Enough has Winter's hand severe Chill'd the fair dawning of the year, The frozen scenes will melt away; And, mix'd in sprightly dance, the blooming hours, Will 'wake the drowsy Spring, and Spring awake the flowers. Let Health, gay daughter of the skies, On Zephyr's wings descend, And scatter pleasures as she flies Where Surry's downs extend; There Herring wooes her friendly power, There may all her roses shower, To heal that shepherd all her balms employ, So will she sooth our fears, and give a nation joy. Ah me! that Virtue's godlike friends So soon are claim'd by fate! Lo! Pelham to the grave descends, The bulwark of the state: The Right Honourable Henry Pelham Esq. died on the 6th of March, 1754. When will fair Truth his equal find Among the best of human-kind? Long be the fatal day with mourning kept! Augustus sigh'd sincere, and all the worthy wept. Thy delegate, kind heaven, restore To health, and safely keep; Let good Augustus sigh no more, And still upon the royal head The riches of thy blessings shed: Establish'd with his counsellors around, Long be his prosperous reign, and all with glory crown'd. The Birth Day of Folly, an Heroi-Comical Poem. Now dawns the day to Folly ever dear, And deem'd by her the fairest of the year, April's first morn, distinguish'd for her birth; To sloth she gives the day, the night to mirth. Her herald, Lauder, vehement and loud, Brays out this proclamation to the crowd: "Attend, ye dunces, and ye zanies all, ""Tis Folly's birth-day, come at Folly's call; "To sound her fame the sons of dulness meet "At seven o'clock precisely in Hart-street; "Come when the hooting Owls begin their flight, For Folly keeps her holiday at night. Close by that theatre of high repute Where Quin so well perform'd the part of Brute; Which from this grand projector took its name: High o'er her ear, light-wavering to the gale, But hark! what sounds my trembling ears dismay; The screech-owls hoot, the long-ear'd brethren bray; Loud squeal the cat-calls with discordant strain, The sport of Folly, but the poet's pain. The signal given, all boobies hear the call, . (The feast of Folly is a feast for all) Tittering they run-tall Taylor heads the rout, And swells his high harangue with many a-round about: Most potent Queen, with heart-dilating glee "I greet the day benign to You and Me"That dire Glaucoma which your eye bedims, "This hand deterges, dispumates and skims. "Thanks to my stars that sent me here to-day "To purge from films opaque your visual ray; Pay but ten pieces-that my constant rate is; "One shilling and this syllabus comes gratis. "Great in the art no falshoods I maintain; "In France I'm honour'd, and adored in Spain: "In Prussia, Poland, Portugal I'm known; 'Sweden, and Denmark ring with my renown: "Of me strange things all Germany relates, For I'm admired thro' all her hundred states: "Bohemia, Muscovy I've travell'd o'er, 66 Kingdoms where Doctors never went before: "Full well these foreign courts my pains requite, "They chuse me member, and they dub me Knight; "The Patents of the Dignities I've won, "Are all lodged safely with my darling son. "Your gracious Majesty has heard I hope, "I'm Oculist-Physician to the Pope, "Besides (think not I dare your Highness hum) "To every Sovereign Prince in Christendom : |