Either in grave debate, or hardy fight. Firmly maintain a free-born people's right: Surely thofe lords were of another breed Who met their monarch John at Runnimede; And, clad in fteel, there in a glorious hour Made the curft tyrant feel the people's pow'r; Made him confefs, beneath that awful rod. Their voice united is the voice of God.
The Abbey Church at Bath.
These walls, fo full of monuments and bufl. Show how Bath-waters ferve to lay the duft.
• Donkeys were ufed in fmuggling.
Satirical Epigrams. 85
In Dacem Buckingbamia.
Dux and Crux are of a found.
Dux doth Rex and Grex confound:
If Crux of Dux might have his fill.
Then Rex with Grex might work their will:
Five fubfidies to ten would turn;
And Grex would laugh, that now doth mourn;
O Rex, thy Grex doth grievoufly complain
That Dux bears Crux, and Crux not Dux again.
Fox Populi.
Felton,* live for ever, for thou haft brought to duft Treafon, murder, pride, and luft.
From Notes taken out of an old MS. of Sir John Oglander — Charles I.^s reign.
Advice to Painters.
Copy not Nature's form too clofely Whene'er fhe treats your fitter groffly. As, for example, let us now fuppofe Thurlow's black fcowl and Pepper Arden's nofe. From Lord Campbell's Lives of the Chancellors.
The Arijlocrat.
Patricius faid, " While you've exiftence. Keep, fon, plebeians at a diftance." This fpeech a tailor overheard. And quick replied, " I wifh, my Lord, You'd thus advifed, before your fon So deeply in my debt had run."
- Aflaffin of the Duke of Buckingham.
86 Humorous, Witty, and
No Mortgage, no Cajh.
"Tom, lend me fifty!" Tom's without a Ihilling.
" I'll give a mortgage," Tom's ca(h then is found. To truft his old tried friend, Tom ifn't willing.
But trufts implicitly his woods and ground. Tom may ere long need counfel from a friend. For mortgage, not for me, let Tom then fend.
From a curious MS. of the middle of the feventeenth century, in Sion College Library.
A WOMAN faire I dare not wedd For feare I weare Aftaeon's head. A woman blacke is always proud, A woman little always loud. A woman that is tall of groth Is always fubjeft unto floth; For faire or foule, little or tall. Some fault remaines amongft them all.
From the fame. De Sanitate et Medico.
Health is a jewel, true, which when we buy, Phyficians value it accordingly.
From the fame. On a Woman that fell out with her Hufband.
A WOMAN lately fiercely did aflaile
Her hufband with fharp toung, but fharper nayle;
But one that heard and faw it, to her faide,
" Why do you ufe him thus, hee is your heade?"
" He is my heade, indeed," faith ftie, " 'tis true;
Sir, I may fcratch my heade, and fo may you."
Satirical Epigrams. 87
From the fame.
A CERTAIN prieft that had much gold
Would lay it in a cheft Within the chancel, and thereon .
Did write, " Hie Deus eft." A merry ladd whofe greedy mind
Did feek for fuch a prey, Neglefting much the reverend ftile
That on the cafket lay. Took out the gold, and blotting out
The pTon's name thereon. Wrote, " Refurrexit, non eft hie,"
Thy God has rifen and gone.
On Cafar Borgia^ s adopting for his Motto, " Aut Cafar, aut nihil."
Borgia Caefar erat, faftis et nomine Caefar; Aut nihil, aut Caefar, dixit, utruraque fuit.
Tranflated by F. C. H.
Borgia was Caefar, both in deeds and name;
- Caefar, or nought," he faid; he both became.
Notes and ^eriesy Sept. 1859,
The Worm DoElor.
Vagus, advanced on high, proclaims his fkill.
By cakes of wond'rous force the worms to kill;
A fcornful ear the wifer fort impart.
And laugh at Vagus's pretended art.
But well can Vagus what he boafts perform.
For man (as Job has told us) is a worm.
Relph.
88 Humorous, Witty, and
On Judge Grofe condemning a Man conviSied of Bigamy to the payment of One Shilling.
Ye gentlefolks all, here's a fecret worth knowing. In Leicefterfhire wives are the cheapeft things going. To back my affertion this truth as fulfilling. If you have a Grofe, why you pay but a Jhilling.
On the Earls of Spencer and Sandwich.
Two noble earls whom, if I quote. Some folks might call me finner.
The one invented half a coat. The other half a dinner.
The plan was good, as fbme will fay.
And fitted to confole one, Becaufe, in this poor ftarving day.
Few can afford a whole one.
On the fame.
When Tom Macaulay's Indian fits. Where London's ruins ftretch afar.
Little he'll think of England's fame. Of Waterloo and Trafalgar.
Yet England's earls e'en then fhall live, Remember'd by our tawny cenfor,
Whilft yet he boafts his " Sandwich " box. And wraps him in his " Spencer."*
- Spencer devifed an overcoat without ikirts, called after its in-
ventor a Spencer, and much worn in former days by elderly gentle- men; and Sandwich brought into falhion the luncheon of feafoned meat between flices of bread and butter, which goes by his name.
From Notes and ^er'tes.
Satirical Epigrams. 89
On the Pun.
Why a pun to define do you make fo much pother? 'Tis but to fay one thing, while meaning another: And the truth of this axiom, the way to decide is. By rememb'ring its origin — " Punica. fides."
From " Notes and ^eries."
Mean Wit.
Too much or too little wit Do only render the owners fit For nothing, but to be undone Much eafier than if they had none.
Sam. Butler.
On Voltaire.
The path to blifs abounds with many a fnare.
Learning is one, and wit, however rare:
The Frenchman firft in literary fame,
(Mention him, if you pleafe, — Voltaire? the fame)
With fpirit, genius, eloquence fupplied.
Lived long, wrote much, laugh'd heartily, and died:
The Scripture was his jeft-book, whence he drew
Bon mots to gall the Chriftian and the Jew:
An infidel in health, but what when fick?
Oh, then a text would touch him at the quick:
View him at Paris in his laft career.
Surrounding throngs the demi-god revere.
Exalted on his pedeftal of pride.
And fumed with frankincenfe on every fide.
He begs their flattery with his lateft breath.
And fmother'd in't at laft, is praifed to death.
COWPER.
90 Humorous, Witty, and
On Dr. Hill, the ^ack DoBor, who wrote fome fad doggr el poetry. By a Junto of the Literary Club, with Garrick at their head.
Thou effence of dock, and valerian, and fage, At once the difgrace and the peft of your age. The worft that we wifh thee, for all thy fad crimes, Is to take thy own phyfic, and read thy own rhymes.
Another; by the fame.
The wifti fhould be in form reverfed
To fuit the doftor's crimes. For if he takes his phyfic^/fr/?.
He'll never read his rhymes.
Dr. Hill's Anfwer to the Junto.
Ye defperate Junto! ye great! or ye fmall!
Who combat dukes, doftors, the deuce, and them all;
Whether gentlemen fcribblers, or poets in jail.
Your impertinent wifhes fhall certainly fail.
I'll take neither eflence, nor balfam of honey —
Do you take the phyfic, and I'll take the money.
Fear.
There needs no other charm, nor conjurer. To raife infernal fpirits up, but fear; That makes men pull their horns in, like a fnail. That's both a pris'ner to itfelf, and jail; Draws more fantaftic fliapes, than in the grains Of knotted wood, in fome men's crazy brains; When all the cocks they think they fee, and bulls. Are only in the infide of their fkulls.
Sam. Bin"LER.
Satirical Epigrams. 91
Sydney Smith's Advice vohen the Dean and Canons of St. PauFs complained of the delay in fixing the wood pavement.
Why fret, and frit your time away. Grumbling about this wooden way? Juft put your heads together, friends. And in a trice we've means to ends.
Rev. J. C. Napleton.
Succefsful Rogues.
All thofe who do but rob and fteal enough. Are punifhment and court-of-juftice proof. And need not fear, nor be concern'd a llraw In all the idle bugbears of the law; But confidently rob the gallows too, As well as other fufferers, of their due.
Sam. Bxjtler.
NtTBERE vis Prifco — non miror, Paulla — fapifti. Ducere te non vult Prifcus — et ille fapit.
To marry Peter Polly wifely tries.
Peter won't have her — Peter, too, is wife.
On Oxford. By Cowper, on being refufed a Subfcrip- tion to his Tranjlation of Homer.
Could Homer come himfelf, diftrefs'd and poor. And tune his harp at Rhedycina's* door. The rich old vixen would exclaim, I fear, ♦* Begone 1 no tramper gets a farthing here."
• Rhedycina was formerly a commonly accepted name for Ox- ford.
92 Humorous, Witty, and
King Bladud and his Hogs.
When Bladud once efpied fome hogs Lie wallowing in the fteaming bogs. Where iflue forth thofe fulphurous fprings Since honour'd by more potent kings, Vex'd at the brutes alone pofleffing, What ought t' have been a common bleffing. He drove them thence in mighty wrath. And built the ftately town of Bath. The hogs, thus banifh'd by their prince. Have lived in Briftol ever fince.
Rev. Mr. Groves, of Claverton.
To Dr. Bentley, on his licentious and conceited Alterations of Milton.
Milton's intemperate ftudies oft by night Did but deprive him of organic fight; Thou haft obfcured the rays of his bright mind. And now the book is like the author — blind.
On two Deans.
As Cyril* and Nathan f were walking by Queen's, Says Cyril to Nathan, " We two are both deans.
And bifhops perhaps we fhall be!" Says Nathan, " You may; but as I never fliall, I will take care of my little canal.
And leave you to look for the See."
• Cyril Jackfon, Dean of Chrift Church.
-|- Nathan Wetherall, Dean of Hereford, father of Sir Charles Wetherall, of Briftol notoriety, who had purchafed many fhares in the Oxford canal at a time of their extreme depreciation.
Satirical Epigrams. 93
On the occafion of Mr. Baron Alder-sovi and Mr. Jujlice Patte-son, feme years fince, holding the Ajjixes at Cambridge, Mr. Gun-soN was appointed to preach the AJJize Sermon, when, next morning, the following lines were fent by the pojl to the Judges.
A Baron, a Juftice, a Preacher, fons three. The Preacher, afon of a Gun was he; The Baron, he is the fon of a tree; Whokfon the Juftice is, I cannot well fee. But read him Pater-Jon; and all will agree. That the 7^/? of his father the Juftice muft be.
The Clown's Anfwer.
Upon fome hafty errand Tom was fent. And met his parifh curate as he went; But, juft like what he was, a forry clown. It feems he pafs'd him with a cover'd crown. The gownman ftopp'd, and, turning, fternly faid — " I doubt, my lad, you're far worfe taught than fed!" "Why, ay!" fays Tom, ftill jogging on, " that's true; Thank God! he feeds me; but I'm taught by you."
On the Bibacity of Pitt and the Gambling of Fox.
On folly every fool his talent tries;
It afks fome toil to imitate the wife;
Though few like Foix can fpeak — like Pitt can think —
Yet all like Fox can game — like Pitt can drink.
Real Mourners.
When all his fortune Harpax gave the poor. His relatives were real mourners fure.
94 Humorous, Witty, and
On Mi/ton's Executioner, Bentley.
Did Milton's profe, O Charles, thy death defend?
A furious foe unconfcious proves a friend.
On Milton's verfe does Bentley comment? Know
A weak officious friend becomes a foe;
While he would feem his author's fame to further.
The murderous critic has avenged thy murther.
Woman's Will.
Kind Peggy kifs'd her hufband, with thefe words: — " Mine own fweet Will, how dearly I love thee."
" If true," quoth Will, " the world none fuch affords: " And that 'tis true I dare her warrant be;
For ne'er was woman yet, or good or ill. But loved always beft her own fweet will.
On Foote, the Ador.
By turns transform'd into all kind of fhapes, Conftant to none, Foote laughs, cries, ftruts, and fcrapes; Now in the centre, now in van or rear. The Proteus Ihifts, bawd, parfon, audioneer. His ftrokes of humour, and his burfts of fport. Are all contain'd in this one word — diftort.
On Shadwell, the Dramatic Poet.
Mature in dulnefs from his tender years, Shadwell, alone of all my fons is he Who ftands confirm'd in full ftupidity; The reft to fome faint meaning make pretence; But Shadwell never deviates into fenfe.
Dryden's Mac Flecknoe.
Satirical Epigrams. 95
Roman Catholic ConfeJJion.
A FATHER afk'd the prieft his boy to blefs.
Who forthwith told him he muft firft confefs;
" Well," quoth the boy, "fuppofe I'm willing.
What is your charge?" "To you it is a fhilling."
" Muft all men pay? And all men make confeffion? "
" Yes! every one of Catholic profeffion."
"And whom do you confefs to?" "Why, the dean."
" And does he charge you?" " Yes 1 a whole thirteen."
" And do the deans confefs?" " Yes, boy, they do,
Confefs to bilhops, and pay fmartly too."
"Do bilhops. Sir, confefs? if fo, to whom?"
" Why, they confefs, and pay the Pope of Rome."
" Well," quoth the boy, *' all this is mighty odd.
And does the Pope confefs?" "Oh! yes, to God."
"And does God charge the Pope?" " No," quoth
the prieft, " God charges nothing." " Oh! then, God is beft. He is both able to forgive and willing — To Him I ihall confefs, and fave my fhilling."
True Benevolence,
" The other day," fays Ned to Joe, Near Bedlam's confines groping,
" Whene'er I hear the cries of woe. My hand is always open."
" I own," fays Joe, " that to the poor
(You prove it ev'ry minute) Your hand is open, to be fure,
But then there's nothing in it."
96 Humorous, Witty, and
The Old Gentry.
That all from Adam firft began Sure none but Whifton doubts;
And that his fon, and his fon's fon. Were ploughmen, clowns, and louts.
Here lies the only diff'rence now.
Some fhot off late, fome foon; Your fires in the morning left off plough,
And ours in th' afternoon.
Dean Swift.
On the Abbe Tencin.*
Thou prieft of too feraphic zeal. Plague on thy power to convince.
Who, teaching Law at mafs to kneel. Made France do penance ever fince.
Off the New Foreign Office. Pam, who with whitewafh all London would fplalh. May jeer at the pofitive order of Nafli; f But the veto he puts upon Scott is far worfe, Pam's negative order's a pofitive curfe.
To a Friend in Diftrefs; from the Latin of Owen. I WISH thy lot, now bad, ftill worfe, my friend. For when at worft, they fay, things always mend.
COWPER.
' Tencin converted the charlatan Law to the Catholic faith, in order to qualify him for undertaking the financial plans of the Regent Orleans, which ended in the bankruptcy of the country.
■j- Scott and Naih, two eminent architeds.
Satirical Epigrams. 97
On E. Burke, for his hoftility to Warren Hafiings.
Oft have we wonder'd that on Irifli ground No poifonous reptile has e'er yet been found; Reveal'd the Tecret Hands of Nature's work. She faved her venom to create a Burke.*
Job's Luck,
Sly Beelzebub took all occafions To try Job's conftancy and patience; He took his honours, took his health. He took his children, took his wealth. His camels, horfes, afles, cows, — Still the fly devil did not take his fpoufe.
But heav'n, that brings out good from evil. And likes to difappoint the devil. Had predetermined to reftore Two-fold of all Job had before. His children, camels, afles, cows, — Short-fighted devil, not to take his fpoufe. S. T. Coleridge.
On Erafmus.
Erasmus, Handing 'fore hell's tribune, faid, " For writing jeft I am in earneft paid." The judge replied, " Jefl:s will in earneft hurt. Sport was thy fault, then let thy pain be fport."
- Burke was a native of Ireland, and was the moft active and
perfevering of all W. H.'s enemies in a trial which lafted feven years.
98 Humorous, Witty, ai^d
A Choker for Church-Rate Abolition.
" Where's Church-rate repeal?" Trelawny may cry — Alas! — 'tis hung up in laft Wednefday's tie*
Porfon's Epigram on his Academic Vijits to the Continent.
I WENT to Frankfort, and got drunk With that moft learn'd profeffor — Brunck: I went to Worts, and got more drunken With that more learn'd profeffor — Ruhncken.
From the Latin of Buchanan.
There's a lie on thy cheek in its rofes,
A lie echoed back by thy glafs. Thy necklace on greenhorns impofes. And tiie ring on thy finger is brafs. Yet thy tongue, I affirm, without giving an inch back. Outdoes the Iham jewels, rouge, mirror, and pinchbeck.
From Buchanan.
A BEAUTIFUL nymph wifh'd Narciffus to pet her. But he faw in the fountain one he loved much better. Thou haft look'd in his mirror and loved; but they
tell us. No rival will teafe thee, fo never be jealous.
• The refult of the late diviHon on Church-rates, equality of votes on either fide, cannot but be faid to conftitute, between Churchmen and Diflenters, a connedion which may be confidered as forming a moft intimate tie.
Satirical Epigrams. 9^
On Inclofures.
'Tis bad enough in man or woman To fteal a goofe from oiF a common; But furely he's without excufe Who Heals the common from the goofe.
On Bijhop Burnet.
If heaven is pleafed when finners ceafe to fin. If hell is pleafed when finners enter in, If men are pleafed at parting with a knave. Then all are pleafed — for Burnet's in his grave.
Agai7ijl Sheep-farming: a Syjlem introduced and carried to excefs by the Monajiic bodies y i 598.
Sheepe have eate up our meadows and our downes, Our corne, our wood, whole villages and townes. Yea, they have eate up many wealthy men, Befides widowes, and orphane childeren: Befides our ilatutes and our iron lawes. Which they have fwallow'd down into their maws. Till now I thought the proverbe did but jell. Which faid a blacke fheepe was a biting beail.
Fourth Book of Chrejioleros, by T. B.
On Woman's Will.
That man's a fool who tries by art and fkill.
To flem the torrent of a woman's will;
For if fhe will, fhe will, you may depend on't, .
And if fhe won't, fhe won't, and there's an end on't.
100 Humorous, Witty, and
Love.
Love is begot by fancy, bred By ignorance, by expedlation fed; Deftroy'd by knowledge, and, at beft. Loft in the moment 'tis poflefs'd.
On Lord Palmerjlon's Retirement from Lord John RuJfelPs Minijlry.
Never fear, my Lord John, fince Palmerfton goes. That the popular breath you will catch lefs;
For, rid of that Lucifer, every one knows Your cabinet then will be matchlefs.
From Martial.
Never to fup without boar's-head, a noble gourmand
fwore J Quite right, my Lord, where'er j;o«fup, we'll always
have a bore!
From the fame.
You afk. fome copies of my poem: John Murray fells the book— you know him. You tell me you won't purchafe trafh: Nor I, for triflers, part my cafli.
On Two Bankrupt Bankers of Cork, named Gonne and Going.
Going and gone are now all one. For Gonne is going, and Going's gone.
Satirical Epigrams. ioi
On Malone, who lobitewajhed Sbakefpeare's Tomb/ione, and edited his Plays with Notes.
Stranger! to whom this monument is fhown. Invoke the poet's curfe upon Malone! Whofe meddling zeal his barbarous tafte difplays, And fmears his tombftone, as he marr'd his plays.
General Fitzpatrick.
On the River Hans-fur- LeJJe, in Belgium. Old Euclid may go to the wall.
For we've folved what he never could guefs. How the fifh in the river ZT&fmall, But the river they live in is Lejfe.
From " N. and ^"
Upon Anne 'j Marriage with a Lawyer.
Anne is an angel, what if fo ftie be? What is an Angel but a lawyer's Fee?*
On Dr. Parr's place as Reader to ^een Caroline
being Jupplied by a gentleman of the
name of Fellowes.
There's a difference between
Dr, Parr and the Queen, For the reafon you need not go far;
The Dodlor is jealous
Of certain little Fellowes ^ Whom the Queen thinks much above Par!
- In former times there was a gold coin called an Angel, the
value of which, being the exa£l amount of a lawyer's fee, gave birth to the above epigram.
102 Humorous, Witty, and
On the Bankruptcy of a Per/on named Homer.
That Homer fhould a bankrupt be. Is not fo very Odd-d'ye-fee: If it be true, as I'm inftrufted. So Ill-he-had his books condudled.
On Mac-Adam^ the Roadmaker.
" My Effay on Roads," quoth Mac-Adam, " lies there,
The refult of a life's lucubration; But does not the title-page look rather bare?
I long for a Latin quotation."
A Delphin edition of Virgil ftood nigh.
To fecond his claffic defire; When the roadmaker hit on the fliepherd's reply,
" Miror magis," I rather add, mire.
" N. and J^"
On Rome,
Hate and debate Rome through the world hath fpread. Yet Roma amor is, if backward read; Then is it ftrange Rome hate Ihould fofter? No! For out of backward love all hate doth grow.
On Mr. Gully being returned M.P.for Pontefraii.
Strange is it, proud Pontefraft's borough fhould fully
Its fame by returning to parliament Gully.*
The etymological caufe, I fuppofe, is
His breaking the bridges of fo many nofes.
Horace Smith^
• Gully was a prizefighter.
Satirical Epigrams. 103
On the New Pavement in London, 1764.
The Scottifli new pavement deferves well our praife: To the Scots we're obliged, too, for mending our ways; But this we can never forgive, for they fay. As that they have taken our pojis all away.
The Bible under Fetters.
When I call*d t'other day on a noble renown'd. In his great marble hall lay the Bible well bound; Nor printed by Bafket, and bound up in black. But chain'd to the floor, like a thief, by the back. Unacquainted with tone, and your quality airs, I fuppofed it intended for family prayers. His piety pleafed, I applauded his zeal. Yet thought none would venture the Bible to ileal; But judge my furprife when inform'd of the cafe. He had chain'd it for fear it would fly in his face.
See MS S. from Cumberland Journal, 1798.
Prudent Advice.
Let him who hates dancing ne'er go to a ball. Nor him to the ocean whom dangers appal; Nor him to a feaft who already has dined, Nor him to a court who will fpeak out his mind.
Road to Poverty j from the Greek.
The broad highway to poverty and need Is, much to build, and many mouths to feed.
104 Humorous, Witty, and
Forenfic Jocularities. The Hipry of a Cafe Jhort^y reported by a Majler in Chancery.
No. 1 . — A Chancery Suit.
Mr. Leach made a fpeech.
Angry, neat, but wrong; Mr. Hart, on the other part.
Was profy, dull, and long.
Mr. Bell fpoke very well.
Though nobody knew about what;
Mr. Trower talk'd for an hour. Sat down, fatigued, and hot.
Mr. Parker made the cafe darker. Which was dark enough without;
Mr. Cooke quoted his book.
And the Chancellor faid, / doubt.
Sir G. Rose.
No. 2. — Forenfic Jocularity.
A WOMAN, having a fettlement.
Married a man with none; The queftion was, he being dead.
If that fhe had was gone. Quoth Sir John Pratt, " Her fettlement
Sufpended did remain Living the hulband, but him dead,
It did revive again."
Chorus of Puifne Judges —
Living the hufband, but him dead, It did revive again.
Satirical Epigrams. 105
\ ' From the Greek of Plato.
A MAN found a treafure; and, what's very ftrange. Running off with the cafli, left a rope in exchange: The poor owner, at miffing his gold, full of grief. Hung himfelf with the rope which was left by the thief.
From the Greek: author unknown.
The Mufes to Herodotus one day Came, nine of them, and dined;
And, in return, their hoft to pay. They left a book behind.
Pre-Raffaelifm.
If at a diftance you would paint a pig. Make out each fingle briftle of his back:
Or, if your meaner fubjeft be a wig. Let not the caxon a difiin^nefs lack;
Elfe all the lady-critics will fo ftare.
And, angry, vow — *tis not a bit like hair!*
Claude's diftances are too confufed — One floating fcene — nothing made out —
For which he ought to be abufed,
Whofe works have been fo cried about.
Give me the pencil whofe amazing ftyle Makes a bird's beak appear at twenty mile; And to my view, eyes, legs, and claws will bring, With every feather of his tail and wing.
Peter Pindar.
io6 Humorous, Witty, and
The Sages Wit.
As lately a fage on fine ham was repafting,
(Though for breakfaft too lavoury, I ween,) He exclaim'd to a friend, who fat filent and falling,
" What a breakfaft of learning is mine!" "A breakfaft of learning!" with wonder he cried,
And laugh'd, for he thought him miftaken; " Why, what is it elfe?" the fage quickly replied,
" When I'm making large extrads from Bacon?"
On Sir John Leach.
While Lord Eldon was obtaining for his court the charafter of a court of oyer fans terminer, the con- duft of the Mafter of the Rolls m his court oi terminer fans oyer was thus celebrated by one as caufelefs as the caufe: —
A JUDGE fat on the judgment bench,
A jolly judge was he; He faid unto the regiftrar,
" Now call a caufe to me."
" There is.no caufe," faid Regiftrar,
And laugh'd aloud with glee, "A cunning Leach hath difpatch'd them all,
I can call no caufe to thee.
On Sir John Leach going over from the OpfvfHion to the Tories.
The Leach you've juft bought ftiould firft have been tried,
.To examine its nature and powers. You can hardly expeft it will ftick to your fide.
Having fall'n off fo lately from ours.
Satirical Epigrams. 107
Written on a Piece of Glnfs, the fiftieth of an Inch in length, and the two-hundredth of an Inch in width.
A POINT within an epigram to find,
In vain you often try; But here an epigram within a point
You plainly may defcry.*
Sent with a Couple of Ducks to a Patient. By the late Dr. Jenner.
I've difpatch'd, my dear Madam, this icrap of a letter.
To fay that Mifs is very much better;
A regular dodlor no longer fhe lacks.
And therefore I've fent her a couple of quacks.
The Two Knots.
If 'tis to marry when the knot is tied. Why then they marry who at Tyburn ride; And if that knot till death is loofed by none, Why then to marry and be hanged's all one.
- The above is in the poflTeflion of a member of the Microfco-
pical Society. " N. and ^"
One is reminded by the above of Homer's Iliad in a nut, which refers to Pliny, book vii. chap, xxi, who fays it was copied in fo fmall a hand that the whole work could lie in a walnut-fliell: "in nuce inclufam lliada Homeri carmen, in membrana fcriptum tra- didit Cicero." Pliny's authority is Cicero apud GeJlium, ix. 421, See alfo M. Huet's account of a fimilar experiment in the Gentle- man's Magazine, vol. xxxix. p. 34.7.
io8 Humorous, Witty, and
A Laureate Epigram, written by Canning or Porjon.
PoETis nos Istamur tribus.
Si vis amice fcire quibus,
Pye, Petro Pindar, parvo * Pybus,
Si ulterius ire pergis
Addatur Sir James Bland Burges.
The rule in grammar, if you try. You there will find the pronoun qui
Declining down to quibus. To poets the fame laws apply; So, if the firft is Laureate Pye,
The laft is furely Pybus.
Modern Economy.
Tom taken by Tim his new manfion to view. He obferved — " 'twas a big one, with windows too few. " As for that," replied Tim, " I'm the builder's forgiver. For taxes 'twill fave, and that's good for the liver." " True," fays Tom, " as you live upon farthings and
mites. For the liver 'tis good — but 'tis bad for the lights.^'
A Bit for Dinner.
As a man and his horfe had jull tarried one day At an inn, and the oftler was bringing fome hay. Says the man, " It muft be very irkfome indeed. With bits in their mouths for the horfes to feed."
- Not at all," fays the oilier, " unlefs I'm a finner,
I've a bit in my mouth every day at my dinner."
- He was named Charles Small Pybus.
Satirical Epigrams. 109
By an Old Gentleman, whoje daughter Arabella importuned him for Money.
Dear Bell, to gain money, fure, Jilence is beft. For dumb Bells are fitteft to open the cheft.
" Bis dat, qui cito dat" Cries Dick to Ned, " Attend to my advice, Give a thing quickly, and you give it twice." " I've felt your proverb's force," Ned archly cries, " It was your quicknefs gave me two black eyes."
Sir Claudius Stephen Hunter, Bart. Lord Mayor of London in 1811, was fo proud of his horfeman(hip that he was to be feen every day difplaying himfelf to his civic fubje6ls, gracefully difporting on a white horfe. This probably fuggefted the following epigram: —
Hunter, Mayor.
An Emp'ror of Rome, who was famous for whim,
A conjul his horfe did declare: The City of London, to imitate him.
Of a Hunter have made a Lord Mayor.
My thrifty fpoufe, her tafte to pleafe.
With rival dames at auftions vies; She doats on everything flie fees.
And everything (he doats on buys. I with her tafte am quite enchanted:
Such coftly wares, fo wifely fought! Bought, becaufe they may be wanted!
Wanted, becaufe they may be bought..
tio Humorous, Witty, and
Follfs Fajhion. When dreff'd for the evening the girls now-a-days
Scarce an atom of drefs on them leave, Nor blame them; for what is an evening drefs
But a drefs that is fuited for Eve.
On an Ignorant, Lying Prieji.
Mendax, fo ftrange the whims he feels. Ne'er reads but when he /lands or kneels: And, you will hear it with furprife. Whene'er he /peaks, he always lies.
On a Lady wearing the Miniature of an Unworthy P erf on jufpended round her Neck.
" What, hang from the neck of a lady!" cries Bill, " Was ever fuch folly and impudence known?
As to hanging, indeed, he may hang where he will. But as to the neck let it be by his own."
On one Peter White.
Peter White will ne'er go right;
Would you know the reafon why: Where'er he goes, he follows his nofe.
And that Hands all awry.
Infcribed on the Window of a Scottijb Inn.
Scotland! thy weather's like a modifli wife. Thy winds and rain for ever are at llrife; Like thee the termagants their bluftering try. And when they can no longer fcold, they cry.
Satirical Epigrams. hi
On bearing an Ignorant Man ajfert " that to he a Poet is the next thing to being a Fool."
" A POET," cries Bubo, " is next to a fool.
And," he adds, " the experience of ages will fhow it;" But Bubo himfelf gives the lie to the rule. For he proves that a fool's very far from a poet.
On one hanged at Newgate i from the Pages of Punch.
One morn two friends before the Newgate drop.
To fee a culprit throttled chanced to Hop:
" Alas! cried one, as raifed in air he fpun,
" That miferable wretch's race is run.
" True," cried the other dryly, " to his coft
The race is run — but by a neck 'tis loft."
ji Natural DeduBion.
Why S e is long-lived at once appears.
The afs was always famed for length oi ears.
P.
On " the Tuft Hunter:'
A DUKE once declared — and moft folemnly too — That whatever he liked with his own he would do; But the fon of a duke has farther gone. He will do what he likes with what ifn't his own.
Lord W. Lennox.
Hitting the Right Nail on the Head.
The Whigs refemble nails. How fo, my mafter? Becaufe, like nails, when beat, they hold the f after.
P.
112 Humorous, Witty, and
Carrots clajfuallj conjtdered. Why fcorn red hair? The Greeks, we know,
(I note it here in charity) Had tafte in beauty, and with them The Graces were all Xd^irai I
P.
TJbe Poet foiled.
To win the maid the poet tries. And fonnets writes to Julia's eyes; She likes a verje, but, cruel whim. She ftill appears a-verfe to him.
Punch.
Conjijiency.
No wonder Tory landlords flout
" Fix'd Duty," for 'tis plain With them the Anti-Corn-Law Bill
Muft go againft the grain.
P.
On Farren, the A^or.
If Farren, clevereft of men, Should go to the right about.
What part of town will he be then? Why, "Farren-done-without!" P.
Black and White.
The Tories vow the Whigs are black as night, And boaft that they are only blefs'd with light. Peel's politics to both fides fo incline, He may be call'd the equino^ial line.
P.
Satirical Epigrams. 113
On Charles Kean, the ABor.
As Romeo, Kean, with awkward grace.
On velvet refts, 'tis faid: Ah! did he feek a fofter place.
He'd re 11 upon his head.
P.
A Ufeful Ally.
" Crack'd China mended!" Zounds, man, ofFthis
minute! There's work for you, or elfe the deuce is in it!
P. Prl^e.
FiTzsMALL, who drinks with knights and lords.
To Ileal a fhare of notoriety, Will tell you, in important words,
He mixes in the beft fociety.
P.
On Napoleon's Statue at Boulogne turned ^ by defign or accident, with its back to England.
Upon its lofty column's ftand
Napoleon takes his place: His back Hill turn'd upon that land
That never faw his face.
P.
Inquefi — not Extraordinary.
Great Buhver's works fell on Mifs Bafbleu's head. And in a moment, lo! the maid was dead! A jury fat, and found the verdift plain — " She died of milk and water on the brainJ"
1 P.
114 Humorous, Witty, and
" Fox et prat ere a nihil. ^^ " I WONDER if Brougham thinks as much as he talks,"
Said a punfter perufing a trial. " I vow, fince his lordfhip was made Baron Vaux He's been Vaux et prater ea nihil"
P.
On the Name of Keopalani {^een of the Sandwich Ifands), which Jignifes " the dropping of the clouds from Heaven."
This name's the beft that could be given,
As will by proof be quickly feen; For " dropping from the clouds from Heaven" She was, of courfe, the raining ^een.
P. Fery like a Whale.
The firll of all the royal infant males Should take the title of the Prince of Wales; Becaufe 'tis clear to feamen and to lubber. Babies and whales are both inclined to blubber.
P. The Caufe.
LisETTE has loft her wanton wiles— What fecret care confumes her youth.
And circumfcribes her fmiles? A fpeck on a front tooth.
P.
On the dulnefs of a Debate in the Houfe of Commons and the little inter eft felt in it.
No wonder the debate fell dead 'Neath fuch a conftant fire of lead.
P.
Satirical Epigrams. 115
On an M.P. who recently got his Election at the Sacri- fice of his Political CharaBer.
His degradation is complete. His name with lofs of honour branding: When he refolved to win his feat He literally loft his ftanding.
P.
Off the Price of admifjion to fee the Mammoth Horfe.
I WOULD not pay a coin to fee
An animal much larger; Surely the mammoth horfe muft be
Rather an overcharger.
P.
Fortunate Stars. ,
" My ftars! " cried a courtier, with ftars and lace
twirl'd, " What homage we nobles command in the world! " "True, my lord," faid a wag, "though the world has
its jars. Some people owe much to \.\\€\x fortunate fiars!'^
On the Four Georges.
