#790.) 
Then fhook the rrees, a fhow’r of apples fell, 
And, where the hoard you kept, I know full 
well; 2 
The melfow goofeberries did themfelves pro- 
duce, ; 
For thro’ thy pocket oozed the vifcous juice. 
: EDWARD. 
I fcorn a tell-tale, or 1 cou’d declare 
How, leave unafk’d, you fought the neighbour- 
ing fair; 
Then homie by moon-light fpurred your jaded 
~ fteed, 
And fearce’ returned before the hour of bed. 
Think how thy trembling heart had felt af- 
fright, 
Had not our mafter fypped abroad that night. 
WILLIAM. 
On the fmooth, white-wafhed ceiling near thy 
bed, 
Mixed with thy own,’ is Anna’s cypher read ; 
From wreaths of duflkky fmoke the letters flow ; 
Whole hand the waving candle held, I know. 
Fines and jobations fhall thy foul appall, 
Whene’er our miitrels {pies the fully’d wall. 
EDWARD. . 
Uncon’d her leffon once, in idle mood, 
Trembling before the mafter, Anna ftood ; 
{1 marked what prompter near her took ‘his 
place, 
‘And, whilpering, fav’d the virgin from difgrace; 
Much is the youth bely’d, and much the maid, 
Or more than words the whifper foft’convey’d, 
WILLIAM. 
Think not I blufh to own jo bright a flame, 
Even boys for her aflume the lover’s name ; 
* As far as alleys beyond taws we prize, 
Or -venifon patty ranks above {chool pies; 
As much as peaches heyond apples'pleate, 
Or Parmefan excels a Suffoik cheefe ; 
Or P.... donkeys lag behind 'a fteed, 
So far do Anna’s charms all other charms ex- 
ceed, 
EDWARD. 
Tell, if thou canit, where is that creature 
bred, 
Whofe wide-ftretch’d mouth is larger than its 
head ; 
+ Guefs, and’my great Apollo thou fhalt be, 
And cake and {hip thall both remain with thee, 
WILLIAM. 
Explain thou firft, what portent late was feen, 
With ftrides impetuous, pofting o’er the green, 
Three heads, hke Cerberus, the montter bore, 
And one was fidelong fix’d, and two before ; 
Fight legs, depending from his ample fides, 
Fach well-built flank unequally divides ; 
For five on this, on that fide three ate found, 
Four fwiftly move, and four not touch the ground. 
Long time the moving prodigy I view’d, 
By gazing men, ‘and barking dogs purfu’d. 
HARRY. 
Ceafe ! ceafe-your carols both ! for lo the bell 
Wich jarring notes, has rung out pleafure’s 
knell. 
Your itartled comrades, e’er the game be done, 
Quit their unfinifh’d fports, afd trembling run. 
Hatte to your forms before the mafter éali! 
With thoughtful ftep he paces o’er the hail, 
* Lenta falix quantum pallenti cedit olivya. 
‘+ Dic quibus in terris, et eris mihi maguus 
Apollo, 
Parody on Grays Bard, by Bk Hon. T. Evfrine. 
545 
Does with ftern looks each playful loiterex 
greet, : aa 
Counts with his eye, and marks each vacant 
feat ; 
Intenfe, the buzzing murmur grows around, 
Loud, thro’ the dome, the ufher’s ftrokes ree 
found. ; 
Sneak off, and to your places flily fteal, 
Beiore the prowets ot his arm you feel. 

PARODY UPON GRAY’s CELEBRATED 
COTTE, OD Sd Ae aon te 
BY THE HON, THOMAS ERSKINE. 
[This Parody was written at Trinity Colleges 
Cambridge, near five and twenty years agog 
and arole trom the circumftance of the Au- 
thor’s Barber coming too late to drefs himat 
his lodgings, at the fhop ot Mr. Jackfon, an 
apothecary at Cambridge, where he lodged, 
till a vacancy in the College, by which he 
loft his dinner in the Hall: when, in imita~ 
tion of the defpairing Bard, who prophecied 
the deftruCtion of King Edward’s xace, he 
poured torth his curfes upon the whole race 
oi Barbers, predicting their ruin in the fime 
plicity of a future generation. | 
THE BARBER. 
“A fragment of a Pindaric Ode, from an old 
Manufeript in the Mufeum, which Mr. 
Gray certain.y had in bis eye when he 
wrote bis ** Bary.’? 
Le 
© Ruin feize thee, fcoundrel Coc? 
© Confufion on thy fnzzing wait ; 
« Hadit thou the only comb below, 
‘ Thou never more thouldft touch my pate. 
‘ Club nor queue, nor twifted tail, 
‘ Nor e’en thy chatt’ring, barber! fhall avait 
‘To fave thy horfe whip,’d back trom daily - 
fears ; ‘aa 
* From Cantab’s curfe, from Cantab’s tears! 
Such were the founds that o’er the powder’d 
ride 
Of Coe fhe Barber fcatter’d wild difmay, 
As down the fteep of Jackfon’s flippery lane 
He wound with pufing march his toilfome, 
tardy, way. 
Ad 
In a room where Cambridge town 
Frowns o’er the kennels’ ftinking flood, 
Rob’d in a flanne! powd’ring gown, 
With haggard eyes poor Erfkine ftood ; 
(Long his beard, and blouzy hair, __ 
Stream’d like an old wig to the troubled air ;} 
And with clung guts, and face than razor thinner, 
Swore the loud forrows of his dinner. 
* Hark! how each ftriking clock and tolling 
bell, 4 
© With awful founds, the hour of eating tell ? 
* O’er thee, oh Coe! their dreaded notes they 
wave, 
€ Soon fhall fuch founds proclaim thy yawning 
grave; 14 
‘ Vocal in vain, through all this ling’ring day, 
‘The grace already faid, the plates all twept 
away. ‘ 
IIt 
© Cold is Beau ** tongue, a 
* That jooth’d each virgin’s pain 5 
+ & Bight 
