And brush, brush, brush, the ghoftlie crew,
Come wheeling ore their heads,
All ruffling like the wither'd leaves,
That wyde the wirlwind fpreads.
Halloo! balloo! away they go,
Unheeding wet or dry;

And horfe and rider fuort and blowe,'
And sparkling pebbles flye.

And all that in the moon fhyne lay,
Behynde them fled afar ;

And backwarde feudded overhead
The fky and every star.

Tramp, tramp, across the lande they speede;
Splash, fplafh, across the fea:
"Hurrah! the dead can ride apace;

Doft fear to ride with mee?

I weene the cock prepares to crowe;
The fand will foone be runne :
I fnuffe the earlye morning aire;

Downe, downe! our work is done.
The dead, the dead can ryde apace ;
Oure wed-bed here is fit:
Oure race is ridde, our journey ore,
Oure endleffe union knit."

And lo! an yren-grated gate

Soon biggens to their viewe:

He crackte his whyppe; the clangynge boltes,
The doores afunder flewe.

They pafs, and 'twas on graves they trode;

""Tis hither we are bounde:"

And many a tombstone goftlie white
Lay inn the moonfhyne round.

And when hee from his fteede alytte,
His armour, black as cinder,
Did moulder, moulder all awaye,
As were it made of tinder.

His head became a naked fcull;
Nor haire nor eyne had hee.

His body grew a skeleton,
Whilome fo blythe of blee.

And att his drye and boney heele
No fpur was left to be;

And inn his witherde hande you might

The fcythe and houre-glaffe fee.

And lo! his fteede did thin to smoke,

And charnel fires outbreathe;

And pal'd, and bleach'd, then vanifh'd quite
The mayde f om undernethe.

And hollow howlings hung in aire,

And fhrekes from vaults arose.
Then knew the mayde the mighte no more
Her living eyes unclofe.

But onwarde to the judgement-feat,
Thro' myfte and moonlighte dreare,
The goftlie crewe their flyghte perfewe,
And hollowe inn her eare:-

"Be patient; tho' thyne herte fhoulde breke,
Arrayne not Heven's decree ;

Thou nowe art of thie bodie refte,

Thie foule forgiven bee!"

Mr. SURREBUTTER's commencement in his legal career. From the PLEADERS GUIDE, a Didactic Poem in two books.

HOE'ER has drawn a Special Plea,

W Har beard of old TOM TEWKESBURY,

Deaf as a poft, and thick as Mustard,
He aim'd at Wit, and bawl'd and blufter'd,,

And died a Nifi prius Leader

That Genius was my SPECIAL PLEADER

That great man's office I attended
By HAWK and BUZZARD recommended,
Attorneys both of wondrous fkill

To pluck the Goose, and drive the Quill;
Three years
I fat his fmoky room in,
Pens, paper, ink, and pounce confuming,
The fourth, when Effoign Day begun,
Joyful I hail'd th' aufpicious Sun,
Bade TEWKESBURY and Clerk adieu,
(Purification, Eighty-two)

Of both I wash'd my hands; and though
With nothing for my cash to fhew,
But Precedents fo fcrawl'd and blurr'd,
I fcarce could read one fingle word,
Nor in my books of Common Place
One feature of the law could trace,
Save BUZZARD's nofe and vifage thin,
And HAWK's deficiency of Chin,
Which I while lolling at my ease
Was wont to draw inftead of Pleas;

My

My chambers I equipt complete,

Made Friends, hired Books, and gave to eat ;
If haply to regale my friends on,

My Mother fent a haunch of Ven'fon,

I most respectfully entreated

The choiceft Company to eat it,

To wit, old BuZZARD, HAWK, and CRow,
Item, TOM THORNBACK, SHARK, and Co,
Attorneys all as keen and ftaunch

As e'er devour'd a Client's haunch;
No did I not their Clerks invite
To tafte faid ven'son hash'd at night,
For well I knew that hopeful Fry
My rifing merit would defcry,
The fame litigious courfe purfue,
And when to fish of prey they grew,
By love of food and conteft led,

Would haunt the spot where once they fed;
Thus having with due circumfpection
Form'd my profeffional connexion,

My defk with precedents I ftrew'd,

Turn'd critic, danc'd, or penn'd an ode,
Studied the Ton, became a free:
And easy man of Gallantry:

