"Till, fairly knock'd by admiration down,
The petted monster cracks his wond'rous crown.
No longer now to simple Nature true,

He studies only to be oddly new;

Whate'er he does, whate'er he deigns to say,
Must all be said and done the oddest way;
Nay, e'en in dress eccentrick as in thought,
His wardrobe seems by Lapland witches wrought,
Himself by goblins in a whirlwind drest,

With rags of clouds from Heela's stormy crest.

"Has truth no charms ?" When first beheld, I grant, But, wanting novelty, has every want;:

For pleasure's thrill the sickly palate flies,
Save haply pungent with a rare surprise.

The humble toad that leaps her nightly round,

The harmless tenant of the garden ground,

Is loath'd, abhorr'd, nay, all the reptile race
Together join'd were never half so base;
Yet snugly find her in some quarry pent,
Through ages doom❜d to one tremendous lent,
Surviving still, as if in Nature's spite,
Without or nourishment, or air, or light,
What raptures then th' astonish'd gazer
What lovely creature like a toad can please!

seize !

Hence many an oaf, by Nature doom'd to shine The unknown father of an unknown line, If haply shipwreck'd on some desert shore Of Folly's seas, by man untrod before,

Which, bleak and barren, to the starving mind Yields nought but fog, or damp, unwholesome wind, With loud applause the wond'ring world shall hail, And fame embalm him in the marv'lous tale.

With chest erect, and bright uplifted eye, On tiptoe rais'd, like one prepar'd to fly, Yon wight behold, whose sole aspiring hope Eccentrick soars to catch the hangman's rope. In order rang'd, with date of place and time, Each owner's name, his parentage and crime, High on his walls, inseribed to glorious shame, Unnumber'd halters gibbet him to Fame.

Who next appears thus stalking by his side? Why that is one who'd sooner die than-ride! No inch of ground can maps unheard of show Untrac'd by him, unknown to every toe: As if intent this punning age to suit,

The globe's circumf'rence meas'ring by the foot.

Nor less renown'd whom stars invet'rate doom To smiles eternal, or eternal gloom;

For what's a character save one confin'd
To some unchanging sameness of the mind;
To some strange, fix'd monotony of mien,
Or dress forever brown, forever green P

A sample comes. Observe his sombre face, Twin-born with Death, without his brother's grace! No joy in mirth his soul perverted knows, Whose only joy to tell of others' woes.

A fractur'd limb, a conflagrating fire,

A name or fortune lost his tongue inspire:
From house to house where'er misfortunes press,
Like Fate, he roams, and revels in distress;
In every ear with dismal boding moans-
A walking register of sighs and groans!

High tow'ring next, as he'd eclipse the moon, With pride upblown, behold yon live balloon.

I

All trades above, all sciences and arts,

To fame he climbs through very scorn of parts;
With solemn emptiness distends his state,

And, great in nothing, soars above the great;
Nay stranger still, through apathy of blood,
By candour number'd with the chaste and good:
With wife, and child, domestic, stranger, friend,
Alike he lives, as though his being's end
Were o'er his house like formal guest to roam,
And walk abroad to leave himself at home.

But who is he, that sweet obliging youth ?
He looks the picture of ingenuous truth.
Oh, that's his antipode, of courteous race,
The man of bows and ever-smiling face.
Why Nature made him, or for what design'd,
Never he knew, nor ever sought to find,
"Till cunning came, blest harbinger of ease!

And kindly whisper'd, thou wert born to please."