George the Firft was always reckon'd Vile — but viler George the Second; And what mortal ever heard Any good of George the Third? When from earth the Fourth defcended, God be praifed, the Georges ended.
W. S. LANDoa.
ii6 Humorous, Witty, and
Reafonfor thick Ankles.
" Harry, I cannot think," fays Dick, " What makes my ankles grow fo thick." " You do not recoiled," fays Harry, " How great a calf\.\icy have to carry."
Joe hates a hypocrite: which (hows Self-love is not a fault of Joe's!
The Georges. George I. — Star of B run/wick. He preferr'd Hanover to England, He preferr'd two hideous miftreffes To a beautiful and innocent wife. He hated arts and defpifed literature; But he liked train-oil in his falads. And gave an enlighten'd patronage to bad oyfters. And he had Walpole as a minifter; Confiftentin his preference for every kind of corruption.
W. M. Thackeray.
George II.
In moft things I did as my father had done,
I was falfe to my wife and I hated my fon:
My fpending was fmall, and my avarice much.
My kingdom was Englilh, my heart was High-Dutch:
At Dettingen fight I was known not to blench,
I butcher'd the Scotch, and I bearded the French:
I neither had morals, nor manners, nor wit;
I waln't much mifs'd when I died in a fit.
Here fet up my ftatue, and make it complete.
With Pitt on his knees at my dirty old feet.
W. M. T.
Satirical Epigrams. 117
George III.
Give me a royal niche— it is my due. The virtuoufeft king the realm e'er knew. I through a decent reputable life Was conftant to plain food, and a plain wife., Ireland I rifk'd, and loft America; But dined on legs of mutton every day. My brain, perhaps, might be a feeble part: But yet I think I had an Englifh heart: When all the kings were prollrate, I alone Stood face to face againft Napoleon. Nor ever could the ruthlefs Frenchman forge A fetter for Old England and old George. I let loofe flaming Nelfon on his fleets; I met his troops with Wellefley's bayonets. Triumphant waved my flag on land and fea; Where was the king in Europe like to me? Monarchs exiled found flielter on my fliores. My bounty refcued kings and emperors. But what boots viftory by land and fea? ' What boots that kings found refuge at my knee? I was a conqueror, but yet not proud; And carelefs, even though Napoleon bow'd. The refcued kings came kifs my garment's hem. The refcued kings I never heeded them. My guns roar'd triumph, but I never heard; All England thrill'd with joy, I never ftirr'd. What care had I of pomp, or fame, or power, A crazy old blind man in Windfor Tower?
W. M. T.
ii8 Humorous, Witty, and
George IV. He left an Example for Age and for Youth to avoid.
He never afted well by man or woman. And was as falfe to his miftrefs as to his wife.
He deferted his friends and his principles. He was fo ignorant that he could fcarcely fpell;
But he had fome /kill in cutting out coats.
And an undeniable tafle for cookery. He built the palaces of Brighton and of Buckingham,
And for thefe qualities and proofs of genius. An admiring ariftocracy Chriften'd him the "Firft Gentleman in Europe."
Friends, refped the king whofe ftatue is here. And the generous arillocracy who admired him. W. M. T.yfrom the pages of Punch.
On the long Speeches of the French Deputies about the Liberty of the Prefs.
The French enjoy freedom they fay;
And where is the man who can doubt it? For they have, it is clear, every day
The freedom of talking about it.
On One famous for relating anecdotes bordering on the miraculous, having added an attic to his houfe near Richmond.
It happen'd that the other day
Up Richmond Hill I chanced to ftray.
And there beheld the exaltation
Of Juilice 's habitation:
" Ha! Ha! " cried I, " thy joy and glory Is Hill, I fee — to raife a ftory."
Satirical Epigrams. X19
A Fajhion. Crinoline.
A WAY to dress
In the mode I guefs Picks a hufband's bones quite clean.
And poor Mr. Spratt
Muft cry, " No fat," And his wife will cri — no — /ene.
7he Poor Curate.
For the Reflor in vain through the pari(h you'll fearch. But the Curate you'll find living hard by the church.
The Preference.
With heels quite light, and lighter hearted, Tom tripp'd to Church with Nelly Grimfton;
Next week, Tom to the wars departed! Why? Nitre he preferr'd to brimftone.
The Judge's Wit; or Maiming not Murder.
A MAN of fmall fenfe
Once made his defence On a trial with feeming pompofity:
But proved pretty well
He could but ill fpell, For he made u(e of the word — "curofity!"
Either Denman or Chitty,
(Both equally witty,) "How he murders the language!" did cry out;
" 'Tis not murder," faid Bell;
" It muft be confefs'd. But merely the knocking an / out."
120 Humorous, Witty, and
On a Mr. Perfeffs comparing a certain author to a knave of Spades.
Perfect, for fatire fo rcnown'd.
Now feels the lalh he meant for me.
I'm but the pidure of a knave,
A ferfeil knave in all his adions, he.
On a Lady who bad her Portrait taken, and fometimes ufed to beat her Hujband.
" Come hither, Sir John, my pidure is here. What fay you, my love, does it ftrike you?"
" I can't fay it does juft at prefent, my dear. But I think it foon will, it's fo like you."
The Retort,
" My head, Tom, 's confufed with your nonfenfe and
bother, It goes in at one ear and out at the other." " Of that, my friend Dick, I was ever aware. For nonfenfe your head is a pure thoroughfare."
Says Johnny to Paddy, " I can't for my life Conceive how a dumb pair are made man and wife. Since they can't with the form and parfon accord." Says Paddy, "You fool, they take each other's word.'*
On being locked in Kenjington Gardens, the gates
of which are put at nine o'clock p.m.
From Paradife, Adam and Eve were fhut out
As a punifhment due to their fin. But here after nine, ftiould you loiter about. For your punifhment you'll be Ihut in I
Satirical Epigrams. iir
Legal JeU'd'Efprit.* Argument for.
Baptized a baby, ^
Fit Jin e labe;
As the adl makes him.
So the Church takes him.
Argument againji.
Unlefs he be fir,
We very much doubt it;
And, devil a bit
Is it valid without it.
Judgment.
Bifliop and vicar. Why do you bicker Each with his brother, Since both are right. Or one is quite As wrong as the other?
Adjudication.
Bifhop nonfuited,
Prieft un refuted,
To be inftituted,
Cofts deliberative,
Pondering well.
Each take ajhell.
The lawyers The Native.
- The above was handed about at the time of the Gorham
appeal to the Privy Council, as from the pen of Sir George Rofe.
122 Humorous, Witty, and
Gorham Controverfy. Chorus and Semi-Chorus of People on the above. Hurrah for the bifliop! Hurrah for the vicar! Hurrah for the row, that grows thicker and thicker! Alas for the Church, that grows ficker and ficker!
Moral.
Odium theologicum to fifli up.
In a prieft is a curfe; But in right reverend bifliop
Ecce ter quaterque worfe!
^ E. D.
If the vicar's a pefl.
The bilhop ecce turpior eft.
Sir George Rose.
On the Kit-Cat Club.
Whence deathlefs Kit-Cat took its name
Few critics can unriddle. Some fay from paftry-cook it came.
And fome from Cat and Fiddle.
From no trim beaux its name it boafts,
Grey ftatefmen or green wits; But from its pell-mell pack of toafts
Of old Cats and young Kits! Pope.
On Michaelmas Day.
Five thoufand geefe this day are doom'd to die. What dreadful havoc 'mongft fociety!
Satirical Epigrams. 123
Lines to the Court of Infohent Debtors. " Riju Jolvuntur Tabula."
" Qui niger, et captivus eram, candore nivali Splendidus, egredior carcere, liber homo.
Solvuntur curas; folvuntur vincula ferri; Solvitur attonitus creditor — in lacrymas.
Solvor ego; tantum non folvitur aes alienum; A non folvendo rite folutus ero."
The following tranflation is f aid to be by the late Rev. R. H. Barham, author of the " Ingoldjby Legends.^
A BLACKLEG late, and prifoner, hence I go
In whitewafh'd fplendour, pure as unfunn'd fnow;
Diffolved my bonds; diflblved my cares and fears;
My very creditors diflblved — in tears;
All queftions folved: the Aft refolves me free,
Abfolved in abfolute infolvency.
Occafioned by the recent Poifonings at Hong Kong.
" Pull devil, pull baker,"* in England's the cry. When their prowefs thofe black and white combatants
try.
But in China by order of Governor Yeh, The devil and baker both pull the fame way.
Notes and ^eries.
Jack for a fcolding mafter held the light.
When Tom declared his friend was far too civil:
Jack fmartly cried, " You muft allow I'm right. Sometimes to hold the candle to the devil."
• For the origin of the phrafe, " Pull devil, pull baker," fee Notes and ^eries.
114 Humorous, Witty, and
The Par/on s Precept and Example. A Cornish vicar, while he preach'd.
Of patient Job did fpeak; When he came home, found to his grief.
His cafk had fprung a leak.
Enraged — his wife did thus advife,
- • Job for a pattern choofe;"
But he replied, "Job ne'er had fuch
A tub of ale to lofe."
Matrimony,
Cries Sue to Will, 'midft matrimonial ftrife, " Curfed be the hour I firft became your wife!" " By all the powers," faid Will, " but that's too bad! You've curfed the only civil hour we've had."
" You're a thief," faid a wag, " and I'll fhow it,"
To a butcher with angry feeling; " 'Tis a fcandalous faft, and you know it.
That knives you are conftantly y?^^//>/^."
Forenjic Wit. Dives and Lazarus.
Dives the Cardiff Bar retains. And counts their learned nofes,
Whilft the defendant Lazarus On Abraham^ s breall repofes.
Jekyll.
• At the Cardiff Aflizes, fome years ago, an a£Hon was brought by a rich plaintiff againft a poor defendant, who was unable to pay a counfel, when Abrahani Moore, Efq., of Exeter, a barrifter, •vo- lunteered to defend him, which caufed Jekyll to write the above epigram.
Satirical Epigrams. 125
On the Duke of Wellington, whofe life was once endan- gered by one of the fmall bones of the wing of a par- tridge, on which he was dining.
Strange that the Duke, whofe life was charm'd
'Gainft injury by ball and cartridge, Nor by th' Imperial Eagle harm'd.
Should be endanger'd by a partridge!
'T would furely every one aftony
As foon as ever it was known. That the great conqueror of Boney,
Himfelf was conquer'd by a bone.
On the Marriage of a Captain Graves to a lady named Graves. The graves, 'tis faid, will yield the dead. When the laft trumpet fhakes the flcies; But if God pieafe, from Graves like thefe, A dozen living folks may rife.
On Garrow's crofs-queftioning an Old Woman, trying to elicit from her that a tender had been made for fame premifes in difpute.
Garrow, forbear! That tough old jade Can never prove a tender made.
Jekyll.
A Warm Reception. RusTicus wrote a letter to his love.
And fill'd it full of warm and keen defire; He hoped to raife a flame, and fo he did —
The lady put his nonfenfe in the fire.
126 Humorous, Witty, and
The Wife's Prayer.
Dick told his fpoufe, " He durft be bold to fwear, Whate'er fhe pray'd for, heav'n would thwart her
pray'r." " Indeed," fays Nell, " 'tis what I'm pleafed to hear, For now I'll pray for your long life, my dear."
The lovely hair that Mary wears
Is hers; who would have thought it?
She fwears 'tis hers, and true fhe fwears. For I know where fhe bought it.
An Irijh Bull
A woRTHr baronet of Erin's clime
Had a famed telefcope in his pofTefEon; And on a time
Of its amazing pow'rs he made profeflion,
- Yon church," cried he, "is dillant near a mile;
Yet when I view it fleady for a while. Upon a bright and funny day.
My glafs lb flrong and clear Does bring the church fo near
That often I can hear the organ play."
Can you a reafon for quizzing-glafTes find?
Yes! Puppies, you know, are always born blind.
The Ugly Wife.
Tom weds a rich hag that would frighten a horfe;
Repentance foon tortures his mind; But vain are the tears that exprefs his remorfc,
Unle/s be could cry himf elf blind!
Satirical Epigrams. 127
An Old Saying.
There is a miftake, though the faying is old. To hear a man tell you he has a bad cold; We mull drop the faying, though long it has Hood, For I never heard of a cold that was good.
The Twenty-fifth of March. By a Tenant.
That when a lady's in the cafe.
All other things of courfe give place,*
Was once a doubt with me, friend Gay; But Lady-day the fa£l explains. Who never comes but (he dillrains.
And carries all my things away!
On a Sailor who was thrown on the neck of his Horfe.
Spectator, ceafe your cruel glee.
From taunting jefts refrain. Sure 'tis no wondrous thing to fee
A failor on the mane!
The Joke of Charles Matthews verfified.
A trav'ller, fome little time back.
Was telling another a hill'ry, Whofe manners betray'd a great lack
Of lenfe, to unravel the myft'ry. " Why, Sir, it is ftrange you can't fee!
Or, perhaps, it don't meet your belief; 'Tis as limple as plain A. B. C."
- ' Yes," cries t'other, " but I'm D. E. F."
- Gay's Fables,
128 Humorous, Witty, and
The Bathes.
Since mountains fink to vales, and valleys die. And feas and rivers mourn their fources dry; " When my old cafTock," fays a Welfh divine, " Is out at elbows, why fliould I repine?"
PORSON.
The ^ibble.
Too late for dinner by an hour.
The dandy enter'd from a fhower
Caught, and no coach when moftly wifh'd.
The beau was, like the dinner, dijb'd.
Mine hoft then, with fat capon lined,
Grinn'd, and exclaim'd, " I s'pofe you've dined-
Indeed, I fee, you took — 'twas wrong —
A whett Sir, as you came along! "
QyoTH a ftarved poet to a thiefifh fpark. Who fearch'd his houfe for money in the dark: " Forbear your pains, my friend, and go away; You'll not find now, what I can't in the day."
From Pafehajius.
Kind Afper will do anything you choofe — But lend his afs — and that you muft excufe; His time and toil he freely will expend On your behalf — his afs he'll never lend. He'd fetch and carry at your call or beck. But would not lend his afs to fave your neck: None in felf-knowledge Afper can furpafs, Who juftly rates himfelf below an afs.
Satirical Epigrams. 129
On Nothing. Written at the requejl of a Lad-^.
Write on nothing! Lady! fhame fo to puzzle me; For fomething. Lady, ne'er can nothing be. This nothing mufl be fomething, and I fee. This nothing and this fomething — all in thee.
Thou addeft daily to thy ftore thy gains; Will a gold fleece give to a ftieep more brains?
On the Marriage of Mr. Lamb to Mifs Prieft.
In times remote, when heathens fway'd, A facrifice was often made,
Their deities to quiet; And by the prieft the lamb was led Unto the altar, where he bled.
But not without fome riot.
Mark how reverfe the blifsful fcene. No heathen rites now intervene.
To bid the timid falter; For, lo! the Prieft — how ftrange to fay — Is by the Lamb now led away,
^uite willing, to the altar!
Screw lives by fhifts, yet fwears, with no fmall oaths. With all his fhifts, he cannot fhift his clothes.
On a Stone thrown at George III. which miffed him.
Talk no more of the lucky efcape of the head
From a flint fo unhappily thrown; I think very different from thoufands; indeed
'Twas a lucky efcape for the ftone.
Peter Pindar.
130 Humorous, Witty, and
On a Gentleman named Heddy.
In reading his name it may truly be faid.
You will make that man dy if you cut ofF his Hed.
- When to an oculift the blind repair.
To get again their fight. Of drowning, Ben, they in fome danger are.
If I conjefture right."
"Of drowning? Why, what do you mean?" cries Ben;
"Explain at once to me."
- Why," rejoins Tom, " this is my reafon, then,
Becaufe they ^0 to fee. ^'
The Irijh Place-hunter.
A PLACE under government Was all that Paddy wanted;
He married foon a fcolding wife. And thus his wifh was granted.
In Oxford Street, over a ftiop door. Ten days ago, it might be more, A " Mr. Fell " ftuck up a bill To fay, he " Fell, from Holborn Hill."
A Commercial Traveller lately left a Jhirt at an Inn, and wrote to the Chamber-maid to forward it to him by coach t which produced the following: —
I HOPE, dear Sir, you'll not feel hurt,
I'll frankly tell you all about it; I've made a fhift with your old Ihirt,
And you muft make a fhift without it.
Satirical Epigrams. 131
On Craniology. In days of yore. Laid wit and lore
And wifdom in the wig; But now the IkuU Contains them all.
The peruke is too big.
The Retort Medical.
Quoth Dodor Squill of Ponder's End, " Of all the patients I attend,
Whate'er their aches or ails. None ever will my fame attack." " None ever can," retorted Jack;
" For dead men tell no tales."
Adapted to the Ir'tjh Commercial Failures, 1 800. The cit complains to all he meets. That grafs will grow in Dublin ftreets.
And fwears that all is over! Short-fighted mortals, can't you fee. Your mourning will be changed to glee.
For then you'll live in clover.
From the Italian. On a Father who would not allow his Son to marry until he bad arrived at years of difcretion.
Poor Stephen is young, and lacks wifdom, 'tis faid,
And therefore ftill longer muft tarry; If he waits though, methinks, till Yit'sfenfe in his head
I'll be fvvorn that he never will marry.
132 Humorous, Witty, and
How to evade Proof.
An Irifhman, charged with a crime.
Was told it would be brought home to him;
" No, no," quoth Pat, " it (han't this time — I'll keep away from home — and do 'em."
Written on the Union, i%o\, by a Barrifter of Dublin.
Why fhould we explain, that the times are fo bad,
Purfuing a querulous ftrain? When Erin gives up all the rights that ihe had.
What right has fie left to complain?
He who talks much, fo fays the ancient rule,
Muft often babble like an empty fool.
" I fpeak but little," Ihallow Buffo cries;
In that, no doubt, the world will call him wife.
The Union. Among the men what dire divifions rife. For " Union" one, and one "No union "cries. Shame on the fex that fuch difpute began; Ladies are all for union — to a man.
From the Spanijh of Rebolledo.
Fair Phillis has fifty times regifter'd vows. That of Chriftian or Turk fhe would ne'er be the fpoufe,
For wedlock fo much flie difdain'd. And neither of thefe fhe has married, *tis true. For now file's the wife of a wealthy old Jew,
And thus fiie her vow has maintain'd.
Satirical Epigrams. 133
Time caufes Changes.
In ancient times 'twas all the rage For each rich man to keep z/age s In middle ages 'twas the rule For men of wealth to keep Sifools But what with daughters, fons, and coufins, ■ Men now-a-days keep fools by dozens.
On an Ignorant Lady, who boafied of having pretty feet.
" No wonder Mury'sfeet are fmall,"
Jack one day fmiling faid, " If Nature Hole a part from thence
To form a thicker head.**
" In point of ftealing, fure," cries Dick, • "That Nature had no hand in. And if ftie made her head fo thick, 'Twas not with underjlanding."
" Friend Tom," fays Ned, " I've view'd the world
around; Difintereftednefs I ne'er have found." " I muft," quoth Tom, " from your opihion vary: For I have found it in — the Didlionary."
Giving and Taking. From the French.
"I NEVER give a kifs," fays Prue,
" To naughty man, for I abhor it." She will not give a kifs, 'tis true;
She'll take one though, and thank you for it.
134 Humorous, Witty, and
Tempus Edax Rerum.
" Time is money," Robin fays;
'Tis true, I'll prove it clear; Tom owes ten pounds, for which he pays
In limbo half a year.
- ' What! matter and miftrefs gone out?"
" Indeed," replies John, " Sir, 'tis true!"
•■'I'll wait, and fit down by the fire." " You can't. Sir, for that's gone out too!"
By Sir Thomas More. Modernized.
A STUDENT wedded to his book. When wealth he might have won;
He left his book, a wife he took. From wealth to woe he run.
Now, who a neater die e'er caft.
Since juggling firil begun? In tying of himfelf fo fall,
Himfelf he has undone.
On one Dr. Cox, noted for his vanity, who ordered a vacant /pace to be left for himfelf in a monument ereBed to the memory of his wife.
Vainest of mortals, hadft thou fenfe or grace, Thou hadft not left this often tatious fpace; And given your numerous foes fuch ample room To tell pofterity upon thy tomb, This well-known truth, by every tongue confefs'd. That by this blank thy life is beft exprefs'd.
Sir Frederic Flood.
Satirical Epigrams. 135
The Mifer and the Beggar.
" 'Tis in vain, my good man," faid a mifer one day.
To a beggar who clofely did prefs,
- ' For I'm fure if I give but a penny away.
My poclcet will be penny-lefs."
On the Ball-room of the Tenth Royal Hujjfars being profufely decked with laurel*
Soldiers! how ill-advifed in you to raife.
The other night, fo vaft a bower of bays.
Few had there been, we might perhaps have thought
They were the laurels you had won, not bought.
A Natural Conclufion.
The lottery's fuff'd its lateft figh.
And kick'd its lateft prance; Well, 'tis no wonder that fhould die
Which only lived by chance.
On an Ignorant Sot.
Five letters his life and his death will exprefs; He fcarce knew A. B. C, and he died of X. S.!
The Drunkard's Wit.
A DRU^fKARD's doftor gave this precept ftrong:
- ' Drink lefs, and thus you will your days prolong.*
" True," quoth the toper, " yefterday my clay Imbibed one bottle only, and, I fay, I never pafs'd fo horrid, long a day.'*
• The ball given in Dublin by the officers to the Marchionefi of Londondeny,
136 Humorous, Witty, and
On an Ugly Fain Woman.
Piqued at being fingle, though averfe to fhow it. Cries Deborah, " I'm determined ne'er to marry."
" Now, Deborah, you've fpoken truth, and well I know it. For vi\\i\t other women live, your point you'll carry."
• On Sir AJiley Cooper, Bart. Hint taken from the Epigram by Dr. Lettfom.
In furgery Sir Aft'ey's flcill
Hasjuftly brought him lucre; He has fully proved, and does ftill,
^0 furgeon' sX'^t A. Cooper.
No Change by a Change.
Pythagoras fays, " When we die we fliall find We each Ihall be changed to a brute of fbme kind." Should this be the cafe, Dick will trouble the leaft. He won't require change, he's already a bead.
The Valiant Do5lor.
From no man yet you've run away J
Doftor, that may be true; You've killed Jo many in your day.
Men moftly fly from you.
Rare Virtues.
In praife of honefty and truth
Men's bufy tongues are never ftill;
'Tis well, for both are fled from earth> " De mortuis nifi bonum nil.'*
Satirical Epigrams. 137
Grammatical Advice.
When man and wife at odds fall out.
Let Syntax be your tutor; 'Twixt mafculine and feminine,
What fhould one be but neuter?
J cloyed Appetite.
" A TONGUE I've for your fupper got.
My deareft Tom," faid Kate. " Egad," cried Tom, " I'Jl touch it not,
I've had my (hare df late."
A Comparifon. Whene'er a noble lord falls ill.
And needs the aid of dodlors clever. Whoe'er his proxy's place may fill.
The houfe goes on as well as ever.
But when O'Neil* is indifpofed
The play ftands ftill — the after mute;
The tragic fcene at once is clofed — For her there is no fubftitute.
The reafon is, fay critics fearlefs. One's but a peer — the other peerlefs.
From the French of Fabian Fillet .
His long fpeeches, his writings, in profe and in rhyme. Dr. Julep declares are but meant to kill time; What a man is the doftor! for, do what he will. He fomething or fomebody wifhes to kill.
• A celebrated aftrefs.
138 Humorous, Witty, and
Choice of the Knave or the Fool.
To Flavia's (hrine two fuitors run. And woo the fair at once; ' A needy fortune-hunter one.
And one a wealthy dunce.
How thus twin-courted fhe'll behave,
Depends upon this rule — If (he's a fool fhe'll wed the knave.
But if a knave, the fool.
The Brewer's Coachman.
Honest William, an eafy and good-natured fellow. Would, a little too oft, get a little too mellow; Body-coachman he was to an eminent brewer, A better ne'er fat on a box, to be fure: His coach was kept clean; no mothers or nurfes Took more care of their babes than he did of his horfes. He had thefe, aye, and fifty good qualities more. But the bufinefs of tippling could ne'er be got o'er; So his matter efFeftually mended the matter By hiring a man who drank nothing but water.
- Now, William," fays he, " you fee the plain cafe.
Had you drank as he does, you'd kept a good place." "Drink water!" quoth William, *' had all men done fo. You never had wanted a coachman, I trow; For 'tis/oakers, like me, whom you load with reproaches. That enable you brewers to ri^e in your coaches."
Frojl.
Frost is the greateft artift in our clime: He paints in nature, and defcribes in rime.
Satirical Epigrams. 139
From the Arabic. When I fent you my melons you cried out with fcorn,
" They ought to be heavy, and wrinkled, and yellow;" When I ofFer'd myfelf, whom thofe graces adorn.
You flouted, and call'd me an ugly old fellow.
A SAILOR is a drunken fot.
And he fhan't wed my daughter.
How can that be, have you forgot A failor lives on water?
Addrejfed to M , on his Nomination to the Legion
of Honour. From the French.
In ancient times — 'twas no great lofs— They hung the thief upon the crofs; But now, alas! I fay 't with grief. They hang the crofs upon the thief.
" I'm very much furprifed," quoth Harry, " That Jane a gambler fhould marry." " I'm not at all," her filler fays, "You know he has fuch winning ways!**
Walking through Smithfield, on a market day, " By Jove," cries Tom, " we've come a beaftly way
I"
A RefieElion.
" Help! help! " cried old Father Francefco, one night,
While Friar John ran to his help in a fright,
"I have juft feen the devil along my cell pafs!
By our Lady 'twas he — in the fhape of an afs!"
- Lefs noife," whifper'd John, with a look of difdain,
" When you chance to behold your own fhadow again! "
140 Humorous, Witty, and
Firji and La ft. From the Italian.
One fingle truth before he died Poor Dick could only boaft;
" Alas, I die!" he faintly cried, And then — ^gave up the ghoft!
"Which wert thou, cruel Bilhop Bonner, A favage wit, or fenfelefs noddy.
When to extinguilh Ridley's faith Thou mad'ft a ^(?»fire of his body?
On a Coxcomb.
To determine the cut of a coat He is known to excel — after that He never indulges a thought, Save how he fhall tie his cravat. There's nothing beyond to expefl From fuch a fair-form-loving elf. Who caufes his glafs to refleft. Though void of refleftion himfelf.
To a Lady with a blood-ft^ot eye.
Oh! be not afraid, though your eye is all red. While your cheeks, my dear Sal, are fo ruddy;
For fo many die by the ftroke of that eye. No wonder the weapon is bloody.
On Frederic the Great, King of PruJJia; by Voltaire.
King, author, philofopher, poet, mufician, Free-mafon, economift, bard, politician. How had Europe rejoiced if a Chriftian he'd been! • If a man, how he then had enraptured his queen!
Satirical Epigrams. 141
On Betty, the Young Rofcius.
At Betty, aftonifh'd, the people all gazed,
" 'Twas wonderful," ftill they kept faying; For my part, I own, I was not much amazed At feeing a little boy playing.
" I LAUGH," a would-be fapient cried, " At every one that laughs at me."
- ' Good lack 1 " a merry friend replied,
"How very merry you muft be!"
On the ajjfertion of Mr. Hawkins Browne, " That Mr. Pitt found England of wood, and left it of marble."
" From wood to marble," Hawkins cried, " Great Pitt transform'd us, ere he died!"
- • Indeed," exclaim'd a country gaper;
" Sure he muft mean to marble paper."
Another. Brown fays, " That Pitt, fo wife and good, Could marble make from worthlefs wood!" And who can doubt that faying bold. Since he to paper changed our gold
To Colley Cibber, Poet Laureate. Ancient and Modern Times,
In merry old England it once was a rule For the king to ejnploy both a poet and fool; But now, wtr& fo frugal, I'd have you to know it. That a laureate will ferve both for /oo/ and ior poet.
Pope.
142 Humorous, Witty, and
The Compliment returned. An officer in a ball-room having refufed to dance becaufe he did not, as he /aid, fee a handfome woman in the room, caufed one of the ladies to write as follows: —
" So, Sir, you raflily vow and fwear.
You'll dance with none that are not fair;
Suppofe we women fhould difpenfe
Our hands to none but men of fenfe."
- Suppofe! well. Madam, pray what then?"
- ' Why, Sir, you'd never dance again*'
On his three marriages by Thomas Baflard, Efq. of
New College, Oxford.
Though marriage by fome folks be reckon'd a curfe, Three wives did I marry for better or worle; The firft for her perfon — the next for her purfe — And the third for a warming-pan, doftrefs, and nurfe.
The Succeffton of Ages. The houfe of Mr. Dundas, late Prejident of the Court of SeJJion in Scotland having, after his death,, been converted into a black- fmitVs jhop, a gentleman wrote upon its door the fol- lowing impromptu: —
This houle a lawyer once enjoy'd,
A fmith does now pofTefs: How naturally the iron age
Succeeds the age oi brafs!
On a deformed, but amiable Female, of whom a " Lady" fpoke unfeelingly and in derijion.
In body crooked! but in mind — ereft!
Scoffer! reverfe the cafe, you'll fee your own defeat.
Satirical Epigrams. 143
The Punjiers.
At a tavern one night
Meff". More, Strange, and Wright Met to drink, and good thoughts to exchange j
Says More, " Of us three.
The whole town will agree. There is only one knave, and that's Strange.^*
"Yes," fays Strange (rather fore),
" I'm fure there's one More, A moft terrible knave and a bite.
Who cheated his mother.
His filler and brother." " O yes," replied More, " that is fTn'ght."
A Nice Point. On hearing that a Gentleman died whilji his Phyjician was writing a prefcription for him.
How couldft thou thus fo hafty be, O death?
And why be fo precipitate with me: , Why not fome moments longer fpare my breath.
And let thy friend, the doftor, get his fee?
Honeji Independence.
Sir Charles, embroider'd, mocks my threadbare veil; Sir Charles! 'tis paid for. Now where lies the jell:
French Tafte. The French have tafte in all they do.
Which we are quite without; For Nature, that to them gave gout, To us gave only gout.
Erskine.
144 Humorous, Witty, and
On Lord CampbeWs Lives of the Lord Chancellors .
Lives of great men mifinform us,
Campbell's lives in this fublime, j
Errors frightfully enormous, fl
Mifprints on the fands of time. 1
Stop Short.
If at his title Tom had dropp'd his quill, Tom might have pafs'd for a great genius ftill: But Tom, alas! (excufe him if you can) Is now a fcribbler, who was once a man.
A Friendly Conteji.
While Cam and IJis their fad tribute bring
Of rival grief to weep their pious king;
The bards of IJis half had been forgot.
Had not the fons of Cam in pity wrote;
From their learn'd brothers they took off the curfe.
And proved their verfe not bad — by writing worfc.
The Scribbler confuted. Pamphlet laft week, in his fantaftic fits. Was afk'd. How he lived? He faid. By 's wits: Pamphlet, I fee, will tell lies by the clock; How can he live upon fb poor a ftock?
Phyjicians.
A SINGLE dodlor like a fculler plies. And all his art, and all his phyfic tries; But two phyficians, like a pair of oars, Conduft you foonell to the Stygian fhores.
Satirical Epigrams. 145
. The Connoijeur,
He long has been a man of tajle complete; Would that he now had fomething left to eat!
From the French of J. B. Roujfeau,
A LORD of fenatorial fame
Was by his portrait known outright. For fo the painter play'd his game
It made one even yawn at fight.
- ' 'Tis he — the fame — there's no defefl, "
But want of fpeech," exclaim'd a flat.
To whom the limner, — " Pray refleft, 'Tis furely not the worfe for that."
From the Gnek.
EuTVCHiDAS in running for the prize Still lags: to dinner afk him, and he flies.
From the German of LeJJing.
A Long way off — Lucinda ftrikes the men:
As ftie draws near,
And one fees dear, A long way off — one wiflies her again.
From the Greek.
A VIPER flung a Cappadocian's hide;
And, poifon'd by his blood, that inftant died.
Affe£lation.
Delia is twenty-two, and yet fo weak.
Poor thing! file's learning ftill to walk and fpeak.
1^6 Humorous, Witty, and
/;; Fino Vtritas.
A BRUTE thou art at beft; but mad with wine. The rage of tigers is lefs fierce than thine; Wine but difplays the bafenefs of thy heart; Not makes thee bad — but fhows thee as thou art.
The Peer and the Pedlar. A MEMBER of the modern great
Pafs'd Sawney with his budget; The peer was in his car of ftate.
The tinker forced to trudge it.
But Sawney (hall receive the praife His lordfliip would parade for;
One's debtor for his dapple greys, The other's fhoes are paid for.
Imitated from the French of Guichard. As Spintext one day, in the manfion of prayer. Was declaiming a fermon he'd ftolen from Blair, A large maftiff dog began barking aloud, " Turn him out," cried the doflor, enraged, to the
crowd. " And why?" anfwer'd one, " in my humble belief He's an excellent dog, for he barks at a thief."
Proxies.
" By proxy I pray, and by proxy I vote,'* A gracelefs peer faid to a churchman of note; Who anfwer'd, " My lord, then I'll venture to fay You'll to heaven afcend in a fimilar way."
Satirical Epigrams. 147
On Macpherjon s Tranjlation of Homer.
Cries Macpherfon with pride, " Every mortal that knew him
Muft own the fublime lofty power of his pen; But I will fo change, and fo metamorphofe him.
Not one in a thoufand ftiall know him again."
From the French.
Damis, an author cold and weak.
Thinks as a critic he's divine j Likely enough; we often make
Good vinegar of forry wine.
On the Banks and paper credit of Scotland.
To tell us why banks thus in Scotland obtain Requires not the head of a Newton or Napier;
Without calculation, the matter's quite plain, —
Where there's plenty of rags, you'll have plenty of paper.
On Chatterton the Poet, and H. Walpole.
Whenever God, for his myfterious ends, Prefs'd by all evils, deftitute of friends, Prefents a Chatterton to human view. The devil conjures up a Walpole too.
