V.
Say, Critic Buffo, will not powers like these,
E’en thy refin’d fastidious judgment please?
A common butt to all mankind,
’Tis my hard lot to be;
O let me then some justice find,
And give the BUTT to me!
Then dearest DE’L,
Thy praise I’ll tell,
And with unprostituted pen.
In Warton’s pure and modest strain,
Unwarp’d by Hope—unmov’d by Gain,
I’ll call the “best of husbands,” and “most chaste of men!”
Then from my pristine labours I’ll relax:
Then will I lay the Tree unto the [3]Axe!
Of all my former grief—
Resign the bus’ness of the anxious chace,
And for past failures, and for past disgrace,
Here find a snug relief!
The vain pursuit of female game give o’er,
And, hound of Fortune, scour the town no more!
[1] When Lord Mountmorres went down into the country, some years ago; to pay his addresses to a lady of large fortune, whose name we forbear to mention, his Lordship took up his abode for several days in a small public-house in the neighbourhood of her residence, and employed his time in making all proper enquiries, and prudent observation upon the nature, extent, and value of her property:—he was seen measuring the trees with his eye, and was at last found in the act of boring for marle; when being roughly interrogated by one of the ladie’s servants, to avoid chastisement he confessed his name, and delivered his amorous credentials. The amour terminated as ten thousand others of the noble Lord’s have done!
[2] An allusion is here made to a speech published by the noble Lord, which, as the title-page imports, was intended to have been spoken; in which his Lordship, towards the conclusion, gravely remarks:—“Having, Sir, so long encroached upon the patience of the House, and observing by the clock that the hour has become so excessively late, nothing remains for me but to return my sincere thanks to you, Sir, and the other gentlemen of this House, for the particular civility; and extreme attention, with which I have been heard:— the interesting nature of the occasion has betrayed me into a much greater length than I had any idea originally of running into; and if the casual warmth of the moment has led me into the least personal indelicacy towards any man alive, I am very ready to beg pardon of him and this House, Sir, for having so done.”
[3] This line is literally transcribed from a speech of Lord Mountmorre’s, when Candidate some years ago for the Representation of the City of Westminster.
NUMBER XX.
IRREGULAR ODE,
FOR THE
KING’S BIRTH-DAY,
By SIR GEORGE HOWARD, K. B.
CHORUS.
Re mi fa sol,
Tol de rol lol.
I.
My Muse, for George prepare the splendid song,
Oh may it float on Schwellenburgen’s voice!
Let Maids of Honour sing it all day long,
That Hoggaden’s fair ears may hear it, and rejoice.
II.
What subject first shall claim thy courtly strains?
Wilt thou begin from Windsor’s sacred brow,
Where erst, with pride and pow’r elate,
The Tudors sate in sullen state,
While Rebel Freedom, forc’d at length to bow,
Retir’d reluctant from her fav’rite plains?
Ah! while in each insulting tower you trace
The features of that tyrant race,
How wilt thou joy to view the alter’d scene!
The Giant Castle quits his threat’ning mien;
The levell’d ditch no more its jaws discloses, }
But o’er its mouth, to feast our eyes and noses, }
Brunswick hath planted pinks and roses; }
Hath spread smooth gravel walks, and a small bowling green!
III.
Mighty Sov’reign! Mighty Master!
George is content with lath and plaister!
At his own palace-gate,
In a poor porter’s lodge, by Chambers plann’d,
See him with Jenky, hand in hand,
In serious mood,
Talking! talking! talking! talking!
Talking of affairs of state,
All for his country’s good!
Oh! Europe’s pride! Britannia’s hope!
To view his turnips and potatoes,
Down his fair Kitchen-garden’s slope
The victor monarch walks like Cincinnatus.
See, heavenly Muse! I vow to God
’Twas thus the laurel’d hero trod—
Sweet rural joys! delights without compare!
Pleasure shines in his eyes, }
While George with surprize, }
Sees his cabbages rise, }
And his ’sparagus wave in the air!