Compelled their beings to enshrine
In bodies vile of herded swine,

Precipitate adown the steep

With hideous rout were plunging in the deep,
And hog and devil mingling grunt and yell
Seiz'd on the ear with horrible obtrusion ;-
Then if aright old legendaries tell,

Wert thou begot by Discord on Confusion!

What tho' no name's sonorous power
Was given thee at thy natal hour!—
Yet oft I feel thy sacred might,

While concords wing their distant flight.
Such power inspires thy holy son

Sable clerk of Tiverton.

And oft where Otter sports his stream,
I hear thy banded offspring scream.
Thou Goddess! thou inspir'st each throat;
'Tis thou who pour'st the scritch owl note!
Transported hear'st thy children all
Scrape and blow and squeak and squall,
And while old Otter's steeple rings,
Clappest hoarse thy raven wings!

DEVONSHIRE ROADS.

THE indignant Bard compos'd this furious ode,
As tir'd he dragg'd his way thro' Plimtree road!
Crusted with filth and stuck in mire
Dull sounds the Bard's bemudded lyre;
Nathless Revenge and Ire the Poet goad
To pour his imprecations on the road.
Curst road! whose execrable way
Was darkly shadow'd out in Milton's lay,

When the sad fiends thro' Hell's sulphureous roads
Took the first survey of their new abodes ;

Or when the fall'n Archangel fierce

Dar'd through the realms of Night to pierce,

What time the Blood Hound lur'd by Human scent Thro' all Confusion's quagmires floundering went.

1790.

Nor cheering pipe, nor Bird's shrill note
Around thy dreary paths shall float;

Their boding songs shall scritch owls pour
To fright the guilty shepherds sore,
Led by the wandering fires astray
Thro' the dank horrors of thy way!
While they their mud-lost sandals hunt
May all the curses, which they grunt
In raging moan like goaded hog,
Alight upon thee, damned Bog!

INSIDE THE COACH.

'Tis hard on Bagshot Heath to try
Unclos'd to keep the weary eye;
But ah! Oblivion's nod to get
In rattling coach is harder yet
Slumbrous God of half-shut eye!

Who lov'st with Limbs supine to lie ;
Soother sweet of toil and care

Listen, listen to my prayer;

And to thy votary dispense
Thy soporific influence !

What tho' around thy drowsy head

The seven-fold cap of night be spread,

Yet lift that drowsy head awhile

And yawn propitiously a smile;

In drizzly rains poppean dews

O'er the tir'd inmates of the Coach diffuse;
And when thou'st charm'd our eyes to rest
Pillowing the chin upon the breast,
Bid many a dream from thy dominions
Wave its various-painted pinions,
Till ere the splendid visions close

We snore quartettes in ecstacy of nose.
While thus we urge our airy course,
Oh may no jolt's electric force
Our fancies from their steeds unhorse,
And call us from thy fairy reign

To dreary Bagshot Heath again!

1790.

1790.

I have often been surprised that Mathematics, the quintessence of Truth, should have found admirers so few and so languid. Frequent consideration and minute scrutiny have at length unravelled the case; viz. that though Reason is feasted, Imagination is starved; whilst Reason is luxuriating in its proper Paradise, Imagination is wearily travelling on a dreary desert. To assist Reason by the stimulus of Imagination is the design of the following production. In the execution of it much may be objectionable. The verse (particularly in the introduction of the ode) may be accused of unwarrantable liberties, but they are liberties equally homogeneal with the exactness of Mathematical disquisition, and the boldness of Pindaric daring. I have three strong champions to defend me against the attacks of Criticism; the Novelty, the Difficulty, and the Utility of the work. I may justly plume myself, that I first have drawn the nymph Mathesis from the visionary caves of abstracted Idea, and caused her to unite with Harmony. The first-born of this Union I now present to you; with interested motives indeed-as I expect to receive in return the more valuable offspring of your Muse.

March 31, 1791.

To the Rev. G. C.

Thine ever,

S. T. C.

This is now-this was erst,

Proposition the first-and Problem the first.

II.

From the centre A. at the distance A. B.

Describe the circle B. C. D.

At the distance B. A. from B. the centre The round A. C. E. to describe boldly venture. (Third postulate see.f

And from the point C.

In which the circles make a pother
Cutting and slashing one another,

Bid the straight lines a journeying go.

C. A. C. B. those lines will show

To the points, which by A. B. are reckon❜d,
And postulate the second

For Authority ye know.
A. B. C.

Triumphant shall be

An Equilateral Triangle,

Not Peter Pindar carp, nor Zoilus can wrangle.

III.

Because the point A. is the centre

Of the circular B. C. D.
And because the point B. is the centre
Of the circular A. C. E.

A. C. to A. B. and B C. to B. A.
Harmoniously equal forever must stay;
Then C. A. and B. C.

Both extend the kind hand

To the basis A. B,

Unambitiously join'd in Equality's Band. But to the same powers, when two powers are equal My mind forebodes the sequel;

My mind does some celestial impulse teach,

And equalizes each to each.

Thus C. A with B. C. strikes the same sure alliano That C. A. and B. C. had with A. B. before;

And in mutual affiance

None attempting to soar

Above another,

The unanimous three

C. A. and B. C. and A. B.

All are equal, each to his brother,

Preserving the balance of power so true:
Ah! the like would the proud Autocratix* do!
At taxes impending not Britain would tremble,
Nor Prussia struggle her fear to dissemble;
Nor the Mah'met-sprung wight

The great Mussulman

Would stain his Divan

With Urine the soft-flowing daughter of Fright.

IV.

But rein your stallion in, too daring Nine!
Should Empires bloat the scientific line?
Or with dishevell'd hair all madly do ye run
For transport that your task is done?
For done it is--the cause is tried!

And Proposition, gentle maid,

Who soothly ask'd stern Demonstration's aid,
Has prov'd her right, and A. B. C.

Of Angles three

Is shown to be of equal side;

And now our weary steed to rest in fine,

'Tis raised upon A. B. the straight, the given line.

THE NOSE.

YE souls unus'd to lofty verse,

Who sweep the earth with lowly wing,
Like sand before the blast disperse-
A Nose a mighty Nose I sing!

As erst Prometheus stole from heaven the fire
To animate the wonder of his hand;
Thus, with unhallow'd hands, O muse, aspire,
And from my subject snatch a burning brand!
So like the Nose I sing-my verse shall glow-
Like Phlegethon my verse in waves of fire shall flow!

* Empress of Russia.

B*