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March 1, 1770. No.
270. |
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Ode to Solitude
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Hail! Solitude,
calm peaceful state,
Thou choicest blessing here below,
Unknown, unheeded by the great,
Thou sovereign balm of human woe.
Contentment sweetly smiles
around,
5
Where e’er thou tak’st thy blissful
seat,
And youthful verdure decks the ground,
Whilst roses blush to kiss thy feet.
How blest and happy is the swain,
Who far remote from noise and
strife, 10
Whose spotless soul is pure from stain,
Who leads a calm unruffled life;
With whom peace, innocence, and love,
That from thy bliss inspiring train,
Forever dwell, and with him
rove 15
Thro’ ev’ry meadow, field and plain.
How pleas’d he rises with the dawn,
And guides his fleecy care along
Some silver brook, or flow’ry lawn,
Charm’d with the warblers early
song. 20
Oh! waft me to some cool retreat,
Where heav’n-born contemplation reigns,
Where zephyrs fan the noon-tide heat,
And songsters sing soul-thrilling strains?
There blest in lonesome
solitude, 25
Beside a moss-deck’d purling rill,
From ev’ry mortal eye reclude,
Let me recline, all calm and still;
Let whisp’ring breezes softly play
Whithin the leaf-ful rust’ling
grove; 30
Whilst the sweet Robin tunes his lay,
And plaintive coos the mournful dove.
Blest with such calm serene delights,
My heav’n aspiring thoughts would rise
On Fancy’s wing, in loftiest
flight, 35
Above the star-bespangled skies,
Whilst there I’d lye devoid of care,
Sweet harmony would tune my soul,
And melody blest charm my ear,
How sweetly time away would
roll. 40
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March 1, 1770. No.
270. |
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On hearing an amiable and virtuous young
Lady’s Reputation made too free with by an OLD
MAID.
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Full
fifteen times hath Phebus seen
The woods and fields new cloth’d in green,
Since Becca’s sighs confess’d
A fervent wish for Hymen’s bliss;
’Tis very hard, yet so it
is, 5
She still remains unbless’d!
Now turn’d of thirty, pining, vex’d,
Her temper sour’d, her mind perplex’d,
(Sure signs of hope decay’d)
’Tis fear’d by all, but most
herself,
10
Though fortune hath increas’d her pelf,
She’s doom’d to die a maid!
By too much choice, the female mind
Inspir’d with pride, we often find,
Will scorn each lover’s
proffer, 15
’Til humbler notions come too late;
But think not this is Becca’s fate,
She never had an offer!
What wonder then the hapless dame
Should cherish envy’s secret
flame, 20
And take delight in railing?
To strive with scandal’s shafts to vex
The more distinguish’d of the sex,
Is every OLD MAID’S failing.
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March 8, 1770. No.
271. |
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Messrs. PRINTERS,
You will oblige one of the Readers of your GAZETTE by
inserting in your next the inclosed.
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Hail! Poet
of Poets, whoever you be;
Be you E****ds, or M**r, A. B. C. or D.
Don’t your Harmonick Soul, in true Concord feel,
With the FORTE PIANO,
when touch’d by G. S****e?
Alternate he sooths our calm’d minds to
sweet
rest, 5
Or raises a tumult of joy in our breast ;
In Largo, Allegro, and all other Measures,
He equally thrills us with extatic pleasures.
See the raptrous delight that each fair
Female Shews!
See her Soul how exprest! in each feature it
glows. 10
If by chance in the croud you percieve one unmov’d,
That Female, Alas! was ne’er made to be lov’d;
And if she’ll be wedded, sad discord and jarr
Will render her life an accurst state of war:
But the Female affected by concord of
sounds, 15
To her bliss in this world—and the next—there’s no
bounds.
Yes! Beauty alone may a cold bosom warm,
But Beauty and Musick a Stoick will charm:
What Mortal’s unmov’d, when divine D*** diffuses
Sweet smiles, and plays airs which she stole from the
Muses; 20
And when J****’s soft touches awaken her Lyre,
Her Melody, soul-felt, imparts Sacred Fire;
For each heaven-moulded soul this great truth can confess,
That Beauty and Music can lift us to Bliss:
Then ye Fair court the Muses, your example we’ll
follow, 25
And all, like G****e S****e, become sons of Apollo.
Cup
Rouge, 27th February, 1770.
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March 8, 1770. No.
271. |
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Chanson de Franc-Maçon
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Sur notre Ordre,
en vain le Vulgaire
Raisonne
aujourd’hui;
Il veut pénétrer un mistere
Au-dessus
de lui.