From the Latin of Owen.
Why durft you offer, Marcus, to aver Nature abhorr'd a vacuum? — confer But with your empty flcull, then you'll agree. Nature will fuffer a vacuity.
148 Humorous, Witty, and
From the Latin
Grumus ne'er faw, he fays, a bearded afs; What, then, did Grumus ne'er confult his glafs?
On Dr. Johnfon^s Poets.
" Similes habent labia laiiucas."
Yon afs in vain the flowery lawns invite j To mumble thiftles his fupreme delight. Such is the critic, who, with wayward pride. To Blackmore gives the praife to Pope denied; Wakes Yalden's embers, joys in Pomfret's lay. But fickens at the heaven-ftrung lyre of Gay.
From the French of La Giraudiere.
You're thirty you tell us; the faft we muft credit. For both you and your friends for thefe ten years have faid it.
From the Greei.
An atom met the head of Mark the lean. It fliced it into halves, and walk'd between.
To a Childlefs Man.
So, heaven is deaf to thy oft-urged petition. Of fuch as thee 'twill giv«no new edition.
On a Marriage.
That very day he chofe to wed, I wifli'd the old curmudgeon dead; It matters not, fince now he'll lead On earth the life to hell decreed!
Satirical Epigrams. 149
From the French of Gombauld.
That you cannot get rid of Therfander, you fay. Though you've tried to accomplifh it fifty times o'er: I'll put you at once, my good friend, in the way — Do but lend him ten pounds, and you'll ne'er fee him more.
Agreement in Opinion.
- ' You're a fool," mutters Harry. Says Thomas,
" That's true; So muft every one be that expefts fenfe from you."
To a Judge who prated about " Morals and Jujiice"
Thou difgrace to the bench! whom each freeman muft
hate. That thou about "morals and juftice" fhouldft prate.
Would furely excite all our wonder. Had not that old faying fo oft met our ears. That, when likely to forward his fchemes, it appears
The devil himfelf from the Scriptures can plunder.
Envy. From the French of Senece.
What makes the envious Phorbas walk
Alone, and fad, in the parterre; And raife his eyes, and inly talk.
And ftamp his foot, and rend his hair?
Say, has he met with fome diftrefs;
Far from it; — all his agitation Only proceeds from the fuccefs
Of fome acquaintance or relation.
150 Humorous, Witty, and
On a Wine Merchant. From Martial.
The vileft of compounds while Balderdafh vends. And brews his dear poifon for all his good friends; No wonder they never can get him to dine — He's afraid they'd oblige him to drink his own wine.
Defcription of London.
Houses, churches, mix'd together; Streets, unpleafant in all weather; Prifons, palaces, contiguous; Gates, a bridge, the Thames irriguous; Gaudy things enough to tempt you. Showy outfides, infides empty; Bubbles, trades, mechanic arts, Coaches, wheelbarrows, and carts; Warrants, bailiffs, bills unpaid. Lords of laundreffes afraid j Rogues that nightly Ihoot men. Hangmen, aldermen, and footmen; Lawyers, poets, priefts, phyficians. Noble, limple — all conditions: Worth, beneath a threadbare cover, Villany, bedaub'd all over; Women, black, red, fair, and grey. Prudes, and fuch as never pray. Handfome, ugly, noify, ftill. Some that will not — fome that will: Many a beau without a fhilling. Many a widow — not unwilling; Many a bargain, if you ftrike it: This is London — how d'ye like it?
Satirical Epigrams. 151
From the French of De Cailly. " How bleft, my dear brother," faid Sylvia, one day, " Should I be would you quit this bad habit of play;
Do you mean to extinguifli it never?" " When you ceafe to coquet, I'll quit play," he replied. " Ah! plainly I fee, my dear brother," fhe cried,
" You're determined to gamble for ever."
From the German of LeJJing. Grudge leaves the poor his whole pofTeffions nearly: He means his next of kin fhall weep fincerely.
The Mifer. "Crefcit amor nummi, quantum ipfa pecunia crefcit." Ten thoufand pounds Avarus had before; His father died, and left him twenty more. Till then, a roll and egg he could allow; But eggs grown dear, a roll muft dine him now.
From the Italian.
Stretch'd on his bed of death old Thomas lying.
And pretty certain he was dying;
Inftead of fumming his offences.
Began to reckon his expenfes.
For mixtures, bolus, draughts, and pill,
A long apothecary's bill;
And guineas gone in paying dodors.
With fees to attornies and to prodors;
The fexton's and the parfon's due.
The undertaker's reckoning too:
" Alas!" quoth Tom, with his laft figh,
" 'Tis a moft fearful thing to die! "
152 Humorous, Witty, and
On the Death of a man who had always been afraid of dying. From the French.
Thrice happy Damon! Fate has ftopp'd his breath! He's now deliver'd from the fear of death!
From the Greek.
The mifer, Hermon, in a dream,
Difburfed a little of his pelf; He woke, and in defpair extreme
Away he went, and hang'd himfelf.
An Important Inquiry.
" Come, come," faid Tom's father, " at your time of life There's no longer excufe for thus playing the rake; It is time you fhould think, boy, of taking a wife." " Why fo it is, father — whofe wife ihall I take?"
Moore.
An Expenjive Dinner.
To fit a gueft at Timon's fumptuous board. You praife each foible, e'en forget his vice;
Integrity's my boaft — I can't afford To buy a dinner at fo dear a price.
On a Guardian's marrying his rich Ward. Marius, by Calvas left in truft, Does but the thing that's ftridlly juft; To teftify his great regard. And better to fecure his ward From Irifh bites, and fave her pelf. He wifely marries her — himfelf
Satirical Epigrams. 153
On two Neighbours who died at the fame time.
" My neighbour Thornton cannot live a day," Cried honeft Jones, then in a deep decay. " Jones cannot live a day," cried Thornton, broke With cruel gout, though ftill he loved a joke. To think himfelf might die, each one was loth: Before the day expired — death feized them both.
On Dr. Young's " Night Thoughts, on Life, Death, and Immortality.^^
His life is lifelefs, and his death (hall die, And mortal is his immortality.
Imitation of Martial.
Lend Spunge a guinea! Ned, you'd heft refufe. And give him half— fure half's enough to lofe!
On a Fellow of a College who habitually pronounced the a(fhort) in Euphrates, Porfon wrote the following Epigram: —
Venit ad Euphratum, rapidis perterritus undis, Ut cito tranfiret, corripuit fluvium.*
Thus tranflated by J. T. P., from " Notes and Series'* for July, 1 86 1.
With fear, on the Euphrates' fhore. The wild waves made him (hiver;
But he thought to pafs more quickly o'er. And fo abridged the river.
- Thefe two laft words Jekyll, of witty memory, rendered
'* abridged the river."
154 Humorous, Witty, and
CUar-Jigbted, and yet Blind. His own merits perceiving, fure Charles through the
land, For acute penetration unrivall'd would ftand; Were it not this one blemifh pre-eminence fmothers. He is totally blind to the merits of others.
Alter et Idem.
You fay you're old, in hopes we'll fay you're young. But 'tis yovLvface we credit, not your tongue.
The Natural Conclufion.
Marc, you'll give me nothing while you live, But, after death, you cry, then, then you'll give; If thou art not, indeed, turn'd arrant afs. Thou know'ft what I defire to come to pafs.
The Envious Critic.
The poor in wit, or judgment, like all poor. Revile, for having leaft, thofe who have more; So 'tis the critic's fcarcity of wit Makes him traduce them who have moft of it. Since to their pitch himfelf he cannot raife. He them to his mean level would debafe; Afting like demons, that would all deprive Of heav'n, to which themfelves can ne'er arrive.
The Grimacer.
You aft. why Smith diverts you with his jokes. Yet, if he write, is dull as other folks? You wonder at it 1 This, Sir, is the cafe, The jeft is loft, unlefs he prints his face.
Satirical Epigrams. 155
J fa If e Eftimate.
Lucia thinks happinefs confifts in ftate; She weds an idiot; but flie eats on plate.
Vain of Dependence.
Of great conneftions with great men,
Ned keeps up a perpetual pother; " My lord knows what, knows who, knows when;
My lord fays this, thinks that, does t'other."
My lord had formerly his fool,
We know it, for 'tis on record; ,
But now, by Ned's inverted rule;
The fool it feems mull have his lord!
Two of a Trade united.
How fitly join'd the lawyer and his wife! He moves at bar, and Ihe at home, the ftrife.
On a malignant dull Poet.
When a viper its venom has fpit, it is faid.
That its fat heals the wound which its poifon has
made; Thus it fares with the blockhead who ventures to write. His dulnefs an antidote proves to his fpite.
Intereft overcomes Principle.
Virtuous and friendly Squab will be. While right and intereft can agree; But, when they differ, do not wonder If Squab and virtue are afunder.
156 Humorous, Witty, and
The Bully.
How kind has Nature unto Blufter been. Who gave him dreadful looks and dauntlefs mien. Gave tongue to fwagger, eyes to ftrike difmay. And, kinder ftill, gave legs to run away.
The advantage of a Nonfuit.
Full twenty years, through all the courts. One craving procefs George fupports. You're mad, George — twenty years! you're mad: A nonfuit's always to be had.
On a Statue of fujlice removed into the market-place. From the French of Furetiere.
^ Tell me why Juftice meets our eye, Raifed in the market-place on high?
A. The reafon, friend, may foon be told, 'Tis meant to fhow fhe's to be fold.
On a dijfattsfied, ill-tempered man.
Still reftlefs, ftill chopping and changing about; Still enlarging, rebuilding, and making a rout j Little Timothy, outre as it may appear. Pulls down, and builds up again, ten times a-year. With this altering rage, poor diffatisfied elf! What a pity it is he don't alter himfelf.
From the Greek,
The man who firft laid down the pedant rule That love is folly, was himfelf the fool; For if to life that tranfport you deny. What privilege is left us — but to die?
Satirical Epigrams. 157
The Congrefs at Vienna. In cutting and dealing', and playing their cards. Revoking and fliuffling for tricks and rewards. The kings have been changed into knaves, and the reft Of the honours have either been loft or fupprefs'd.
To Lady Mount E , on the death of a favourite
Pig.
O DRY that tear fb round and big.
Nor wafte in fighs your precious wind;
Death only takes a fingle pig — Your lord and fon are ftill behind.
To a contemptible Author, who had written the Epitaph of a good Poet. From the French of he Brun.
On Stephen's tomb thou writ'ft the mournful line! Why lived he not, alas! to write on thine?
On a Volume of Epigrams. From the German of Leffing.
Point in his foremoft epigram is found: Bee-like, he loft his fting at the firft wound.
On a Woman who fpoke very well without a tongue, a fa£t attejled by Wilcox, Bijhop of Rochejler, in a Letter to the Royal Society, yd Sept. 1707.
That without a tongue a woman could Chat and prattle, talk aloud;
As a faft I muft receive it — But that a woman with a tongue Could hold her peace, and hold it long;
Pftiaw! I can't believe it.
158 Humorous, Witty, and
Lines by Pope.
My lord complains, that Pope, ftark mad with gardens. Has lopp'd three trees, the value of three farthings;
- ' But he's my neighbour," cries the peer polite,
" And if he'll vifit me, I'll waive my right."
- What! on compulfion? and againft my will
A lord's acquaintance?— let him file his bill."
Gibbon the Hijiorian, a Chrijiian. Enthusiasts, Lutherans, and monks, Jews, Syndics, Calvinifts, and punks.
Gibbon an atheift call; While he, unhurt, in placid mood. To prove himfelf a Chriftian good.
Kindly forgives them all.
Sentimental Charity.
Such fine-fpun pain does want excite When beggars near Penuria ftray;
From fear of fainting at the fight. She turns her head another way.
Her generous notions partial call The hand that grants a penny;
So, as fhe cannot give to all. She never gives to any.
No Reafon in Law.
Our ftatefmen all boaft, that in matter of treafon. The law of Old England is founded on reafon. But they own that when libel comes under its paw. It is rarely, indeed, that there's reafon in law.
Satirical Epigrams. 159
Breaking the Fourth Commandment.
At church I heard the parfon fay, " No man mull work on Sabbath day." But, oh! good heaven, how he did work When he got home, with knife and fork.
The Mifer's Feaft.
His chimney fmokes! it is fome omen dire!
His neighbours are alarm'd, and cry out " Fire!"
A trifling Corre Elton.
Says Tom, who held great contrafts of the nation,
- IVe made ten thoufand pounds by fpeculation."
Cries Charles, " By fpeculation! you deceive me; Strike out the s, indeed, and I'll believe thee."
Self- Knowledge.
One bowing to me, I'd feen long ago; Said I, "Who art?" he faid, " I do not know;" I faid, " I know thee;" " I," faid he, " know you;" But he who knows himfelf, I never knew.
To DoBor Empiric.
When men a dangerous difeafe did 'fcape. Of old, they gave a cock to ^fculape; Let me give two, that doubly am got free. From my difeafe's danger, and from thee.
The Per-contra, or Matrimonial Balanced How ftrange, a deaf wife to prefer! True, but Ihe's alfo dumb, good Sir.
Lessing.
i6o Humorous, Witty, and
Phillis's Age.
How old may Phillis be you afk,
Whofe beauty thus all hearts engages?
To anfwer is no eafy tafk; For fhe has really two ages.
Stiff in brocade, and pinch'd in flays. Her patches, paint, and jewels on;
All day let envy view her face. And Phillis is but twenty-one.
Paint, patches, jewels, laid afide.
At night aftronomers agree. The evening has the day belied;
And Phillis is fome forty-three.
Prior.
Epigrams from the German of Lejfwg. Niger.
" He's gone at laft— old Niger's dead!" Lafl night 'twas faid throughout the city;
Each quidnunc gravely fhook his head.
And balftht town cried, "What a pity!"
The news proved falfe — 'twas all a cheat. The morning came the faft denying;
And all the town to-day repeat
What balfxhe. town laft night was crying.
Mendax. See yonder goes old Mendax telling lies To that good eafy man with whom he's walking; How know I that? you afk, with fome furprife; Why, don't you fee, my friend, the fellow's talking.
Satirical Epigrams. i6i
On Burning a dull Poem.
An afs's hoof alone can hold
That poifonous juice which kills by cold.
Methought when I this poem read.
No veflel but an afs's head
Such frigid fuftian could contain;
I mean the head without the brain.
The cold conceits, the chilling thoughts.
Went down like ftupefying draughts;
I found my head begin to fwim,
A numbnefs crept through every limb.
In hafte, with imprecations dire,
I threw the volume in the fire;
When (who could think?) though cold as ice.
It burnt to afhes in a trice.
How could I more enhance its fame?
Though born in fnow, it died in flame.
Swift.
y/ Nice Point.
Say which enjoys the greater blifles, John, who Dorinda's pifture kiffes. Or Tom, his friend, the favour'd elf. Who kiffes fair Dorinda's felf? Faith, 'tis not eafy to divine.
While both are thus with raptures fainting. To which the balance fhould incline.
Since Tom and John both kifs a painting.
TJhe Point decided.
Nay, furely John's the happier of the twain, Becaufe — the pifture cannot kifs again!
1 62 Humorous, Witty, and
" Forma bonum fragile."
" What a frail thing is beauty!" fays Baron Lc Cras, Perceiving his miftrefs had one eye of glafs:
And fcarcely had he fpoke it. When fhe more confufed, as more angry Ihe grew. By a negligent rage proved the maxim too true:
She dropp'd the eye, and broke it.
Prior.
The Dead Mifer.
From the grave where dead Gripeall, the mifer, repofes. What a villanous odour invades all our nofes; It can't be his body alone — in the hole They have certainly buried the ufurer's_/fla/.
The bad Orator.
So vile your grimace, and fo croaking your fpeech. One fcarcely can tell if you're laughing or crying;
Were you fix'd on one's funeral fermon to preach. The bare apprehenfion would keep one from dying.
On Dorilis.
That Dorilis thus, on her lap as he lies,
Should kifs little Pompey, excites no furprifej
But the lapdog whom thus Ihe keeps fondling and
praifing. Licks her face in return — that I own is amazing.
To a Slow Walker and Quick Eater.
So flowly you walk, and fo quickly you eat. You fliould march with your mouth, and devour with your feet.
Satirical Epigrams. 163
On two beautiful one-eyed Sifters,
Give up one eye, and make your filler's two, Venus fhe then would be, and Cupid you.
Specimen of the Laconic.
" Be lefs prolix," fays Grill. I like advice.
" Grill, you're an afs!" Now, furely, that's concife.
j^n Expefloration, or fplenetic Extempore on his departure from the city of Cologne.
As I am a rhymer. And now, at leaft, a merry one,
Mr. Mum's Rudeftieimer, And the church of St. Geryon,
Are the two things alone
That deferve to be known. In the body-and-foul-Ilinking town of Cologne.
S. T. Coleridge.
ExpeBoration the fecond.
In Coin, the town of monks and bones.
And pavements fang'd with murderous ftones.
And rags, and hags, and hideous wenches,
I counted two-and-feventy flenches.
All well-defined and feparate Ilinks!
Ye nymphs that reign o'er fewers and finks.
The river Rhine, it is well known.
Doth wafh your city of Cologne.
But tell me, nymphs, what power divine
Shall henceforth wafh the river Rhine?
S. T. Coleridge.
164 Humorous, Witty, and
Dialogue between a Catholic Delegate and his Royal Higbnefs the Duke of Cumberland.
Said his Highnefs to Ned, with that grim face of his, " Why refufe us the veto, dear Catholic Neddy?" " Becaufe, Sir," faid Ned, looking full in his phiz, '* You're forbidding enough, in all confcience, already."
Thomas Moore.
What" s my Thought like.
^ejl. Why is a pump like Vifcount Caftlereagh?
Ans. Becaufe it is a flender thing of wood.
That up and down its awkward arm doth fway. And coolly Ihout, and fpout, and fpout away. In one weak, waftiy, everlafting flood!
T.M.
On a Squinting Poetefs.
To no one mufe does fhe her glance confine, But has an eye, at once, to all the nine.
T.M.
On the difappointment of the Whig affociates of the Prince Regent at not obtaining office.
Ye politicians, tell me, pray.
Why thus with woe and care rent? This is the worft that you can fay. Some wind has blown the wig away. And left the Hair Apparent.
Charles Lamb.
Satirical Epigrams. 165
Windfor Poetics. On the Prince Regent being feen as he ftood between the coffins of Henry Fill, and Charles I. in the royal vault at Windfor.
Famed for contemptuous breach of facred ties. By headlefs Charles fee heartlefs Henry lies; Between them Hands another fcepter'd thing — It moves, it reigns — in all but name, a king; Charles to his people, Henry to his wife, — In him the double tyrant ftarts to life; Juftice and death have mix'd their dull in vain. Each royal vampyre wakes to life again. Ah! what can tombs avail, lince thefe difgorge The blood and dull of both to mould a George?
Lord Byron.
Tritx.
Quoth gallant Fritz, ** I ran away To fight again another day." The meaning of his fpeech is plain. He only fled to fly again.
The Death of Dr. Morrifon / from Bentleys Mifcellany.
What's the news? why, they fay death has kill'd Dr.
Morrifon. The pill-maker? Yes. Then death will be forry foon.
Wellington's Nofe.
- ' Pray, why does the great captain's nofe
Refemble Venice?" Duncomb cries.
- Why," quoth Sam Rogers, " I fuppole
Becaufe it has a bridge of fize (fighs)."
i66 Humorous, Witty, and
0» two Gentlemen, one of whom, O^Connell, delayed a duel on the plea of his wife's illnefs s the other declined on account of the tllnefs of his daughter.
Some men, with a horror of flaughter. Improve on the Scripture command.
And honour their wife and their daughter. That their days may be long in the land.
To Frofeffor Jirey, on his marrying a beautiful woman.
AiREY alone has gain'd that double prize
Which forced muficians to divide the crown;
His works have raifed a mortal to the Ikies,
His marriage-vows have brcKight a mortal down.
Sidney Smith.
The Smoker.
All dainty meats I do defy
Which feed men fat as fwine. He is a frugal man indeed
That on a leaf can dine! He needs no napkin for his hands.
His fingers' ends to wipe. That keeps his kitchen in a box.
And roaft meat in his pipe.
On the Art- Unions.
That pifture-raffles will conduce to nourifh Defign, or caufe good colouring to flourifh. Admits of logic-chopping and wife fawing, But furely lotteries encourage drawing.
Thos. Hood.
Satirical Epigrams. 167
To Mifs .
With woman's form and woman's tricks So much of man you feem to mix.
One knows not where to take you: I pray you, if 'tis not too far. Go, afk of Nature which you are.
Or what fhe meant to make you.
Yet, ftay, — you need not take the pains — With neither beauty, youth, nor brains.
For man or maid's defiring: Pert as female, fool as male. As boy too green, as girl too ftale,
The thing's not worth inquiring!
Thomas Moore.
The Superiority of Machinery.
A MECHANIC his labour will often difcard
If the rate of his pay he diflikes: But a clock — and its cafe is uncommonly hard —
Will continue to work though itjirikes!
Thomas Hood.
Lying in State. Now from the chamber all are gone Who gazed and wept o'er Wellington; Derby and Dis do all they can To emulate fo great a man: If neither can be quite fo great, Refolved is each to lie in fiate.
W. S. Landor.
i68 Humorous, Witty, and
On obferving a Vulgar Name on the Plinth of an Ancient Statue.
Barbarians muft we always be?
Wild hunters in purfuit of fame? Muft there be nowhere ftone or tree
Ungafli'd with fome ignoble name? Oh, Venus, in thy Tufcan dome.
May every god watch over thee! Apollo! bend thy bow o'er Rome,
And guard thy fitter's chaftity. Let Britons paint their bodies blue As formerly, but touch not you.
W. Savage Landor.
Irip Particular.
Shiel's oratory 's like bottled Dublin float; For, draw the cork, and only froth comes out.
Sticky.
" I'm going to feal a letter, Dick, Some wax pray give to me."
"I have not got a Jingle Jlicky Or whacks I'd give to thee."
The Amende Honorable.
Quoth Will, " On that young fervant-maid
My heart its life-ftring flakes." " Quite fafe!" cries Dick, "don't be afraid
She pays for allftie breaks."
Satirical Epigrams. 169
The Railway of Life.
Short was the paffage through this earthly vale. By turnpike roads when mortals ufed to wend;
But now we travel by the way of rail.
As foon again we reach the journey's end.
To a rich young Widow.
I WILL not aik if thou canft touch
The tuneful ivory key? Thofe filent notes of thine are fuch
As quite fuffice for me.
I'll make no queftion if thy fkill
The pencil comprehends. Enough for me, love, if thou ftill
Canft draw thy dividends.
A Conjugal Conundrum.
Which is of greater value, prithee, fay
The bride or bridegroom? — muft the truth be told? Alas, it muft! The bride is given away;
The bridegroom's often regularly fold.
Epigram, by f . G. Saxe, on a Recent ClaJJic Controverfy.
Nay, marvel not to fee thefe fcholars fight. In brave difdain of certain fcathe and fear;
'Tis but the genuine, old Hellenic fpite, —
" When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war!"
170 Humorous, Witty, And
The Czar. Czar Nicholas is fo devout, they fay, His majefty does nothing elfe than prej.
Epigram, by J. G. Saxe.
Quoth David to Daniel, " Why is it thefe fcholars Abufe one another whenever they fpeak?"
Quoth Daniel to David, " It nat'rally follow^s Folks come to hard words if they meddle with Greek!"
On an Ill-read Lawyer.
An idle attorney befought a brother,
For " fomething to read — fome novel or other,
That was really frefh and new." "Take Chitty!"* replied his legal friend, " There ifn't a book that I could lend
Would prove more novel to you! "
On an Ugly P erf on Jilting for a Daguerreotype.
Here Nature in her glafs — the wanton elf —
Sits, gravely making faces at herfelf;
And while ftie fcans each clumfy feature o'er. Repeats the blunders that fhe made before!'*
Woman's Will. Men dying make their wills — but wives
Efcape a work fo fad; Why fhould they make what all their lives
The gentle dames have had?
• Author of a great number of works on law.
Satirical Epigrams. 171
Family ^larrels. "A FOOL," faid Jeanette, " is a creature I hate!"
'* But hating," quoth John, " is immoral; Befides, my dear girl, it's a terrible fate
To be found in a family quarrel!"
Jupiter Amans, Dedicated to Vi£lor Hugo,
" Le Petit" call not him who by one adl
Has turn'd old fable into modern fadl.
Nap Louis courted Europe: Europe fhied:
The imperial purple was too newly dyed.
'* I'll have her though," thought he, *' by rape or rapine;
Jove nods fometimes, but catch a Nap a napping!
And now I think of Jove, 'twas Jove's own fix,
And fo I'll borrow one of Jove's own tricks.
Old itching Palm I'll tickle with a joke.
And he fliall lend me England's decent cloak."
'Twas faid and done, and his fuccefs was full j
He won Europa with the guife of Bull!
The Leader.
The Blind Goddefs.
The good live poor, and thou doft wafte On rogues. Dame Fortune, all thou haft; Well did the poets feign thee blind: But was it in the eyes or mind?
The Fool or Knave.
Thy praife or difpraife is to me alike; One doth not ftroke me, nor the other ftrike.
Ben Jonson.
172 Humorous, Witty, and
Malt Liquor, or cheap French Wine?
No ale or beer, fays Gladftone, we fhould drink, Becaufe they ftupefy and dull our brains.
But four French wine, as other people think. Our Englifh ftomachs often forely pains.
The queftion then is which we moft fhould dread An aching belly or an aching head?
J. H. C. Wright.
On a Young Lady, who had been a great card-player, marrying a Young Man who worked in Iser father' s garden.
Trumps ever ruled the charming maid;
Sure all the world will pardon her! The deftinies turned up a " Spade,"
She married John the gardener!
On a Dog-collar. At thieves I bark; at lovers wag my tail; And thus I pleafe both Lord and Lady Thrale.
Latrans excepi fures; et mutus amantes; Sic placui Domino; fie placui Dominas.
On Moore the Poet.
When Limerick once in idle whim, Moore, as her member, gaily courted.
The boys, for fun's fake, aflc'd of him To ftate what party he fupported;
When thus to them the anfwer ran,
" I'm of no party as a man. But as a poet, am — a — tory^
Satirical Epigrams. 173
Sent acrofs the Court by a Barrijler to a beautiful Lady.
Whilst petty offences and felonies fmart.
Is there no jiirifdidtion for ftealing one's heart?
You, fair one, will fmile, and fay, " Laws, I defy you!"
Aflured that no peers can be fummon'd to try you;
But think not fuch paltry defence fhall fecure you.
For the Graces and Mufes will juft make a jury.
Addrejjfed to George III. on his rejioration to health by a vifit to Weymouth.
O Sovereign of an ifle renown'd for undifputed fway. Where'er o'er yonder gulf profound her navies wing
their way: On jufter claims fhe builds at length her empire of the
fea; And rightly deems thofe waves her flrength, which
flrength reflored to thee.
The Gout in the Hand.
Urbes had the gout fo that he could not fland; Then from his feet it fhifted to his hand: When it was in his feet, his charity was fmall. Now it is in his hand, he gives no alms at all.
Herrick,
No Redeeming Virtue.
" Pray, does it always rain in this hang'd place. Enough to drive one mad, heaven knows?"
- No, pleafe your grace,"
Cried Boniface, with fome grimace,
- Sometimes it /now s."
174 Humorous, Witty, and
Conjugal Jars, Know we not all, the Scripture faith. That man and wife are one till death? But Peter and his fcolding wife Wage fuch an endlefs war of ftrife. You'd fwear, on paffing Peter's door. That man and wife at leafl; were /oar.
"Don't you think there would be much more blood- fhed than now. If the women, like men, their own wars might be waging? " Quoth cynical Dick. Said his friend, *' I allow
That there might, for I'm fure they'd be always engaging:'
On a Glutton.
Guttle's god is beef and mutton. Proverbially he's dubb'd a glutton; Whilft he with indignation fweats And fwears one meal a day he eats. One meal a day? True, Guttle's right: But that meal lafts from morn till night.
Brag.
The initials of Brougham, Ruflell, Althorp, and Grey, If rightly difpofed, the word Brag will difplay; Tranfpofe them, and Grab will appear to the view; Which hints at what many affert to be true — That they, like former ftatefmen, ftill follow the plan, Firft to brag what they'll do, and then grab all they can.
Satirical Epigrams. 175
The Royal Exchange.
Where genius ftarves and dulnefs thrives.
Where riches virtue are efteem'd
And craft is trueft wifdom deem'd,
Where commerce proudly rears her throne,
In ftate to other lands unknown:
Where to be cheated and to cheat,
Strangers from every quarter meet;
Where Chriftians, Jews, and Turks ftiake hands.
United in commercial bands:
All of one faith, and that to own
No god but Intereft alone.
Churchill.
Whiggijh Prejumption.
" The Queen is with us," Whigs exulting fay, " For when Ihe found us in fhe let us ftay." It may be fo; but give me leave to doubt. How long fhe'll keep you, when fhe finds you out.
Punning.
That punning is an idle fport. And of all wit the lowejl fort, I grant; for by its ftation, 'Tis evidently wit's foundation.
An Author^ s apology for knocking a Printer's teeth out.
I MUST confefs that I was fomewhat warm; I broke his teeth. But where's the mighty harm? My works, he faid, would not afford him meat And teeth are ufelefs, when there's nought to eat.
T. Sheridan.
1 76 Humorous, Witty, and
to the author of an Epitaph on the celebrated Dr. Mead.
Mead's not dead then, you fay; only fleeping a little; Why, egad! Sir, you've hit it off there to a tittle: Yet, friend, his awaking I very much doubt, — Pluto knows who he's got, and will ne'er let him out.
Hackett.
That ignorance makes devout, if right the notion. Troth, Rufus, thou'rt a man of great devotion.
'Tis from high life high characters are drawn; A faint in crape is twice a faint in lawn; A judge is juft; a chanc'lor jufter ftill; A gownman learn'd; a bifliop, what you will; Wife, if a minifter; but if a king. More wife, more learn'd, more juft, more ev'ry thing. Court virtues bear, like gems, the higheft rate. Born where heaven's influence fcarce can penetrate.
Pope.
On the performance of a new Tragedy, entitled William Tell, at Drury Lane Theatre.
You tell us William Tell fucceeded! It is well: If you tell truly, then Will Tell will tell.
On Milton's Wife.
When Milton was blind, as all the world knows. He married a wife, whom his friend call'd a rofe;
- I am no judge of flowers, but indeed," cried the poet,
" If flie be a rofe, by the thorns I may know it."
Satirical Epigrams. 177
On hearing a wealthy Young Lady maintain that the
fame caufes always produce the fame effeSls s many
Gentlemen having called on her during the argume7it.
That oppofite efFefts may flow
From the fame caufe, 'tis clear 's no hum;
For money makes the mare to go.
But makes the men to come.
On feeing a pompous Funeral for a bad Hufband.
" Why for your fpoufe this pompous fufs? Was he not all his life your curfe? Did he not teaze, and fcold, and fight. And plague you morning, noon, and night?"
" True, but at length one fingle aftion Made up for each pafl malefaftion." " Indeed! what was this adlion, pray?"
- ' Why, Sir, it was — he died one day."
On a Gentleman bringing on a fever e fit of illnefs by an excefs in walking exercife, in order to preferve his health.
Prithee ceafe, my good friend, to expend thus your breath;
'Tis in vain thefe exertions you make: And to " walk for your life" againft fure-footed Death,
Is the very " worll: ftep you can take! "
On a Man becoming fuddenly Bald.
All the hairs of Tom's head have quite left it of late: Yes! they wifely withdrew from fo foolilh a pate!
lyS Humorous, Witty, AND
On aftupid and miferly Phyjician. From the Italian.
Crowds of patients every hour
Sordid Galen's aid demand;
And ftill golden guineas fhower
Into his ftill extended hand:
Yet, thofe he takes, he dares not fpend. But to his ufelefs heap ftill heaps them;
Say, who's the greateft fool, my friend, You who givCt or he who keeps them?
The Anniverfary.
Keeping Tom's wedding day, his friends Boozed till their brains were addled;
They drank his bridal day! Tom figh'd, "That fame day I vJiiS /addled"
On ^een Dido. Alas! poor Dido, in what ftiocking plight
Your huftjands' fates have left you: Since one by dying caufed your flight.
And t'other's flight of life bereft you.
Rochejlers Grace at a Mifers Feaji.
Thanks for this miracle! It is no lefs Than manna dropping in the wildernefs. Chimnies have fmoked that never fmoked before. And we have dined where we ftiall dine no more.
To Linus. (Lib. ii. Ep. 38.)
What my farm yields me, doft thou urge to know? This, that I fee not thee, when there I go.
Satirical Epigrams. 179
Brighton.
Tell me why on Brighton church you fee
A golden fhark* difplay'd, Unlefs 'twere aptly meant to be
An emblem of its trade? Nor can the truth fo well be told
In any other way; Brighton's the fhark that lives on gold,
The company its prey.
Tom Moore. A lady having found a copy of Little s Poems under the pillow of her maid's bed, wrote on it in pencil: —
You read Little I guefs, I wifh you'd read lefs.
Under which, infpired by the march ofintelleB, the maid wrote: — -
I read Little before.
Now I mean to read Moore.
The Mortgage. From Catullus.
" Dear Furius, you may reft aflured.
My country-houfe is well fecured."
" How? With good timber, ftone, and plafter.
From wind, and rain, and all difafter? "
" Ah, no! but by a certain flcin.
Which is encafed in painted tin.
It is fecured for " money lent,"
To a curft fon of Ten-per-Cent."
Theodore Martin.
- Placed on the new church.
i8o Humorous, Witty, and
To Mr. Hobhoufe, on his eleliionfor WeJIminfier. By Lord Byron.
Would you get to the Houfe through the true gate, Much quicker than even Whig Charley went.
Let Parliament fend you to Newgate,
And Newgate will lend you to Parliament.
On a Bankrupt, lately turned Preacher.
