ON A BEAUTIFUL YOUTH STRUCK BLIND WITH LIGHTNING (_Imitated from the Spanish._) SURE ’twas by Providence design’d, Rather in pity, than in hate, That he should be, like Cupid, blind, To save him from Narcissus’ fate. THE GIFT TO IRIS, IN BOW STREET, CONVENT GARDEN SAY, cruel IRIS, pretty rake, Dear mercenary beauty, What annual offering shall I make, Expressive of my duty? My heart, a victim to thine eyes, 5 Should I at once deliver, Say, would the angry fair one prize The gift, who slights the giver? A bill, a jewel, watch, or toy, My rivals give—and let ’em; 10 If gems, or gold, impart a joy, I’ll give them—when I get ’em. I’ll give—but not the full-blown rose, Or rose-bud more in fashion; Such short-liv’d offerings but disclose 15 A transitory passion. I’ll give thee something yet unpaid, Not less sincere, than civil: I’ll give thee—Ah! too charming maid, I’ll give thee—To the devil. 30 THE LOGICIANS REFUTED IN IMITATION OF DEAN SWIFT LOGICIANS have but ill defin’d As rational, the human kind; Reason, they say, belongs to man, But let them prove it if they can. Wise Aristotle and Smiglecius, 5 By ratiocinations specious, Have strove to prove with great precision, With definition and division, _Homo est ratione praeditum,_— But for my soul I cannot credit ’em; 10 And must in spite of them maintain, That man and all his ways are vain; And that this boasted lord of nature Is both a weak and erring creature; That instinct is a surer guide 15 Than reason-boasting mortals’ pride; And that brute beasts are far before ’em, _Deus est anima brutorum_. Who ever knew an honest brute At law his neighbour prosecute, 20 Bring action for assault and battery, Or friend beguile with lies and flattery? O’er plains they ramble unconfin’d, No politics disturb their mind; They eat their meals, and take their sport, 25 Nor know who’s in or out at court; They never to the levee go To treat as dearest friend, a foe; They never importune his grace, Nor ever cringe to men in place; 30 Nor undertake a dirty job, Nor draw the quill to write for B——b. Fraught with invective they ne’er go To folks at Pater-Noster-Row; No judges, fiddlers, dancing-masters, 35 No pick-pockets, or poetasters, Are known to honest quadrupeds; No single brute his fellow leads. Brutes never meet in bloody fray, Nor cut each others’ throats, for pay. 40 Of beasts, it is confess’d, the ape