But if while capering at my Glafs,
Or toying with fome fav'rite Lafs,

I heard th' aforefaid HAWK a coming,
Or BUZZARD on the ftaircase humming,
At once the fair angelic maid
Into my Coal-hole I convey'd,
At once, with ferious look profound
Mine eyes commercing with the ground,
I feem'd like one eftrang'd to fleep,
"And fix'd in cogitation deep,"
Sat motionless, and in my hand I
Held my Doctrina Placitandi,

And though I never read a page in't,

Thanks to that threwd well-judging Agent,
My Sifter's husband, Mr. SHARK,
Soon got fix Pupils and a Clerk,
Five Pupils were my ftint, the other
I took to compliment his Mother;
All round me came with ready money
Like Hybla bees surcharg'd with honey,
Which, as they prefs'd it fo genteelly,
And begg'd me to accept fo freely,
Seem'd all fo fond of SPECIAL PLEADING,
And all fo certain of fucceeding,

Kk 4

I, who am always all compliance,
As well to Pupils as to Clients,
Took as genteelly as they paid it,
And freely to my purfe convey'd it;
That I might practically fhew,
And they in fpecial manner know
Ere they began their Pleas to draw,
What an ASSUMPSIT meant in Law-
To wit for divers weighty fums
Of lawful cash at Pleader's Rooms,
By me faid Pleader, as was prudent,
Had and received to use of Student;
In short, I acted as became me,

And where's the Pleader than can blame me?
Not one of all the trade that I know,
E'er fails to take the Ready-rino,
Which haply, if this purfe receive,
No human art can e'er retrieve.
Sooner when Gallia's credit's flown
To fome Utopian world unknown,
ASTRA fhall on earth remain
The laft of the celestial train,
To tender Afignais at Par
Triumphant in the Champ de Mar',
And when their deep laid projects fail,
And Guillotines no more avail,
Her baffled Statefmen fhall excife
Some new found region in the skies,
And tow'ring in an air balloon
Pluck Requifitions from the Moon;
Sooner the darin wights who go
Down to the watery wor'd below,
Shall force old Neptune to difgorge
And vomit up the ROYAL GEORGE,
Than He who hath his bargain made
And legally his cath onvey'd,
Shall e'er bis pocket reimburse
By diving in a Lawyer's Purfe.

Addrefs to Forgetfulness. From MERRY's Pains of Memory. A Poem.

HOU too, forgetfulnefs! whofe opiate charm

TH

Can hush the paffions, and their rage difarm;
Approach, O kindly grant thy fuppliant, aid!
Wrap him in fweet blivion's placid fhade;
Veil the gay, tranfitory fcenes, that fled,
ike gleamy fun thine o'er the mountain's head;
Sink in the dark abyfs of endless night

The

The artificial phantoms of delight;
Nor let his early ign'rance, and mistake,
The fober blifs of age and reafon shake.

Hide from his heart each fuff'ring country's woe,
And o'er its chains thy cov'ring mantle throw;
Hide yon deluded agonizing train,

Who bleed by thoufands on the purple plain;
Their piercing cries, their dying groans controul,
And lock up all the feelings of his foul.
Shield him from flander's perfecuting race,
Who feek to wound, and labour to disgrace,
Who view the humbleft worth with jealous eye,
The viper brood of black malignity!

So fhall, perchance, content with thee return,
'Mongft vernal fweets to raise his wintry urn;
To his retreat tranquillity repair,

"And freedom dwell a penfive hermit there."
O! in retirement may he reft at laft,
The prefent, calm, forgotten all the paft;
Befide the babling brook at twilight's clofe,
Tafe the foft folace of the mind's repofe;
Lift the lorn nightingale's impreffive lay,
That foothes the evening of retiring May,
When the young moon her paly flag difplays,
And o'er the ftream the panting zephyr ftrays;
No heedless hours recall'd, no festive roar,
That once deluded, but can please no more;
No wild emotions bid his comforts ceafe,
Or from his cottage drive the angel peace;
Nor vain ambition tempt his thoughts anew,
But ftill preserve the friendship of the few;
Still, ftill preferve the fond domestic smile,
Of her, whofe voice can ev'ry care beguile;
With meek philofophy his hours employ,
Or thrilling poetry's delicious joy;
And from the faded promifes of youth,
Retain the love of liberty and truth.

SONNET.

Sacred to the Memory of Penelope. By Sir Broak Boothby, Bart.

T

HOUGH fince my date of woe long years have roll'd,
Darkness ne'er draws the curtains round my head,

Nor orient morning opes her eyes of gold,
But grief purfues my walks, or haunts my bed.
Vifions, in fleep, their triftful fhapes unfold;
Show Mifery living, Hope and Pleafure dead,

Pale