No. I. INEBRIETY; A POEM. PUBLISHED AT IPSWICH, IN 1775. (1) THE mighty spirit, and its power, which stains (2) I sing. Say, ye, its fiery vot'ries true, The jovial curate, and the shrill-tongued shrew; Where bowl the second charms like bowl the first; Say how, and why, the sparkling ill is shed, The heart which hardens, and which rules the head. A sable void the barren earth appears; The meads no more their former verdure boast, And wildly murmur for the spring's return; (1) For particulars respecting this juvenile production of Mr. Crabbe, see Vol. i. p. 24. In the following reprint some couplets are omitted, but nothing has been altered. (2) "The mighty Mother, and her son, who brings The Smithfield muses to the ear of kings," &c. POPE'S Dunciad From snow-topp'd hills the whirlwinds keenly blow, Howl through the woods, and pierce the vales below; Through the sharp air a flaky torrent flies, Mocks the slow sight, and hides the gloomy skies; The fleecy clouds their chilly bosoms bare, The floating air their downy substance glides Charms their swift race, and stops the refluent flood; Too rough to tickle, and too light to wound; Ale and content the labouring peasants warm: Colin, the prince of joke, and rural wits ; Whilst the wind whistles through the hollow panes, Of spirits vanishing near hidden gold; By mouldering tombs, and o'er the stagnant moat; Peace be to such, the happiest and the best, In vain the cricket chirps the mansion through, From twanging strokes what dire misfortunes rise, On either ear with leaden vengeance sound; On rooky pinions quits the aching head; |