HAT! no way left to fhun th' inglorious ftage, And fave from infamy my finking age! Scarce half-alive, opprefs'd with many a year, What in the name of dotage drives me here? A time there was, when glory was my guide, Nor force nor fraud could turn my steps afide; Unaw'd by power, and unappal'd by fear, With honeft thrift I held my honour dear;
*This tranflation was firft printed in one of our Au thor's earliest works, "The Prefent State of Learning in "Europe," 12mo. 1759.
PROLOGUE.
But this vile hour difperfes all my store,
And all my hoard of honour is no more;
For ah! too partial to my life's decline,
Cæfar perfuades, fubmiffion must be mine;
Him I obey, whom Heaven itself obeys,
Hopeless of pleafing, yet inclin'd to please.
Here then at once I welcome every shame,
And cancel at threefcore a life of fame;
No more my titles fhall my children tell,
The old buffoon will fit my name as well;
This day beyond its term my fate extends,
For life is ended when our honour ends.
ECLUDED from domestic ftrife,
Jack Book-worm led a college life;
A fellowship at twenty-five,
Made him the happiest man alive;
He drank his glass, and crack'd his joke,
And freshmen wonder'd as he spoke.
Such pleasures, unallay'd with care;
Could any accident impair ?
Could Cupid's fhaft at length transfix
Our swain arriv'd at thirty-fix?
O had the archer ne'er come down
To ravage in a country town!
Or Flavia been content to ftop
At triumphs in a Fleet-ftreet fhop.
O had her eyes forgot to blaze!
Or Jack had wanted eyes to gaze.
B 3
Her prefence banish'd all his peace.
So with decorum all things carry'd ;
Mifs frown'd, and blufh'd, and then was-married.
Need we expofe to vulgar fight
The raptures of the bridal night?
Need we intrude on hallow'd ground,
Or draw the curtains clos'd around?
Let it fuffice, that each had charms;
He clafp'd a goddess in his arms;
And, though she felt his ufage rough,
Yet in a man 'twas well enough.
The honey-moon like light'ning flew,
The fecond brought its tranfports too.
A third, a fourth, were not amifs,
The fifth was friendship mix'd with blifs:
But, when a twelvemonth pafs'd away,
Jack found his goddefs made of clay;
Found half the charms that deck'd her face
Arofe from powder, fhreds, or lace;
But ftill the worst remain'd behind,
That very face had robb'd her mind.
Skill'd in no other arts was fhe, But dreffing, patching, repartee; And, juft as humour rofe or fell, By turns a flattern or a belle;
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