SECOND PRIEST.

Air.

Thrice happy, who in happy hour
To Heaven their praise bestow,
And own his all-consuming power
Before they feel the blow!

FIRST PROPHET.-RECITATIVE.

Now, now's our time! ye wretches bold and blind,
Brave but to God, and cowards to mankind,

Ye seek in vain the Lord unsought before-
Your wealth, your lives, your kingdom are no more!

Air.

O Lucifer! thou son of morn,

Of Heaven alike and man the foe,

Ileaven, men, and all,

Now press thy fall,

And sink thee lowest of the low.

SECOND PROPHET.

O Babylon, how art thou fallen—
Thy fall more dreadful from delay!
Thy streets forlorn

To wilds shall turn,

Where toads shall pant, and vultures prey!

FIRST PROPHET.-RECITATIVE.

Such be her fate. But hark! how from afar
The clarion's note proclaims the finish'd war!
Cyrus, our great restorer, is at hand,
And this way leads his formidable band.

Now give your songs of Zion to the wind,
And hail the benefactor of mankind:
He comes, pursuant to divine decree,

To chain the strong, and set the captive free.

CHORUS OF YOUTHS.

Rise to raptures past expressing,
Sweeter from remember'd woes;
Cyrus comes, our wrongs redressing,
Comes to give the world repose.

CHORUS OF VIRGINS.

Cyrus comes, the world redressing,
Love and pleasure in his train;
Comes to heighten every blessing,
Comes to soften every pain.

SEMI-CHORUS.

Hail to him with mercy reigning,
Skill'd in every peaceful art;
Who from bonds our limbs unchaining,
Only binds the willing heart.

THE LAST CHORUS.

But chief to thee, our God, our father, friend,
Let praise be given to all eternity;
O Thou, without beginning, without end-
Let us and all, begin and end in Thee!

ANSWER TO AN INVITATION TO DINNER.

"This is a poem ! This is a copy of verses !"

THE inviter was Dr. George Baker-the expected guests were Sir Joshua and Miss Reynolds, Angelica Kauffman, Mrs. Horneck, her son Charles, and her daughters Mary (afterwards the wife of General Gwyn) and Catherine (afterwards Mrs. Bunbury). Dr. Baker survived till 1809, and Mrs. Gwyn till 1840.

Your mandate I got―

You may all go to pot;
Had your senses been right,
You'd have sent before night.
As I hope to be saved,
I put off being shaved-

ANSWER TO AN INVITATION TO DINNER.

For I could not make bold,
While the matter was cold,
To meddle in suds,

Or to put on my duds;
So tell Horneck and Nesbitt,
And Baker and his bit,
And Kauffman beside,
And the jessamy bride,
With the rest of the crew,
The Reynolds's two,
Little comedy's face,
And the captain in lace.
-By the by, you may tell him
I have something to tell him;
Of use, I insist,

When he comes to enlist.

Your worships must know
That a few days ago,
An order went out,

For the foot-guards so stout
To wear tails in high taste-
Twelve inches at least:
Now I've got him a scale
To measure each tail;
To lengthen a short tail,
And a long one to curtail.

Yet how can I, when vex'd,
Thus stray from my text!
Tell each other to rue
Your Devonshire crew,
For sending so late
To one of my state.
But 'tis Reynolds's way
From wisdom to stray,
And Angelica's whim
To be frolick like him-

But alas! your good worships, how could they be wiser,
When both have been spoil'd in to-day's Advertiser ?

OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

73

G

SONG,

66

IN THE COMEDY OF SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER."

SCENE-A room in the alehouse, the "Three Jolly Pigeons."

LET the schoolmaster puzzle his brain,
With grammar, and nonsense, and learning—
Good liquor, I stoutly maintain,

Gives genus a better discerning.

Let them brag of their heathenish gods;
Their Lethes, their Styxes, and Stygians;
Their quis, and their ques, and their quods:
They're all but a parcel of pigeons.

When Methodist preachers come down,
A preaching that drinking is sinful,
I'll wager the rascals a crown,

They always preach best with a skinful;
But when you come down with your pence,
For a slice of their scurvy religion,
I'll leave it to all men of sense-

But you, my good friend, are the pigeon.

Then come, put the jorum about,

And let us be merry and clever;
Our hearts and our liquors are stout-

Here's the Three Jolly Pigeons for ever.

Let some cry up woodcock and hare;

Your bustards, your ducks, and your widgeons;

But of all the birds in the air

Here's a health to the Three Jolly Pigeons.

ANSWER TO A VERSIFIED INVITATION

FROM MRS. BUNBURY TO PASS THE CHRISTMAS AT BARTON,
AND TO TAKE THE ADVICE OF HER SISTER AND HERSELF
IN PLAYING AT LOO.

FIRST let me suppose, what may shortly be true,
The company set, and the word to be-loo;
All smirking and pleasant, and big with adventure,
And ogling the stake which is fixed in the centre.

Round and round go the cards, while I inwardly damn
At never once finding a visit from Pam.

I lay down my stake, apparently cool,

While the harpies about me all pocket the pool;
I fret in my gizzard—yet cautious and sly,
I wish all my friends may be bolder than I:
Yet still they sit snug; not a creature will aim,
By losing their money, to venture at fame.
'Tis in vain that at niggardly caution I scold,
'Tis in vain that I flatter the brave and the bold,
All play their own way, and they think me an ass;
"What does Mrs. Bunbury ?" "I, sir? I pass."

66

Pray what does Miss Horneck? Take courage, come, do." "Who-I? Let me see, sir; why, I must pass too." Mr. Bunbury frets, and I fret like the devil,

To see them so cowardly, lucky, and civil;
Yet still I sit snug, and continue to sigh on,
Till made by my losses as bold as a lion,

I venture at all; while my avarice regards

The whole pool as my own. "Come, give me five cards." "Well done," cry the ladies; "ah! doctor, that's good— The pool's very rich. Ah, the doctor is loo'd."

Thus foil'd in my courage, on all sides perplex'd,

I ask for advice from the lady that's next.

66

Pray, ma'am, be so good as to give your advice;

"Don't you think the best way is to venture for 't twice ?” "I advise," cries the lady, "to try it, I own

Ah, the doctor is loo'd: come, doctor, put down."
Thus playing and playing, I still grew more eager,
And so bold, and so bold, I'm at last a bold beggar.
Now, ladies, I ask-if law matters you're skilled in,
Whether crimes such as yours should not come before
For, giving advice that is not worth a straw [Fielding?
May well be call'd picking of pockets in law.
And picking of pockets, with which I now charge ye,
Is, by quinto Elizabeth, death without clergy.
What justice! when both to the Old Bailey brought;
By the gods! I'll enjoy it, though 'tis but in thought.
Both are placed at the bar with all proper decorum,
With bunches of fennel and nosegays before them;
Both cover their faces with mobs and all that,
But the judge bids them, angrily, take off their hat.
When uncovered, a buzz of inquiry runs round; [found."
"Pray, what are their crimes " 'They've been pilfering