AN EPIGRAM.

ADDRESSED TO THE GENTLEMEN REFLECTED ON IN THE ROSCIAD, A POEM, BY THE AUTHOR.1

Worried with debts, and past all hopes of bail,

His

pen he prostitutes t'avoid a gaol.

ROSCOM.

ET not the hungry Bavius'angry stroke
Awake resentment, or your rage pro-

voke

But pitying his distress, let virtue

shine,

And giving each your bounty, let him dine.
For thus retain'd, as learned counsel can,
Each case, however bad, he'll new japan;
And by a quick transition, plainly show
'Twas no defect of yours, but pocket low,
That caus'd'his putrid kennel to o'erflow.

2

[1 From Letter cx. of The Citizen of the World, 1762, ii. 193, first printed in The Public Ledger, 14th April, 1761. The epigram, however, had been printed in the Ledger for 4th April, and so was only revived in the letter of ten days later. It is one of Goldsmith's doubtful pieces, but his animosity to Churchill is unquestioned.]

2 Charity (Author's note).

3 Settled at one shilling, the price of the poem (Author's note).

TO G. C. AND R. L.1

WAS you, or I, or he, or all together, 'Twas one, both, three of them, they know not whether;

This, I believe, between us great or

small,

You, I, he, wrote it not-'twas Churchill's all.

TRANSLATION OF A SOUTH

AMERICAN ODE.2

IN all my Enna's beauties blest,
Amidst profusion still I pine;

For though she gives me up her breast,
Its panting tenant is not mine.

[1 From the same letter as the preceding epigram; but not a reprint. George Colman (G. C.), and Robert Lloyd (R. L.), were supposed to have assisted Churchill in the Rosciad, the "it" of the epigram.]

[2 From Letter cxiii. of The Citizen of the World, 1762, ii. 209, first printed in The Public Ledger, 13th May, 1761.]

THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION.

A TALE.1

ECLUDED from domestic strife,
Jack Book-worm led a college life;
A fellowship at twenty-five
Made him the happiest man alive;

He drank his glass and cracked his joke,
And Freshmen wondered as he spoke.

Such pleasures unalloy'd with care,
Could any accident impair ?
Could Cupid's shaft at length transfix
Our swain, arriv'd at thirty-six ?
O had the archer ne'er come down
To ravage in a country town!
Or Flavia been content to stop
At triumphs in a Fleet-street shop.
O had her eyes forgot to blaze!
Or Jack had wanted eyes to gaze.
O! But let exclamation cease,
Her presence banish'd all his peace.
So with decorum all things carried;

Miss frown'd, and blush'd, and then was-married.

[1 First printed in Essays, by Mr. Goldsmith, 1765, p. 229. The version here followed is that of the second edition of 1766, which was revised.]

Need we expose to vulgar sight The raptures of the bridal night? Need we intrude on hallow'd ground, Or draw the curtains clos'd around? Let it suffice, that each had charms; He clasp'd a goddess in his arms; And, though she felt his usage rough, Yet in a man 'twas well enough.

The honey-r

-moon like lightning flew, The second brought its transports too. A third, a fourth, were not amiss,

The fifth was friendship mix'd with bliss:
But, when a twelvemonth pass'd away,
Jack found his goddess made of clay;
Found half the charms that deck'd her face
Arose from powder, shreds, or lace;
But still the worst remain'd behind,
That very face had robb'd her mind.

Skill'd in no other arts was she,
But dressing, patching, repartee;
And, just as humour rose or fell,
By turns a slattern or a belle :
'Tis true she dress'd with modern grace,
Half naked at a ball or race;

But when at home, at board or bed,

Five greasy nightcaps wrapp'd her head.
Could so much beauty condescend

To be a dull domestic friend?
Could any curtain-lectures bring
To decency so fine a thing?

In short, by night, 'twas fits or fretting;

By day, 'twas gadding or coquetting.
Fond to be seen, she kept a bevy
Of powder'd coxcombs at her levy;

The 'squire and captain took their stations,

And twenty other near relations;

Jack suck'd his pipe, and often broke

A sigh in suffocating smoke;

While all their hours were pass'd between Insulting repartee or spleen.

Thus as her faults each day were known, He thinks her features coarser grown ; He fancies every vice she shows,

Or thins her lip, or points her nose:

Whenever rage or envy rise,

How wide her mouth, how wild her eyes!

He knows not how, but so it is,

Her face is grown a knowing phiz;

And, though her fops are wond'rous civil,

He thinks her ugly as the devil.

Now, to perplex the ravell'd noose,
As each a different way pursues,
While sullen or loquacious strife,
Promis'd to hold them on for life,
That dire disease, whose ruthless power
Withers the beauty's transient flower :
Lo! the small-pox, whose horrid glare
Levell'd its terrors at the fair:
And, rifling ev'ry youthful grace,
Left but the remnant of a face.

The glass, grown hateful to her sight,
Reflected, now a perfect fright: