A scholarship not half maintains,
And college-rules are heavy chains;
So fcorning the late wifh'd-for prize,
For a fat fellowship he fighs.

When, nine full tedious winters past,
His utmoft wifh is crown'd at laft;
That utmost wish no fooner got,
Again he quarrels with his lot.-
"Thefe fellowships are pretty things,
"We live indeed like petty kings;
"But who can bear to spend his whole age
"Amid the dullness of a college;
"Debarr'd the common joys of life,
"And what is worfe than all-a wife!
"Would some fnug benefice but fall,
"Ye feafts, and gaudies, farewell all !
"To offices I'd bid adieu

"Of Dean, Vice-Præs,-nay Burfar too ;
"Come tithes, come glebe, come fields fo pleasant,
"Come fports, come partridge, hare and pheasant.”
Well-after waiting many a year,

A living falls, two hundred clear.
With breast elate beyond expreffion,
He hurries down to take poffeffion;
With rapture views the sweet retreat,—
"What a convenient house! how neat!
"The garden how compleatly plann'd!
"And is all this at my command !

"For fuel here's good store of wood,-
Pray god, the cellars be but good!
Continuing this fantastic farce on,
He now commences country parfon;
To make his character entire,
He weds a coufin of the 'fquire;
Not over-weighty in the purse;
But many doctors have done worse.
Content at first,—he taps his barrel,
Exhorts his neighbours not to quarrel;
Finds his church-wardens have difcerning
Both in good liquor and good learning;
With tythes his barns replete he fees,
And chuckles o'er his furplice-fees;

Studies to find out latent dues,

Smokes with the 'fquire,-and clips his yews;
Of Oxford pranks, facetious tells,

And, but on fundays, hears no bells.
But ah! too foon his thoughtless breast
By cares domeftic is opprest;

Each day fome scene of woe commences
By new and unforeseen expences;
And foon the butcher's bill, and brewing,
Threaten inevitable ruin;

For children more expences yet,
And Dickey now for school is fit.

66 Why did I fell my college life (He cries)" for benefice and wife!

"Oh could the days once more but come, "When calm I fmoak'd in common room, "And din'd with breaft untroubled, under "The picture of our pious founder; "When, for amusement, my tyrannic

Sway could put freshmen in a pannic; "When impofitions were fupplied

"To light my pipe-or footh my pride! "No cares of family opprefs'd me,

"Nor wife by day-nor night diftrefs'd me. "Each day receiv'd fucceffive pleasure, "Or spent in reading, or in leisure ; "And every night I went to bed "Without a christ'ning in my head."

O trifling head, and fickle heart!-
Chagrin'd at whatsoe'er thou art!
A dupe to follies yet untry'd,

And fick of pleasure's scarce enjoy'd;
Each prize obtain'd, thy rapture ceases,
And in the fearch alone it pleases.

ODE *

ARTHUR

то

ONSLOW,

ESQ;

I.

TH

HIS goodly frame what virtue so approves,
And teftifies the pure etherial fpirit

As mild Benevolence?

She with her fifter Mercy still awaits

Befide th' eternal throne of Jove, And measures forth with unwithdrawing hand The bleffings of the various year, Sunshine or fhow'r, and chides the madding tempeft.

II.

With her the heaven-bred nymph meek Charity, Shall fashion ONSLOW forth in fairest portrait ; And with recording care

Weave the fresh wreath that flow'ring virtue claims.
But oh, what muse shall join the band ?

He long has fojourn'd in the facred haunts,
And knows each whisp'ring grot and glade
Trod by Apollo, and the light-foot Graces.

*This elegant Poem was written by a Gentleman well known in the Learned World, as a token of gratitude for favours conferred on his father, during the laft war, whose character he has therein affumed.

III.

How then fhall awkward gratitude
And the prefumption of untutor❜d duty
Attune my numbers all too rude ?
Little he recks the meed of such a fong;
Yet will I ftretch aloof,

And when I tell of Courtefy,
Of well-attemper'd Zeal,

Of awful Prudence foothing fell Contention,
Where shall the lineaments agree

But in thee, ONSLOW? You, your wonted leave Indulge me, nor mifdeem a Soldier's bold emprize;

IV.

Who in the diffonance of barb'rous war, Long train'd, revifits oft the facred treasures Of antique memory;

Or where fage Pindar reins his fiery car,

Through the vaft vault of heaven secure,
Or what the Attic mufe that Homer fill'd,
Her other fon, thy Milton taught,
Or range the flow'ry fields of gentle Spenfer.

V.

And ever as I go, allurements vain Cherish a feeble fire, and feed my idle

Fancy: O cou'd I once

Charm to their melody my fhrilling reeds!