And deems it shame, if he to peace inclines:
And many a sullen look askance is sent,
Which for his dame's annoyance he designs;
And still the more to pleasure him she 's bent,
The more doth he, perverse, her havior past resent.

Ah me! how much I fear lest pride it be!
But if that pride it be, which thus inspires,
Beware, ye dames, with nice discernment see
Ye quench not too the sparks of nobler fires:
Ah! better far than all the Muses' lyres,
All coward arts, is Valor's generous heat;
The firm fixt breast which fit and right requires,
Like Vernon's patriot soul! more justly great
Than Craft that pimps for ill, or flowery false Deceit.

Yet nurs'd with skill, what dazzling fruits appear!
E'en now sagacious Foresight points to show
A little bench of heedless bishops here,
And there a chancellor in embryo,

Or bard sublime, if bard may e'er be so,

As Milton, Shakespeare, names that ne'er shall die! Though now he crawl along the ground so low, Nor weeting how the Muse should soar on high, Wisheth, poor starveling elf! his paper kite may fly.

And this perhaps, who, censuring the design,
Low lays the house which that of cards doth build,
Shall Dennis be! if rigid Fate incline,

And many an epic to his rage shall yield;

And many a poet quit th' Aonian field;
And, sour'd by age, profound he shall appear,
As he who now with 'sdainful fury thrilled
Surveys mine work; and levels many a sneer,

And furls his wrinkly front, and cries, "What stuff is here?"

But now Dan Phoebus gains the middle skie,
And Liberty unbars her prison-door;

And like a rushing torrent out they fly,
And now the grassy cirque had covered o’er,
With boisterous revel-rout and wild uproar;
A thousand ways in wanton rings they run,
Heaven shield their short-liv'd pastime, I implore!
For well may Freedom erst so dearly won,
Appear to British elf more gladsome than the Sun.

Enjoy, poor imps! enjoy your sportive trade,
And chase gay flies, and cull the fairest flowers;
For when my bones in grass-green sods are laid,
O never may ye taste more careless hours
In knightly castles, or in ladies' bowers.
O vain to seek delight in earthly thing!

But most in courts where proud Ambition towers; Deluded wight! who weens fair Peace can spring Beneath the pompous dome of kesar or of king.

See in each sprite some various bent appear!
These rudely carol most incondite lay;
Those sauntering on the green, with jocund leer
Salute the stranger passing on his way;

Some builden fragile tenements of clay;

Some to the standing lake their courses bend, With pebbles smooth at duck and drake to play; Thilk to the huxter's savory cottage tend,

In pastry kings and queens th' allotted mite to spend.

Here, as each season yields a different store,
Each season's stores in order ranged been;
Apples with cabbage-net y-covered o'er,
Galling full sore th' unmoney'd wight, are seen;
And goose-b'rie clad in livery red or green;
And here cf lovely dye, the Catharine pear,
Fine pear! as lovely for thy juice, I ween:

O may no wight e'er penniless come there,
Lest smit with ardent love he pine with hopeless care!

Seel cherries here, ere cherries yet abound, With thread so white in tempting posies tied, Scattering like blooming maid their glances round, With pamper'd look draw little eyes aside; And must be bought, though penury betide. The plume all azure, and the nut all brown, And here each season do those cakes abide, Whose honored names* th' inventive city own, Rendering through Britain's isle Salopia's praises known;

Admir'd Salopia! that with venial pride

Eyes her bright form in Severn's ambient wave, Famed for her loyal cares in perils tried, Her daughters lovely, and her striplings brave: Ah! 'midst the rest, may flowers adorn his grave Whose heart did first these dulcet cates display! A motive fair to Learning's imps he gave, Who cheerless o'er her darkling region stray; Till Reason's morn arise, and light them on their way. WILLIAM SHENSTONE.

The Chameleon.

OFT has it been my lot to mark
A proud, conceited, talking spark,
With eyes, that hardly served at most
To guard their master 'gainst a post,
Yet round the world the blade has been
To see whatever could be seen,

Returning from his finished tour,
Grown ten times perter than before;
Whatever word you chance to drop,
The traveled fool your mouth will stop;

* Shrewsbury cakes.

"Sir, if my judgment you 'll allow,
I've seen and sure I ought to know,"
So begs you'd pay a due submission,
And acquiesce in his decision.

Two travelers of such a cast,
As o'er Arabia's wilds they passed,
And on their way in friendly chat,
Now talked of this, and then of that,
Discoursed awhile, 'mongst other matter,
Of the chameleon's form and nature.
"A stranger animal," cries one,
"Sure never lived beneath the sun.
A lizard's body, lean and long,
A fish's head, a serpent's tongue,
Its foot with triple claw disjoined;
And what a length of tail behind!
How slow its pace; and then its hue—
Who ever saw so fine a blue?"

"Hold, there," the other quick replies, "'T is green, I saw it with these eyes, As late with open mouth it lay, And warmed it in the sunny ray: Stretched at its ease, the beast I viewed And saw it eat the air for food." "I've seen it, sir, as well as you, And must again affirm it blue; At leisure I the beast surveyed, Extended in the cooling shade."

"'T is green, 't is green, sir, I assure ye!” "Green!" cries the other in a fury

"Why, sir!-d' ye think I 've lost my eyes?" "'T were no great loss," the friend replies, "For, if they always serve you thus,

You 'll find them of but little use."

So high at last the contest rose,
From words they almost came to blows;
When luckily came by a third-
To him the question they referred,
And begged he 'd tell 'em, if he knew,
Whether the thing was green or blue.

แ

"Sirs," cries the umpire, cease your pother!
The creature 's neither one or t' other.

I caught the animal last night,
And viewed it o'er by candlelight:
I marked it well-'t was black as jet-
You stare-but, sirs, I've got it yet,
And can produce it." "Pray, sir, do:
I'll lay my life the thing is blue."

"And I'll be sworn, that when you 've seen
The reptile, you'll pronounce him green.”

"Well, then, at once to ease the doubt,"
Replies the man, "I'll turn him out:
And when before your eyes I've set him,
If you don't find him black, I'll eat him."
He said: then full before their sight
Produced the beast, and lo!—'t was white.

Both stared, the man looked wondrous wise"My children," the chameleon cries,

(Then first the creature found a tongue), "You all are right, and all are wrong: When next you talk of what you view, Think others see as well as you: Nor wonder, if you find that none Prefers your eyesight to his own."

JAMES MERRICK.