Scream'd as the tempest shook her secret nest.
He, silent, led her on, and often paus'd
And pointed, that her eye might contemplate
At leisure the drear scene.

THE SORROWS OF SUNDAY; AN ELEGY.

From the Royal Tour, or Weymouth Amusement. By Peter Pindar, Esq. The intended Annihilatim of Sunday's harmless Amusement, by three or four most outrageously zealous Members of Parliament, gave birth to the following Elegy. The Hint is borrowed from a small composition intituled "The Tears of Old May-Doy."

M LD was the breath of morn: the blushing sky

Receiv'd the lusty youth with golden hair,

Rejoicing in his race, to run, to fly ;

As Scripture says, 66

a bridegroom débonnaire;"

When, full of tears, the decent Sunday rose,

And wonder'd sad on Kensington's fair green:
Down in a chair she sunk with all her woes,

And touch'd with tenderest sympathy, the scene.
"O hard Sir Richard Hill!" exclaim'd the dame ;
"Sir William Dolben, cruel man!" quoth she;
"And Mr. Wilberforce, for shame! for shame!
To spoil my little weekly jubilee.

"Ah! pleas'd am I the humble folk to view;
Enjoying harmless talk, and sport, and jest;
Amid these walks their footsteps to pursue,
To see them smiling, and so trimly drest.
Since the Lord rested on the seventh day,
Which sheweth that Omnipotence was tir'd;
As Moses, in old times, was pleas'd to say,
(And Moses was most certainly inspir'd;)

"Why should not man too rest?" No!' cries Sir Dick;
At brother Rowland's let him knock his knees,
Pray, sweat, and groan; of this damn'd world be sick;
Of mangy morals crack the lice and fleas ;

Break Sin's vile bones-pull Satan by the nose;
Scrub, with the soap and sand of Grace, the soul:

Give unbelief, the wretch, a rat's-bane dose;
And stop, with malkins of rich Faith, each hole.

· Spit in foul Drunkenness's beastly mug;

Kill, with sharp prayers, each offspring of the Devil;
Give to black blasphemy a Cornish hug;

And box, with bats of Grace, the ears of Evil.'

Susan, the constant slave to mop and broom;
And Marian, to the spit's and kettle's art;

Ah!

Ah! shall not they desert the house's gloom,

Breathe the fresh air one moment, and look smart?
"Meet, in some rural scene, a Colin's smile;
With Love's soft stories wing the happy hour;
Drop in his dear embraces from the stile,

And share his kisses in the shady bower?"
"No;" roars the Huntingtonian Priest-" No, no!
Lovers are liars-Love's a damned trade;
Kissing is damnable-to hell they go-

The Devil's claws await the rogue and jade.

My chapel is the purifying place;

There let them go to wash their sins away;
There, from my hand, to pick the crumbs of grace,
Smite their poor sinful craws, and howl, and pray.”
"How hard, the lab'ring hands no rest should know,
But toil six days beneath the galling load,
Poor souls! and then the seventh be forc'd to go,
And box the Devil in Blackfriars Road.
Heaven glorieth not in phizzes of dismay;
Heaven takes no pleasure in perpetual sobbing;
Consenting freely, that may fav'rite day

May have her tea and rolls, and hob and nobbing.
"In sooth, the Lord is pleas'd when man is blest;
And wisheth not his blisses to blockade ;
Gainst tea and coffee re'er did he protest,

Enjoy'd, in gardens, by the men of trade.
"Sweet is White Conduit-house, and Bagnigge-wells,
Chalk-farm, where Primrose-hill puts forth her smile;
And Don Saltero's, where much wonder dwells,
Expelling work-day's matrimonial bile.

Life with the down of cygnets may be clad!
Ah! why not make her path a pleasant track;
"No!" cries the Pulpit Terrorist, how mad!.
"No! let the world be one huge hedge-hog's back."

