With tongues like the lark, and with cheeks like the ruby, See the Unicorn send us all merry to Newby, Where we saw a fine gall'ry of gods, and a goddess, Dressed quite à la mode, with short coats and strait boddice. An empress in robes, and likewise a hero, Caligula's bust, and a scarified Nero; I believe they were all very ancient and fine, For our connoisseur party cried "charming! divine!" Talk'd much of contour and the taste of the Greeks, Said the art was now lost or but found in antiques; But just to refute the false blame of the scorner, I pointed to two modern boys in a corner, Who proved without saying a word in their favour, Our sculptors make cupids as lovely as ever. Having view'd the sarcophagus too and admir'd it, The tapestry came next as the ladies desir'd it; But fine as I thought it, I soon was withdrawn, By a glance of the family crossing the lawn; For in that I saw beauty enough I am sure, To enchant and delight the most nice amateur, Nor was it the less to my untutored notion, 498 'Cause glowing with life and completed by motion; But I said not a word, (tho' 'twas hard to refrain,) Lest the dead should be call'd up in judgment again. At Rippon next morning we went to the Minster, But no lady amongst us or matron or spinster, Propos'd the fam'd Needle of Wilfred to enter, Tho' all to the Bone-house were willing to venture; Where one lectur'd shrewdly on Gall's craniology, And turn'd o'er the skulls without fear or apology; But so pretty she look'd as she handed them round, No doubt can I have but her learning's profound; So chang'd are the ladies since your day good mother, They are all literati, in one way or other; But in all my life long, I ne'er saw so much on't, As during this journey when each gave a touch on't, At Fountains they spoke of memento and data, And dirtied their hands to examine the strata. At Hackfall they seized on the weeds and the grasses, To determine the genus and settle the classes; Spoke much of alembics and oxygen gas, Nor suffered a stone unexamined to pass; Unmindful meantime of the scene that was nigh, To awake the full heart and entrance the fond eye, And to gaze on a speck when a world was before 'em, Seem'd foolish to me tho' so much I adore 'em; And I could'nt help thinking good madam between us, Philosophy's seldom the study of Venus; 'Tis hers the bright flame of the poet to swell, Lead the gay mystic dance or resound the sweet shell, To guide the soft pencil with delicate finger, And scatter life's roses whilst o'er them we linger, Concentring the charms we should never dispart, The gifts of the mind with the truth of the heart. But no longer I'll venture this subject to dash on, Since I know the dear creatures but follow the fashion, Nor should I have dar'd just to touch on this thistle, But just to wind up my long winded epistle. 536