"That shot thy foretop might have made it's prey, "Or sing'd one dear devoted curl away; “Or lopp'd that hand, the pride of love and lace; "Or scarr'd, with bolder sacrilege, thy face." Soon as to Brooks's thence thy footsteps bend, What gratulations thy approach attend! See Gibbon rap his box; auspicious sign, That classic compliment and wit combine ; See Beauclerk's cheek a tinge of red surprise, And Friendship give what cruel Health denies. Important Townshend! what can thee withstand? The ling'ring black-ball lags in Boothby's hand; Ev'n Draper checks the sentimental sigh, And Smith, without an oath, suspends the dye. That night, to festive wit and friendship due. That night thy Charles's board shall welcome you. Sallads, that shame ragouts, shall woo thy taste; Deep shalt thou delve in Weltjie's motley paste; Derby shall lend, if not his plate, his cooks, And, know, I've bought the best Champaigne from From liberal Brooks, whose speculative skill, Who, nurs'd in clubs, disdains a vulgar trade, On that auspicious night, supremely grac'd With chosen guests, the pride of liberal taste, Not in contentious heat, nor madʼning strife, We'll waste the fleeting hours; far happier themes He best shall tell, who still unites them most. But scarce a thought to Ministers we'll spare, EPISTLE XI. THE PROJECT. TO THE REV. DEAN TUCKER, By the Same. Verum, ubi, tempestas, et coeli mobilis humor Mutavere vias, et Jupiter uvidus Austris Densat erant quae rara modo, et quae densa, relaxat, Virg. That climate forms the character; And prove each nation, tame, or bold, What schemes might crafty statesmen lay, If such a system they'd obey? Suppose the Turks, who now agree It wou'd fatigue them to be free, More cooly on affairs of state, Might not some Mussulmen be brought, To brace their minds, not shrink at thought? Epist. Xi. EPISTLES DESCRIPTIVE, &c. 93 How, as their blood began to cool, Wou'd glow for freedom, while they freeze; For thus 'tis Montesquieu explains The spirits droop, the being pines: To that thermometer, the heart. Thanks, mighty Jove, thy sovereign care, Our atmosphere to honor leads, Inspires the breast to hardy deeds ; The heart beats quick ;—the spirits rise; To moderate this bold extreme, How many Questions have been lost, Like strings of wild geese, in hard weather; The tender bloom of ways and means, That North with wit and wisdom screens, Too oft their adverse influence feels, Shrinks from the storm, and half congeals; That, ev'n in all his blushing grace, Bamber scarce thaws them, with-his face. Whence then, in spite of sense and reason, Do statesmen choose this adverse season? Why not the parliament adjourn, 'Till summer's genial suns return? But ah, what honest squire would stay To make his speech, instead of hay? The Beaux wou'd scarcely think of law, To give up Scarborough or Spa: |