Loin que sa critique nous blesse, 5
Nous rions de ses vains soupçons,
Savoir égaier la sagesse
Fait le secrêt des Franc-maçons.
Bien des gens dissent, qu’au Grimoire
Nous
nous connissons, 10
Et que dans la Science Noire
Nous
nous exerçons:
Notre Science est de nous taire
Sur les biens dont nous jouissons;
C’est le charmant art de vous plaire, 15
Fait l’étude des Franc-maçons.
Se comporter en toute affaire
Avec
équité,
Aimer, et secourir son Frere
Dans
l’adversité, 20
Fuir tous procédès mercenaires,
Consulter toujours la raison,
Ne pas se lasser de bien faire,
C’est le plaisir des Franc-maçons.
Accordez-nous votre souffrage, 25
Beau-sexe
enchanteur,
Tout Franc-maçon vous rend hommage,
Et
s’en fait honneur.
C’est en acquérant votre estime
Qu’il se rend digne de ce
nom; 30
Qui dit un ennemi du crime,
Caracterise un Franc-maçon.
Samson à peine à sa Maîtresse
Eut
dit son secrêt,
Qu’il éprouva de sa foiblesse 35
Le
funeste effet.
Dalila n’auroit pû le vendre,
Mais elle auroit trouvé Samson
Plus discrêt, et tout aussi tendre,
S’il avoit été Franc-maçon. 40
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March 15, 1770. No.
272. |
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The News-Paper
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’Tis truth
(which deference to the college)
News-papers are the spring of knowledge,
The general source throughout the nation,
Of every modern conversation.
What would this mighty people
do, 5
If there, alas! were nothing new?
A news-paper is like a feast,
Some dish there is for every guest;
Some large, some small, some strong, some tender,
For every stomach, stout or
slender. 10
Those who roast beef and ale delight in
Are pleas’d with trumpets, drums, and fighting;
For those who are more puny made
Are arts and sciences, and trade;
For fanciful and amorous
blood 15
We have a soft poetick food;
For witty and satyrick folks
High season’d, acid, bitter jokes;
And when we strive to please the mob,
A jest, a quarrel, or a
job. 20
If any Gentleman wants a wife,
(A partner as ’tis term’d, for life)
An advertisement does the thing,
And quickly brings the pretty thing.
If you want health, consult our
pages, 25
You shall be well, and live for ages;
Our empiricks, to get them bread,
Do every thing but raise the dead.
Lands may be had, if they are wanted,
Annuities of all sorts
granted, 30
Places, preferments, bought and sold,
Houses to purchase, new and old,
Ships, shops, of every shape and form,
Carriages, horses, servants swarm,
No matter whether good or
bad, 35
We tell you were they may be had.
Our services you can’t express,
The good we do you hardly guess;
There’s not a want of human kind,
But we a remedy can
find. 40
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March 22, 1770. No.
273. |
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A New Song
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Ye fair, possess’d
of every charm,
To captivate the will,
Whose smiles can rage itself disarm,
Whose frowns at once can kill:
Say, will ye deign the verse to
hear, 5
Where flattery bears no part,
An honest verse that flows sincere,
And candid from the heart?
Great is your power, and greater yet,
Mankind it might
engage, 10
If, as ye all can make a net,
Ye all would make a cage.
Each nymph a thousand hearts might take,
For who’s to beauty blind?
But to what end a prisoner
make, 15
Unless you’ve strength to bind?
Attend the counsel often told,
Too often told in vain,
Learn that best art, the art to hold,
And lock the lover’s
chain.
20
Gamesters to little purpose win,
Who lose again as fast:
Though beauty may the charm begin,
’Tis sweetness makes it last.
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March 22, 1770. No.
273. |
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AUX IMPRIMEURS.
Vu qu’on a trouvé l’avis suivant d’une grande utilité en
plusieurs occasions, et comme il peut encore l’être, on vous
prie de l’inserer dans votre Gazette prochaine.
Avis aux Generaux
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Ne laissez pas
toujours de vous mettre en tête
De faire à propos une belle Retraite,
Laquelle, croiez-moi, est le plus grand Mystere
De la bonne conduite, et de l’Art Militaire:
Car ceux, qui s’enfuient, peuvent revenir sur leurs
pas, 5
Ainsi ne sont jamais mis hors de Combat;
Mais ceux, au contraire, qui demeurent sur la place,
Se privent de tout moien de venger leur disgrace;
Et lors qu’on se met en devoir s’enfuir,
L’ennemi tout aussi-tôt s’efforce à courir; 10
Et par-là le Combat se changeant en Poursuite,
Ils gagnent la Victoire qui courent le plus vite.
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