He reads of Fates that mar, Of Woes beyond redress, Of all the Moons that are, Of Maids that never bless (As one, indeed, might guess); Of Vows, of Hopes too high, Of Dolours by the yard That none believe (nor buy),Defend us from The Bard! ENVOY. PRINCE PHOEBUS, all must die, Or whole of heart or scarred; But why in this way-why? Defend us from The Bard! TO THE LADY DOROTHY NEVILL [With a Memoir of HORACE WALPOLE] HERE is HORACE his Life. I have ventured to draw him As the Berrys, the Conways, the Montagus saw him: Very kind to his friends, to the rest only so-so ; A dash of Sévigné, Saint-Simon and Thackeray. For errors of ignorance, haste, execution, TO EDMUND GOSSE [With a First Edition of Atalanta in Calydon] AT your pleasure here I hold "Atalanta snowy-souled: " He could write-say once a quarter, He is made Court-Footman or, WHEN TO THE SAME [With CHURCHILL's Poems (1763)] HEN CHURCHILL wrote, th' Aonian maid She used no phrase to circumvent The homely article she meant, But plainly called a spade a spade. Nor was the public much dismayed. They liked to see the bludgeon's dent 'Tis not so now. To-day the trade Demands the finest Sheffield blade; We use a subtler instrument; We cut for depth and not extent . . . But would 'twere ours-the Mark they madeWhen CHURCHILL wrote. TO THE SAME [With GOLDSMITH's Selected Poems] RUB-STREET is Milton Street to-day; Whom GOLDSMITH served has passed away; Ah no! as some lean rascal hides His misery from his betters, We wrap our trash in parchment sides, |