No more by creditors perplex'd. Or ruin'd tradefmen's angry din j
He boldly preaches from the text, " A ftranger, and / took him inP
On hearing a Lady ajfert that the lot of men had, in all ages, been better than that of women; and that all hijlory, facred and profane, proved it.
What men than women greater bleffings ftiare? How falfe the charge, one inftance fhall declare. When woman,* looking back, faw things denied To mortal eye to view — ftie only died! When man * look'd back, a harder fate he proved; He lived to weep the lofs of her he loved.
On hearing a Gentleman boaji of the antiquity of his family.
That your family's ancient, I would not difpute. Even though you fliould claim your defcent from a Brute.
- Alluding, I believe, to Lot's wife in Jeered, and Orpheus in
profane hiftory.
Satirical Epigrams. i8i
True Friends.
Well faid, my friend, I like your creed. That friends in need are friends indeed: Thus you and I are friends moft true. For I'm in need, and fo are you!
To an Odd Gentleman.
In Noah's days \i jou had lived,
He'd have been puzzled what to do;
For Lord knows, how he'd have contrived To find two animals like you.
On a Rich Cobbler. (Lib. iii. Ep. i6.)
A HAUGHTY enrich'd cobbler durft beftow
A moft profufe and princely fencers-lhow:
What in his life he earned by the awl.
At fword and buckler-fight he wafted all.
Sure thou wert drunk; thou couldft not, cobbler, play.
In any fober mood, thy hide away.
Enough of fhows; now to thy fkins abide:
Fear what befel the afs i' th' lion's hide.
To a Fool going to travel.
You fay you'll fpend a thoufand pound
The world and men to know. And take a tour all Europe round.
Improving as you go.
Dear Jack, in fearch of others' fenfe
Difcover not your own; But wifely double the expenfe
That you may pafs unknown.
1 82 Humorous, Witty, and
The Prieft and the Oftler.
Once at fome holy time, perhaps 'twas Lent,
An honeft oftler to confeffion went.
And there of fins a long extended fcore,
Of various fhape and fize he mumbled o'er;
Till having clear'd his confcience of the ftufF,
For any moderate confcience quite enough.
He ceafed. "What more?" the reverend father
cried. " No more," th* unburthen'd penitent replied. " But," faid the artful prieft, " yet unreveal'd. There lurks one darling vice within your thoughts con-
ceal'd. Did you, in all your various modes of cheating. Ne'er greafe the horfes' teeth to fpoil their eating? " " Never," cried Crop. So then to clofe each ftrain. He was abfolved, and fent to fin again. Some months from hence, fad flings of confcience
feeling. Crop at confeffional again was kneeling. When lo! at every ftep his confcience eafing. Out popp'd a groan, and horfes' teeth and greafing; "Sandla Maria!" cried the aftonifti'd prieft, " How much your fins have with your days increafed! When laft I faw you, you denied all this." " True," faid the oftler, " very true it is. And alfo true, that, till that blefled time, I never, father, heard of fuch a crime."
A CharaSier.
Sometimes to fenfe; fometimes to nonfen/e leaning; But always blund'ring round about his meaning.
Satirical Epigrams. 183
On reading of the Execution of a MalefaSior whoje name was l^owell.
- Vowell!" quoth Ned, with figh profound,
" The forfeit now is paid; Thy num'rous crimes have juftice found.
Though juftice was delay 'd."
" True," fays his friend, " but ceafe, I pray,
Supprefs at once your figh. Since, thank our ftars, no one can lay,
'Tis either U or I."
The Captain and the Do8or.
A ROBBER on a captain popt.
The valiant hero fled! He afterwards a do6tor ftopt.
The do6lor (hot him dead.
Anfzver.
There's nothing new in this affair,
'Tis pradtifed every day — Phyficians ftill, with courage kill.
While foldiers run away.
On Affricanus. (Lib. xii. Ep. 10.)
Affrican millions has, and yet does groan. Fortune can give too much, enough to none.
Plain Dealing.
My verfes oft difpleafe you — what's the matter? You love not to hear truth, nor I to flatter.
Sir J, Harrington.
184 Humorous, Witty, and
Military Jeu-d'Efprit.
A Colonel, by Chronicles, late it appears.
In ftyle gave a feed to his crack volunteers;
The diflies were good, but the glafles fo fmall.
His heroes could fcarcely drink any at all.
The commandant thus to his right and left wing
Said, " Gentlemen, charge, let us drink to the king! "
A jolly fub. eyeing his glafs at the time.
Cried, " Colonel, here's hardly enough for 2i prime!"
The Lame Beggar. I AM unable, yonder beggar cries. To Jland or move. If he fays true, he lies.
J. H.
7he Man of Fafiion's Diary. I LAUGH, joke, quarrel, fiddle, dance, game, drink. Do all that mortal man can do — but think.
The Affirmative. When Celia was afk'd if to church fhe would go. The fair one replied to me, " No, Richard, no." At her meaning I ventured a pretty good guefs; For from grammar I learn'd " No and no flood for yes!"
On One who thought he had invented a Method of
- fly^^S ^^ ^^^ Moon.
And will Volatio quit this world fo foon? And fly to his own native feat, the moon? 'Twill ferve, however, in fome little ftead. That he fets out with fuch an empty head.
Doddridge.
Satirical Epigrams. 185
Whig and Tory. By Jar on Hill.
Whig and Tory fcratch and bite,
Juft as hungry dogs, we fee: Tofs a bone 'twixt two, they fight,
Throw a couple, they agree.
The mojl Fajhionable Diner.
The gentleman who dines the lateft Is, in our ftreet, efleem'd the greateft; But furely, greater than them all Is he who never dines at all.
" Brevis ejje laboro."
Celia her fex's foible fhuns;
Her tongue no length of larum runs;
Two phrafes anfwer every part:
One gain d, one breaks her hufband's heart:
/ willy flie faid, when made a bride; —
/ won^t — through all her life befide.
The Do£lor and Undertakers.
At Highgate, by falubrious air.
Had thriven butchers, bakers; But fince a dodtor fettled there.
None thrive but undertakers.
On a Bad Orator.
You move the people when you fpeak. For, one by one, away they fneak.
1 86 Humorous, Witty, and
" ^od petis, hie efi.^'
No plate had John and Joan to hoard, Plain folk, in humble plight;
One only tankard crown'd their board. And that was fill'd each night;
Along whofe inner bottom fketch'd.
In pride of chubby grace. Some rude engraver's hand had etch'd
A baby-angel's face.
John fwallow'd firft a moderate fup;
But Joan was not like John; For when her lips once touch'd the cup.
She fwill'd till all was gone.
John often urged her to drink fair. But fhe ne'er changed a jot:
She loved to fee the Angel there. And therefore drain'd the pot.
When John found all remonftrance vain,
Another card he play'd; And where the Angel flood fo plain.
He got a Devil portray'd.
Joan faw the horns, Joan faw the tail. Yet Joan as ftoutly quafF'd;
And ever, when fhe feized her ale. She clear'd it at a draught.
John flared, with wonder petrify'd; His hair flood on his pate;
Satirical Epigrams. 187
And, " Why doft guzzle now," he cried, " At this enormous rate? "
" Oh! John," fhe faid, " am I to blame?
I can't in confcience flop; For fare 'twould be a burning Ihame
To leave the devil a drop!"
S. B.
Philofopbical Milkmen.
That milkmen are philofophers 'tis true.
They keep celeftial elements in view;
And howfoe'er their fellow-men complain
Of difmal profpefts and inceffant rain,
Their fcene's transform'd to Jky-blue twice a day.
They get their living by the milky way.
New Taxes.
During the late " heaven-born minifter's " adminiftra- tion the following epigram appeared: —
Says Billy,* quite vex'd, *' What can we tax next, I wilh fome good fellow would fhow."
" Why, hark," replied one, " 'twill bring in a round fum. Tax each curfe that is vented on you."
To the Gas Makers.
Our morals as well as appearance muft fhow What praife to your labours and fcience we owe. Our ftreets and our manners you've equally brighten'd. Our city's lefs wick-cd, and much more enlighten d.
- Pitt the younger.
88 Humorous, Witty, and
On the Late War. Whene'er contending parties fight. For private pique, or public right; Armies are raifed, the fleets are mann'd. They combat both by fea and land. When, after many battles paft, Both, tired with blows, make peace at laft; What is it, after all, they get? Why, widows, taxes, wooden legs, and debt!!!
On Heavenly Love. On Chrijl^s ^nftoer, that in Heaven — neque nubenty neque nubentur.*'
Plurimus in coelis amor eft, connubia nulla; Conjugia in terris plurima, nullus amor.
Owen's Epigrams.
Tranjlation.
In heaven they love, but do not marry:
On earth we wed; our dreams of love mifcarry.
On Sir Walter Scott's Poem of Waterloo. By Lord Erjkine.
On Waterloo's enfanguined plain. Full many a gallant man lies flain; But none, by bullet or by (hot. Fell half fo flat as Walter Scott.
The Power of Gold.
Gold is fo duftile, learned chymifts fay.
That half an ounce will ftretch a wond'rous way;
The metal's bafe, or elfe the chymifts err.
For now-a-days our fovereigns ytont go far!
Satirical Epigrams. 189
Gn a General Thank/giving, written on a Church-door
on a Day of Thank/giving, during the
American War.
Vain-glorious man, are thele thy pranks,
Firft murder men.
Then give God thanks? Vile hypocrite, proceed no further,
For God receives
No thanks for murder.
Rhyme for " Porringer."
Lord Ross, having propofed a prize as a reward to any one who fhould find a rhyme to the word " Porringer," received the following epigram: —
The Duke of York a daughter had;
He gave the Prince of Orange her. And now, my lord, I claim the prize
For finding rhyme to " Porringer."
On Prince Talleyrand.
Seven cities boafted Homer's birth, 'tis true. But twenty boaft of not producing you.
On the Marriage off. Thomas to E. Lott.
Since Thomas, who was lately free.
In Hymen's noofe hath got, I wifh him joy, and hope he'll be
Contented with his Lott.
1 90 Humorous, Witty, and
To make a Guinea.
As Quin and Foote one day walk'd out,
To view the country round. In merry mood they chatting flood.
Hard by the village pound.
Foote from his pocket a Ihilling took.
And faid, " I'll bet a penny. In a fhort fpace, within this place,
I'll make this piece a guinea."
Upon the ground, within the pound.
The fhilling foon was thrown: " Behold," faid Foote, " the thing's made out.
For there is one pound one."
" I wonder not," fays Quin, *' that thought
Should in your head be found. Since that's the way your debts to pay.
One fhilling in the pound."
T. W. Croker.
When aflc'd by Allen t'other day.
What fifh I fain would face, " Turbot," I faid, " was my delight;"
But Allen fwore 'twas Plaice.
T. W. Croker.
Epigram on Epigrams.
The beft of epigrams fhould be reftrain'd, — As to be read, in running, and retain'd.
Satirical Epigrams. 191
On Erin.
Justice for Ireland! rends the fky. Shouted by many a Popilh traitor;
Juftice for Ireland! too we cry,
- ' Hang every agitator."
" Whatever is, is right," fays Pope,
So faid a llurdy thief; But when his fate required a rope. He varied his belief.
I aik'd if ftill he held it good;
" Why, no," he fternly cried; " Good texts are only underftood By being well applied."
Out of Spirits.
"Is my wife out of fpirits?" faid John, with a figh. As her voice of a tempeft gave warning.
- Quite out, Sir, indeed," faid her maid in reply,
" For ftie finifh'd the bottle this morning."
On Mr. Griffith, Landlord of the Angel at Oxford, changing the name of his hotel after the vijit of ^een Adelaide.
When claffic Oxford's ancient towers
By Adelaide were feen. Proudly her loyal hoft exchanged
His Angel for a ^een.
Virtue and faith, when time is o'er.
The bright reverfe fhall prove; The ^een an Angel Ihall be found
Among the bleil above.
igi Humorous, Witty, and
To a Critic.
You fay that "in fcribbling no figure I cut;" No comment with truth can be rifer.
For while I cut you, ftiould the queftion be put, I muft own that I cut but a cipher.
It is a maxim in the fchools That women always doat on fools; If fo, dear Jack, I'm fure your wife Muft love you as fhe does her life.
On Bonaparte's Failure in RuJJia.
Of all hard-named generals that caufed much dif- traftion
And poor Boney's hopes fo ill-naturedly crofs'd. The hardeft of all, and the keeneji in adlion.
That Ruffia produces is General Froji.
On the Marriage of Mifs Little, a lady remarkably Jhort in Jiature.
Thrice happy Tom — I think him fo;
For, mark the poet's fong, " Man wants but little here below.
Nor wants that little long."
The Laft Debt.
" Oh, let me die in peace!" Eumenes cried,
To a hard creditor at his bed fide.
" How, die! " roar'd Gripus, " thus your debts evade [
No, no. Sir, you fhan't die till I am paid."
Satirical Epigrams. 193
April-Fool Day. To Mr. , on receiving a blank
letter from him on the fir ft of April.
I PARDON, Sir, the trick you've play'd me, When an April fool you made me; Since one day only I appear. What you, alas! do all the year.
Charles James Fox's Reply to Mrs. Montague, who had faid to him, " She did not care three Jkips of a loufe for him or bis politic s.^^
Says Montague to me, and in her own houfe, " I do not care for you three fkips of a loufe." I forgive it; for women, however well bred. Will ftill talk of that which runs moft in their head.
While Adam flept, from him his Eve arofe: Strange! his firft fleep fhould be his laft repofe.
«No Cure, no Pay." " No Pay, no Cure."
When Doftor Lotion firft began To praflife on the frame of man.
He bore but humble fway: Each morn his hofpitable door Was open, gratis, to the poor,
'Twas then — " No cure, no pay."
At length, with cane and pond'rous wig. The doftor ftruts, a perfedt prig,
In eminence fecure; The former fyftem quite deranged. The poor forgot, the motto changed,
'Tis now — " No pay, no cure." o
194 Humorous, Witty, and
The Two Singers.
Two fingers were oft in contention quite warm. Which moft, when they tuned up their windpipes, could
charm; To a mafter of mufic they jointly applied. This often-contefted affair to decide. They quaver'd, they fhaked, and fuch graces were
ihown. That each took for granted the prize was his own. " Indeed, my good friend," cries the judge to the firft, " Of all earthly fingers, I think you're the worjl: But as for you, friend," (turning round to the other,) " Ton cantjing at all — fo muft yield to your brother."
The Plagiarift.
" A MAN of letters — Smith! " we all agree; A man of letters — yes, a man of three (fur).
Brotherly Kindnefs.
Sir Heflor brags he's rich and great. And lives upon his own eftate; But he permits his younger brothers To live upon th' eftates of others.
Such a liar as Peter I never came nigh;
Put the truth in his mouth, it will come out a lie.
The Orators.
To wonder now at Balaam's afs, is weak; Is there a day that afles do not fpeak
Satirical Epigrams. 195
Addrejfed to Ekaors.
" Give me your vote," Sir Canvas cries,
- ' And I'll take care your fon ftiall rife."
The promife made, he quits the door. Nor thinks of boy or promife more. Meanwhile the youth, to learning bred. Gets lofty notions in his head: But when his patron he affails. And finds each golden profpeft fails. To beg afhamed, to work untaught, He takes a purfe, is fairly caught. And foon rewarded with a halter; Thus proves the knight his kind exalter.
When Trott in coach his foot firft fet. He blufh'd, and back a ftep reclined;
For Trott himfelf could not forget How many years he rode behind.
Trut/j told at Laft.
- ' An union on principle," cries Fox, " I require!"
"An union on principle," fays Pitt, " I admire!" Still this union's delay'd, and on very good ground; For where, pray, is principle now to be found? Our principal ftatefmen are unprincipled jugglers; Our principal merchants unprincipled fmugglers; Our principal rich are unprincipled knaves And our principal poor their unprincipled ilaves. Through court, city, and country, we vainly purfue A phantom much talk'd of — but never in view.
196 Humorous, Witty, and
The two Wretches.
Rich Gripe doth all his thoughts and cunning bend To increafe that wealth he wants the foul to fpend: Poor Shifter! doth his whole contrivance fet To fpend that wealth he wants the fenfe to get. How happy would appear to each his fate. Had Gripe his humour, or he Gripe's eftate! Kind Fate and Fortune, blend them, if you can; And, of two wretches, make one happy man.
A Wonder to be wondered at,
Sylvia makes fad complaints, " She's loft her lover!" Well, nothing ftrange can I in this difcover. " Nay, then thou'rt dull — for here the wonder lies; She had a lover once — don't that furprife?"
To a GoJJipping Apothecary.
To fwallow down thy med'cine is a curie;
To hear thy noxious fcandal ten times worle;
Inhuman wretch! repent thee of the wrong;
Thy phyfic kills enough, without thy poifonous tongue.
Rule of the Road.
The rule of the road it is a paradox quite
Both in riding and driving along;
If you go to the left you are fure to go right.
If you go to the right you go wrong:
But in walking the ftreets, 'tis a different cafe,
To the right it is right you fhould bear,
To the left fhould be left quite enough of free fpace
For the perfons you chance to meet there.
Satirical Epigrams. 197
Port and Claret* Firm and eredl the Caledonian ftood. Prime was his mutton, and his claret good; " Let him drink port," an Englifli ftatefman cried. He drank the poifon and his fpirit died.
» The Miferly Hoji.
" You fee," faid our hoft, as we enter'd his doors, "I have iinifh'd my houfe a. la Louis Quatorze." " I wifh," faid a gueft, " when you alk us to eat. You would furnifli your board a la Louis Dixhuit. The eye cannot feaft when the ftomach is ftarving, Pray lefs of your gilding and more of your carving."
Which Men are preferable.
Whether tall men, or fhort men are beft. Or bold men, or modeft and Ihy men,
I can't fay, but I this can proteft. All the fair are in favour of hy — men.
Theodore Hook one day fitting at the piano and extent' porifing verfes on the names of the company who were prefent, faw a Mr. Winter enter the room, and at once fiarted off as follows: —
Here comes Mr. Winter, furveyor of taxes,
I advife you to give him whatever he axes;
And that, too, without any nonfenfe or flummery.
For though his name's Winter his adlions are fummary.
• John Home, the author of Douglas, had the old Scottifh pre- pofleflion in favour of claret, and utterly detefted port; when claret was expelled from the market by high duties, he wrote the above epigram. Notes and Queries.
198 Humorous, Witty, and
Conjugal Patience.
Sir Simon, as fnoring he lay in his bed.
Was awaked by the cry, " Sir, your lady is dead."
He heard, and returning to flumber quoth he,
" In the morn when I wake, oh! how grieved I fhallbe."
The Fortunate DefeH.
How like is this pidure, you'd think that it breathes!
What life! what expreffion! what fpirit! It wants but a tongue. "Alas!" faid the fpoufe,
" That want is its principal merit."
On a Woman ofjixty years of age marrying a Lad of feventeen.
Hard is the fate of ev'ry childlefs wife. The thoughts of wedlock tantalize her life. Troth, aged bride, by thee 'twas wifely done. To choofe a child and hufband both in one.
Complaint of the Ghojl of Butler, author of Hudibras, againjl his pretended monument in Wejiminjler Abbey.
Again my garret-poverty is Ihown By the mean cov'ring of this Portland ftone; I lofe my fame as martyrs lofe their breath. For, like St. Stephen, I am ftoned to death.
On receiving a Brace of Pheajants from a Law Clerk named Cop em an. In Copeman's ear this truth let echo tell, " Immortal bards like mortal pheafants well:" And when his clerkfhip's out, I wifh him herds Of golden clients for his golden birds.
COWPER.
Satirical Epigrams. 199
The Looking'glafs.
In a falfe glafs, Joe loves himfelf to fpy. If 'twere a true one, he the glafs would fly.
A Tail-piece.
Though in his labour many a fault appears. For two alone the partial parent fears! (Good, ghoftly critics, grant him abfolution) They are as follows — plan and execution.
Part II.
MORAL AND PANEGYRICAL
EPIGRAMS.
r
Part II.
MORAL AND PANEGYRICAL
EPIGRAMS.
Greek Epigram, Lucian, infcrtbed on a Column ereSied in a Piece of Land that had been often bought and fold, imitated.
\, whom thou fee'fl; begirt with tow'ring oaks. Was once the property of John O'Nokes: On him profperity no longer fmiles.
And now I feed the flocks of John O'Stiles.
My former mailer call'd me by his name;
My prefent owner fondly does the fame:
While I, alike unworthy of their cares.
Quick pafs to captors, purchafers, or heirs.
Let no one henceforth take me for his own,
For Fortune, Fortune! I am thine alone.
The Game of Life.
Who has the better game ftill fears the end; Who has the worft, ftill hopes his game will mend.
204 Moral and
71)0 Emperor Hadrian s Addrefs to bis Soul when dying.
Tranjlations. I. Ah! gentle, fleeting, wav'ring fprite. Friend and affociate of this clay. To what unknown region borne. Wilt thou now wing thy diftant flight. No more with wonted humour gay. But pallid, cheerlefs, and forlorn?
Byron.
2.
Poor, little, pretty, fluttering thing,
Muft we no longer live together? And doft thou plume thy trembling wing.
To take thy flight thou know'ft not whither?
Thy hum'rous vein, thy pleafing folly.
Lies all neglefted, all forgot; And, penfive, wav'ring, melancholy.
Thou dread'ft and hop'ft thou know'ft not what.
Prior.
3-
Ah! fleeting fpirit, wandering fire.
That long haft warm'd my tender breaft,
Muft thou no more this frame infpire; No more a pleafing, cheerful gueft?
- Animula! vagula, blandula,
Hofpes, comefque corporis, Quae nunc ablbis in loca? Pallidula, rigida, nudula, Nee, ut foles, dabis jocos.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 205
Whither, ah whither, art thou flying,
To that dark undifcover'd fliore? Thou feem'ft all trembling, fliivering, dying.
And wit and humour are no more!
Pope.
On Dr, Doddridge's Motto, " Bum vivimus vivamus." By him/elf.
" Live while you live," the epicure would fay, "And feize the pleafure of the prefent day." " Live while you live," the facred preacher cries, " And give to God each moment as it flies. Lord, in my views let both united be! I live in pleafure while I live to Thee!"
The Soul.
The foul, fecured in her exiflence, fmiles At the drawn dagger, and defies its point. The ftars fhall fade away, the fun himfelf Grow dim with age, and nature fink in years. But thou flialt flourilh in immortal youth. Unhurt amidft the war of elements. The wreck of matter and the crufh of worlds.
Addison.
Time.
Old father Time ftands ftill for none; This moment here, the next he's gone; And though you fpeak him e'er fo kind. He never lags one ftep behind; If, then, with Time you'd forward be. You e'en muit run as fail as he.
2o6 Moral and
On Fear. If evils come not, then our fears are vain; And if they do, fear but augments the pain.
Sir Thomas More.
Hope. The wretch, condemn'd with life to part. Still, ftill on hope relies; And every pang that rends the heart Bids expedlation rife.
Hope, like the glimmering taper's light. Adorns and cheers the way. And ftill, as darker grows the night. Emits a brighter ray.
Goldsmith. Memory,
O MEMORY! thou fond deceiver. Still importunate and vain. To former joys recurring ever. And turning all the paft to pain.
Thou, like the world, the oppreft oppreffing. Thy fmiles increafe the wretch's woe: And he who wants each other bleffing In thee muft ever find a foe.
Goldsmith.
Vnobtrufive Beauty.
As lamps burn filent with unconfcious light, So modeft eafe in beauty fhines moft bright; Unaiming charms with edge refiftlefs fall. And fhe, who meant no mifchief, does it all.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 207
The Way to be Happy. " Bear and forbear," thus preach the Stoic fages. And in two words include the fenfe of pages, " With patience bear life's certain ills; and oh! Forbear thofe pleafures that muft end in woe."
Prudent Simplicity i from the Latin of Owen.
That thou may'ft injure no man, dovelike be. And ierpentlike, that none may injure thee.
COWPER.
Reciprocal Obligation, Man and money a mutual friendlhip fhow; Man makes falfe money; money makes man fo.
Life, a Theatre; from Palladas of Alexandria.
This life a theatre we well may call. Where every a£tor muft perform with art; Or laugh it through, and make a farce of all. Or learn to play with grace his tragic part.
On three Preachers of St. Mary's, Cambridge, attacking Calvin. Three preachers, in three diftant counties born. The Church of England's doftrines do adorn: Harfh Calvin's myftic tenets were their mark. Founded in texts perverted, gloomy, dark; Butler in clearnefs and in force furpafs'd; Malthy with fweetnefs fpoke of ages paft: Whilft Marjh himfelf, who fcarce could further go. With criticifm's fetters bound the foe.
2o8 Moral and
On Homer, Virgil, and Milton,
Three poets in three diftant ages born, Greece, Italy, and England, did adorn. The firft in loftinefs of thought furpafs'd; The next in majefty; in both the laft. The force of nature could no further go; To make a third, flie join'd the former two.
Dryden.
On Death. From the Greek of Agathias.
Why fear ye death, the parent of repofe. Who numbs the fenfe of penury and pain?
He comes but only once; nor ever throws. Triumphant once, his painful fhaft again.
But countlefs ills upon our life intrude.
Recurring oft in fad viciffitude.
From the Greek of Philo.
A HOARY head, with fenfe combined. Claims veneration from mankind; But, if with folly join'd, it bears The badge of ignominious years.
Grey locks will pafs for fapience well Until your tongue diflblve the fpell; Then, as in youth, 'twill all appear No longer fenfe, but merely hair.
On Love and Friendjhip.
The love that's cold, or friendfhip that's not warm, Does no one good — but may do many harm.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 209
Pifture of Old Age j from the Greek. These fhrivell'd finews and this bending frame The workmanihip of Time's ftrong hand proclaim, Skill'd to reverfe whate'er the gods create. And make that crooked which they fafliion ftraight. Hard choice for man to die— or elfe to be That tottering, wretched, wrinkled thing you fee; Age, then, we all prefer — for age we pray. And travel on to life's laft lingering day. Then linking flowly down, from worfe to worfe. Find Heaven's extorted boon our greateft curfe.
On Wellington. Europe and Afia, faved by thee, proclaim Invincible in war thy deathlefs name; Now round thy brows the civic wreath we twine. That every earthly glory may be thine.
On Wit. True wit is like the brilliant ftone.
Dug from the Indian mine: Which boafts two various powers in one.
To cut as well as Jhine.
Genius, like that, if polifh'd right.
With the fame gift abounds — Appears at once both keen and bright,
And _y^(?ri/«while it wounds.
Praife of a Lady's Grey Hair. Though age has changed thee — late fo fair,
I love thee ne'er the worfe: For when he took thy golden hair.
He fill'd with gold thy purfe.
210 Moral and
Oa Tboje who fell at Thermopylae.
Greatly to die — if this be glory's height, ' For the fair meed we own our fortune kind; For Greece and liberty we plunged to night, And left a never-ending fame behind.
On Lord Chancellor Somers.
SoMERS by nature great, and born to rife. In counfel wary and in conduft wife. His judgment fteady and his genius ftrong. And all men own the mufic of his tongue.
For a Suitor in Chancery. Ah! little know'ft thou, who haft never tried. What hell it is in fuing long to bide; To lofe good days that might be better fpent, To wafte long nights in penfive difcontent; To fpeed to-day, to be put back to-morrow; To feed on home, to pine with fear and forrow; To fret the foul with crofles and with care, To eat the heart with comfortlefs defpair.
Spenser.
uEfop's Fables.
Old ^fop taught vain man to look In Nature's much negledled book. To birds and beafts by giving fpeech. For leflbns out of common reach. They whijper truths in reafon's ear. If human pride would ftoop to hear — Nay, often in loud clamours crave The rights which bounteous Nature gave.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 211
On the Charms of my Mijlrefs. From the Greek.
Three goddefles once by young Paris were feen. And well might he boaft of fo noble a fight;
But as lately with lovely Belinda I've been,
I can boaft of more joys, and a vifion more bright.
Belinda is Juno whenever fhe walks.
Like Venus fhe fmiles, and like Pallas fhe talks.
On Cromwell and De Witt.
De Witt and Cromwell had each a brave foul; I freely confefs it, I am for old Noll. Though his government did a tyrant referable. He made England great and his enemies tremble.
Freedom.
Ah! Freedome is a noble thing: Freedome makes man to haiff lyking. Freedome all folace to men gives, He lives at eafe, that freely lives.
From Barbour's Poem of" The Bruce."
Sloth the caufe of Ennui.
Of thofe, who time fo ill fupport.
The calculation's wrong; Elfe, why is life accounted fhort.
While days appear fo long?
By aftion 'tis we life enjoy;
In idlenefs we're dead; The foul's a fire will felf deftroy
If not with fuel fed.
Voltaire.
212 Moral and
Love — Joy.
As on a window late I caft mine eye, I faw a vine drop grapes with J. and C. Anneal'd on every bunch. One Handing by Afk'd what it meant. I (who am never loth To fpend my judgment) faid, " It feem'd to me To be the body and the letters both Of joy and charity." " Sir, you have not mifs'd,' The man replied; " it figures Jefus Chrift."
Geo. Herbert.
Avarice. But as for av'rice, 'tis the very devil: The fount, alas! of ev'ry evil; The cancer of the heart, the worft of ills; Wherever fown, luxuriantly it thrives; No flower of virtue near it lives. Like aconite, where'er it fpreads, it kills. In ev'ry foil behold the poifon fpring! Can taint the beggar and infedl the king.
From the Greek of Archias.
Thracians, who howl around an infant's birth. And give the funeral hour to fongs and mirth. Well in your grief and gladnefs are exprefs'd That life is labour, and that death is reft.
Elegant Wit.
As in fmooth oil, the razor beft is whet. So wit is by politenefs fharpeft fet; Their want of edge from their offence is (een. Both pain us leaft when exquifitely keen.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 213
Againji Intemperance,
While on foft beds your pillow'd limbs recline, Diffolved by Bacchus and the Queen of Love,
Remember, Gout's a daughter of that line.
And fhe'll diflblve them foon, my friend, by Jove.
Hedylus.
The Dangler,
Charm'd with the empty found of pompous words. Carlo vouchfafes to dine with none but lords! Whilft rank and titles all his thoughts employ. For thefe he barters every focial joy. For thefe, what you and I fincerely hate. He lives in form, and often fla'rves in Hate. Carlo, enjoy thy peer! content to be Rather a flave to him than friend to me. Go, fell the fubftance to retain the ftiow; May you feem happy — whilft I'm really fo.
TranJIation of a Latin infcription on a cannon-ball which killed Mr. Nichols, Governor of Long IJland, in 1672
'* Inftrumentum mortis et immortalitatis,"
Though you charge me with ill, curfe the day of my
birth. And accufe me of tearing a faint from the earth; Yet ftill to the dead let due credit be given. It has haften'dthe flight of an angel to heaven.
On the Statue of Niobe, From the Greek. To ftone the gods have changed her — but in vain, The fculptor's art has made her breathe again.
214 Moral and
On a Shadow.
The fun now clear, ferene the golden flcies. Where'er you go, as faft the fliadow flies; A cloud fucceeds, the fun-fhine now is o'er. The fleeting phantom, fled, is feen no more: With your bright day its progrefs too does end; See here, vain man! the pifture of your friend.
On Mifs Foote, the ABrefs.
Had fair Maria's form but met the eyes
Of Paris when he yielded up the golden prize.
Not long he'd paufed 'twixt fear and duty.
But flraight have crown'd a mortal queen of beauty.
On Shakjpeare's Monument at S tratford- upon- Avon.
Great Homer's birth feven rival cities claim.
Too mighty fuch monopoly of fame;
Yet not to birth alone did Homer owe
His won'drous worth; what Egypt could befliow.
With all the fchools of Greece and Ajia join'd:
Enlarged th' immenfe expanfion of his mind.
Nor yet unrivall'd the Maonian flrain,
The Britijh eagle* and the Mantuan fwan
Tow'r equal heights. But, happier Stratford, thou
With incontefted laurels deck thy brow;
Thy bard was thine unfchool'd, and from thee brought
More than all Egypt, Greece, or JJia taught.
Not Homer s felf fuch matchlefs honours won;
The Greek has rivals, but thy Shakfpeare none.
• Milton.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 215
From Martial. (Lib. i. Epig. 9,)
That you, like Thrafea, or like Cato, great, Purfue their maxims, but decline their fate; Nor rafhly point the dagger to your heart; More to mj wilh you aft the Roman's part, I like not him, who fame by death retrieves: Give me the man, who merits praife and lives.
Hay.
On the Statue of Alexander. From the Greek.
The fculptor's art can brafs with life infpire. Show Alexander's features and his fire: The ftatue feems to fay, with up-caft eye. Beneath my rule the globe of earth Ihall lie; Be thou, O Jove, contented with thy fky.
On Menander. From the Greek.
The very bees, O fweet Menander, hung, To tafte the mufe's fpring, upon thy tongue: The very Graces made the fcenes you writ Their happy point of fine expreffion hit: Thus ftill you live; you make your Athens ftiine. And raife her glory to the flcies in thine.
On Homer. From the Greek.
Still in our ears Andromache complains And ftill in view the fate of Troy remains; %v\\Ajax fights; ftill HeBor^s dragg'd along; Such ftrange enchantment dwells in Homer's fong; Whofe birth could more than one poor realm adorn, For all the world is proud, that he was born.
2i6 Moral and
On Sir IJaac Newton.
Nature, and Nature's laws lay hid in night: God faid, " Let Newton be! " and all was light.
Pope.
Hate.
Alas! to think that love decays. And friendfhip wears with length of days. And hands disjoin and hearts diflever. But hate lives, grows, and lafts for ever.
Tarleton.
The Hatred of Women.
. Men hate, becaufe in aft or ftrife
They crofs each other's path; Short is the fpace for jealoufy.
And fierce the hour of wrath: But woman's hate runs deeper far.
Though fliallower at the fpring; Right feldom is it they forget
The fhaft that gall'd their wing. A fairer face, a higher place.
More worfliip, more applaufe. Will make a woman loathe her friend
Without a deadlier caufe.
Aytoun's Bothwell.