"Vice (did his rigid mummery succeed)

Too soon would smile amid the sacred walls ; Venus, in tabernacles, make her bed ;

And Paphos find herself amid St. Paul's. "Avaunt, Hypocrisy, the solemn jade, Who, wilful, into ditches leads the blind: Makes of her canting art, a thriving trade, And fattens on the follies of mankind! "Look at Archbishops, Bishops, on a Fast, Denying hackney-coachmen e'en their beer;

Yet,

Yet, lo! their butchers knock, with flesh repast;
With turbots, lo! the fishmongers appear!
"The pot-boys howl with porter for their bellies;
The bakers knock, with custards, tarts, and pies;
Confectioners, with rare ice-creams and jellies;

The fruiterer, lo, with richest pine supplies!
"In secret, thus, they eat, and booze, and nod;
In public call indulgence a damn'd evil;
Order their simple flocks to walk with God,
And ride themselves an airing with the Devil."

THE MAN OF METHOD.

From the Pursuits of Literature. A Satirical Poem.

HERE liv'd a Scholar late(a) of London fame,

THE

A Doctor (b), and Morosophos (c) his name:
From all the pains of study freed long since,
Far from a Newton, and not quite a (d) Vince;
In metaphysics bold would spread his sails,
And with Monboddo still believ'd (e) in tails;
At anatomic lore would sometimes peep
And call Earle (f) useful, Abernethy (g) deep;

With

(a) When I am very particular in the description of the character, I abstain from giving the least hint of a real name. "Quis rapiet ad se quod erit commune omnium? or in Le Sage's inimitable language, "qui se fera connoitre mal à propos?" I only give this as A Gharacter, and say no more.

(b) The word and title of "DOCTOR" is miserably abused. Frasmus long ago, in an Epistle from Louvain, in 1520 to the celebrated Cardinal Campeggio, observed, with some indignation, Und DocTORIS titulo gloriantur, nisi UT DOCEANT?" Erasmi Epist. Ed. Lond. Fol. 662. I wish this were written in large characters over the door of the Theatre at Oxford, and the Senate-House at Cambridge.

() Morosophos, i. e. Stultè sapiens

the Man of Method.

But more presently of Dr. MOROSOPHOS,

(d) A learned and useful Professor of Natural Experimental Philosophy at Cambridge. See his Works.

(e) All the learned world know how Lord Monboddo believed, and still believes, that men had once tails depending from the gable end of their bodies, supposing them to go upon all fours.

James Earle, Esq. Senior Surgeon at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, and Editor of the celebrated PERCIVAL POTT's Works., I have been informed that the notes which Mr. Earle has added are valuable; ror would I pass in silence the treatises he has given to the world in his own name, the result of extensive practice and of servation.

(g) A young Surgeon of an accurate and philosophical spirit of investigation, from whose genius and labours I am led to think, that the medical art and natural science will hereafter receive great accessions,

(b) The

With Symonds, and with Grafton's Duke (b) would vie,
A Dillerante in Divinity;

A special clerk for metid and for plan,
Through science by the alphabet he ran.
Prudent, as Newton, in domestic care,
With no Scriblerian (1) scruples for his Heir,
He took, not e'en in thought inclin'd to rove,
A wife for regularity, not love.

A little architect in all his schemes,

Some say, he had a method in his dreams.
Three sessions in the House he daily toil'd,
In every plan, in every motion foll'å;
Till like grave Nicholls in pet he swore,
"I'll move myself; the House I move no more;"
Then penn'd to Pitt his monitory strain, (4)
As Murray, clear, and as fond Randolph, plain.

Resolv'd on ease, his travels were at home,
And Lum'sden (1) taught him to converse of Rome:
The arch Palladian and the Parian stone

He lov'd, the pride of Chambers and of Soane. (m)
But late, by Carter's (n) holy pencil won,
Wyatt and Gothick heresy would shun;

And

(b) The Duke of Grafton the Chancellor, and John Symonds, L. L.D. Professor of Modern History in the University of Cambridge, have both attracted the public attention by their various Hints and Observations ou subjects of Scripture.

() See the Memoirs of Martines Scriblerus, chap. 1. How Dr. Cornelius observed all the rules given by the ancients to those who desire to generate children of wit, which Dr. Morosophos magnanimously disregarded. He neither cared for the South or the West Wind.

(4) The three great, yet familiar Letter-writers of the age, are, John Nicholls, Esq. M. P. for Tregony, 1797. Sir James Murray (Pulteney) Secretary to the Duke of York in Germany, and the Rev. Dr. Randolph.-See" A Pair of Epistles in verse, with notes: the first to the Rev. Dr. Randolph, &c." second edition, 1796. I recommend them to the general entertainment, and perhaps instruction of the public.

