Or the Ionian, till cruising near The Lilybean shore, with hideous crush On Scylla, or Charybdis, dang'rous rocks! She strikes rebounding, whence the shatter'd oak, So fierce a shock unable to withstand, Admits the sea; in at the gaping side The crowding waves gush with impetuous rage, Resistless, overwhelming; horrors seize The mariners, death in their eyes appears, They stare, they lave, they pump, they swear, they pray; Vain efforts! still the batt'ring waves rush in, Implacable, till delug'd by the foam, The ship sinks found'ring in the vast abyss. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 63: Two noted alehouses in Oxford, 1700.] TWO "ODES." BY AMBROSE PHILIPS, ESQ., _From among those which suggested the next following Burlesque._ TO MISS MARGARET PULTENEY, DAUGHTER OF DANIEL PULTENEY, ESQ., IN THE NURSERY. _April_ 27, 1727. Dimply damsel, sweetly smiling, All caressing, none beguiling, Bud of beauty, fairly blowing, Every charm to nature owing, This and that new thing admiring, Much of this and that enquiring, Knowledge by degrees attaining, Day by day some virtue gaining, Ten years hence, when I leave chiming, Beardless poets, fondly rhyming (Fescu'd now, perhaps, in spelling), On thy riper beauties dwelling, Shall accuse each killing feature Of the cruel, charming creature, Whom I knew complying, willing, Tender, and averse to killing. TO MISS CHARLOTTE PULTENEY, IN HER MOTHER'S ARMS. _May_ 1, 1724. Timely blossom, infant fair, Fondling of a happy pair, Every morn, and every night, Their solicitous delight, Sleeping, waking, still at ease, Pleasing, without skill to please, Little gossip, blithe and hale, Tatling many a broken tale, Singing many a tuneless song, Lavish of a heedless tongue, Simple maiden, void of art, Babbling out the very heart, Yet abandon'd to thy will, Yet imagining no ill, Yet too innocent to blush, Like the linlet in the bush, To the mother-linnet's note Moduling her slender throat, Chirping forth thy petty joys, Wanton in the change of toys, Like the linnet green, in May, Flitting to each bloomy spray, Wearied then, and glad of rest, Like the linlet in the nest. This thy present happy lot, This, in time, will be forgot. Other pleasures, other cares, Ever-busy time prepares; And thou shalt in thy daughter see, This picture, once, resembled thee. NAMBY PAMBY: OR, A PANEGYRIC ON THE NEW VERSIFICATION ADDRESSED TO A---- P----, ESQ. "Nauty Pauty Jack-a-dandy Stole a piece of sugar-candy From the Grocer's shoppy-shop, And away did hoppy-hop."