Of what avail are wealth and power. Rank, worlhip, — all we feek to win,
Unlefs they bring the pricelefs dower Of reft and hope and peace within?
Aytovn^s Bothwell.^
Panegyrical Epigrams. 217
The Right Divine of Kings.
When God's vicegerents on the earth
Know how to rule and fhine. With fplendour as becomes their place.
Then is their right divine.
Aytoun's Bothwell.
The Artful Fair.
Coquet and airy at once her air, 1
Both ftudied, though both feem negledled; Carelefs fhe is with artful care,
AfFefting, to feem unafFedled. With flcill her eyes dart every glance,
Yet change fo foon, you'd ne'er fufpeft them; For fhe'd perfuade they wound by chance.
Though certain aim and art direft them. She likes herfelf, yet others hates.
For that which in herfelf fhe prizes; And while ftie laughs at them forgets
She is the thing that fhe defpifes.
The Ant, an example of induftry and providence.
Turn on the prudent ant thy heedful eyes, Obferve her labours, fluggard, and be wife:. No flern command, no monitory voice, Prefcribes her duty, or direfts her choice; Yet timely provident, fhe hafles away To fnatch the bleffings of a plenteous day; When fruitful fummer loads the teeming plain. She crops the harvefl and fhe flores the grain.
Dr. S. Johnson.
2i8 Moral and
The Power of Ridicule.
Safe from the bar, the pulpit, and the throne. And touch'd and fhamed by ridicule alone.
Marriage.
The fum of all that makes a juft man happy, Conlifts in the well choofing of his wife; And then, well to difcharge it, does require Equality of years, of birth, and fortune.
Massinger.
Keep death and judgment always in your eye. None is fit to live, but who is fit to die;
- Make ufe of prefent time, becaufe you muft
Take up your lodging Ihortly in the duft; 'Tis dreadful to behold the fetting fun. And night approaching ere your work is done.
From Plato.
I WHO, erewhile, in fame and beauty proud. Before my lattice drew an amorous crowd, ■ Lai's the fair, my hateful glafs refign. An ofiering, heavenly Venus, at thy fhrine; For what I am, 'tis piteous to behold. And time has ruin'd what I was of old.
The Church.
The Church is not yon fabric of wood and ftone, Rear'd by the labourer's toil and builder's art;
The Church is there where God has let his throne. And where he dwells within the living heart.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 219
The Confequence of Law.
Once, (fays an author, where I need not fay,) Two trav'llers found an oyjier in their way; Both fierce, both hungry; the difpute grew ftrong. While, fcale in hand. Dame Jujlice pafs'd along. Before her each, with clamour pleads the laws, Explain'd the matter, and would win the caufe. Dame Jujlice, weighing long the doubtful right. Takes, opens, fwallows it before their fight. The caufe of ftrife removed, fo rarely well. There, take, fays Jujlice, take ye each a (hell. We thrive at Wejlminjler on fools like you: 'Twas a fat oyjler — Live in peace — Adieu!
The Parallel: between John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough, and Churchill, the Poet,
In Anna's wars immortal Churchill rofe. And, great in arms, fubdued Britannia's foes; A greater Churchill now demands our praife. And the palm yields to the poetic bays: Though John fought nobly at his army's head, And flew his thoufands with the balls of lead; Yet muft the hero to the bard fubmit. Who hurls, unmatch'd, the thunderbolts of wit.
On the words " One Priori' in the fecond volume of Bijhop Burnet's Hijlory.
"One Prior!" and is this, this all the fame The poet from the hiftorian can claim? No, Prior's verfe pofterity fliall quote. When 'tis forgot one Burnet ever wrote.
220 Moral and
On PlutarcFs Statue. From the Greek.
Wise, honeft Plutarch! to thy deathlefs praife.
The fons of Rome this grateful ftatue raife;
For why? both Greece and Rome thy fame have Ihared,
Their heroes written, and their lives compared.
But thou t hyfe If co\x\d^ never write thy own;
Their lives had parallels — but thine has none.
Dryden.
A Hint to Gamejiers.
Accept this advice, you who fit down to play. The beft throw of the dice is to throw them away.
Drunkennefs.
Bold thief, indeed! that fteals, before his face, The man away, and leaves a beaft in 's place.
On the Burning of Lord Mansfield's Library, together with his MSS., by the mob, in 1780. So, then, the Vandals of our ifle.
Sworn foes to fenfe and law. Have burnt to duft a nobler pile Than Roman ever faw!
And Murray fighs o'er Pope and Swift,
And many a treafure more. The well-judged purchafe and the gift
That graced his letter'd ftore.
Their pages mangled, burnt, and torn.
The lofs was his alone; But ages yet to come fhall mourn
The burning of his own.
COWPER.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 221
On the fame.
When wit and genius meet their doom
In all devouring flame; They tell us of the fate of Rome,
And bid us fear the fame.
O'er Murray's lofs the Mufes wept.
They felt the rude alarm. Yet blefs'd the guardian care that kept
His facred head from harm.
There memory, like the bee that's fed
From Flora's balmy ftore. The quinteffence of all he read
Had treafured up before.
The lawlefs herd with fury blind
Have done him cruel wrong; The flowers are gone — but ftill we find
The honey on his tongue.
COWPER.
Long and Short Life.
Circles are praifed not that abound In largenefs, but exaftly round: So, life we praife, that does excel. Not much in time, but afting well.
Be Magnanimous.
How great thy might let none by mifchief know. But what thou canft by ads of kindnefs fliow: A pow'r to hurt is no fuch noble thing; The toad can poifon, and the ferpent fting.
222 Moral and
To Warren Hajlings,
Hastings! I knew thee young, and of a mind While young, humane, converfable and kind; Nor can I well believe thee, gentle then. Now grown a villain, and the worfl: of men. But rather fome fufpedl, who have opprefs'd And worried thee, as not themfelves the beft.
COWPER.
On a Villain.
The wife and noble live not long, they fay;
The wicked, too, muft die, and dying, what are they?
Thus deep the curfe that you were ever born,
Though fin point out its promife to thine eye.
Retorts upon thyfelf with fiend-like fcorn.
The doubly bitter curfe, that thou, e'en thou, Jhalt die.
On Sir Walter Raleigh.
O! HADST thou ferved the heroine all thy days. Had Heav'n from ftorms of envy fcreen'd thy bays; Hadft thou ftill flourifh'd in a warlike reign, ^hy /word had made a conqueft like thy pen! But nought to fuch untimely fate could bring The valiant fubjedl, but a tim'rous king.
From the Greek of Tymnaus.
Grieve not, Philoenis, though condemn'd to die
Far from thy parent foil and native fky;
Though ftrangers' hands muft raife thy funeral pile
And lay thy afiies in a foreign ifle;
To all on Death's laft dreary journey bound
The road is equal, and alike the ground.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 223
Friendjhip.
Friendship, like love, is but a name, Unlefs to one you flint the flame. The child, whom many fathers fliare. Hath feldom known a father's care. 'Tis thus in friendfhips, who depend On many, rarely find a friend.
Gay.
On the fame.
No friendfliip will abide the teft That Ilands on fordid interell
And mean felf-love ereded; Nor fuch as may awhile fubfift
- Twixt fenfualift and fenfualift,
For vicious ends connefled.
Who hopes a friend, Ihould have a heart Himfelf well-furnifh'd for the part.
And rarely on occalion To fhow the virtue that he feeks: For 'tis an union that befpeaks
A juft reciprocation.
True friendfliip has, in fhort, a grace More than terreftrial in its face.
That proves it heaven-defcended j Man's love of woman not fo pure. Nor, when flncereft, fo fecure
To laft till life is ended.
224 Moral and
On the late William Wilberforce, Efq. M.P.
Thy country, Wilberforce, with juft difdain.
Hears thee by cruel men and impious cali'd
Fanatic, for thy zeal to loofe the enthrall'd
From exile, public fale, and flavery's chain.
Friend of the poor, the wrong'd, the fetter-gall'd.
Fear not left labour fuch as thine be vain.
Thou haft achieved a part; haft gain'd the ear
Of Britain's fenate to thy glorious caufe:
Hope fmiles, joy fprings, and though cold caution paufe
And weave delay, the better hour is near
That fhall remunerate thy toils fevere
By peace for Afric, fenced with Britifh laws.
Enjoy what thou haft won, efteem and love
From all the juft on earth, and all the bleft above.
COWPER.
^ Reafonable Woman.
I KNOW the thing that's moft uncommon:
Envy, be filent, and attend! I know a reafonable woman,
Handfome and witty, yet a friend.
Not warp'd by paffion, awed by rumour.
Not grave through pride, nor gay through folly.
An equal mixture of good humour. And fenfible, foft melancholy.
Has fhe no faults then, malice fays. Sir?
Yes, fhe has one, I muft aver; When all the world confpires to praife her.
The woman's deaf, and does not hear.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 225
The Thracian. From the Latin of Vincent Bourne. Thracian parents, at his birth.
Mourn their babe with many a tear. But with undiflembled mirth
Place him breathlefs on his bier.
Greece and Rome with equal fcorn,
- • O the favages! " exclaim,
" Whether they rejoice or mourn,
Well entitled to the name! "
But the caufe of this concern
And this pleafure would they trace.
Even they might fomewhat learn From the favages of Thrace.
The Lawyers Houfe.
The lawyer's houfe, if I have rightly read. Is built upon the fool's or madman's head.
From the Greek of Antipater of Sidon. The Nereids of Corinth lament its deJiruBion.*
Where has thy grandeur, Corinth, Ihrunk from fight. Thy ancient treafures, and thy rampart's height? Thy godlike fanes and palaces — oh, where Thy mighty myriads and majeftic fair? Relentlefs war has pour'd around the wall. And hardly fpared the traces of thy fall. We nymphs of ocean deathlefs yet remain. And, fad and filent, forrow near thy plain.
• The deftrudlion of Corinth, by the ftupid Mummlus, was an event in the days of Antipater.
Q
226 Moral and
. On the late Duchefs of St. Alban^s.
The line of Vere, fo long renown'd in arms, Concludes with luftre in St. Alban's charms; Her conqu'ring eyes have made their race complete; They rofe in valour, and in beauty fet.
Wit,
Unhappy writ, like moft miftaken things.
Atones not for the envy which it brings.
In youth alone, its empty praife we boaft.
But foon the fhort-lived vanity is loft.
Then moft our trouble ftill, when moft admired.
And ftill, the more we give, the more required,
Whofe fame with pains we guard, but lofe with eafe.
Sure fome to vex, but never all to pleafe:
'Tis what the vicious fear; the virtuous fliun;
By fools 'tis hated, and by knaves undone.
On Flaxman's Penelope , Sept. 1793.
The fuitors finn'd, but with a fair excufe Whom all this elegance might well feduce. Nor can our cenfure on the huft)and fall. Who, for a wife fo lovely, flew them all.
Sunfet and Sunrife.
Contemplate, when the fun declines. Thy death, with deep refleiflion
And when again he rifing fhines. Thy day of refurreftion.
From Owen.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 227
Woman.
Fair woman was made to bewitch, A pleafure, a pain, a difturber, a nurfe, A flave, or a tyrant, a bleffing, or curfe; Fair woman was made to be — which?
From the Latin of Owen.
When little more than boy in age, I deem'd myfelf almoft a fage; But now leem worthier to be ftyled. For ignorance — almoft a child.
From the Greek of Julianus.
A Spartan, his companion flain.
Alone from battle fled; His mother, kindling with difdain
That fhe had borne hifln, ftruck him dead; For courage, and not birth alone.
In Sparta, teftifies a fon.
COWPER.
On Miltiades. MiLTiADEs! thy valour beft
(Although in every region known) The men of Perfia can atteft.
Taught by thyfelf at Marthon.
On ChrijTs Firji Miracle — Turning Water into Wine at Cana.
" Fidit et erubuit lympha pudica Deum."
The modeft water, awed by power divine. Beheld its God, and blufh'd itfelf to wine.
228 Moral and
From the Greek of Callimacbus.
At morn we placed on his funeral bier
Young Melanippus; and at eventide, Unable to fuftain a lofs fo dear.
By her own hand his blooming fifter died. Thus Ariftippus mourn'd his noble race.
Annihilated by a double blow. Nor fon could hope, nor daughter more to embrace,
And all Cyrene fadden'd at his woe.
On a True Friend.
Hast thou a friend? thou haft indeed
A rich and large fupply, Treafure to ferve your every need.
Well managed, till you die.
On Flatterers.
No mifchief worthier of our fear
In nature can be found Than friendfhip, in oftent fincere.
But hollow and unfound; For luU'd into a dangerous dream
We clofe infold a foe. Who ftrikes, when moft fecure we feem.
The inevitable blow.
On Lord Chief Jujiice Ellenborough.
In fpite of quirk, quibble, writ of error, or flaw, Since Law* is made juftice, feek juftice from law.
- Law is the family name.
Pakegyrical Epigrams. 229
On Invalids. From the Greek.
Far happier are the dead, methinks, than they Who look for death, and fear it every day.
COWPER..
On a Mifer. From the Greek.
Art thou fome individual of a kind
Long-lived by nature as the rook or hind?
Heap treafure, then, for if thy need be fuch.
Thou haft excufe, and fcarce canft heap too much.
But man thou feem'ft; clear, therefore,;from thy breafl.
This luft of treafure — folly at the beft!
For why fhouldft thou go wafted to the tomb
To fatten with thy fpoils thou know'ft not whom?
The Cau/e won. From Vincent Bourne.
Two neighbours furioufly difpute; A field the fubjeft of the fuit. Trivial the fpot, yet fuch the rage With which the combatants engage 'Twere hard to tell who covets moft The prize — at whatfoever coft. The pleadings fwell — words ftill fuffice; No fingle word but has its price: No term but yields fome fair pretence For novel and increafed expenfe. Defendant thus becomes a name. Which he that bore it may difclaim; Since both, in one defcription blended. Are plaintiffs when the fuit is ended.
230 Moral and
Friendpip.
Friendship is conftant in all other things.
Save in the office and affairs of love;
Therefore, all hearts in love ufe their own tongues;
Let every eye negotiate for itfelf.
And truft no agent; for beauty is a witch,
Againft whofe charms faith melteth into blood.
Shakspeare.
The Cantab.
With two fpurs or one; and no great matter which. Boots bought, or boots borrow'd, a whip or a fwitch. Five (hillings or lefs for the hire of his beaft. Paid part into hand, you muft wait for the reft: Thus equipt, Academicus climbs up his horfe. And out they both fally for better or worfe; His heart void of fear, and as light as a feather; And in violent hafte to go not knowing whither: Through the fields and the towns, fee! he fcampers
along. And is look'd at, and laugh'd at, by old and by young. Till at length overfpent, and his fides fmear'd with
blood, Down tumbles his horfe, man, and all, in the mud. In a waggon or chaife fhall he finifh his route? Oh! fcandalous fate! he muft do it on foot. Young gentleman, hear! I am older than you! The advice that I give, I have proved to be true: Wherever your journey may be, never doubt it. The fafter you ride, you're the longer about it.
COWPER.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 231
No Sorrow peculiar to the Sufferer. From Vincent Bourne.
The lover, in melodious verfes. His lingular diftrefs rehearles; Still doling with a rueful cry, " Was ever fuch a wretch as I?" Yes! thoufands have endured before All thy diftrefs; fome, haply more, Unnumber'd Corydons complain. And Strephons, of the like difdain: And if thy Chloe be of fteel. Too deaf to hear, too hard to feel; Not her alone that cenfure fits. Nor thou alone haft loft thy wits.
On Homer. From the Greek.
Sooner fhall heaven put out its ftarry light. The fun with noon-day fplendour deck the night; Sooner the falt-fea tafte, like fountains, fweet , Or to the living turn the dead their feet. Than ftiall oblivion feize on Homer's name. And of the page of old deftroy the fame.
True Riches. From the Greek of Lucian.
The riches of the mind alone are true;
All other wealth only more trouble brings. To him the title of a rich man's due.
Who's able to make ufe of his good things. But whofo's mind on calculations dwells.
Intent on heaping money upon money. He, like the bee, adds to the hive new cells.
Out of which others will extraft the honey.
232 Moral and
Reply to a Beautiful Woman named Charlotte Nefs, who inquired the meaning of the logical terms abJlraH and concrete.
" Say what is abftra£l, what concrete?
Their difference define." They both in one fair perfon meet,
And that, dear maid, is thine.
" How fo? The riddle pray undo.**
I thus your wifli exprefs; For when I lovely Charlotte view,
I then view loveli — Nefs.
Religion lies not in Eating.
Who can believe with common fenfe, A bacon flice gives God offence? Or, that a herring hath a charm. Almighty vengeance to difarm? Wrapt up in majefty divine. Does he regard on what we dine?
Human Life.
Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law, Pleafed with a rattle, tickled with a ftraw; Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight, A little louder, but as empty quite: Scarfs, garters, gold, amufe his riper age. And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age; Pleafed with this bauble ftill, as that before. Till tired he fleeps, and life's poor play is o'er.
Pope.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 233
Septennial Divijion of Time. From the Greek of Solon.
The feven firft years of life, man's break of day. Gleams of fhort fenfe, a dawn of thought difplay: When fourteen fprings have bloom'd his downy cheek. His fofc and bafhful meanings learn to fpeak: From twenty-one proud manhood takes its date: Yet is not ftrength complete till twenty-eight: Thence, to hisfve-and-thirtieth, life's gay fire Sparkles, burns bright, and flames in fierce defire: At forty-two his eyes grave wifdom wear. And the dark future dims him o'er with care: 'With, forty-nine behold his toils increafe. And bufy hopes and fears diflurb his peace: ht fifty-fix cool reafon reigns entire. Then life burns fteady, and with temp'rate fire; '&\xtfixty-three unbends the body's flrength. Ere th' unwearied mind has run her length: And when, homfeventy, age furveys her laft. Tired, fhe Hops fhort, and wifhes all were pafl.
The Stage of Life.
Our life's a journey in a winter's day; Some only break then fafi, and fo away; Others ftay dinner, and depart full-fed, , The longeft age hut fups and goes to bed: He's moft in debt that lingers out the day; Who dies betimes has lefs and lefs to pay.
Enemies.
Talk, as you pleafe, of Turk and Pope — but I Still find my neighbour my worft enemy.
234 Moral and
The Pure and Zealous Par/on.
Wide was his parifh — houfes far afunder — But he neglefted nought for rain or thunder; In ficknefs and in grief to vifit all. The fartheft in his parifh, great and fmall: Always on foot, and in his hand a Have. This noble example to his flock he gave; That firft he wrought, and afterwards he taught j Out of the Gofpel he that lefTon caught. And this new figure added he thereto. That if gold ruft, then what Ihould iron do?
Chaucer.
On a Noify Fellow.
Will both his time and tongue employs
In emptinefs and riot; 'Tis thus — the fhallow make a noife.
The deep alone are quiet.
ji Cure for the Evils of Life.
Lord! if our days be few, why do we fpend
And lavifli them to fuch an evil end?
Or why, if they be evil, do we wrong
Ourfelves and thee, in wifhing them fo long?
Our days decreafe, our evils ftill renew.
We make them evil, and Thou mak'ft them few.
Broken Hearts.
Broken faith and broken glafs. Broken legs and arms are feen; But for broken hearts, we pafs To what are not, and ne'er have been.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 235
Books.
For many books I care not, and my ftore Might now fuffice me, though I had no more Than God's two Teftaments, and then withal That mighty volume which the world we call: For thefe well look'd on, well in mind preferved. The prefent age's pafTages obferved; My private adlions ferioufly o'erview'd, My thoughts recall'd, and what of them enfued, Are books, which better far inftruft me can. Than all the other paper-works of man; And fome of thefe I may be reading, too. Where'er I come, or whatfoe'cr 1 do.
Geo.ige Wither.
On Self-conceit.
Hail! charming power of felf-opinion! For none are flaves in thy dominion: Secure in thee, the mind's at eafe; The vain have only one to pleafe.
The Cure of Ambition.
To curb th' ambitious, parfons preach.
And ftories poets feign; And what they frame, and what thefe teach.
Is all, alas! in vain.
One remedy is yet in ftore.
Which may the madmen fave; Tell them that B run/wick is no more.
And fhow them William's grave.
236 Moral and
Prayer.
Prayer higheft foars when fhe moft proftrate lies.
And when fhe fupplicates, fhe ftorms the flcies.
Thus to gain Heav'n may feem an eafy talk.
For what can be more eafy than to afk f
Yet oft we do by fad experience find.
That, clogg'd with earth, fome prayers are left behind.
And fome, like chafF, blow off by every wind.
To kneel is eafy, to pronounce not hard.
Then why are fome petitioners debarr'd?
Hear what an ancient oracle declared:
- Some Jing their prayers, and fome their prayers y^^.
He's an Elias, who his prayers can pray."
Reader, remember, when you next repair
To church or clofet, this memoir of prayer.
Friendjhip no Gift,
It is not kindnefs we bellow.
Nor is it all we mean; If riches here we cannot Ihow,
We cannot gain efteem.
Man's fmile is won by paltry gold.
Is loft by being poor; His friendfhip is no gift, but fold
For int'reft and no more.
Sight better than Sound.
Sounds which addrefs the ear are loft and die In one fhort hour; but that which ftrikes the eye Lives long upon the mind: the faithful fight Engraves the knowledge with a beam of light.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 237
True Riches.
Irus, though wanting gold and lands. Lives cheerful, eafy, and content;
Corvus unblefs'd, with twenty hands Employ'd to count his yearly rent.
Sages of Lombard! tell me which Of thefe you think poflefles more?
One, with his poverty, is rich;
And one, with all his wealth, is poor.
On Craggs, Secretary 0/ State.
Statesman, yet friend to truth; of foul fincere.
In aftion faithful, and in honour clear;
Who broke no promife, ferved no private end.
Who gain'd no title, and who loft no friend
Ennobled by himfelf, by all approved.
And praifed, unenvied, by the mufe he loved.
Pope.
The Wijh.
May I through life's uncertain tide
Be ftill from pain exempt; May all my wants be ftill fupplied; My ftate too low t' admit of pride.
And yet above contempt.
But, ftiould your providence divine
A greater blifs intend. May all thefe bleflings you defign. If e'er thofe bleflings fhall be mine.
Be centred in a friend.
Merrick.
238 Moral and
On Bijhop Hough.
A BISHOP by his neighbours hated Has caufe to wifh himfelf tranflated: But why Ihould Hough defire tranflation. Loved and efteem'd by all the nation? Yet, if it be the old man's cafe, I'll lay my life I know the place;
- Tis where God fent fome that adore him.
And whither Enoch went before him.
Pope.
Forfune,
When fortune feems to fmile, 'tis then I fear Some lurking ill, fome hidden mifchief near: Ufed to her frowns, I ftand upon my guard, And, arm'd in virtue, keep my foul prepared. Fickle and falfe to others fhe may be; I can complain but of her conftancj.
Lord Lansdowne.
Genius and Art,
Concerning poets there has been conteft. Whether they're made by art or nature beft; But if I may prefume in this affair, Among the reft my judgment to declare. No art without a genius will avail. And parts without the help of art will fail: But both ingredients jointly muft unite Or verfe will never (hine with a tranfcendent light.
Oldham.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 239
- ' Fas eft ab hofte doceri" Virgil.
Seize upon truth where'er 'tis found,
Amongft your friends, amongft your foes.
On Chriftian or on heathen ground; The flower's divine where'er it grows; Negledt the prickles, and aflume the rofe.
The Road to Virtue and to God,
Let not foft flumber clofe your eyes. Before you've recollefted thrice The train of adion through the day: Where have my feet chofe out their way? What have I learnt, where'er I've been. From all I've heard, from all I've feen? What know I more that's worth the knowing? What have I done that's worth the doing? What have I fought that I Ihould ftiun? What duty have I left undone? Or into what new follies run? Thefe felf-inquiries are the road That leads to virtue, and to God.
Watts.
Honour.
Honour's a facred tie, the law of kings.
The noble mind's diftinguifhing perfedion,
That aids and ftrengthens virtue when it meets her.
And imitates her aftions where fhe is not.
It ought not to be fported with.
Addison.
240 Moral and
A Reflexion at Sea.
See how, beneath the moon-beam's fmile. Yon little billow heaves its breaft.
And foams, and fparkles for awhile. And murm'ring then fubfides to reft.
Thus man, the fport of bills and care,
Rifes on time's eventful fea; And having fwell'd a moment there.
Thus melts into eternity.
Procrajlination.
Be wife to-day: 'tis madnefs to defer; Next day the fatal precedent will plead; Thus on, till wifdom is pulh'd out of life. Procraftination is the thief of time; Year after year it fteals, till all are fled, And to the mercies of a moment leaves The vaft concerns of an eternal fcene.
Young.
The Thought of Death.
All men think all men mortal but themfelves; Themfelves, when fome alarming fhock of fate Strikes through their wounded hearts the fudden dread; But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, Soon clofe; where pafs'd the fhaft, no trace is found. As from the wing no fear the flcy retains. The parted wave no furrow from the keel. So dies in human hearts the thought of death. Ev'n with the tender tear, which nature fheds O'er thofe we love, we drop it in the grave.
Young.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 241
Fidory of the Nile.
France faw great Nelfon chafing o'er the waves
Her flying heroes and tyrannic flaves;
Sorely they rued her ill-advifed departure;
They meant to hunt the Turk, but caught a Tartar.
On a Religious Cenforious Woman.
The law and the gofpels you always have by you. Bat for truth and good-nature they feldom come nigh
you: In fhort, my good creature, the matter of faft is. You daily are learning what never you praftife.
On a Fine Library,
With eyes of wonder the gay fhelves behold. Poets, all rags alive, now clad in gold; In life and death one common fate they fhare. And on their backs ftill all their riches wear.
On Dry den.
Dryden, in immortal ftrain. Had raifed the table-round again. But that a ribald king and court Bade him toil on, to make them fport; Demanded for their niggard pay. Fit for their fouls, a loofer lay. Licentious fatires, fong and play: The world defrauded of the high defign. Profaned the God-given ftrength, and marr'd the lofty line. Walter Scott.
242 Moral and
Gold: its Ufe and Abufe.
Gold bani{h'd honour from the mind.
And only left the name behind;
Gold fow'd the world with every ill;
Gold taught the murd'rer's fword to kill:
'Twas gold inftrudled coward hearts.
In treachery's more pernicious arts.
Even virtue's felf by knaves is made
A cloak to carry on the trade;
And pow'r (when lodged in their pofleffion)
Grows tyranny, and rank oppreffion.
Thus, when the villain crams his cheft.
Gold is the canker of the breaft:
- Tis avarice, infolence and pride.
And every fliocking vice befide.
But when to virtuous hands 'tis given.
It blefles, like the dews of heav'n:
Like heav'n, it hears the orphans* cries.
And wipes the tears from widows' eyes:
Their crimes on gold Ihall mifers lay.
Who pawn'd their fordid fouls for pay.
Let bravoes, then, when blood is fpilt.
Upbraid the paffive fword with guilt.
Gat.
Law Maxim.
He that holdeth his lands in fee
Need neither to quake nor to quiver,
I humbly conceive; for look, do you fee.
They are his and his heirs for ever.
From Lord Campbell's Lives of the Lord Chancellors.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 243
On William, Duke of Gloucefter' s Death, jujl after Mr. Dryden^s, 1700.
Dryden is dead: Dryden alone could fing The full-grown glories of a future king. Now Glou'Jler dies: thus lefTer heroes live By that immortal breath that poets give; And fcarce furvive the mufe: but William ftands. Nor afks his honours from the poet's hands. William fhall fliine without a Dryden' s praife. His laurels are not grafted on the bays.
On Lord Dorfet, the Poet, and the Patron of Poets.
By fav'ring wit, Macenas purchafed fame, VirgiPs own work immortalifed his name; A double fhare of fame is Dorfet' s due. At once the patron, and the poet too.
The Circumnavigator. At Goodwood, in Sujfex, is the Lion, carved in wood, which adorned the head of the Centurion, the Jhip in which Commodore Anfon failed round the world. It is fet up at the Duke of Rich- mond Inn, with this infcription: —
Stay, traveller, awhile, and view
I, who have travell'd more than you:
Quite round the globe in each degree,
Anfon and I have plough 'd the fea;
Torrid and frigid zones have pafs'd.
And fafe afhore arrived at laft.
In eafe and dignity appear.
He in the Houfe of Lords — I here.
244 Moral and
On Homer.
Who firft tranfcribed the famous Trojan war. And wife UlyJJ'es adls, O Jove, make known; For fince 'tis certain, thine thofe poems are. No more let Homer boaft they are his own.
On a Gaming-houfe.
To this dark cave three gates pertain — Hope, Infamy, and Death, we know:
'Tis by the firft you entrance gain, By the laft two alone you go.
A Poetical Re af on for the Fragrance and Colour of the Rofe. Speaking of the Jingular changes effected in flowers by the tranfmijjion of their farina, a lady f aid, " She underftood that originally there was but one kind of rofe, which was white and nearly fcentlefs. What occafoned^^faidpe, "Jo beautiful a variety in the fpecies, as the red one, and whence did it derive its odour f* The author imrnediately, with his pencil, wrote as follows: —
To finlefs Eve's admiring fight. The rofe expanded fnowy white s When in an ecftafy of blifs. She gave the mod eft flower a kifs; And inftantaneous, lo! it drew From her red lip its blujhing hue; While from her breath \x. fweetnefs found. And fpread ntw fragrance all around.
Luke Booker.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 245
To the celebrated Duke of Marlborough,
By various means th' immortal Homer feeks To raife the fame of his heroic Greeks; For one, from coaft to coaft confus'dly hurl'd. To give him room, the bard invents a world; Whilft one for ever in the trenches lies, And, where he gain'd fo many battles, dies. In thee the double charafter unites, UlyJJes wanders, and Achilles fights.
On Archbijhop Seeker.
While Seeker lived, he (how'd how feers fhould live;
While Seeker taught, heaven open'd to our eye; Where Seeker gave, we knew how angels gave;
When Seeker died, we knew even faints muft die.
On a Grotto near a Stream. From the Greek. Health, rofe-lipp'd Cherub, haunts this fpot.
She flumbers oft in yonder nook; If in the fhade you find her not.
Plunge — and you'll find her in the brook.
On Pope's Tranjlation of Homer.
As oft, in vain as he eflay'd to tell.
In foreign tongues, how Troj and Priam fell;
Old Homer has at laft attain 'd to fpeak
In fmoother accents than his native Greek:
Blind heretofore, the bard receives new fight;
And ev'n in age becomes the fair's delight:
How much to Pope is due from us and him
Since Homer nods no more, nor do his readers dream!
246 Moral and
On Footers Death, FooTE from his earthly ftage, alas! is hurl'd; Death took him off, who took off all the world.
On Cardinal Wolfey.
In full-blown dignity fee Wolfey ftand. Law in his voice, and fortune in his hand.
Dr. Johnson.
J Good Retreat.
When Charles, at once a monarch and a wit. Some fmooth foft flattery read, by Waller writ; Waller, who erft to fing was not afliamed. That Heav'n in ftorms great Cromwell's foul had
claim'd, Turn'd to the bard, and, with a fmile, faid he, " Your ftrains for Noll excel your ftrains for me." The bard his cheeks with confcious blulhes red. Thus to the King return'd, and bow'd his head: " Poets, fo Heaven and all the Nine decreed. In fiftion better than in truth fucceed."
On Hoadley, late Bijhop of Bangor.
Virtue with fo much eafe on Bangor fits. All faults he pardons, though he none commits.
Steele. An Endlefs Tajk.
Who feeks to pleafe all men each way.
And not himfelf offend; He may begin his work to-day.
But God knows when he'll end.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 247
To a Young Nobleman.
The tree's diftinguifh'd by the fruit. Be virtue then your fole purfuit; Set your great anceftors in view, Let them deferve the title too; Like them ignoble adtions fcorn: Let virtue prove you greatly born. They ferved the crown with loyal zeal; Yet, jealous of the public weal. They flood the bulwark of our laws, And wore at heart their country's caufe; By neither place nor penfion bought. They fpoke and voted as they thought. Thus did your fires adorn their feat; And fuch alone are truly great.
Gay.
The EffeBs of Gambling.
The wrecks of play behold, Eftates difmember'd, mortgaged, fold! Their owners, not to jails confined. Show equal poverty of mind. Some, who the fpoils of knaves were made, Too late attempt to learn their trade. Some, for the folly of one hour. Become the dirty tools of pow'r. And, with the mercenary lift. Upon court-charity fubfift. You'll find at laft this maxim true. Fools are the game which knaves purfue.
Gay.
248 Moral and
Procrajiination.
When floth puts urgent bufinefs by. To-morrow's a new day, (he'll cry; And all her morrows prove it true — They're never ufed, and therefore new.
On Sir R. Walpole, Premier in the reigns of George I, and II.
Let not old Rome boaft Fabius' fate;
He faved his country by delays.
But you by peace. You bought it at a cheaper rate;
Nor has it left the ufual bloody fear.
To fhow it coft its price in war; War, that mad game the world fo loves to play. And for it does fo dearly pay;
For, though with lofs, or vidtory, awhile
Fortune the gamefters does beguile. Yet at the lafl: the box fweeps all away.
Paulus: an Epigram by Mr. Lindfay, late Jujlice of the Common Pleas.
A SLAVE to crowds, fcorch'd with the fummer's heats.
In courts the wretched lawyer toils and fweats;
While fmiling Nature, in her bell attire.
Regales each fenfe and vernal joys infpire.
Can he, who knows that real good ihould pleafe.
Barter for gold his liberty and eafe?
This Paulus preach'd: when, entering at the door.
Upon his board the client pours the ore:
He grafps the fhining gift, pores o'er the caufe.
Forgets the fun and dozes on the laws.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 249
Sbakfpeare.
WHE^f Learning's triumph o'er her barbarous foes Firft rear'd the ftage, immortal Shakfpeare rofe; Each change of many-colour'd life he drew, Exhaufted worlds, and then imagined new; Elxiftence faw him fpurn her bounded reign. And panting Time toil'd after him in vain. His powerful ftrokes prefiding Truth imprefs'd. And unrefifted Paffion llorm'd the breaft.