(4) That ingenious, accomplished, and very learned gentleman, ANDREW LU MISDEN, Esq. F. A. S. Edinb. has since that time taught us all, in the most agree able scholar-like manner. See his "Remarks on the Antiquities of ROME and its Environs, being a classical and topographical Survey of the Ruins of that cele brated City." 4to. 1797. It is a pleasing and most judicious performance of a Gentleman who appears to have enjoyed the united advantages of foreign travel, studious leisure, and polite company.

() Two celebrated architects. The professional knowledge of Sir W. Chambers, Knight, (of most beroic memory) was profound and substantial. Mr. Soane has inore fancy and airiness of design, and is certainly a man of information and ingenuity. But he indulges himself a little too much in extravaganzas and whimi.

See the Bank.

(7) I am obliged for this information to a Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries—

Mr.

And oft in thought, by antique pavements laid,
With Lysons guide the military spade;
And once, for purer air o'er rural ground,
With little Daniel went his twelve miles round.

On Sundays at Sir Joseph's (o) never fail'd,
So regular, you might have thought him bail'd.
With Jones a linguist, Sanscrit, Greek, or Manks,
And could with Watson play some chemick pranks;
Yet far too wise to roast a diamond (p) whole,
And for a treasure find at last a coal.

Would sometimes treat, his wines of chosen sort;
Will. Pitt, with honest Harry, lov'd his (q) port;
In Scrip: not Hemings' (r) self more vers'd than he,
The Solomons, or Nathan, or E. P.;

The

Mr. Carter is a draftsman of the very first merit, but his catholic zeal betrayed him, assisted by some Morosophists of the Society, to attack THE FIRST GENIUS IN ARCHITECTURE, in the kingdom, MR. WYATT. Longa est injuria: longæ ambages. It is difficult to prove that the Society of Antiquaries was instituted solely to preserve the purity of Gothic Architecture, or to listen to the tiresome cabals of busy Baronets, and meddling Romish priests.-But to us, under the auspices of Wyatt,

O Fortunati quorum pia tecta resurgunt !
Æneas ait, et fastigia suspicit urbis.

(2) SIR JOSEPH BANKS, Bart. Knight of the Bath, President of the Royal Society, Privy Councillor, &c. &c. has instituted a meeting at his house in SohoSquare, every Sunday evening, at which the Literati, and men of rank and consequence, and men of no consequence at all, find equally a polite and pleasing reception from that justly distinguished gentleman. Sir JosEPH BANKS is fitted for his station in the learned world, not more from his attainments and the liberality of his mind, than by his particular and unremitted attention to the interest and advancement of natural knowledge, and his generous patronage of the Arts.

FORTUNE MAJORIS HONOS, ERECTUS ET ACER!

(p) The ingenious Mr. Tennant has shewn, in a paper read at the Royal Society, that he can reduce a Diamond by evaporation to Charcoal. I have heard, that Mrs. Hastings, and other great possessors of Diamonds, have a kind of Tennanto-phobia, and are shy of this gentleman. A poor Poet, like myself, who has neither diamonds nor any thing precious belonging to him, can only remind Mr. Tennant and the Royal Society of the old proverb, "Carbonem pro Thesauro."

(I can give no better character of his old Port. We all know on such occasions, Bacchum in remotis rupibus" is the song of bonest Harry Dundas, in all the wildness of bighland Dithyrambick; while Mr. PITT, on the battlements of Walmer, in his own and Virgil's sober majesty, แ OCEANO LIBEMUS, ait."

(r) Dr. Morosophos now and then dabbled in the funds. The gentlemen of the Stock Exchange, or The College, (as it is termed in City-wit) are much in debted to that eminent calculator of different payments, Mr. Hemings. Boyd, Benfield, Solomon Solomon, Nathan Solomon, E. P. Solomon, Thelluson, Óld Daniel Giles, Mr. Battie, Lord Lansdowne, Dr. Moore, Little Count Rupee, and all those who look an eighth better or worse for the opening, know that I am right, in pronouncing the panegyrie of this learned classic on the StockExchange

"Prens