Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

Rather, if Poverty hold converse with thee,
To the lone garret's lofty bield ascend,

Or dive to some sad cell :-there have recourse
To meagre offals, where, tho' small thy faré,
Freedom shall wing thee to a purer joy
Than banquets with superfluous dainties
crowned,

Mixed with reserve and coolness, can afford.

But, if your better fortunes have prepared Your purse with ducats, and with health

your

frame, Assemble friends! and to the tavern straight, Where the officious drawer, bending low,

Is passive to a fault. Then, nor the Signior
Grand,

Nor Russia's Empress, signalized for war,
Can govern with more arbitrary sway.

Ye, who for health, for exercise, for air,
Oft saunter from Edina's smoke-capt spires,
And by the grassy hill, or dimpled brook,
An appetite revive, should often stray
O'er Arthur's-seat's green pastures, to the town
For sheepheads and bone-bridges famed of yore,
That in our country's annals stands yclept,
Fair Duddingstonia, where you may be blessed
With simple fare and vegetable sweets,
Freed from the clamours of the busy world.

Or, if for recreation you should stray

To Leithian shore, and breathe the keener air
Wafted from Neptune's empire of the main;
If appetite invite, and cash prevail,

Ply not your joints upon the homeward tract,
Till Lawson, chiefest of the Scottish hosts!
To nimblefooted waiters give command
The cloth to lay.-Instinctively they come;
And lo! the table, wrapt in cloudy steams,
Groans with the weight of the transporting fare,
That breathes frankincense on the guests around.

Now, while stern Winter holds his frigid sway, And to a period spins the closing year; While festivals abound, and sportive hours Kill the remembrance of our waning time, Let not Intemperance, destructive fiend! Gain entrance to our halls. Despoiled by him, Shall cloyed appetite, forerunner sad

Of rank disease, inveterate clasp your frame. Contentment shall no more be known to spread Her cherub wings round thy once happy dwelling,

But misery of thought, and racking pain,

Shall plunge you headlong to the dark abyss.

TEA.

YE maidens modest! on whose sullen brows
Hath weaning Chastity her wrinkles cull'd;
Who constant labour o'er consumptive oil,
At midnight knell, to wash Sleep's nightly balm
From closing eyelids, with the grateful drops
Of Tea's blessed juices; list th' obsequious lays,
That come not, with Parnassian honors crowned,
To dwell in murmurs o'er your sleepy sense;
But, fresh from Orient blown, to chase far off
Your lethargy; that dormant needles, rous'd,
May pierce the waving mantua's silken folds.
For many a dame, in chamber sadly pent,
Hath this reviving liquor called to life :
And well it did, to mitigate the frowns
Of anger, reddening on Lucinda's brow
With flash malignant, that had harbour'd there,
If she at masquerade, or play, or ball,
Appeared not in her newest, best attire.
But Venus, goddess of th' eternal smile,

Knowing that stormy brows but ill become
Fair patterns of her beauty, hath ordained
Celestial Tea;-a fountain that can cure
The ills of passion, and can free from frowns,
And sobs, and sighs, the disappointed fair.

To her, ye fair! in adoration bow! Whether at blushing morn, or dewy eve, Her smoking cordials greet your fragrant board, With Hyson, or Bohea, or Congo, crowned. At midnight skies, ye mantua-makers! hail The sacred offering. For the haughty belles No longer can upbraid your lingering hands, With trains upborne aloft by dusty gales That sweep the ball-room. Swift they glide along,

And, with their sailing streamers, catch the eye Of some Adonis, marked to love a prey. Whose bosom ne'er had panted with a sigh, But for the silken draperies that enclose Graces from Fancy's eye but ill concealed.

Mark well the fair! observe their modest eye, With all the innocence of beauty blessed. Could Slander o'er that tongue its power retain, Whose breath is Music?-Ah, fallacious

thought!

The surface is Ambrosia's mingled sweets;
But all below is death. At tea-board met,

Attend their prattling tongues;-they scoff,they rail

Unbounded; but their darts are chiefly aimed At some gay fair, whose beauties far eclipse Her dim beholders; who, with haggard eyes, Would blight those charms where raptures long have dwelt

In ecstacy, delighted and sufficed.

In vain hath Beauty, with her varied robe, Bestowed her glowing blushes o'er her cheeks, And called attendant Graces to her aid, To blend the scarlet and the lily fair. In vain did Venus in her favourite mould Adapt the slender form to Cupid's choice.— When Slander comes, her blasts too fatal prove; Pale are those cheeks where youth and beauty glowed;

Where smiles, where freshness, and where roses grew:

Ghastly and wan their Gorgon picture comes,
With every fury grinning from the looks
Of frightful monster. Envy's hissing tongue
With deepest vengeance wounds, and every
wound

With deeper canker, deeper poison, teems.

O Gold! thy luring lustre first prevailed On man to tempt the fretful winds and waves,

« VorigeDoorgaan »