Dr. Johnson.
A LOOSE he gave to his unbounded foul. And taught new lands to rife, new feas to roll; Call'd into being fcenes unknown before. And, paffing Nature's bounds, was fomething more,
Churchill.
Sweet Swan of Avon, what a fight it were, To fee thee in our waters yet appear; And make thofe flights upon the banks of Thames, That fo did take Eliza and our James.
Ben Jonson.
Tom and his Friends s or f even days' work.
Tom Goodfellow came to h\s fortune on Sunday, And friends came to fee him in dozens on Monday! On Tuefday were with him to dinner and fup; On Wednefday in honour of Tom kept it up! On Thurfday hh friends fet the dice-box afloat! On Friday, by fbme means, Tom loft his laft guinea. And Saturday — Saturday — faw an end of the ninny.
250 Moral and
Equal Folly,
When feventy, as 'tis fometimes feen. Joins hands in wedlock with leventeen.
We all th' unequal match abufe; But where's the odds we fret about? DifFerence in age there is no doubt;
In folly — not a pin to choofe.
On Envy. From the Greek.
Pity, fays the Theban bard. From my wifties I difcard; Envy, let me rather be. Rather far, a theme for thee! Pity to diftrefs is fhown, Env}' to the great alone. So the Theban: but to fhine Lefs confpicuous be mine! I prefer the golden mean. Pomp and penury between; For alarm and peril wait Ever on the loftieft ftate, And the loweft to the end Obloquy and fcorn attend.
CoWPER.
On the Earl of Chatham.
Shall Chatham die, and be forgot? Oh, no! Warm from its fource let grateful forrow flow; His matchlefs ardour fired each fear-ftruck mind. His genius foar'd when Britons droop'd and pined.
Garrick.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 251
On Pedigree, From the Greek of Epicharmus.
My mother! if thou love me, name no more My noble birth! Sounding at every breath My noble birth, thou kiiril me. Thither fly, As to their only refuge, all from whom Nature withholds all good befides; they boaft Their noble birth, conduft us to the tombs Of their forefathers, and from age to age Afcending, trumpet their illuftrious race: But whom haft thou beheld, or canft thou name Derived from no forefathers? Such a man Lives not; for how could fuch be born at all? And if it chance that, native of a land Far diftant, or in infancy deprived Of all his kindred, one, who cannot trace His origin, exift, why deem him fprung From bafer anceftry than theirs who can? My mother! he whom Nature at his birth Endow'd with virtuous qualities, although An ^thiop and a flave, is nobly born.
COWPER.
The Charitable Paftor.
He was a fhepherd, and no mercenary:
And though he holy was and virtuous,
He was to finful men full piteous.
His words were ftrong, but not with anger fraught,
A love benignant he difcreetly taught;
To draw mankind to heaven by gentlenefs
And good example was his bufinefs.
Chaucer,
252 Moral and
The World's Wealth.
This world's wealth, which men fo much defire. May well be liken'd to a burning fire; Whereof a little can do little harm, But profit much, our bodies well to warm. But take too much, and furely thou fhalt burn; So too much wealth to too much woe doth turn.
Nobility of Blood.
Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow. The reft is all but leather and prunella. What can ennoble fools, or knaves, or cowards. Nothing; not all the blood of all the Howards?
Dryden,
Mercy.
The quality of mercy is not ftrain'd:
It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blefs'd;
It blefleth him that gives, and him that takes:
"Tis mightieft in the mightieft; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown:
His fceptre fhows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majefty.
Wherein doth fit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this fceptred fway:
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings;
It is an attribute to God himfelf:
And earthly power doth then {how likeft God's,
When mercy feafons jufl:ice.
Shaksfeare.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 253
T^he Power of Mujic.
There's nought fo ftockifli, hard, and full of rage. But mufic for the time doth change his nature. The man that hath no mufic in himfelf, Nor is not moved with concord of fweet founds. Is fit for treafons, ftratagems, and fpoils. The motions of his fpirit are dull as night. And his affeftions dark as Erebus; Let no fuch man be trufted.
Shakspeare.
Shun Intejline Difcord.
Thus when you fee this land by faftion toft. Her nobles flain, her laws, her freedom loft j Let this refledlion from the aftion flow. We ne'er from foreign foes can ruin know: Oh! let us then inteftine difcord ftiun. We ne'er can be but by ourfelves undone.
Savage.
On feeing a Fly burnt in a Candle.
See how around the gaudy flame
The giddy infeft flies. Till fluttering on with fatal aim.
It drops at laft and dies.
Juft fo, in pleafure's fultry maze. The vidtim courts his doom;
Awhile he wantons in the blaze. Then finks into the tomb.
i54 Moral and
^een Anne.
No reign than Anne's in war more juftly crown'd. No reign for learning juftly more renown'd; Elizabeth a Shakfpeare own'd;
Charles could a Milton boaft; But Anne faw Newton high enthroned.
Amid the heavenly hoft.
DiBDIN.
Death.
Death diftant! No, alas! he's ever with us. And fhakes the dart at us in all our adlings: He lurks within our cup, while we're in health: Sits by our fick-bed, mocks our medicines; We cannot walk, or fit, or ride, or travel. But death is by to feize us when he lifts.
Scott.
The Mind known by its Deeds.
True is, that whilome that good poet faid, "The gentle minde by gentle deeds is knowne:" For a man by nothing is fo well bewray'd As by his manners, in which plaine is ftiowne Of what degree and what race he is growne.
From Spenser's Faerie Queene.
On Waller and Dryden.
Waller was fmooth: but Dryden taught to join The varying verfe, the full refounding line. The long majeftic march, and energy divine.
Pope.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 255
On Garrick's Funeral.
Through weeping London's crowded ftreets.
As Garrick's funeral pafs'd. Contending wits and poets ftrove
Which fhould defert him laft.
Not fo this world behaved to Him
Who came this world to fave: By folitary Jofeph borne
Unheeded to the grave.
Bishop Horne.
The Oak. Imitated from the Italian of Metaftafio.
The tall oak towering to the ikies. The fury of the wind defies. From age to age, in virtue ftrong, Inured to ftand, and fuffer wrong.
O'erwhelm'd at length upon the plain. It puts forth wings, and fweeps the main; The felf-fame foe undaunted braves. And fights the wind upon the waves.
James Montgomery.
On Cowley.
To him no author was unknown,
Yet what he wrote was all his own:
Horace's wit, and Virgil's Hate,
He did not Ileal, but emulate!
And, when he would like them appear.
Their garb, but not their clothes, did wear.
Denham^
256; Moral and
On Waller.
Thy verfe could fhow e'en Cromwell's innocence. And compliment the ftorms that bore him hence; Oh! had thy mufe not come an age too foon. But feen great NafTau on the Britifh throne. How had his triumph glitter'd in thy page!
Addison.
On Broome, the Poet, who ajjijled Pope in his tranjlation of Homer.
Pope came ofF clean with Homer; but, they fay, Broome went before, and kindly fwept the way.
Henly.
Found written in a Lady^s Bible.
One day at leaft in every week
The fedls of every kind. Their do£trines here are fure to feek.
And juft as fure to find.
On Charles II.*
His converfation, wit, and parts.
His knowledge in the nobleft ufeful arts.
Were fuch, dead authors could not give.
But habitudes of thofe that live,
Who, lighting him, did greater lights receive;
He drain'd from all, and all they knew.
His apprehenfion quick, his judgment true:
That the moft learn'd with fliame confefs.
His knowledge more, his reading only lefs.
Dryden.
• This praife may be transferred to Dryden himfelf.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 257
On Dean Swift" s Jetting ajide his fortune to build a
Mad-houfe.
To madnefs Swift bequeaths his whole eftate; Why fhould we wonder? Swift is right in that: For 'tis a rule, as all our lawyers know, Men's fortune to the next of kin fhould go; And 'tis as fure, unlefs old bards have lied. Great wits to madnefs are moll near allied.
On a Lady who fquinted.
If ancient poets Argus prize. Who boafted of a hundred eyes. Sure greater praife to her is due Who looks a hundred ways with two.
Balnea, vina, Venus, corrumpunt corpora noflra: Quid faciunt vitam? balnea, vina, Venus.
Wine, women, warmth againft our lives combine. But what is life without warmth, women, wine? From Notes and ^eries.
Lord Wellington and the Minijiers, 1813.
So gentle in peace Alcibiades fmiled,
While in battle he Ihone forth fo terribly grand, That the emblem they graved on his feal was a child,
With a thunderbolt placed in its innocent hand. Oh, Wellington! long as fuch Minifters wield
Your magnificent arm, the fame emblem will do; For, while they're in the council and you in the field,
We've the babies in themy and the thunder in you.
MoOR£.
258 Moral and
What is Honour?
Not to be captious, not unjuftly fight;
'Tis to confefs what's wrong, and do what's right.
To One who was Young.
Nature has done her part: do thou but thine; Learning and fenfe let decency refine. For vain applaufe tranfgrefs not virtue's rules; A witty finner is the worft of fools.
On ereBing a Monument to Shakfpeare, under the direRion of Mr. Pope and Lord Burlington.
To mark her Shakfpeare's worth, and Britain's love; Let Pope defign, and Burlington approve: Superfluous care! when diftant times fhall view This tomb grown old — his works fhall ftill be new.
On Newtont Pope, and Beau Najh.
Newton, if I can judge aright.
All wifdom does exprefs; His knowledge gives mankind delight.
Adds to their happinefs. Pope is the emblem of true wit.
The funfhine of the mind; Read o'er his works in fearch of it,
You'll endlefs pleafure find. Nafli reprefents man in the mafs.
Made up of wrong and right; Sometimes a king, fometimes an afs;
Now blunt, and now polite.
Chesterfield.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 259
The Acorn.
The lofty oak from a fmall acorn grows.
And to the fkies afcends with fpreading boughs;
As years increafe, it fliades th' extended plain.
Then, big with death and vengeance, ploughs the main;
Hence rifes fame, and fafety to our fhore;
And from an acorn fprings Britannia's power.
On a pretended Friend and real Enemy.
Thy hefitating tongue, and doubtful face. Show all thy kindnefs to be mere grimace. Throw off the mafk; at once be foe or friend; 'Tis bafe to foothe, when malice is the end; The rock that's feen gives the poor failor dread. But double terror that which hides its head.
On Alfred the Great.
Replete with foul, the monarch flood alone, And built on freedom's bafis England's throne j A legiflator, parent, warrior, fage. He died, the light of a benighted age.
DiBDIN.
From " Le Ramelet Mounde." By Godelin, a poet who wrote in the dialed of Thouloufe, in the feventeenth century.
The gay who would be counted wife, Think all delight in paftime lies; Nor heed they what the wife condemn, Whilft they pafs time — Time pafles them.
26o Moral and
On GoldfmitFs Father, the Rev. Charles GoUJmith.
At church with meek and unaffedled grace.
His looks adorn'd the venerable place;
Truth from his lips prevail'd with double fway,
And fools who came to feoff remain'd to pray.
The fervice pad, around the pious man.
With Heady zeal each honeft ruftic ran;
E'en children follow'd with endearing wile.
And pluck'd his gown to Ihare the good man's fmile.
His ready fmile a parent's warmth expreft.
Their welfare pleafed him, and their cares diftreft;
To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given.
But all his ferious thoughts had reft in heaven.
From Goldsmith's Deferted Village.
Old England. England, with all thy faults, I love thee ftill. My country! and while yet a nook is left Where Englifh minds and manners may be found. Shall be conftrain'd to love thee. Though thy clime Be fickle, and thy year, moft part, deform'd With dripping rains, or wither'd by a froft, I would not yet exchange thy fullen fkies And fields without a flower, for warmer France With all her vines; nor for Aufonia's groves Of golden fruitage and her myrtle bowers.
COWPER.
On Rofamond Clifford, Henry II.'s Mijlrefs.
A MAID unmatch'd in manners as in face,
Skill'd in each art, and crown'd with every grace.
Pope.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 261
A Comparifon.
The lapfe of time and rivers is the fame.
Both fpeed their journey with a reftlefs ftream.
The filent pace with which they fteal away
No wealth can bribe, no prayers perfuade to ftay.
Alike irrevocable both when pafl.
And a wide ocean fwallovvs both at laft.
Though each refemble each in every part,
A difference ftrikes at length the mufing heart;
Streams never flow in vain; where ftreams abound.
How laughs the land with various plenty crown'd!
But time that fliould enrich the nobler mind,
Neglefted, leaves a dreary wafte behind.
COWPER.
On a Lady obferving it was dark, and that night had arrived.
Then clofe thine eyes, fweet girl, I pray.
If you would have it night; For while they fliine it muft be day.
They give fuch radiant light.
On Chamber Chrijlians.
No matter whether (fome there be that fay)
Or go to church or ftay at home, if pray;
Smith's dizmly fermons have in plenty ftored me:
With better ftuffe than pulpits can aiford me;
Tell me, why pray'ft thou? Heav'n commanded fo.
Art not commanded to his temples too?
Small ftore of manners! when thy Prince bids come
And feaft at court; to fay, Vve meat at home.
262 Moral and
On Bunyan, author of the Pilgrim s Progrefs.
Ingenious dreamer, in whofe well-told tale Sweet fiftion and fweet truth alike prevail; Whofe humorous vein, ftrong fenfe, and fimple ftyle May teach the gayeft, make the graveft fmile; Witty and well-employ'd, and, like thy Lord, Speaking in parables his flighted word; Revere the man, whofe pilgrim marks the road. And guides the progrefs of the foul to God.
CoWPER.
On the fame.
Eunyan's famed Pilgrim refts that fhelf upon, A genius rare but rude was honeft John; Not one who, early by the mufe beguiled. Drank from her well the waters undeliled; Not one who flowly gain'd the hill fublime, Then often fipp'd, and little at a time; But one who dabbled in the facred fprings. And drank them muddy, mix'd with bafer things.
Crabbe.
On Sir Chrijiopher Wren.
I've always conlider'd Sir Chrifiopher Wren, As an architeft, one of the greateft of men; And, talking of epitaphs — much I admire his, " Circumfpice,Ji monumentum requiriss" Which an erudite verger tranflated to me, "If you afk for his monument, Sir-come-fpy-fee!'* From " Ingoldjby Legends"
Panegyrical Epigrams. 263
On the two Locke s; in imitation of Dry den s Epigram on Milton.
Two Lockes in England have diftinftion claim'd; For thinking one, and one for eating famed; That fhone with luftre by the force of reafon. This figured chiefly in a ven'fon feafon; Knowledge and tajle were by them both increafed, T' enrich a mental, or corporeal feaft. Both dijine tajle endeavour'd to impart. This had the body, that the mind at heart.
Lines addrejfed to Mr. Accum, who expofed the adulteration of bread.
How fhocking 'tis our fate to dread.
By dealing with our baker! And, while we eat our daily bread.
Befriend the undertaker!
Death oft, by piftol, fword, or knife,
Inflifts a mortal wound; But who would think the ftaffof life
Would fell us to the ground!
No Royal Road to Learning.
Learning is labour, call it what you will;
Upon the youthful mind a heavy load.
Nor muft we hope to find the royal road.
Some will their eafy fteps to fcience fhow.
And fome to heaven itfelf their by-way know:
Ah! truft them not — who fame and blifs would fhare,
Muft learn by labour, and muft live by care.
2b4 Moral and
On Homer. From the Greek of Antipater of Si don. From Colophon fome deem thee fprung; From Smyrna fome, and fome from Chios; Thefe noble Salamis have fung. While thofe proclaim thee born in los; And others cry up Theffaly, The mother of the Lapithae. Thus each to Homer has affign'd The birthplace juft which fuits his mind; But if I read the volume right. By Phoebus to his followers given, I'd fay. They're all miftaken quite. And that his real country's Heaven; While for his mother flie can be No other than Calliope.
Merivale.
Body and Soul. From the Latin of Owen.
The facred writers to exprefs the whole. Name but a part, and call the man a foul. We frame our fpeech upon a different plan. And fay, " Somebody " when we mean a man. "Nobody heeds what everybody fays, And yet how fad the fecret it betrays.
The World's Opinion.
What is this world? A term which men have got To fignify, not one in ten knows what; A term, which with no more precifion pafles To point out herds of men than herds of affes; In common ufe no more it means, we find. Than many fools in fame opinions join'd.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 265
The Farmer s Centenary contrafied. Illuftrative of the caufes of agricultural dijlrefs,
1722. 1822.
Man, to the plough; Man, tally-ho!
Wife, to the cow; Mifs, piano;
Girl, to the fow; Wife, filk and fatin;
Boy, to the mow; Boy, Greek and Latin;
And your rents will be Andyou'llall htGazetted. netted. From The Times.
From Hone's Works.
Profperity and Adverfity.
When fortune fmiles and looks ferene,
'Tis, ** Pray, Sir, how d'ye do, Your family are well, I hope.
Can I ferve them or you?"
But if, perchance, her fcale Ihould turn. And with it change your plight,
'Tis then, " I'm forry for your fate. But times are hard — ^good night."
The Jujl Man; from the Greek of Philemon. A JUST man is not one who does no ill. But he, who with the power, has not the will.
On a Mirror.
A MIRROR has been well defined An emblem of a thoughtful mind; For look upon it when you will, You find it is refleding ftill.
266 Moral and
Right and Wrong. Do right; though pain and anguifh be thy lot. Thy heart will cheer thee when the pain's forgot; Do wrong for pleafure's fake, — then count thy gains, — The pleafure foon departs, the fin remains!
Shuttle WORTH, late Bijhop ofChicheJler.
On the fame. If thou do ill, the joy fades, not the pains: If well, the pain doth fade, the joy remains.
George Herbert.
The Ten Commandments epitomized.
Worship to God, but not God graven, pay; Blafpheme not; fandlify the fabbath-day; Be honour'd parents; brother's blood unfhed; And unpolluted hold the marriage-bed; From theft thy hand, thy tongue from lying, keep; Nor covet neighbour's home, fpoufe, ferf, ox, flieep.
A. R. Rowan.
By Horace Walpoky on becoming Earl of Orford.
An eftate and an earldom at feventy-four;
Had I fought them, or wifh'd them, 'twould add one
fear more. That of making a countefs, when almoft fourfcore: But Fortune, who fcatters her gifts out of feafon. Though unkind to my limbs, has ftill left me my reafon; And, whether fhe lowers or lifts me, I'll try. In the plain fimple ftyle I have lived in, to die. For ambition too humble, for meannefs too high.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 267
Parodied from the Greek of Meleager. Dear Jenny Lind! I'd rather hear you fing. Than Paganini fiddle "on one firing."
On Shakfpeare. Genius is of no country; her pure ray Spreads all abroad, as general as the day; Foe to reftraint, from place to place fhe flies. And may hereafter e'en in Holland rife. May not (to give a pleafing fancy fcope. And cheer a patriot heart with patriot hope). May not fome great extenfive genius raife The name of Britain 'bove Athenian praife; And, whilft brave thirft of fame his bofom warms. Make England great in letters as in arms? There may, — there hath, — and Shakfpeare's mufe af-
pires Beyond the reach of Greece; with native fires Mounting aloft, he wings his daring flight, Whilfl: Sophocles below ftands trembling at his height.
Churchill. On Preaching.
The fpecious fermons of a learned man. Are little elfe thzn fapes in the pan: The mere haranguing upon what they call Morality, k powder without ball: But he that preaches with a Chrifl:ian grace. Fires at our vices, and the Jhot takes place.
On Time s from the Greek of Plato. Time bears the world away; a little date Will change name, beauty, nature, — ay, and fate.
268 Moral and
On Ben Jon/en.
In ancient learning train'd, His rigid judgment Fancy's flights reftrain'd; Correftly pruned each wild luxuriant thought, Mark'd out her courfe, nor fpared a glorious fault. The book of man he read with niceft art. And ranfack'd all the fecrets of the heart; Exerted penetration's utmoft force. And traced each paflion to its proper fource; Then, ftrongly mark'd, in livelieft colours drew. And brought each foible forth to public view: The coxcomb felt a lafli in every word. And fools hung out, their brother fools deterr'd. His comic humour kept the world in awe. And Laughter frighten'd Folly more than Law.
Churchill.
The Maid of SaragoJJa.
The Spanilh maid, aroufed, Hangs on the willow her unftrung guitar. And all unfex'd, the anlace hath efpoufed. Sung the loud fong, and dared the deed of war! And fhe, whom once the femblance of a fear Appall'd, an owlet's latum chill'd with dread. Now views the column-fcatt'ring bay'net jar. The falchion flafli, and o'er the yet warm dead Stalks, with Minerva's ftep, where Mars might quake to tread. Lord Byron.
On Szuearing.
Weak is the excufe that is on cuftom built; The ufe of finning leffens not the guilt.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 269
On Shadwell and Wycherley, the Dramatic Poets.
Of all our modern wits, none feems to me Once to have touch'd upon true comedy. But hafty Shadwell and flow Wycherley. Shadwell's unfinifli'd works do yet impart Great proofs of Nature's force, though none of art.
Rochester.
On Dryden.
Here let me bend, great Dryden! at thy ftirine. Thou deareft name to all the tuneful Nine! What if fome dull lines in cold order creep. And with his theme the poet feems to fleep? Still, when his fubjeft rifes proud to view. With equal flrength the poet rifes too: With flrong invention, nobleft vigour fraught. Thought ftill fprings up and rifes out of thought; Numbers ennobling numbers in their courfe. In varied fweetnefs flow, in varied force; The powers of genius and of judgment join. And the whole art of poetry is thine.
Churchill.
Future Glory.
Faith, Hope, and Love were queflion'd what they
thought Of future glory, which religion taught: Now Faith believed it to be firmly true. And Hope expeded fo to find it too. Love anfwer'd, fmiling with a confcious glow, "Believe, expeft, I know it to he fo."
John Wesley.
ayo Moral and
On Hogarth the Painter. In walks of humour, in that caft of ftyle. Which, probing to the quick, yet makes us fmile; In comedy, his natural road to fame. Nor let me call it by a meaner name. Where a beginning, middle, and an end. Are aptly join'd; where parts on parts depend. Each made for each, as bodies for their foul. So as to form one true and perfect whole; Where a plain ftory to the eye is told. Which we conceive the moment we behold, — Hogarth unrivall'd Hands, and fhall engage Unrivall'd praife to the moft diftant age.
Churchill.
On the Wedding-ring.
This precious emblem well doth reprefent That evennefs that crowns us with content. Which, when it wanting is, the facred yoke Becomes uneafy, and with eafe is broke.
CharaSier, See thou thy credit keep; 'tis quickly gone; 'Tis gain'd by many aftions, but 'tis loft by one.
The Pojer pofed.
A PEDANT, to perplex a child,
Afk'd, " Where is God?" The pupil fmiled—
Embarrafs'd not a jot; For God's ubiquity he knew — So ftraight replied, " I'll tell when you
Tell me where he is not."
Panegyrical Epigrams. 271
On Old Jge. Old Age, a fecond child, by Nature curfed With more and greater evils than the firft; Weak, fickly, full of pains, in every breath Railing at life, and yet afraid of death: Putting things off, with fage and folemn air. From day to day, without one day to fpare; Without enjoyment, covetous of pelf, Tirefome to friends, and tirefome to himfelf; His faculties impair'd, his temper four'd. His memory of recent things devour'd E'en with the afting, on his fhatter'd brain. Though the falfe regifters of youth remain; From morn to evening babbling forth vain praife Of thofe rare men, who lived in thofe rare days, When he, the hero of his tale, was young; Dull repetitions faltering on his tongue; Praifing grey hairs, fure mark of wifdom's fway. E'en whilft he curies time which made him grey; Scoffing at youth, e'en whilft he would afford All but his gold to have his youth reftored.
Churchill.
On Snotv that melted on a Ladys Breaji. Those envious flakes which came in hafte,
To prove her breaft fo fair. Grieving to find themfelves furpafs'd,
Diffolved into a tear.
Our bodies are like fhoes, which off we caft; Phyfic their cobbler is, and death the laft.
272 Moral and
- Perveniri adfummum nifi ex principiis non poteJiJ^
{From the Latin of V. Bourne.) Newton, the light of each fucceeding age, Firft learn'd his letters from a female fage. But thus far taught— the alphabet once learn'd — To loftier ufe thofe elements he turn'd. Forced the unconfcious figns, by procefs rare. Known quantities with unknown to compare; And, by their aid, profound deduftions drew From depths of truth his teacher never knew. Yet the true authorefs of all was fhe! Newton's Principia were his /7, by c.
To a Lady who boajied of her Rofes and Tulips. The rofes are quite emblematic of thee
Replete with each beauty divine; But as for thy tulips we all muft agree. No two lips are fweeter than thine.
On buying a Bible.
- Tis but a folly to rejoice or boaft
How fmall a price thy well-bought purchafe coft. Until thy death thou (halt not fully know Whether it was a pennyworth or no. And at that time, believe me, 'twill appear Extremely cheap or elfe extremely dear.
On Friendjhip. I LOVE a friend that's frank and juft. To whom a tale I can entruft; But when a man's to flander given. From fuch a friend, protedl me, Heaven!
Panegyrical Epigrams. 273
An old Worldlings Lament,
Too old to leap a gate;
Too old to flirt with Kate; Too old to care a fig for frowns or fmiles of fate:
Too old to eat with pleafure;
Too old to tread a meafure; Too old to gaze on gold, and count the ufelefs treafure: To laugh, to fing, to talk, forbids my failing breath. Too old, too old, for anything but death.
To a Female Cupbearer.*
Come, Leila, fill the goblet up.
Reach round the rofy wine; Think not that we will take the cup
From any hand but thine.
A draught like this 'twere vain to feck.
No grape can fuch fupply; It fteals its tints from Leila's cheek.
Its brightnefs from her eye.
To Mary , after feeing the celebrated Statue
" Venus orta mari^ When I afcribed, as bound in duty. The charafter of perfedl beauty
To " Venus orta mari,"
I meant that I muft hefitate
Perfeftion to appropriate —
To Venus, or — to Mary.
• From "Anthologia Oxonienfis," and tranflated into Latin elegiacs by Mr. Booth, of Magdalen College. From " Nota and Slutriti"
T
274 Moral and
From the German.
If one has ferved thee, tell the deed to many; Haft thou ferved many, tell it not to any.
To a young Lady, who requejied the Author to reflore a Lock of Hair he had taken from her.
By one only recompenfe can I be led
With this beautiful ringlet to part; That fhould I reftore you the lock of your head.
You will give me the key of your heart.
The Argument j imitated from Anacreon. Ah! fly me not, then, lovely fair.
But let my paffion be return'd. Though cruel time my golden hair
Has all X.O Jiher ringlets turn'd. In thee the flowers of beauty breathe.
Yet ne'er defpife thefe locks of mine; For think in chaplet or in wreath
How fweet the rofe and lily twine.
The Contraji.
Marcus is proud, — you afk me why?
I really do not know: His looks and words are very high s
His ways are very low.
By fuch extremes if mortals think
In dignity to rife. To mute regret let wifdom fink; —
'Tis folly to be wife.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 275
Tit for Tat.
Old Time kills us all.
Rich, poor, great, and fmall. And 'tis therefore we rack our invention.
Throughout all our days.
In finding out ways To kill him, by way of prevention.
The dying Lawyer.
Old Quillet, his race upon earth almoft run.
Thus fagely advifed his too diffident fon;
- Like a true limb of law, would you live at your eafe.
Ne'er boggle on any fide, lad, to take fees;
Keep clear of a noofe, though you merit to fwing,
And be fure to fell juftice for what it will bring!"
- • 5^// juftice?" retorted his wondering heir,
- ' A thing of fuch value — fo precious, fo rare;
The cement of fociety, honour's befl; hand,
5^// juftice?" " ky&,fell it, and that out of band:
You extravagant rafcal! If 'tis, as you fay,
A thing of fuch price, would you give it away? "
On William Oldys, by himfelf.
In word and Will I am z friend to you; And one friend Old is worth a hundred new.
On Dean Swift's Writings.
Athens call'd Sophocles her bee, to Ihow His ftrains did with a honied fweetnefs flow; Name Swift the bee, and let the title tell, His ftrains in honey as in ftings excel.
276 Moral and
Way of the World.
Determined beforehand, we gravely pretend To afk the opinion and thoughts of a friend; Should his differ from ours on any pretence. We pity his want both of judgment and fenfe; But if he falls into and flatters our plan. Why really we think him a fenfible man.
Fame.
Seek you glory? — What is fame? 'Tis a falfe, though fpecious name, A gay, but illufory bubble. Envy's parent, child of trouble.
On the beautiful Duchefs of Hamilton {afterwards Duchefs of Argyll) viewing the Tranfit of FenuSf in 1769, at Glajgow Vniverfity.
They tell me Venus is in the Sun,
But I fay that's a ftory; Venus is not in the Sun,
She's in the obfervatory.
The Atheiji corrected.
Indeed, Mr. , it feems very odd,
Whilft your eyes view His works, to deny there's a God: And aflert that our aftions He'll neither regard, Nor punilh our vice, nor our virtues reward. What, no vengeance to come? Well, if this prove but
true. How happy 'twill be for the devil &ndi you!
Panegyrical Epigrams. 277
Vive tibi; conjanguineo fuo.
Look to thyfelf, and learn to live at home: Have fellowfhip, henceforth, with few or none; See, fee, to what a pafs the world is come, Friendfhip abides not, be thy fortunes gone. Be thou like winter, that like fummer waft. The fwallows fly that flock'd before fo faft.
Friends fwim like fifhes, as the ftream doth run.
And like fly ferpents lurk in faireft green;
They only reverence the riflng fun.
Scarce looking towards him when he doth decline. 'Tis wealth preferves good-will, that from thee taken. Thou that waft folio w'd flialt be foon forfaken.
Nay, mark! e'en now, the very bird of love
Betakes herfelf unto the faireft building;
And her own home abandoneth the dove.
If once flie fees it ruinous and yielding: No marvel, though faith fail in the trial. When love's true turtle is turn'd thus difloyal.
This vile, heart-knawing, vulture age then fly:
Feed not the hounds whofe teeth may after tear thee;
Let not the ferpent in thy bofom lie.
Left ftinging, thou repent he lay fo near thee.
Be thine own neighbour, and be this thy doom.
To look unto thyfelf; to live at home.
Thomas Freeman.
278 Moral and
On the late Duchefs of Devonjhire canvajjtngfor C. J. Fox, at the Weftminfter Eleilion.
Array'd in matchlefs beauty, Devon's fair In Fox's favour takes a zealous part;
But, oh! where'er the pilferer comes, beware; She fupplicates a vote, and fteals a heart.
Pope imitated.
How weak is man to Reafon's judging eye! Born in this moment, in the next we die; Part mortal clay, and part ethereal fire. Too proud to creep, too humble to afpire.
West.
To a Lady, with a Prefent of Fruit.
Though the plum, and the peach, with Apollo confpire. To prefent you xhtir foftnefs, zxiA fweetnefs, and f re. Their aid is in vain; for what can they do But blufh, and confefs themfelves vanquifh'd in you? Where virtue and wit with fuch qualities blend. What mortal, what goddefs, would dare to contend?
On great JffliSions.
One comfort from the greateji ills we gain. The lefs can never give our breaft a pain, Diftraft our thought, or difcompofe our heart. Or fufi^er fate to throw a fecond dart. Juft fo, the martial trumpet's weaker found. The louder noife of burfting thunders drown'd, Nor does the ftars' expiring light appear. When the day opens and the fun is near.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 279
Jealoufj.
How much are they deceived who vainly ftrive By jealous fears to keep our flames alive! Love's like a torch, which, if fecured from blafts, Will faintlier burn; but then it longer lafts. Expofed to florms of jealoufy and doubt, The flame grows greater, but 'tis fooner out.
On Garrick and Barry, in the charaBer of King Lear.
The town has found out different ways
To praife its different Lears; To Barry it gives loud huzzas.
To Garrick only tears.
A king? " Ay, every inch a king! "
Such Barry doth appear; But Garrick's quite another thing.
He's every inch King Lear.
The Alarms of Confcience. When thunder rumbles in the Ikies, Down to the cellar Vallius flies; There, to be fure, he's fafe: why fo? He thinks there is no God below.
On a new-born Babe. From the Perjian. On parent knees a naked new-born child. Weeping thou fat'ft, while all around thee fmiled: So live, that, finking in thy laft long fleep. Calm thou mayft fmile, while all around thee weep.
28o Moral and
Written on a Window.
Where'er the diamond's bufy point could pafs.
See what deep wounds have pierced the middle glafs!
While, partially, untouching all the reft,
Higheft and loweft panes fhine unimpreft;
No wonder this! for even in life 'tis fo;
High fortunes ftand unreach'd, unfeen the low.
But middle ftates are marks for every blow.
From the Spanish,
The days of our happinefs gliding away, A year feems a moment, and ages a day; But, Fortune converting our fmiles into tears. What an age a diminutive moment appears!
Oh, Fortune! poflefs'd of fo fickle a name, — Why only in this art thou ever the fame? Oh, change! and bid moments of pleafure move flow. And give eagle-plumes to the pinions of woe.
The Foetus Offering. From the Greek.
There hang, my lyre! This aged hand no more Shall wake the ftrings to rapture known before. Farewell, ye chords! ye verfe-infpiring powers. Accept the folace of my native hours! Begone to youths, ye inftruments of fong! For cratches only to the old belong.
The Wijh.
The various ills below content I'll bear.
Grant me, indulgent Heaven! this fble requeft;
Nor life to overprize, nor death to fear. Let Fortune fhuffle as Ihe pleafe the reft.
\
Panegyrical Epigrams. 281
Human Greatnefs.
We gaze on a billow with wonder and awe. Swelling high as it threatens the fhore;
Till, broken and loft, we forget what we faw. And think of that billow no more.
So the pomp of the great, fo the fame of the brave.
So the treafures of glory and pride. Though they mount on the flood, like the high-f welling wave.
Like that, too, muft ebb with the tide.
Youth.
The pliant foul of erring youth Is like foft wax, or moiften'd clay.
Apt to receive all heavenly truth. Or yield to tyrant ill the fway.
