'I'll fly with it from shore to shore,
'Safe as my sooty sister bore
'Her cottage to Loretto.

'Swift to the Congress with my freight 'I'll speed, and on their heads its weight 'Souse with such skill and care;

That PUT'NAM, WASHINGTON beneath, And gasping LEE shall wish to breathe 'A pint of PRIESTLEY's air.

'The deed is done, thy foes are dead, 'Ne longer, England, shalt thou dread Such Presbyterian huffers;

'Thy candle's radiance ne'er shall fade, 'With now and then a little aid

'From PINCHBECK's patent snuffers.'

ODE XVII.

ΤΟ

SIR FLETCHER NORTON.

By the Same.

a

MUSE! were we rich in land, or stocks,
We'd send Sir Fletcher a 2 gold box;
Who lately, to the world's surprize,
Advis'd his Sovereign to be wise.

The zeal of cits should ne'er surpass us,
We'd make him Speaker of Parnassus.
Or could I boast the mimic eye
Of Townshend, or of Bunbury,
Whose art can catch, in comic guise,
'The manners living as they rise,'
And find it the same easy thing

с

To hit a Jollux or a king;

I'd hangings weave, in Fancy's loom, For Lady Norton's dressing room.

But darts like these I don't pursue, Nor does Sir Fletcher heed virtu. Enough for me in these hard times, When ev'ry thing is tax'd but rhymes,

f

To tag a few of these together:
Though I am quite uncertain, whether
My verse will much rejoice the knight,
As great a store as I set by 't.

g

For verse, (I'd have Sir Fletcher know it)
When written by a genuine poet,

Has more of meaning and intent,
Thanh modern acts of Parliament.

'Tis i fit and right, when heroes die, The nation should a tomb supply; Yet, not the votes of both the houses, Without the assistance of the muses, Can give that permanence of fame That heroes from their country claim. And tell me pray, to our good King, What fame our present broils can bring, Ev'n should the Howes, which some folks doubt,

Put Washington to total rout,

Unless his Treasurer in an ode,
Exalt the victor to a god.

What though Earl Temple got a name,
By making John the Painter peach
Himself, for Bristol's impious flame.
With all the Jackals of Jack Ketch
Be proud to call the Peer their brother,
If Fame that bright transaction smother?

A man, I know, may get a pension Without the muse's intervention:

=

Yet what are pensions to the praise
Wrapt up in Caledonian lays?

1

Say, Johnson! where had been m Fingal,
But for Macpherson's great assistance?
The chieftain had been nought at all,
A non-existing non-existence.

n

Mac, like a poet stout and good,

First plung'd, then pluck'd him from Ob.
livion's flood,

And bid him bluster at his ease,
Among the fruitful Hebrides.
A common Poet can revive
The man who once has been alive;
But Mac revives, by magic power,
The man who never liv'd before.

D

Such hocus-pocus tricks, I own,
Belong to Gallic Bards alone.

My Muse would think her power enough,
Could she make some folks fever-proof;
Dub them immortal from their birth,

And give them all their heaven on earth;
Then Doctor K—, that broad divine,
With lords and dukes should ever dine;
Post, prate, and preach, for years on years,
And puff himself in Gazetteers.

Sandwich for aye, should shine the star,
Propitious to our naval war;

t

Caulk all our vessels' leaky sides,

And in the docks work double tides.

While Stormont, " grac'd with ribband green,
Keeps France from mixing in the riot,
Till Britain's lion vents his spleen,
And tears his rebel whelps in quiet.