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'He, unconscious whence the bliss,
Feels, and owns in carols rude,
That all the circling joys are his,
Of dear Vicissitude.

From toil he wins his spirits light,
From busy day the peaceful night;

Rich, from the very want of wealth,

In Heaven's best treasures, peace and health.'

90

95

SKETCH

OF HIS OWN CHARACTER,

WRITTEN IN 1761,

AND FOUND IN ONE OF HIS POCKET-BOOKS.

Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune; He had not the method of making a fortune:

Could love, and could hate, so was thought somewhat

No

odd;

very great wit, he believed in a God:

A post or a pension he did not desire,

5

But left church and state to Charles Townshenda and

Squire b.

Ver. 4. No very great wit, he believed in a God.] The reader may perhaps be reminded of the following lines in Pope's Moral Essays:

"Flavia's a wit, has too much sense to pray;

To toast our wants and wishes, is her way;

Nor asks of God, but of her stars, to give

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The mighty blessing, while we live, to live.""

Ep. ii. 87.

a The Right Honourable Charles Townsend, who distinguished himself by bringing forward in Parliament many important measures, among which was the Militia-bill. He, at this time, held the office of Chancellor of the Exchequer.

b Dr. Samuel Squire was a Fellow of St. John's College, Cambridge, and was known as the author of several literary, as well as theological, publications. In the course of the year in which these lines were written, he was preferred to the See of St. David's.

AMATORY LINES.

WITH Beauty, with Pleasure surrounded, to languish

To

weep without knowing the cause of my anguish ; To start from short slumbers, and wish for the morn

ing

To close my dull eyes when I see it returning; Sighs sudden and frequent, looks ever dejectedWords that steal from my tongue, by no meaning connected!

Ah, say, fellow-swains, how these symptoms befell me?

They smile, but reply not-Sure Delia can tell me!

a We are indebted to Mr. Warton for preserving to us these lines, which first appeared in his edition of Pope, vol. i. p. 285.

SONG

THYRSIS, when we parted, swore
Ere the spring he would return-
Ah! what means yon violet flower,

And the bud that decks the thorn?
"Twas the lark that upward sprung!
"Twas the nightingale that sung!

Idle notes! untimely green!
Why this unavailing haste?
Western gales and skies serene

Prove not always winter past.

Cease, my doubts, my fears to move—
Spare the honour of my love.

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a This Song was first printed in a letter to the Countess of Ailsbury, from Mr. H. Walpole, who says, that it was written at the request of Miss Speed, to an old Air of Geminiani: the thought is from the French.

TOPHET;

AN EPIGRAMa

THUS Tophet looked; so grinned the brawling fiend, Whilst frighted prelates bowed and called him friend.

a This Epigram was written underneath a portrait of Mr. Etough, etched by the Rev. Michael Tyson, of Bene't College. The subject of our Author's ridicule was rector of Therfield, Herts, and of Colmworth, Bedfordshire; and in such different terms is he described by persons who knew him, that it is no easy matter to reconcile the discrepancy, or discover the truth. All indeed agree that he was eccentric, both in character and personal appearance. One represents him as originally a Scots Presbyterian, and hawking about wares, which he carried at his back as afterwards turning churchman, and getting preferment by hallooing at elections. Finally, he is described as disgustingly mean and nasty in his dress and appearance. And yet this man was liberally patronized by Sir Robert Walpole, and intimate with the Archbishop of Canterbury. The story of the pedlar's pack is proved to be a "trick of imagination,” and we are further told, that Mr. Etough contracted a disorder from an excessive attention to the cleanliness of his person. He was exceedingly charitable, punctual in performing the duties of his

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