For not the desk with silver nails, Hear how a ghost in dead of night, Rare imp of Phoebus, hopeful youth! To fetch and carry in his mouth Ah! why did he write poetry, A desk he had of curious work, Now, as he scratch'd to fetch up thought All upright as a pin. With whiskers, band, and pantaloon, Ho! master Sam, quoth Sandys' sprite, 1 Forsooth, if rhymes fall not in right. I hear the beat of Jacob's* drums, Then lords and lordlings, 'squires and knights, Garth at St James's, and at White's, What Fenton will not do, nor Gay, If justice Philips' costive head Let Warwick's Muse with Ash-t join, Tickell and Addison combine, And Pope translate with Jervas. L- himself, that lively lord, Shall join with F-in one accord, * Old Jacob Tonson, the editor of the Metamorphoses. + Pembroke, probably. Ye ladies, too, draw forth your pen; Now, Tonson, list thy forces all, A metamorphosis more strange Than all his books can vapour "To what (quoth 'squire) shall Ovid change?" Quoth Sandys, "To waste paper." UMBRA. [Curll says this character was intended to ridicule a very worthy gentleman, probably Ambrose Philips.] CLOSE to the best known author UMBRA sits, The constant index to old Button's wits. "Who's here?" cries Umbra: “ only Johnson"* Your slave," and exit; but returns with Rowe: "Dear Rowe, let's sit and talk of tragedies:" Ere long Pope enters, and to Pope he flies. * Charles Johnson, a second rate dramatist, and great frequenter of Button's. Pope elsewhere classes him with Philips: "Lean Philips and fat Johnson.” -Farewell to London. Then up comes Steele: he turns upon his heel, But cries as soon, "Dear Dick, I must be gone, DUKE UPON DUKE. AN EXCELLENT NEW BALLAD. To the Tune of "Chevy Chace." This excellent ballad is founded upon a quarrel between Sir John Guise, Bart. Member of Parliament for Gloucestershire, and Nicholas, Lord Lechmere, a Whig statesman of some cmi nence, at the time Chancellor of the Duchy Court of Lancaster, which gives rise to the title by which he is here designated. No particulars of the quarrel, which seems to have been quite personal, has reached the present time. But the poem was given to the hawkers, and sung through the streets, as appears from its existing in broadside copies, with the music, which is said to have been composed by Mr Holdecombe. One of these copies is in the celebrated collection, Narcissus Luttrel, and is dated 24th August 1720.] To Lordlings proud I tune my lay, Though dukes they be, to dukes I say, Now, that this same it is right sooth, From what befel John Duke of Guise, When Richard Cœur de Lion reign'd, A word and blow was then enough: Look in their face, they tweak'd your nose; Come near, they trod upon your toes; Of these the Duke of Lancastere Stood paramount in pride; He kick'd, and cuff'd, and tweak'd, and trod His foes and friends beside. Firm on his front his beaver sate; So broad, it hit his chin; For why? he deemed no man his mate, And fear'd to tan his skin. With Spanish wool he dy'd his cheek, No vixen civet cat so sweet, Right tall he made himself to show, |