Shun evil in your early years.
And manhood may to virtue rife;
But he who in his youth appears A fool, in age will ne'er be wife.
The Ladfs Wijh.
If it be true, celeftial powers!
That you have form'd me fair; And yet in all my vaineft hours.
My mind has been my care j
Then in return I beg this grace.
As you were ever kind, — What envious time takes from my face,
Beftow upon my mind.
l82 Moral and
From the Italian of Pananti.
Is beauty to thine outward form denied? Let virtue's graceful veil its abfence hide; As Caefar wreathed the laurel round his brow, And hid the baldnefs of his head below.
From Martial,
What makes the happieft life we know, A few plain rules, my friend, will fhow: A good eftate, not earn'd with toil. But left by will, or given by fate; A land of no ungrateful foil; A conftant fire within your grate; No law; few cares; a quiet mind; Strength unimpair'd; a healthful frame; Wifdom with innocence combined; Friends equal both in years and fame; Your living eafy; and your board With food, but not with luxury, ftored; A bed, though chafte, not folitary; A fleep, to fhorten night's dull reign; Wifli nothing that you have to vary; Think all enjoyments that remain; And, for the inevitable hour. Nor hope it nigh, nor dread its power.
Prayer of a Heathen.
Great Jove! this one petition grant: (Thou knoweft beft what mortals want!) Aflc'd, or unafk'd, what's good fupply; What's evil — to my prayer deny!
Panegyrical Epigrams. 283
Charity.
It is the duty of a man
To blefs his greateft foe. And fhield the arm that late was raifed
To work his direft woe.
Juft fo the fcented fandal-tree.
In all its pride and bloom. Sheds on the axe that lays it low
A fweet and rich perfume.
Rome.
Go, then, to Rome! and hope in Rome to find
The Rome thy claffics piftured to thy mind!
Aflc, difappointed, where the wonder lies,
And hail the imperial ruin with thy lighs,
Thofe walls, thofe maffive fragments, dark with ruft,
Thofe colifasums crumbling into duft,
Thofe are thy Rome! See frowning from the ground
Her very afhes breathe a menace round!
Imperial miftrefs of a conquer'd world.
Her laft deftruftion at herfelf fhe hurl'd;
Now the fole index of the Roman name
Is Tiber, ftill in motion, ftill the fame.
Learn hence the paradox of Fortune's reign.
The fix'd are gone; the unfteady ftill remain.
Acrojlical Epigram to a lady named Carr.
Care flies the brain when you are near.
And raptures fill the heart; Raptures decay, and fullen care
Returns, when you depart.
284 Moral and
On a Bee Jlified in Honey.
From flower to flower, with eager pains.
See the bleft, bufy labourer fly; When all that from her toil ftie gains,
Is, in the fweets flie hoards, to die.
- Tis thus, would man the truth believe.
With life's foft fweets; each favourite joy
If we talle wifely, they relieve. But if we plunge too deep, deftroy.
Time.
How fwift the pinions Time puts on
To urge his flight away! To-day's foon yefterday; anon
To-morrow is to-day!
Thus days, and weeks, and months, and years.
Depart from mortal view; As, fadly, through this vale of tears
Our journey we purfue!
Yet grieve not, man, that thus he flies.
He haftes thee to thy reft; The drooping wretch that fooneft dies.
Is fooneft with the bleft!
On a beautiful Young Lady. From the Greek.
Cyprus muft now two Venufes adore; Ten are the Mufes, and the Graces four; So charming Flavia's wit, fo fweet her face. She's a new Mufe, a Venus, and a Grace.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 285
On Dr. JohnfoTi's Di^ionary.
Talk of war with a Briton, he'll boldly advance That one Englifh foldier will beat ten of France. Would we alter the boaft from the fword to the pen, The odds are Ilill greater, ftill greater our men! In the deep mines of fcience though Frenchmen may
toil. Can their ftrength be compared to Locke, Newton, and
Boyle? Let them rally their heroes, fend forth all their powers. Their verfe-men and profe-men, then match them with
ours! Firft Milton and Shakefpeare, like gods in the fight. Have put their whole drama and epic to flight. In fatires, epiftles, and odes, would they cope? Their numbers retreat before Dryden and Pope. And Johnfon, well arm'd, like a hero of yore. Has beat forty French,* and will beat forty more!
Tf>t Maid of Orleans. From the French of Malherbe.
Fair Amazon"! the cruel foe
Who to the flames confign'd Thy form, his fcorn of laws difplay'd.
And bafe perfidious mind!
But juft was Fate, by fuch a death
Who raifed thee to the fky; For flle who like Alcides lived,
Should like Alcides die.
- The number conftituting the French Academy, who wtre
thirty years in compiling their Diftionary.
i86 Moral and
From the Greek.
Abundance is a bleffing to the wife:
The ufe of riches in difcretion lies:
Learn this, ye men of wealth! A heavy purfe
In a fool's pocket is a heavy curfe.
Written on Glafs, by a Gentleman who borrowed the Earl of CheJlerfieWs diamond pencil.
Accept a miracle, inftead of wit.
See two dull lines by Stanhope's pencil writ.
Againjl Life.
What tranquil road, unvex'd by ftrife. Can mortals choofe through human life? Attend the courts, attend the bar. There difcord reigns, and endlefs jar. At home, the weary wretches find Severe difquietude of mind. To till the fields gives toil and pain; Eternal terrors fweep the main. If rich, we fear to lofe our ftore. Need and diftrefs await the poor. Sad cares the bands of Hymen give; Friendlefs, forlorn, th' unmarried live. Are children born? we anxious groan; Childlefs, our lack of heirs we moan. Wild, giddy fchemes our youth engage; Weaknefs and want deprefs old age. Would fate, then, with my wifh comply, I'd never live, or quickly die.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 287
For Life.
Mankind may walk, unvex'd by ftrife,
Through every road of human life.
Fair wifdom regulates the bar.
And peace concludes the wordy war.
At hornet aufpicious mortals find
Serene tranquillity of mind.
All beauteous nature decks i\\Q plain s
And merchants plough for gold the main.
Refpeft arifes from o\xx fiore s
Security from being /(?«7r.
More joys the bands of Hymen give;
Th' unmarried with more freedom live.
\i parents, our bleft lot we own;
Childlefs, we have no caufe to moan:
Firm vigour crowns our youthful ftage;
And venerable hairs old age.
Since all is good, then, who would cry,
- • I'd never live, or quickly die? "
On Mifs M. Tree, the Singer.
On this Tree when a nightingale fettles and fings. The Tree will return her as good as fhe brings.
LuTTRELL.
Good for Evil.
" 'Tis noble, fure, in you to praife the man Who evil (peaks of you the whole day long."
" Well, we fhould always praife where'er we can. But here, perhaps, wc both are in the wrong."
288 Moral and
On Life.
The world is but an opera fhow: We come, look round, and then we go.
Epitome of Man's Life.
Childhood in toys delights;
And youth in fports as vain; Mid age has many cares and frights;
Old age is full of pain.
From the Greek.
Extremes of fortune are true wifdom's teft: And he's of men moft wife, who bears them beft.
Merit and Reward.
How feldom, friend! a good great man inherits
Honour or wealth, with all his worth and pains! It founds like ftories from the land of fpirits, If any man obtain that which he merits. Or any merits that which he obtains.
Reply to the above.
For fhame, dear friend, renounce this canting {Irain!
What would ft thou have a good great man obtain?
Place? titles? falary? a gilded chain?
Or throne of corpfes which his fword had flain?
Greatnefs and goodnefs are not means but ends!
Hath he not always treafures, always friends.
The good great man? Three treafures, love, and light.
And calm thoughts, regular as infant's breath;
And three firm friends, more fure than day and night.
Him/elf, his Maker, and the Angel Death.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 289
The World.
The world's a book, writ by th' eternal art Of the Great Author; printed in man's heart; 'Tis falfely printed, though divinely penn'd. And all the errata will appear at th' end.
On Anne, Count efs of Sunderland, fecond daughter of the great Duke of Marlborough, who was very beautiful.
All Nature's charms in Sunderland appear. Bright as her eyes, and as her reafon clear; Yet ftill their force, to men not fafely known, Seems undifcover'd to herfelf alone.
Earl of Halifax.
Dr. Toung, the author of the " Night Thoughts," was once walking in his garden with the lady whom he was wooing and a friend of hers, when a fervant came to tell him he was wanted. He was fo interejled in the converfation in which he was engaged, that he paid no attention to the fummons, though urged by the ladies to go. The fervant came again and repeated it; and the ladies then playfully took him by the arms and pujhed him out of the garden. He is f aid to have turned round and addreffed them, efpecially bis lady- love, in thefe words: —
Thus Adam look'd when from the garden driv'n. And thus difputed orders fent from Heav'n: — Hard was his fate — but mine ftill more unkind, His Eve went with him; — but mine ftays behind, u
290 Moral and
On Horace, the Latin Poet.
Horace ftill charms with graceful negligence.
And without method talks us into fenfe;
Will, like a friend, familiarly convey
The trueft notions in the eafieft way.
He who, fupreme in judgment as in wit.
Might boldly cenfure as he boldly writ.
Yet judged with coolnefs, though he fung with fire;
His precepts teach but what his works infpire.
Pope.
On Ariftotle.
The mighty Stagyrite firft left the fliore, Spread all his fails, and durft the deeps explore; He fteer'd fecurely, and difcover'd far. Led by the light of the Maeonian ftar. Poets, a race long unconfined and free. Still fond and proud of favage liberty, Received his laws, and flood convinced 'twas fit Who conquer'd nature fhould prefide o'er wit.
Pope.
On Longinus, author of the " Sublime and Beautiful.^
Thee, bold Longinus! all the Nine infpire. And blefs their critic with a poet's fire: An ardent judge, who, zealous in his trull, With warmth gives fentence, yet is always juft: Whofe own example flrengthens all his laws. And is himfelf that great fublime he draws.
Pope.
Panegyrical Epigrams. 291
To-morrow.
To-morrow you will live, you always cry; In what far country does to-morrow lie. That 'tis fo mighty long ere it arrive? Beyond the Indies does this 'morrow live?
'Tis fo far-fetch'd, this 'morrow that I fear, 'Twill be both old and very dear. To-morrow I will live, the fool does fay; To-day's too late — the wife lived yefterday.
A Finale. Those epigrams, my friends, commend. That with a turn, leaft thought of, end; Then, fure, a tip- top one they'll call. This which concludes with none at all.
Part III. MONUMENTAL EPIGRAMS.
r
" Life's but a walking fiiadow, a poor player That ftruts and frets his hour upon the (lage, And then is heard no more; it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of found and fury, Signifying nothing."
Shaksfeare.
" He lies like an Epitaph."
Old Engiyh Proverb.
Part III. MONUMENTAL EPIGRAMS.
On a Fowler. From the Greek of Ifiodorus.
"ITH feeds and birdlime, from the defert air, Eumelus gather'd free, though fcanty fare;
No lordly patron's hand he deign'd to kifs. Nor luxury knew, fave liberty, nor blifs. Thrice thirty years he lived, and to his heirs- His feeds bequeath'd, his birdlime, and his fnares.
Epitapbf in Hales Owen Churchyard, on Mi/s Anne Powell.
Here, here ftie lies, a budding rofe
Blafted before its bloom, Whofe innocence did fweets difclofe
Beyond that flower's perfume. To thofe who for her death are grieved.
This confolation's given, She's from the ftorms of life relieved
To fhine more bright in heaven.
Shenstone.
296 Monumental Epigrams.
From the Greek. At threefcore winters* end I died,
A cheerlefs being, fole and fad; The nuptial knot I never tied.
And wifli my father never had.
COWPER..
On Drydeny the Poet. By Bijhop Atterbury.
This Sheffield raifed, to Dryden's afhes juft, — Here fix'd his name, and there his laurell'd bull; What elfe the mufe in marble might exprefs Is known already: praife would make him lefs.
On Ben Jonfon.
Here lies Jonfon, with the reft
Of the poets, but the beft.
Reader, wouldft thou more have known,
Afk his ftory — not the ftone;
That will fpeak, what this can't tell.
Of his glory: fo, farewell.
On John/on, 1785. Here Johnfon lies, a fage by all allow'd. Whom to have bred, may well make England proud; Whofe profe was eloquence, by wifdom taught, The graceful vehicle of virtuous thought; Whofe verfe may claim, grave, mafculine, and ftrong, Superior praife to the mere poet's fong; Who many a noble gift from heaven poflefs'd. And faith at laft, alone worth all the reft. O man, immortal by a double prize. By fame on earth, by glory in the fkies.
CoWPER.
Monumental Epigrams. 297
On the Countefs Dowager of Pembroke.
Underneath this marble hearfe Lies the fubjeft of all verfe: Sydney's fifter, Pembroke's mother, — Death! ere thou hall flain another. Fair, and learned, and good as Ihe, Time fhall throw his dart at thee.
Ben Jonson.
On a Lawyer.
See how God works his wonders now and then, — Here lies a lawyer and an honell man.
On Sir Francis Drake, drowned at fea.
Where Drake firft found, there laft he loft his fame.
And for his tomb left nothing but a name.
His body's buried under fome great wave;
The fea, that was his glory, is his grave:
Of him no man true epitaph can make.
For who can fay, " Here lies Sir Francis Drake? "
On Pope.
Ye Mufes, weep! ye fons of Phoebus, mourn, And decorate with tears this facred urn! Pope died: Fame bade the Mufes found his praife; They faid, 'twas done in his immortal lays.
ROLT.
Gay^i Epitaph s by him/elf. Life is a jeft, and all things Ihow it; I thought fo once, but now I know it.
298 Monumental Epigrams.
Pope's oton Epitaph.
Heroes and kings, your diftance keep; In peace let one poor poet fleep. Who never flatter'd folks like you: Let Horace blufti and Virgil too.
On Admiral Blake.* Here lies a man, made Spain and Holland (hake. Made France to tremble, and the Turks to quake; Thus he tamed men; but if a lady flood In fight, it raifed a palfy in his blood; Cupid's antagonift, who on his life Had fortune as familiar as a wife. A ftifF, hard, iron foldier; for he, It feems, had more of Mars than Mercury; At fea he thunder'd, calm'd each raging wave. And now he's dead, fent thundering to the grave.
On a talkative Old Maid.
Beneath this filent ftone is laid
A noify, antiquated maid;
Who from her cradle talk'd till death.
And ne'er before was out of breath.
On a Mifer.
Reader, beware immoderate love of pelf;
Here lies the worfl of thieves — who robb'd himfelf.
• Blake rendered himfelf famous by many adlions abroad; for he humbled the pride of France, reduced the Portuguefe to fub- miflion, broke the ftrength of the Dutch, fubdued the pirates in the Mediterranean, and twice triumphed over the Spaniards.
Monumental Epigrams. 299
On a Card Maker.
His card is cut; long days he fliuffled through The game of life: he dealt as others do. Though he by honours tells not its amount. When the laft trump is play'd, his tricks will count.
On Archbipop Potter.
Alack, and well-a-day, Potter himfelf is turn'd to clay!
Let well alone.
" I was well, would be better, took phyfic, and died."
From the Greek,
Here Lyfimachus lies, who, when twenty years old. Bade adieu to the light, and was laid in the mould: If you a(k what difeafe overtook him fo foon. Ere the morning of life had approach'd to its noon. Why, he died of defiring, when well, to be better. And of following the faculty's rules to the letter.
After Life's ftful Fever. From the Greek. Bless not my tomb, vile worldling; if I reft Afar from your intrufion, I am bleft.
On an Infant,
Just to her lips the cup of life Ihe prefs'd. Found the tafte bitter, and refufed the reft; She felt averfe to life's returning day. And foftly figh'd her little foul away.
300 Monumental Epigrams.
On a Parijh Clerk.
Here lies within this tomb, fo calm. Old Giles — pray found his knell:
Who thought no fong was like a pfalm. No mulic like a bell.
On the Tomb of a Mother and Daughter, who hillea themfelves to avoid captivity. From the Greek.
Here fleeps a daughter by her mother's fide: Nor flow difeafe nor war our fates allied. When hoftile banners over Corinth waved. Preferring death, we left a land enflaved. Pierced by a mother's fteel in youth I bled. She nobly join'd me in my gory bed; In vain ye forge your fetters for the brave, Who fly for facred freedom to the grave.
On C. J. Fox. By Sir Walter Scott, in his Introduction to " Marmion."
For talents mourn untimely loft, When beft employ'd and wanted moft; Mourn genius high and lore profound. And wit that loved to play, not wound; And all the reafoning powers divine. To penetrate, refolve, combine; And feelings keen, and fancy's glow, — They fleep with him who fleeps below.
Garrick's Epitaph on Goldfmith.
Here lies Nolly Goldfmith, for fliortnefs called Noll, Who wrote like an Angel, but talk'd like poor Poll.
Monumental Epigrams. 301
On a Clergyman named Chejl.
Here lies at reft, I do proteft,
One Cheft within another; The cheft of wood was very good —
Who fays fo of the other?
On a Wood Cutter.
The Lord faw good, I was lopping off wood
And down fell from the tree; I met with a check, and I broke my neck.
And fo death lopp'd off me.
On S. Rumbold.
He lived one hundred and five.
Sanguine and ftrong; An hundred to five.
You live not fo long.
On one Eldred.
Here lies the body of John Eldred, At leaft he will be here when he is dead: But now at this time he is alive. The fourteenth of Auguft, fixty-five.
On the Cheltenham and Epfom Waters.
Here lie I and my three daughters. All from drinking the Cheltenham waters; While if we had kept to the Epfom falts. We Ihould not now be in thefe here vaults.
302 Monumental Epigrams.
On a great Eater.
Whoe'er you are, tread foftly, I entreat you. For if he chance to wake, be fure he'll eat you.
On John Round.
Under this fod lies John Round,
Who was loft in the fea, and never was found.
On an ArchiteB named Trollop, who built the Exchange and Town Court of Newcajlle.
Here lies Robert Trollop, Who made yon ftones roll up; When death took his foul up. His body filled this hole up.
On Sir jfohn Guife.
Here lies Sir John Guife: No one laughs. No one cries; Where he is gone. And how he fares. No one knows. And no one cares.
On Quick, the A£lor, famous in his da^ for trnvejlie of the parts of Plays he performed.
The great debt of Nature he paid, as all muft. And came, like a gentleman, down with his duft.
Monumental Epigrams. 303
On Prior, the Poet; by himfelf.
Gentleman, here by your leave. Lie the bones of Matthew Prior:
A foil of Adam and Eve,
Can Bourbon or Naflau go higher.
On a Bookfellers Hack.
Here lies poor Ned Purdon, from mifery freed.
Who long was a bookfeller's hack: He led fuch a damnable life in this world,
I don't think he'll wifh to come back.
Goldsmith.
On a Carrier, who died of Drunkennefs.
John Adams lies here, of the parilh of Southwell: A carrier who carried his can to his mouth well; He carried fo much, and he carried fo faft. He could carry no more, fo was carried at laft; For the liquor he drank being too much for one. He could not carry off, fo he's now carrion.
Byron. On W. Pitt.
With death doom'd to grapple.
Beneath this cold flab, he Who lied in the chapel.
Now lies in the abbey.
Byron.
On an Englijhman,
Here Jack Roaft Beef, efquire, doth lie. Who hang'd himfelf he knew not why.
304 Monumental Epigrams.
On two Bilfton Lawyers, Wilfon and Jejfon.
Here lies what's left of lawyer Wilfon, Who, fome folks fay, died mad at Bilfton! But others fay, 'was not fo bad. Who ever knew a fool go mad?
On Jejfon. Here lies what's left of lawyer Jeflbn, Who taught mankind this ufeful leflbn. That when they'd fpent their laft in law. He'd ceafe to wag his nether jaw.
On one Joe Pope.
I, Joe Pope,
Lived without hope.
And died by a rope.
On John Shaw.
Here lies John Shaw, Attorney-at-law; And when he died. The devil cried,
- Give us your paw,
John Shaw, Attorney-at-law."
Moore's Memoirs.
On a Cooper.
Here lies the body of Ephraim Snubbs, Who got his living by mending tubs: He caught his death while it was raining, And met his fate without complaining.
Monumental Epigrams. 305
On Hogarth, the Painter.
The hand of him here torpid lies.
That drew th* eflential forms of grace;
Here, clofed in death, th' attentive eyes That faw the manners in the face. Dr. Johnson.
On Gay, the Poet.
Well then! poor Gay lies underground.
So there's an end of honeft Jack: So little juftice here he found,
'Tis ten to one he'll ne'er come back.
Pope.
On a hen-pecked Country Squire.
As father Adam firft was fool'd, A cafe that's ftill too common.
Here lies a man a woman ruled. The devil ruled the woman.
Burns.
On William Pepper; at St. John's, Stamford, ob. 1783.
Though hot my name, yet mild by nature, I bore good-will to every creature; I brew'd good ale, and fold it too. And unto each I gave his due.
On Sir Ifaac Newton.
Nature and Nature's laws lay hid in night; God faid, I^t Newton be, and all was light.
Pope.
X
3o6 Monumental Epigrams.
Whoe'er thou art, O reader, know That death has murder'd Johnny:
An' here his body lies fu' low. For foul he ne'er had ony.
Burns.
On Sir John Vanbrugh, the ArchiteSi, who dejigned Blenheim.
Lie heavy on him, earth; for he Laid many a heavy load on thee.
A MAN, having left fix guineas for the poet who ftiould make his epitaph, his three executors thought they might manage to do it themfelves, and fave the money; which they did as follows, and each took up two guineas: —
ift. Here lies John Brown, Provoft of Dundee: 2nd. Here lies John, here lies he: 3rd. Hallelujah, hallelujee.
On Elizabeth Ireland.
Here I lie at the chancel door. Here I lie becaufe I'm poor: The farther in, the more you pay: Here lie I as warm as they.
TickelVs Lines on the Burial of Addifon. Ne'er to thefe chambers, where the mighty reft. Since their foundation, came a nobler gueft.
Here lies my wife; here let her lie! Now fhe's at reft, and fo am L
Dryden.
Monumental Epigrams. 307
I LAID my wife beneath this ftone For her repofe and for my own.
On Sarah Sexton.
Here lies the body of Sarah Sexton," Who was a wife that never vexed one; You can't fay that for her at the next ftone.
On a Shrew.
Here lies my dear wife, a vixen and ihrew: If I faid I lamented her, I ftiould lie too.
Another. ^
Two bones of my body have taken a trip, I buried my wife and got rid of my hyp.
Another.
Here lies my poor wife, much lamented. She's happy and I'm contented.
From the Greek of Leonidas.
The name of Crethon and his ftate to fhow. This ftone is placed; he lies in duft below; Who erft like Gyges did in wealth abound; Who erft beheld his herds and flocks around; Who erft- — why longer idly talk? this man. Envied by all, now holds of earth a fpan.
3o8 Monumental Epigrams.
When a man named Thomas Thorpe died, his friends were about to engrave on his tombjione the following infcription: —
" This corpfe
Is Tommy Thorpe's;**
but confidering this too long, on refieilion, it was finally reduced thus: —
" Thorpe's
Corpfe."
On Mo Here.
Roscius hie fitus eft trifti Molierus in urna, Cui genus humanum ludere, ludus erat.
Dum ludit mortem, mors indignata jocantem Corripit, et nimium fingere, faeva negat.*
Within this melancholy tomb confined. Here lies the matchlefs ape of human kind; Who, while he labour'd with ambitious ftrife To mimic death as he had mimick'd life. So well, or rather ill, perform'd his part. That Death, delighted with his wond'rous art, Snatch'd up the copy, to the grief of France, And made it an original at once.
In a Churchyard near Salifbury, on Richard Button.
Oh! fun, moon, ftars, and ye celeftial poles! Are graves then dwindled into Button-holtsi
- Molierewas born in 1620, and died 1673. He wrote feveral
exquifite plays, and, whilft performing the part of a dead man in one of them, was taken ill, and died a few hours afterwards.
Monumental Epigrams. 309
Written on the Death of Frederic, eldejl Son of George II.
Here lies Fred,
Who was alive and is dead:
Had it been his father,
I had much rather:
Had it been his brother.
Still better than another:
Had it been his lifter.
No one would have mifs'd her;
Had it been the whole generation.
Still better for the nation:
But lince 'tis only Fred,
Who was alive and is dead.
There's no more to be faid.
On an Idiot Boy.
If innocency may claim a place in heaven.
And little be required for little given.
My great Creator has for me in ftore
A world of blifs — what can the wife have more?
On Sophocles. From the Greek of Simmias the Theban.
Wind, gentle evergreen, to form a fliade Around the tomb where Sophocles is laid; Sweet ivy, wind thy boughs to intertwine With blulhing rofes and the cluftering vine; Thus will thy lafting leaves, with beauties hung. Prove grateful emblems of the lays he fung, Whofe foul, exalted by the god of wit. Among the Mufes and the Graces writ.
310 Monumental Epigrams.
On a Wicked Man, killed by a fall from his borje^ during which he is fuppofed to fay, —
Between the ftirrup and the ground I mercy fought, I mercy found.
Camden's Remains.
On John Sullen. Here lies John Sullen, and it is God's will, He that was Sullen, fliould be Sullen ftill: He ftill is Sullen, if the truth ye feek. Knock until doomfday. Sullen will not fpeak.
From the French.
Careless and thoughtlefs all my life. Stranger to every fource of ftrife. And deeming each grave fage a fool. The law of nature was my rule, By which I duly learnt to meafure My portion of defire and pleafure. 'Tis ftrange that here I lie, you fee. For death muft have indulged a whim. At any time t' have thought of me. Who never once did think of him.
On Elizabeth Wife.
Here lies
Elizabeth Wife.
She died of thunder fent from heaven
In feventeen hundred feventy-feven.
On Strange, a Lawyer. Here lies an honeft lawyer, that is Strange.
Monumental Epigrams. 311
On Butt, or Wood.
Here lies John Bun, Kill'd by a gun. His real name was Wood, But that wouldn't rhyme. So I thought Bun fhould.
On the Statue, in Clement's Inn, of a Negro fupporting a Sun-dial.
In vain, poor fable Ton of woe.
Thou feek'ft the tender tear; For thee, alas! it ftill muft flow.
For mercy dwells not here.
From cannibals thou fled'ft in vain.
Lawyers lefs quarter give; The firft won't eat you till you're flain,
The laft will do 't alive.
From the Spanijh.
" Better to roam the fields for health unbought. Than fee the dodlor for a naufeous draught." This maxim long I happily purfued. And fell difeafe my health then ne'er fubdued; But to be more than well at length I tried. The doftor came at laft, and then I died.
The Lazvyers Promotion.
Here lies Lawyer Lag, in a woeful condition. Who once was a law-man, now turn'd politician; Alive, he a Templer was, keeping his terms. And dead, he makes one in the diet of worms.
312 Monumental Epigrams.
On Partridge, the Almanack-maker,
Here, five feet deep, lies on his back A cobbler, ftar-monger, and quack; Who to the ftars, in pure good-will. Does to his beft look upward ftill. Weep, all you cuftomers that ufe His pills, his almanacks, or fhoes; And you that did your fortunes feek. Step to his grave but once a week: This earth, which bears his body's print. You'll find has fo much virtue in't. That I durft pawn my ears 'twill tell Whate'er concerns you full as well. In phyfic, ftolen goods, or love. As he himfelf could, when above.
Dean Swift.
On a Smuggler.
Here I lies KiU'd by the XIS.
On Infants.
The mother gave, in tears and pain. The flowers (he moft did love;
She knew flie fliould find them all again In the fields of light above.
Oh! not in cruelty, not in wrath.
The reaper came that day; 'Twas an angel vifited the green earth,
And took the flowers away.
Longfellow.
Monumental Epigrams. 313
On a Mifer.
Beneath this verdant hillock lies Demar, the wealthy and the wife. His heirs, that he might fafely reft, Have put his carcafe in a cheft: The very cheft, in which they fay. His other felf, his money, lay. And if his heirs continue kind To that dear felf he left behind, I dare believe, that four in five Will think his better half alive.
Swift.
On Butler, the Author of Hudibras.
For though no monument can claim To be the treafurer of thy name; That work, which ne'er will die, fhall be An everlafting monument to thee.
On a Woman who had an ijjue in her leg.
Here lieth Margaret, otherwife Meg, Who died without iflue, fave one in her leg. Strange woman was fhe, and exceedingly cunning. For whilft one leg ftood ftill, the other kept running.
Author fuppofed to be Shakspeare.
On Mills, the Hunt/man.
Here lies John Mills, who over hills Purfued the hounds with hallo;
The leap though high, frgm earth to fky. The huntfman we muft follow.
314 Monumental Epigrams.
On Drs. Walker and Fuller.
Walker wrote on the Englijh particles. This caufed him to get the very Jhort and pithy epitaph: —
Here lie Walker's particles.
the brevity of which was equalled by that on the famous Dr. Fuller: —
Here lies Fuller's earth.
The Epitaph on Beckford, in the Lanfdowne Cemetery j near Bath, contains the one fentence which alone in all his writings feemed to Jhow that he had fome faint apprehenjion of Divine truth. Placed on his grave by his daughter: —
Eternal God, Grant me, through obvious clouds, one tranfient gleam Of thy bright Eflence in my dying hour.
Prepare to meet thy God.
In every ftage of life is given
A warning voice; it comes from heaven.
In childhood's hour it breathes around,
" The faireft flowers are faded found."
In youth it whifpers as a friend,
" Refleft upon thy latter end,"
In manhood, louder fwells the cry,
"Remember thou art born to die."
In age it thunders on the blaft,
" O, man! thy earthly years are paft."
In joy and grief, in eafe and care.
In every ftage, " Prepare, prepare."
Old Humphrey.
Monumental Epigrams. 315
On an Undertaker.
Here lies Bob Mailers — it was very hard, To take away old honeft Robin's breath;
Yet furely Robin was full well prepared. For he was always looking out for death.
On Peter Aretin.
Here Aretin interr'd doth lie,
Whofe fatire lafh'd both high and low:
His God alone it fpared; and why? His God, he faid, he did not know.
On a Mother and her Infants,
From God they came, to God they went again: No fin they knew, and knew but little pain; And here they lie, by their fond mother's fide. Who lived to love and lofe them: then Ihe died.
Hartley Coleridge.
In Gillingham Churchward.
Take time in time, while time doth laft, For time is not time, when time is paft.
In Pan eras Churchyard.
As I am now, fo you muft be; Therefore, prepare to follow me.
The Rev. W, Huntington, of S. S. notoriety, tvrotg underneath this anfzver: —
To follow you I'm not intent.
Till I can learn which way you went.
3i6 Monumental Epigrams.
On a ^arrelfome Man.
Beneath this ftone lies one whofe life Was fpent in quarrels, and in ftrife; Wake not his fpirit from its reft. For when he flept the world was bleft.
On John Lockhart, Efq.
Take time, while time doth ferve; 'tis time to-day. For fecret dangers ftill attend delay; Do what thou canft — to-day hath eagle's wings; For who can tell what change to-morrow brings?
On Dr. Sheridan.
Beneath this marble ftone there lies Poor Tom, more merry much than wife; Who only lived for two great ends, — To fpend his cafti, and lofe his friends: His darling wife, of him bereft, Is only grieved — there's nothing left!
Swift.
On a Stone that covers the remains of the Father, Mother, and Brother of Pitt, late Earl of Chatham, written by himfelf.
Ye facred fpirits! while your friends, diftrefs'd. Weep o'er your afties, and lament the blefs'd; O, let the penlive mufe infcribe that ftone. And with the general forrows mix her own: The penfive mufe, who, from this mournful hour Shall raife her voice and wake the ftrings no more; Of love, of duty, this laft pledge receive, — 'Tis all a brother, all a fon can give.
Monumental Epigrams. 317
On Francis Beaumont.
He that hath fuch acutenefs, and fuch wit. As would afk ten good heads to hufband it; He that can write fo well, that no man dare Refufe it for the beft, let him beware; Beaumont is dead, by whofe fole death appears. Wit's a difeafe confumes men in few years.
Bishop Corbet.
On Thomas Churchyard, Laureate to Henry VII.
and Henry Fill., buried in St. Margaret's,
Wejlminjier.
Come, Alefto, and lend me thy torch. To find a Churchyard in a church-porch y Poverty and poetry this tomb doth enclofe. Therefore, gentlemen, be merry in profe.
From Cowley,
Here lies the great — Falfe marble, tell me where? Nothing but poor and fordid dull lies here.
Intended for Dry den s by Pope.
This Sheffield raifed. The facred duft below Was Dryden once: the reft who does not know?
On Sir IJaac Newton.
So happy Newton, in his miftrefs' grace. He afk'd a glimpfe — Ihe Ihow'd him all her face; For Nature, 'midft the frenzy of her love, Reveal'd to Newton all her works above.
3i8 Monumental Epigrams.
On Dr. Fijher. Here Dr. Fifher lies interr'd. Who's fiU'd the half of this churchyard.
On the Death of Dean Swift.
When Gay breathed his laft, we in filence complain'd. But yet we'd a Pope and a Swift who remain'd; Pope falls! all Parnaflus refounds with our cries. And prayers daily made to keep Swift from the flcies; Vain wilhes! vain prayers! to the winds they are
given. For death comes relentlefs, and takes him to heaven. At little misfortunes we're foberly fad. But its time, now we've loft all our wits, to run mad.
On Captain Jones, who publijhed fome marvellous ac- counts of his travels, the truth of which he thought proper to tejiify by affidavit.
Tread foftly, mortals, o'er the bones Of the world's wonder, Captain Jones; Who told his glorious deeds to many. But never was believed by any. Pofterity, let this fuffice. He fwore all's true, yet here he lies.
On John Comb, of Stratford-on-Avon, noted for his wealth and ufury.
Ten in the hundred lies here ingraved, 'Tis a hundred to ten his foul is not faved. If any man afk, who lies in this tomb? " Oh! oh!" quoth the devil, " 'tis my John-a-Comb."
Shakspeare.
Monumental Epigrams. 319
In Bury St. Edmund's Churchyard. Fond youth, beware betimes, death fkulks behind thee; Remember, as death leaves, the judgment finds thee.
