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One talks of mildew and of frost,
And one of storms of hail, And one of pigs that he has lost
By maggots at the tail.
“ A rarer man than
you " In pulpit none shall hear: “ But yet, methinks, to tell you true,
“ You sell it plaguy dear.”
O why are farmers made so coarse,
Or clergy made so fine ? A kick, that scarce would move a horse,
May kill a sound divine.
Then let the boobies stay at home;
"Twould cost him, I dare say, Less trouble taking twice the sum,
Without the clowns that pay.
S Ο Ν Ν Ε Τ.
HENRY COWPER, ESQ.
On his emphatical and interesting delivery of the defence of
Warren Hastings, Esq. in the House of Lords.
Cowper, whose silver voice, task'd sometimes hard,
Legends prolix delivers in the ears (Attentive when thou read'st) of England's peers,
Let verse at length yield thee thy just reward. Thou wast not heard with drowsy disregard,
Expending late on all that length of plea
Mute as e'er gaz'd on orator or bard.
Both heart and head; and couldst with music sweet
Of Attic phrase and senatorial tone,
Thy fame diffuse, prais'd not for utt'rance meet of others' speech, but magic of thy own.
Lines addressed to
Author of “ The BOTANIC GARDEN.'
Two Poets*, (poets, by report,
Not oft so well agree)
Conspire to honour Thee.
They best can judge a poet's worth,
Who oft themselves have known
By labours of their own.
We therefore pleas'd extol thy song,
Though various yet complete,
And learned as 'tis sweet.
No envy mingles with our praise,
Though could our hearts repine
They would they must at thine.
* Alluding to the poem by Mr. Hayley, which accompanied these lines. *
But we, in mutual bondage knit
Of friendship's closest tie,
With an unjaundic'd eye;
And deem the Bard, whoe'er he be,
And howsoever known, Who would not twine a wreath for Thee,
Unworthy of his own.
The birds put off their ev'ry hue,
The Peacock sends his heav'nly dyes,
All tribes beside of Indian name,
To the same patroness resort,