ANOTHER. Had PITT to his advice inclin'd, SIR CECIL had undone us ANCILLA. ANOTHER. On Mr. PITT's Prudence. Though PITT have to women told some things, no doubt; Yet his private affairs they have never found out. ANOTHER. Who dares assert that virtuous PITT Partakes in female pleasures? For know there ne'er was woman yet ANOTHER. Puer loquitur. Though big with mathematic pride, DES THE DELAVALIAD. WHY, says an indignant poet, should Mr. ROLLE alone, of all the geniuses that distinguish the present period, be thought the only person of worth or talents enough to give birth and name to an immortal effusion of divine poesy! He questions not that great man's pretensions; far from it; he reveres his ancestors, adores his talents, and feels something hardly short of idolatry towards his mappers and accomplishments.But still, why such profusion of distinction towards one, to the exclusion of many other high characters? Our poet professes to feel this injustice extremely, and has made the following attempt to rescue one deserving man from so unmerited an obloquy. The reader will perceive the measure to be an imitation of that which has been so deservedly admired in our immortal Bard, in his play of "As You Like It :" From the East to the Western Inde Her worth being mounted on the wind, Through all the world bears Rosalind, &c. &c. This kind of verse is adopted by the poet to avoid any appearance of too servile an imitation of the ROLLIAD. He begins, Ye patriots all, both great and small, Just so you may 'gainst DELAVAL: And if with foot you kick a ball, E'en so you may-a DELAVAL. 'Gainst influence wouldst thou vent thy gall, Thus did the patriot DELAVAL: Yet servile stoop to Royal call, So did the loyal DELAVAL. What friend to Freedom's fair-built Hall Yet, on thy knees, to honours crawl, O! so did he LORD DELAVAL. With honours new LORD DELAVAL, 'Gainst rapine wouldst thou preach like Paul, Thus did religious DELAVAL: Yet screen the scourges of BENGAL, Thus did benignant DELAVAL. To future times recorded shall Some better praise than this poor scrawl, For sure no song can ever pall, Borne on all fours, the fame shall sprawl, Then come, ye Nine, in one great squall, [The annotations of the learned are expected.] |