On Laurence Sterne,
Shall pride a heap of fculptur'd marble raife. Some worthlefs, unmourn'd, titled fool to praife; And fliall we not by one poor grave-ftone learn Where genius, wit, and humour fleep with Sterne?
Garrick. Pofthumous Fame. A MONSTER, in a courfe of vice grown old. Leaves to his gaping heir his ill-gain'd gold; Now breathes his buft, now are his virtues fhown, Their date commencing with the fculptur'd ftone. If on his fpecious marble we rely. Pity a worth like his fhould ever die! If credit to his real life we give. Pity a wretch like him Ihould ever live!
On Cowper.
Ye who with warmth the public triumph feel
Of talents, dignified by facred zeal.
Here, to devotion's bard devoutly juft.
Pay your fond tribute due to Cowper's duft,
England, exulting in his fpotlefs fame.
Ranks with her deareft fons his favourite name.
Senfe, fancy, wit, fufiice not all to raife
So clear a title to afi^edlion's praife.
His higheft honours to the heart belong;
His virtues form'd the magic of his fong.
Hayley.
320 Monumental Epigrams.
On a Mifer.
Here lies one who for med'cines would not give
A little gold, and fo his life he loft: I fancy now he'd wifti again to live.
Could he but guefs how much his funeral coft.
On an unknown Per/on.
Without a name, for ever fenfelefs, dumb, Duft, aflies, naught elfe, lies within this tomb. Where'er I lived, or died, it matters not: To whom related or by whom begot. I was, but am not, aflc no more of me — It's all I am, and all that thou fhalt be.
On a Member of the Kildare Family, by Dean Swift.
Who killed Kildare? who dared Kildare to kill? Death killed Kildare — who dare kill whom he will.
On John So.
So died John So, Sofodxd hefo? So did he live, And fo did he die! Sofo did hefo, And fo let him lie.
On a Man named Fijh.
Worms bait for fifti; but here's a fudden change, Fifh's bait for worms — is not that paffing ftrange?
Monumental Epigrams. 321
Ofi Robert Stevens, in Peterborough Cathedral Graveyard.
Youth builds for age; age builds for reft, They who build for heaven build beft.
In Wingfield Churchyard, Suffolk.
Pope boldly aflerts (fome think the maxim odd),
- An honeft man's the nobleft work of God."
If this aflertion is from error clear. One of the nobleft works of God lies here.
On a Sexton, who received a heavy blow by the Clapper of a Bell.
Here lieth the body of honeft John Capper, Who lived by the bell, and died by the clapper.
Capper's Reply.
I AM not dead, indeed, but have good hope To live by the bell when you die by the rope.
In Llangerrig Church, Montgomery.
O EARTH, O earth, obferve this well — That earth to earth ftiall come to dwell: Then earth in earth fhall clofe remain, Till earth from earth fhall rife again.
From earth my body firft arofe. But here to earth again it goes. I never defire to have it more. To plague me as it did before.
T
322 Monumental Epigrams.
On Edward Cave, who originated the " Gentleman's Magazine."
He lived a patriarch in his numerous race, And fhew'd in charity a Chriftian's grace: Whate'er a friend or parent feels, he knew: His hand was open, and his heart was true: In what he gain'd and gave, he taught mankind, A grateful always is a generous mind. Here refls his clay! his foul muft ever reft. Who blefs'd when living, dying muft be bleft.
From Dr. Johnson's Life of Cave.
On Madam Blaize, the glory of her Sex.
Good people all, with one accord.
Lament for Madam Blaize, Who never wanted a good word —
From thofe who fpoke her praife.
The needy feldom pafs'd her door.
And always found her kind; She freely lent to all the poor —
Who left a pledge behind.
She ftrove the neighbourhood to pleafe With manners wondrous winning;
And never follow'd wicked ways — Unlefs when fhe was finning.
At church, with filks and fatins new.
With hoop of monftrous fize; She never flumber'd in her pew —
But when ihe fhut her eyts.
Monumental Epigrams. 323
Her love was fought, I do aver.
By twenty beaux and more; The king himfelf has follow'd her —
When flie has walk'd before.
But now, her wealth and finery fled.
Her hangers-on cut fhort all: The dodlors found, when fhe was dead,
Her lail diforder — mortal.
Let us lament in forrow fore;
For Kent-ftreet well may fay. That, had (he lived a twelvemonth more.
She had not died to-day.
Goldsmith.
On an Editor. Here lies an Editor! Snooks if you will: In mercy, kind Providence, Let him lie Jlill.
He lied for his living: fo He lived, while he lied: When he could not lie longer. He lied down, and died.
On Daniel Tears,
Here, friend, is little Daniel's tomb.
To Jofeph's age he did arrive: Sloth killing thoufands in their bloom. While labour kept poor Dan alive. Though ftrange, yet true, full feventy years Was his wife happy in her Tears.
324 Monumental Epigrams.
In Lavenham Church, 'Norfolk. On John Wales, ob. 1694.
Quod fuit efle, quod eft. Quod non fuit efle, quod efle; Efle quod non efle. Quod eft, non eft, erit, efl'e.
Thus tranjlated by a Herefordjbire clergyman: —
All that I really was lies here in duft; That which was death before is life, I truft. To be what is, is not, I ween, to be: Is not, but will be in eternity.
From Notes and ^eries.
On the celebrated Duke of Marlborough. From the
Latin of the " Fable of the Bees, by
B. Mandeville, M.D.
The grateful antients him a god declared Who wifely counfell'd or who bravely warr'd; Hence Greece her Mars and Pallas deify'd. Made him the hero's, her the patriot's guide: Antients, within this urn a mortal lies: Shew me his peer among your deities.
From the Guide to Blenheim and Woodjloch.
Bobbity John.
Under this ftone lies Bobbity John,
Who, when alive, to the world was a wonder: And would have been fo yet, had not Death in a fit
Cut his foul and his body afunder.
Monumental Epigrams. 325
Off Gray's Monument in Wejlminjier Abbey.
No more the Grecian mufe unrivall'd reigns. To Britain let the nations homage pay!
She boafts a Homer's lire in iVIilton's ftrains, A Pindar's rapture in the lyre of Gray.
Mason.
On Captain Underwood, who was drowned; in a Churchyard in Sujfex. Here lies, free from blood and flaughter. Once Underwood — now Underwater.
On Archbijhop Laud, beheaded Jan. 1645. Here lies, within the compafs of this earth, A man of boundlefs pride, of meaneft birth; England's laft Primate, whofe unequal fate Made him the prince's love, the people's hate. A Proteftant in fhew, yet, join'd by art. An Englilh headpiece to a Roman heart; A feeming patriot, yet this wonder bred He was the Church's, his a traitor's head. Which being taken off, he thus did die. The Church's, prince's, people's enemy.
From an old MS. in Sion College Library.
On the Tomb of T. Maude, author of a poetical defcrip- tion of Wenfleydale, in the North Riding of Torkjhire. How bleft is he who crowns, in Ihades like thefe, A youth of labour, with an age of eafe: Sinks to the grave with unperceived decay. While refignation gently flopes the way.
, From Goldsmith's Deferted Village.
326 Monumental Epigrams. •
A Soldier's Epitaph.
Whilst I was young, in wars I fhed my blood. Both for my king and for my country's good; In elder years it was my care to be Soldier to Him who ftied his blood for me.
On Fair Rofamund^ buried at Godjlow, near Oxford. Hic jacet in tumba Rofa Mundi, non Rofamunda: Non redolet, fed olet, quae redolere folet.
Thus imitated in Englijh: — Here lies, not Rofe the Chafte, but Rofe the Fair: Her fcents no more perfume, but taint the air.
On " Old Dog Tray:'
Here reft the relics of a friend below,
Bleft with more fenfe than half the folks I know; '
Fond of his eafe, and to no parties prone.
He damn'd no feft, but calmly gnaw'd his bone;
Perform'd his funflions well in ev'ry way.
Blufh, Chriftians, if you can, and copy Tray.
For Prior's Monument s written by himfelf.
Not to bufinefs a drudge, nor to faftion a flave. He ftrove to make intereft and freedom agree.
In public employments induftrious and grave.
And alone with his friends. Lord, how merry was he!
Now in equipage ftately, now humbly on foot.
Both fortunes he tried, but to neither would truft;
And whirled in the round as the wheel turned about. He found riches had wings, and knew man was but duft.
Monumental Epigrams. 327
Cornijh Epitaphs. 7he following curious epitaphs are taken from " A Week at the Land's End" a guide- book to Cornwall: —
I.
Belgium my birth, Britain my breeding gave, Cornwall a wife, ten children, and a grave.
2.
Our life is but a winter's day; Some only breakfaft and away; Others to dinner ftay, and are full fed; The oldell only fups and goes to bed; Large is his debt who lingers out the day; Who goes the fooneft has the leaft to pay.
3- Hope, fear, falfe joy, and trouble. Are thefe four winds which daily tofs this bubble. His breath's a vapour, and his life's a fpan, 'Tis glorious mifery to be born a man.
On a Prizefighter; in HanJIope Churchyard, Bucks.
Strong and athletic was my frame. Far away from home I came. And manly fought with Simon Byrne, Alas! but lived not to return.
Reader, take warning by my fate. Unlefs you rue your cafe too late; And if you've ever fought before. Determine now to fight no more.
328 Monumental Epigrams.
On Richard Brandon,* the executioner of King Charles I.
Who, do you think, lies buried here? One that did help to make hemp dear; The pooreft fubjefl did abhor him. And yet his king did kneel before him; He would his matter not betroy. Yet he his mailer did deftroy; And yet no Judas j in records 'tis found Judas had thirty pence, he thirty pound.f
Infcription in the Parfonage, Bemerton. To my
Succejfor.
If thou chance to find A new house to thy mind
And built without thy coft, Be good to the poor. As God gives thee ftore,
And then my labour's not loft.
G. Herbert.
On John Stewart, at Inverne/s.
HoDiE mihi, eras tibi. Sic tranfit gloria mundi.
To-day is mine, to-morrow yours may be. And fo doth pafs this world's poor pageantry.
• Brandon died in 1649, and was buried in Whitechapel churchyard. The burial regifter of St. Mary Mattelon has the entry, " Buried in the churchyard, Richard Brandon, a ragman of Rofemary Lane."
■|- The fee (30/.) was faid to have been paid in crown pieces.
From Notes and S^ueriei,
Monumental Epigrams. 329
On AlexafiJer the Great.
SuFFiciT huic tumulus, cui non fufficeret orbis.
A mound of earth fufEces Alexander now. To whom, alive, a world was mere " bow-wow."
Rev. J. C. Napleton,
On the Venerable Bede, ob. 735.
Beneath this ftone Bede's mortal body lies; God grant his foul may reft amid the fkies. May he drink deeply, in the realms above. Of wifdom's fount, which he on earth did love.
On one who Jlew his Mother. From the Greek.
O BURY not the dead, but let him lie
A prey for dogs beneath th' unpitying fky!
Our common mother. Earth, would grieve to hide
The hateful body of the matricide.
Hodgson.
A Punning Infcription.
Hic jacet Plus, plus non eft hie. Plus et non plus, quomodo fie?
Here lies More, no more is he. More and no more, how can that be?
Another on More, at St. Bennet, PauFs Wharf.
Here lies one More, and no More than he.
One More and no More! how can that be?
Why one More and no More may well lie here alone;
But here lies one More, and that's More than one.
330 Monumental Epigrams.
From Plato. On two neighbouring Tombs,
This is a failor's — that a ploughman's tomb; Thus fea and land abide one common doom.
Hodgson.
In Llanfilantwthyl Churchyard. Under this ftone lies Meredith Morgan, Who blew the bellows of our church organ; Tobacco he hated, to fmoke moft unwilling; Yet never fo pleafed as when pipes he was filling; No refleftion on him for rude fpeech could be call, The' he gave our old organift many a blaft. No puffer was he,
Tho' a capital blower: He could fill double G,
And now lies a note lower.
On Pearce, the Earl of Suffolk's Fool.
Here lies the Earl of Suffolk's Fool,
Men call him Dicky Pearce; His folly ferved to make men laugh.
When wit and mirth were fcarce. Poor Dick, alas! is dead and gone.
What fignifies to cry? Dickys enough are ftill behind,
To laugh at by-and-bye.
Dean Swift.
By an uncertain author. From the Greek. My lot was meagre fare, difeafe, and ihame. At length I died — you all muft do the fame.
Bland.
Monumental Epigrams. 331
On a murdered Corpfe. From the Greek.
Though here you laid my corpfe, when none were
nigh, One favv thee, murderer! one all-feeing eye.
Hodgson.
On Glaucus. From MartiaPs Epigrams (lib. vi. 29).
Nor bafely born, nor bought at mart.
But worthy all a mafter's love. Freed — but too young to lay to heart
The boon — or freedom's joys to prove: In him fair form, mild manners meet,
Apollo's fcarce a face more fair; Such gifts foreQiow life fliort and fleet.
Ye who love fuch for grief prepare.
A. B. Rowan, D.D.
On y. Alexander, a pedlar, who died Jan. 5, 1746, aged gi^ s in Paulerfpury Churchyard.
At fourteen years of age in Scotland I was bound Apprentice for to travel all over Englifh ground; And Ireland had its fhare of my forty years' toil and
pain. And here I pitched my ftafF to eafe my back again. A family I have enjoy'd full forty-one years at leaft. And now I am call'd hence, as God has thought it beft.
On EpiSIetus. From the Greek of Leonidas.
A SLAVE was Epiftetus, who before thee buried lies. And a cripple, and a beggar, and the favourite of the ikies.
332 Monumental Epigrams.
On Otbo the Great, Emperor of Germany, ob. 972.
Beneath this marble tomb a monarch lies,
Whofe lofs a three-fold fhare of grief muft claim j
Religion's friend — a ruler brave and wife — His weeping country's higheft joy and fame.
From Readings in Biography.
On ^een Elizabeth, in the old church of St. Clement, Eaf cheap, was the following epitaph: —
Spain's rod, Rome's ruin,
Netherlands' relief. Heaven's gem. Earth's joy.
World's wonder. Nature's chief, Britain's bleffing, England's fplendour. Religion's nurfe, the Faith's defender.
On the Duke of Marlborough, ob. 1722.
In war's dire chance no fad reverie he found
Fortune the favourite chief for ever crown'd.
His form here yields to fate! his fame fhall grow.
When Mofa, or when Ifler ceafe to flow.
Lo! kings and bards their afhes round him blend,
Ambitious once the hero to befriend.
That on the Gaulifh tyrant vengeance hurl'd.
The foul of Britain, Europe, and the world.*
• Part of the Latin tranflation of the epitaph in Welbninfter Abbey. ♦
Monumental Epigrams. 333
On Hipponax, the Verfe-maher. From Theocritus, HippoNAX the verfe-fatirift ]ies here. If thou'rt a worthlefs wretch, approach not near; But if well-bred, and from all evil pure. Sit here with confidence, and fleep fecure.
Fawkes.
On Theodore Anthony I, King of Corjica. The grave, great teacher, to a level brings Heroes and beggars, galley-flaves and kings. But Theodore this moral learn'd ere dead, — Fate poured its leffon on his living head; Beftow'd a kingdom, and denied him bread.
On Sir Sydney Smith's Tomb at Pere la Chaife. In warlike France, when great Napoleon rofe. The man who checked his conqueils finds repofe.
Rambles about Paris.
On a Bold Dragoon. Reader, in time prepare to follow me. As my route was, fo thine will furely be; The mandate of my God I did obey. Kings and dragoons when call'd muft march away.
On a Woolcomber, who was hanged for Jheep-Jiealing.
Beneath this gallows lies Tom Kemp, Who lived by wool and died by hemp. The fleece would not fuffice the glutton, But with it he muft tteal the mutton. Had he but work'd, and lived uprighter. He'd ne'er been hung for a Iheep-biter.
334 Monumental Epigrams.
On Sir J. Danvers, ob. 1753; in Suthland Churchyard.
Whek young I fail'd to India, Eaft and Weft, But aged, in this port muft lie at reft.
On a Fool, who was Jhot through the head in a duel.
Here lies poor Tommy; Nature at his end Thought 'twas but right for once to ftand his friend; For in the ftiades below he now can fay, " At leaft there's fomething in my head to-day."
On Spencer Madan, D.D., Bijhop of Peterborough, ob. 181 3.
In facred fleep the pious blftiop lies.
Say not in death — a good man never dies.
On Laurence Sterne.
How often wrongs our nomenclature! How our names differ from our nature
'Tis eafy to difcern; Here lies the quinteffence of wit. For mirth and humour none more fit.
And yet men call him Stern-e.
On Mr. Death, the J£ior.
Death levels all, both high and low. Without regard to ftations; Yet why complain li we are flain? For here lies one, at leaft, to fhow He kills his own relations.
Monumental Epigrams. 335
Off S. Foote, the Comedian, ob. ITJ"], buried in Wejiminfter Jbbey.
Here lies one Foote, whofe death may thoufands fave. For death has now one Foote within the grave.
On ^iin, the A^or, in the Abbey Church at Bath,
The fcene is changed — I am no more, • Death's the laft aft — now all is o'er.
On Little Stephen, a well-kfiown fddler in Suffolk.
Stephen and Time Are both now even; Stephen beat Time, Now Time beats Stephen.
Off Joe' Miller, the Je/ler, ob. 1738, buried in St. Clement Danes Churchyard.
If humour, wit, and honelly could lave The humorous, witty, honeft, from the grave. The grave had not fo foon this tenant found. Whom honefty, wit, and humour crown'd.
Or could efteem and love preferve our breath. And guard us longer from the ftroke of death; The ftroke of death on him had later fell, Whom all mankind efteem'd and loved fo well.
Off a Man and his Wife.
Here lies Thomas and his wife. Who led a pretty jarring life. But all is ended — do you fee. He holds his tongue, and fo does fhe.
336 Monumental Epigrams.
On John Wright.
Here lies John Wright, as queer a wight
As fleeps thefe tombs among, Who, ftrange to tell, though always Wright,
Wisfometimes in the wrong.
On Robefpierre.
Here lies Robefpierre — let no tear be Ihed 1 Reader, if he had lived, thou hadft been dead.
On lipomas Hobbes, author of" Leviathan" and other celebrated Works.
Here lies Tom Hobbes, the bugbear of the nation, Whofe death hath frighted Atheifm out of fafliion.
On a Man who had been notorioujly mijerlj and ufurious.
Here lies old forty-five per cent.; The more he got the more he lent, "^ The more he faved, the more he craved: Great God! can fuch a foul be faved?
In Peterborough Churchward.
Reader, pafs on, nor idly wafte your time. In bad biography, or bitter rhyme; What I am, this cumbrous clay infures. And what I was is no affair of yours.
On an Infant three months old.
Since I am fo quickly done for, I wonder what I was begun for.
Monumental Epigrams. 337
Oft Mr. Camming.
" Give me the befl: of men," faid Death To Nature, — " Quick, no humming!" She fought the man who lies beneath, And anfwer'd, " Death, he's Gumming."
On a Punfier.
Beneath this gravel and thefe ftones Lie poor Jack TifTey's fkin and bones: His flefh, I oft have heard him fay, He hoped in time would make good hay. Quoth I, *' How can that come to pafs?" And he replied, " All flelh is grafs."
On a Puritanical Lockfmith.
A ZEALOUS lockfmith died of late. And did arrive at heaven's gate: He flood without, and would not knock, Becaufe he meant to pick the lock.
On an Epicure.
At length, my friends, the feaft of life is o'er, I've eat fufficient, I can drink no more; My night is come; I've fpent a jovial day; 'Tis time to part: but oh! what is to pay?
Lines written in pencil on a Tomb in Harrow Churchyard, ajcribed to Byron. Beneath thefe green trees, rifing to the fkies. The planter of them, Ifaac Greentree, lies; A time fhall come when thefe green trees fliall fall. And Ifaac Greentree rife above them all.
338 Monumental Epigrams.
On a Tailor, named Shadracb Bodkin.
To man nor woman, boy nor maid. Death ne'er has proved a gaoler;
But wouldft thou know who here is laid. Why, reader — 'tis a tailor.
And though with Death 'tis ftrange to jeer.
Deny the truth who can. If when eight more are buried here
We fay, " Here lies a man."
That which a being was, what is it? ftiow; That being which it was, it is not now: To be what 'tis, is not to be, you fee: That which now is not, fliall a being be.
In a Churchyard in Norfolk,
Here lies Matthew Mud, Death did him no hurt;
When alive he was Mud, And now dead he's but dirt.
On a violent Scold.
Here lies, return'd to clay,
Mifs Arabella Young; Who, on the firft of May,
Began to hold her tongue.
■ In Lymington Churchyard. Live well, die never: Die well, live for ever.
Monumental Epigrams. 339
On a celebrated Cook, who died recently. Peace to his hafhes.
On a Mifers Tomb,
Here lies old father Gripe, who never cried "Jam fatis;" 'Twould wake him did he know you read his tombftone gratis.
A Prieji's Epitaph, by him/elf.
This be my record: fober, not auftere, A Churchman, honeft to his Church, lies here; Content to tread where wifer feet have trod. He loved eftablifh'd modes of ferving God; Preach'd from a pulpit rather than a tub. And gave no guinea to a Bible club.
From the Religio Clerici,
On a Dyer, in Lincoln Churchyard,
Here lies John Hyde; He iirft lived, and then he died; He died to live, and lived to die. And hopes to live eternally.
On a Dujlman.
Beneath yon humble clod, at reft. Lies Andrew, who, if not the beft.
Was not the very worft man; A little rakifh, apt to roam; But not fo now, he's quite at home,
For Andrew was a duftman.
34C Monumental Epigrams.
On Dog Pompey.
Here Pompey lies, Pompey of fpotlefs fame. Yet fpots he had, and Spot became his name; Though full of fpots. Spot lived without a fpot: Ah! who can trace fuch fpots in human lot! His fpots were beauties of a fpotlefs kind. Spots without fpots on good Spot traced we find: Of honeft Spot this truth may be relied. In this fpot, fpotted Spot lies fpotlefs, as he lived and died.
On R. Burns, the Poet.
O, Robbie Burns! the man, the brither! And art thou gone, and gone for ever? And haft thou crofs'd that unknown river.
Life's dreary bound? Like thee, where ftiall we find anither,
The world around?
Go to your fculptured tombs, ye great. In a' the tinfel tralh of ftate! But by the honeft turf I'll wait.
Thou man of worth! And weep the fweeteft poet's fate.
E'er lived on earth.
On John Fry, an Undertaker; in Stoke Churchyard.
An undertaker, named John Fry, Lies here, who loft his breath
Endeavouring, but in vain, to fly That over taker. Death.
Monumental Epigrams. 341
In Chumleigh Churchyard, EJfex.
Man is born, alas! and what is man?
A fcuttle-full of duft, a meafured fpan,
A vale of tears, a veflel tun'd with breath.
By ficknefs broach'd, and then drawn out by death.
On George Dixon, a noted Fox-hunter.
Stop, pafTenger! and thy attention fix on That true-born, honeft fox-hunter, George Dixon; Who, after eighty years' unwearied chafe. Now refts his bones within this hallow'd place. A gentle tribute of applaufe beftow. And give him as you pafs one tally-ho; Early to cover, brifk he rode each morn. In hopes the brujh his temples might adorn. The view is now no more, the chafe is paft. And to an earth poor George is run at laft.
Under this ftone
Lies Miller Bone;
He lying lived, and lying died.
For, dying or living, he always lied.
On a military Officer i in a Churchyard near Oxford.
Billeted by death,
I, quarter'd here, lay ilain. And when the trumpet founds,
I'll rife and march again.
In St. Margaret s Churchyard, Rochejier.
Christ's death my life, my life to death was portal. So through two deaths I have one life immortal.
34* Monumental Epigrams.
In Hatfield Churchward, Herts.
The world's a city full of crooked ftreets; And death the market-place where man man meets. If death were merchandife that men coiild buy. The rich would always live, the poor muft die.
On a Captain, who was drowned at Grave/end.
Friends, ceafe to grieve that at Gravefend
My life was clofed with fpeed. For when the Saviour (hall defcend,
'Twill be graves' end, indeed.
On John Spong, a Carpenter.
Who many a fturdy oak hath laid along, Fell'd by Death's furer hatchet, here lies Spong. Polls oft he made, yet ne'er a place could get. And lived by railing, though he was no wit. Old faws he had, although no antiquarian. And ftyles correded, yet was no grammarian.
On one who died of the Hyp.
Death, by a conduft ftrange and new. Proved here th' eiFeft and motive too: Ned met the blow he meant to fly. And died, becaufe he fear'd to die.
The Orator's Epitaph.
Here, reader, turn your weeping eyes.
My fate a moral teaches; The hole in which my body lies
Would not contain one-half my fpeeches.
Lord Brougham.
Monumental Epigrams. 343
On Peter Staggs.
Poor Peter Staggs now refts beneath this rail. Who loved his joke, his pipe, and mug of ale; For twenty years he did the duties well. Of oilier, boots, and waiter at the "Bell." But Death ftepp'd in, and ordered Peter Staggs To feed his worms, and leave the farmers' nags. The church-clock ftruck one, alas! 'twas Peter's knell. Who figh'd, " I'm coming — that's the oftler's bell! "
Peter Pindar.
On John Dove, Innkeeper of Mauchline.
Here lies Johnny Pidgeon; What was his religion?
Wha e'er deiires to ken. To fome other warl' Maun follow the carl,
For here Johnny Pidgeon had nane!
Strong ale was ablution, Small beer perfecution,
A dram was memento mori: But a full flowing bowl Was the faving his foul.
And port was celeftial glory.
R. Burns.
On a Fellow of Trinity College.
Here lies a Doftor of Divinity, Who was a Fellow too of Trinity; He knew as much about Divinity As other fellows do of Trinity.
PORSON.
344 Monumental Epigrams.
On Andrew Turner.
In fe'enteen hunder an' forty-nine, Satan took fluff to mak' a fwine.
And cuift it in a corner; But wilily he changed his plan. And fhaped it fomething like a man.
And ca'd it Andrew Turner.
R. Burns.
On a Scotch Coxcomb.
Light lay the earth on Billy's breaft. His chicken heart fo tender;
But build a caftle on his head. His fkull will prop it under.
R. Burns.
On W .
Stop, thief! dame Nature cried to Death, As Willie drew his lateft breath; You have my choiceft model ta'en; How Ihall I make a fool again?
R. Burns.
On a Dyer.
Here lies the man who dyed of wool great ftore. One day he died himfelf, and dyed no more.
On an Old Maid who dropt ten years of her age.
A STIFF ftarch'd virgin of unblemilh'd fame And fpotlefs virtue, Bridget Cole by name. At length the death of all the righteous dies: Aged juft four and fifty — here fhe lies.
Monumental Epigrams. 345
0» Robert S out bey, the Poet Laureate.
Beneath thefe poppies buried deep. The bones of Bob the bard lie hid;
Peace to his Manes; and may he fleep As foundly as his readers did!
Through every fort of verfe meandering.
Bob went without a hitch or fall. Through epic/ Sapphic, Alexandrine,
To verfe that was no verfe at all;
Till fiftion having done enough,
To make a bard at leaft abfurd. And give his readers quantum fuff.
He took to praifing George the Third.
And now, in virtue of his crown.
Dooms us poor Whigs at once to flaughter; Like Donellan of bad renown,
Poifoning us all with laurel-water.*
And yet at times fome awkward qualms he
Felt about leaving honour's track; And though he's got a butt of Malmfey,
It may not iave him from a fack.
Death, weary of fo dull a writer.
Put to his works z finis thus: Oh! may the earth on him lie lighter
Than did his quartos upon us!
T. Moore.
- Sou they was Poet Laureate.
346 Monumental Epigrams.
On an AuRioneer.
Here lies the remnant of old Puff, A wight of more than modern fluff; Who, Samfon-]ike, true heart of oak. Could knock down houfes at a ftroke — But Death at laft, in jeering feoff. With his fell hammer ftruck him off.
On a Coalheaver.
Cease to lament his change, ye juft; He's only gone from •* dull to dull."
On Mr. King, late of Drury-lane.
Here lies a crownlefs monarch, though a King, Sans lands, yi»j- fubjedls, zndfans everything.
On a Locomotive. Written by the fole furvivor of a deplorable accident [no blame to be attached to any fervants of the company").
Collisions four
Or five fhe bore. The fignals were in vain;
Grown old and rufled,
Her biler bulled, And fmalh'd the excurfion train.
" Her end was pieces."
Punch.
On Woollett, the Engraver.
Here Woollett refts, contented to be faved; Who engraved well — but is not well en-graved.
Monumental Epigrams. 347
On a Handfome Young Lady.
Here reft thy duft, and wait th' Almighty's will. Then rife unchanged, and be an angel ftill.
From Boileau.
Here lies, regretted by us all, A fkilful man, of fcience fmall; A gentleman, though not of birth; A worthy man, though little worth.
A husband's corpfe this tomb contains. And I muft now my time employ
In weeping o'er his fad remains. With ever ftreaming tears — of joy.
On an Irijh Mi/er.
Here crumbling lies, beneath this mould, A man, whofe fole delight was gold; Content was never once his gueft. Though thrice ten thoufand fill'd his cheft; For he, poor man, with all his ftore. Died in great want — the want of more.
On a Coroner who hanged himfelf.
He lived and died "Ry fuicide.
On Mrs. Death.
Here lies Death's wife; when this way next you tread. Be not furprifed ihould Death himfelf be dead.
348 Monumental Epigrams.
On a Staymaker.
Alive, unnumber'd ftays he made.
He work'd, induftrious, night and day;
E'en dead he ftill purfues his trade, For here his bones will make ajiay.
On a Baker.
Here lies Dick, a baker by trade. Who was always in bufinefs praifed;
And here fnug he lies, in his oven, 'tis faid. In hopes that his bread may be raifed.
On Mr. Richard ^ick.
Quick living, and Quick dead! lo! here lies Dick, Who was, and is, and ever fhall be. Quick. Nor Quick nor dead, from Death we now can fave. Since Quick and Dead lie buried in one grave.
On a Sumptuous Liver.
" Flesh is but grafs," the Scripture fays, 'tis true; But, trult me, worms, I'm more than grafs to you.
On a Cowardly Officer.
Reader, a foldier here lies dead.
Who oft from fields of battle fled;
And, fhould he hear the trumpet's found,
Though dead, he'll rife and quit the ground.
On the Editor of the Wits^ Magazine.
Reader! here lies thy quondam merry friend, Chop-fall'n, alas! and quite at his wits' end.
Monumental Epigrams. 349
On an old Hawker found dead in the highway.
John Sherry lies here, whofe fix'd abode Was nowhere before, for he lived on the road; And when grown in age, fcarce able to creep. He there laid him down, and fell faft afleep: But fome of his friends foon found his milhap. And hither removed him to take out his nap.
On Mr. Thomas All.
Reader, beneath this marble lies All that was noble, good, and wife; All that once was found on earth. All that was of mortal birth; All that lived above the ground. May within this grave be found. If you have loft, or great or fmall. Come here and weep, for here lies All. Then fmile at Death, enjoy your mirth. Since he has took his All from earth.
On Mr. Peck.
Here lies a Peck! which fome men fay. Was firft of all a Peck of clay: This, wrought with flcill divine, while frefh. Became a curious Peck of flelh: Through various forms its maker ran; Then, adding breath, made Peck a man. Full Jixty years Peck felt life's bubbles. Till Death relieved a Peck of troubles. Thus fell poor Peck, as all things muft. And here he lies — a Peck of duft.
350 Monumental Epigrams.
Here refts a man who, proud and poor^ Knew very little reft before; Of nlifery he bore fuch a pack He'll fcarce petition to come back; Though, fhould he meet fo great a curfe. The world can hardly ufe him worle.
On a Horfe,
A GENEROUS foe, a faithful friend, A hero bold, here met his end: He conquer'd both in war and peace; By death fubdued, his glories ceafe. Afk you, who finilh'd here his courfe With fo much honour? 'Twas a horfe.
On Mr. Miles.
This tombftone is a Mileftone. "Hah! how fo?" Becaufe, beneath lies Miles, who's Miles below. A little man he was, a dwarf in fize; But now ftretch'd out, at leaft Miles long he lies. His grave, though fmall, contains a fpace fo wide, 'T has Miles in length and breadth, and room befides.
On a Dyer.
John Spellman's like will ne'er be found. He dyed for all the country round; Yet hear with patience, if you can. The bafe ingratitude of man: When Death approach'd, with afpeft grim. Not one of them would die for him j So, leaving all his worldly pelf. Poor John, at laft, died for himfelf.
Monumental Epigrams. 351
On a Naturalift.
Here lies a fage, who ftudied Nature's works. Where beetle, blind-worm, newt, or fcorpion lurks: Through all their various properties and forms. Moths, butterflies, grubs, caterpillars, worms. His fancy fed, and gave a rich repaft; Lo ye! he's gone to feed them all at laft.
On a Pin-maker,
Here lies Will Sharplefs, O moft cruel Death! Why didft thou rob Will Sharplefs of his breath? He, in his life-time, fcraping one poor pin. Made better duft than thou canft make of him.
On William Churchman.
Our life hangs by a fingle thread, Which foon is cut, and we are dead. Then boaft not, reader, of thy might. Alive at noon and dead at night.
On W. Weft, Comedian.
To me 'twas given to die; to thee 'tis given To live! alas! one moment fets us even, Mark how impartial is the will of Heaven.
Prior.
Piron wift^ed to become a member of the French Academy, and failing, revenged himfelf by writing his own Epitaph, which may be tranftated thus: —
Here lies Piron, who held no pofition. Not even that of an Academician.
352 Monumental Epigrams.
Stone, clay, dufi. The following Epitaph was written on reading of the death of a Lady whofe name was Stone: —
Curious enough, we all muft fay. That what was Stone Ihould now be clay; Moft curious ftill, to own we muft. That what was Stone will foon be duft.
FINIS.
CHISWICK PRESS: PRINTED BY WHITTINGHAM AND WILKINS,
TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE.
in ^?t.
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