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210 ANNUAL REGISTER
Such ample blessings swell'd the fly!
Yet in his mind's capacious eye
He roll'd the change of mortal things, The common fate of flies and kings.
With grief he saw how lands and honours
Are apt to slide to various owners;
Where Mowbrays dwelt, how grocers dwell,
And how cits buy what barons sell.
"Great Phœbus, patriarch of my,
"Avert such shame from sons of thine!
"To them confirm these roofs," he said;
And then he swore an oath so dread,
The stoutest wasp that wears a sword
Had trembled to have heard the word!
"If law can rivet down entails,
"These manors ne'er shall pass to snails.
"I swear,"-and then he smote his ermine-
"These towers were never built for vermin."
A caterpillar grovell'd near,
A subtle slow conveyancer,
Who summon'd, waddles with his quill
To draw the haughty insect's will;
None but his heirs must own the spot,
Begotten, or to be begot:
Each leaf he binds, each bud he ties
To eggs of eggs of butterflies.
When lo! how fortune loves to teaze
Those who would dictate her decrees!
A wanton boy was passing by;
The wanton child beheld the fly,
And eager ran to seize the prey;
But too impetuous in his play,
Crush'd the proud tenant of an hour,
And swept away the mansion-flow'r.
*** This piece was occasioned by the author being asked (after he had finished the little castle at Strawberry-hill, and adorned it with the portraits and arms of his ancestors) if he did not design to entail it on his family?
EPILOGUE to the FASHIONABLE LOVER.
Spoken by Mrs. BARRY.
LADIES, your country's ornament and pride,
Ye, whom the nuptial deity has tied
In silken fetters, will ye not impart
For pity's sake some portion of your art
To
For the YEAR 1772. 211
To a mere novice, and prescribe some plan
How you would have me live with my good man?
Tell me, if I should give each passing hour
To love of pleasure or to love of power;
If with the fatal thirst of desperate play
I shou'd turn day to night and night to day?
Had I the faculty to make a prize
Of each pert animal that meets my eyes,
Says are these objects worth my serious aim;
Do they give happiness, or health or fame?
Are hecatombs of lovers hearts of forces
To deprecate the demons of divorce?
Speak, my advisers, shall I gain the plan
Of that bold club, which gives the law to man,
At their own weapons that proud sex defies
And sets up a new female paradise?
Lights for the ladies! Hark, the bar-bells sound!
Show to the club-room - See the glass goes round -
Hail, happy meeting of the good and fair,
Soft relaxation from domestic care;
Where virgin minds are early train'd to loo,
And all Newmarket opens to the view.
In these gay scenes shall I affect to move,
Or pass my hours in dull domestic love?
Shall I to rural solitudes descend
With Tyrrel my protector, guardian, friend?
Or to the rich Pantheon's round repair,
And blaze the brightest heathen goddess there?
Where shall I fix? Determine, ye who know,
Shall I renounce my husband, or Soho?
With eyes half-open'd, and an aching head,
And ev'n the artificial roses dead,
When to my toilette's morning task resign'd,
What visitations then may seize my mind!
Save me just Heav'n, from such a painful life,
And make me an unfashionable wife!
The DOWNFAL of ROME.
From the celebrated VAN HARON.
ROME scarce o'er ruin'd Carthage rais'd her head,
When with her manners first her fame decay'd;
No longer blameless poverty her boast,
Her faith grew dubious, and her honour lost!
Then first her rising glory felt her shade,
Her valour cool'd:-no rivals to invade.
P 2 Self.