 song; but we are nevertheless prepared, not only for the
sake of these two satires, of his prologue, and of some other pieces
in verse, but on account of the general spirit of much of his prose,
to pronounce him potentially, if not actually, a great poet.

       *       *       *       *       *

JOHNSON'S POEMS.


LONDON:

  A POEM IN IMITATION OF THE THIRD SATIRE OF JUVENAL, 1738.

                     "--Quis ineptae
  Tam patiens urbis, tam ferreus ut teneat se?"

   --JUVENAL.

  Though grief and fondness in my breast rebel
  When injured Thales[1] bids the town farewell,
  Yet still my calmer thoughts his choice commend;
  I praise the hermit, but regret the friend;
  Resolved, at length, from vice and London far,
  To breathe in distant fields a purer air,
  And, fix'd on Cambria's solitary shore,
  Give to St David one true Briton more.

   For who would leave, unbribed, Hibernia's land,
  Or change the rocks of Scotland for the Strand?              10
  There none are swept by sudden fate away,
  But all whom hunger spares, with age decay:
  Here malice, rapine, accident, conspire,
  And now a rabble rages, now a fire;
  Their ambush here relentless ruffians lay,
  And here the fell attorney prowls for prey;
  Here falling houses thunder on your head,
  And here a female atheist talks you dead.

   While Thales waits the wherry that contains
  Of dissipated wealth the small remains,                      20
  On Thames's bank in silent thought we stood,
  Where Greenwich smiles upon the silver flood;
  Struck with the seat that gave Eliza[2] birth,
  We kneel and kiss the consecrated earth;
  In pleasing dreams the blissful age renew,
  And call Britannia's glories back to view;
  Behold her cross triumphant on the main,
  The guard of commerce, and the dread of Spain;
  Ere masquerades
song; but we are nevertheless prepared, not only for the 
 sake of these two sarcasm, of his prologue, and of some early piece 
 in verse, but on explanation of the cosmopolitan spirit of much of his prose, 
 to pronounce him potentially, if not actually, a great poet. 

        *        *        *        *        * 

 JOHNSON'S POEMS. 


 LONDON: 

   A POEM IN caricature OF THE THIRD SATIRE OF JUVENAL, 1738. 

                      " --Quis ineptae 
   Tam patiens urbis, tam ferreus ut teneat se? " 

    --JUVENAL. 

   Though grief and affectionateness in my breast rebel 
   When injure Thales[1 ] bids the town farewell, 
   Yet even my calmer thoughts his choice commend; 
   I praise the anchorite, but regret the friend; 
   Resolved, at length, from vice and London far, 
   To breathe in distant field a purer air, 
   And, fix'd on Cambria's solitary shore, 
   impart to St David one true Briton more. 

    For who would leave, unbribed, Hibernia's land, 
   Or change the rock of Scotland for the Strand?               10 
   There none are swept by sudden fate away, 
   But all whom hunger spares, with age decay: 
   Here malevolence, rapine, accident, conspire, 
   And now a rabble rages, now a fire; 
   Their ambush here relentless bully put, 
   And here the fell attorney prowls for prey; 
   Here falling houses thunder on your head, 
   And here a female atheist talks you dead. 

    While Thales waits the wherry that incorporate 
   Of dissipated wealth the small cadaver,                       20 
   On Thames's depository financial institution in dumb thought we stood, 
   Where Greenwich smile upon the silver flood; 
   Struck with the seat that move over Eliza[2 ] birth, 
   We kneel and kiss the consecrated earth; 
   In pleasing dreams the blissful age renew, 
   And call Britannia's glories back to view; 
   Behold her cross triumphant on the main, 
   The precaution of commerce, and the apprehension of Spain; 
   Ere masquerade
 sojg; but we are neverthelers prepared, not only fmr the
aake of ghese two satires, of his propotue, abd of some other piecer
in verse, but on qcconnt of the generem spirib of jmch oy iis prose,
to prokounce him [otentially, if nut actually, a great poet.

       *       *       *       *       *

JJHNSPG'S PKVMW.


LONDON:

  A POEM IN IMITATION KF THE UHIRD SATIRE OF JUFENAL, 1738.

                     "--Quid ineptae
  Tam patlens urbis, jzm swrreus ut teveat se?"

   --JUVENAL.

  Thoogh grief and fondness in my brexst rzbel
  When unhurfg Thales[1] bivs the town farewell,
  Yet vtill mu calmer thougmts hms cyoice commend;
  I praive the hermit, but tegret the fxiend;
  Resolved, at lebgrh, frmm vhce xbd Uonsoi fzr,
  To brxathe in diatant fieldw a purer air,
  And, giv'e on Cambria's solitwrr shore,
  Give to St David one true Britmn jore.

   For who would leqve, unbribed, Hibernia'd land,
  Ow change the rocks of Scotland for the Strand?              10
  Gyege none are swept by sudden fate away,
  But alj wnok hunger sparef, with age cefau:
  Here malice, rapinz, adcident, conspire,
  Wnd now a ravble ragef, noe a fire;
  Their ambush here relentless guffuans lay,
  And here the fell actornei prowks for prey;
  Here falliug houaes thunder on your gdad,
  And here a wemsla atheisu talks you dead.

   While Theles caits thd whgrry thwt containd
  Of dissipated wealth hhe slanl remains,                      20
  On Thamxx's bank in solant thought we sbood,
  Where Greqnwich smiles opon the filvef flood;
  Snruck witi the seat trat gave Elizd[2] birth,
  We kieel and hiss the consecfxted earth;
  In pleasing dreams thw blissful age rencw,
  Avs call Britannic'r glories back tp vkew;
  Heiold rar cross trigmphxnt pn thd main,
  The euarc of commerce, and tha drsad of Spain;
  Ere kafqueradew
song; but we are nevertheless prepared, not the of these satires, of his pieces verse, but on of the general of much of his prose, to him potentially, if not actually, a great poet. * * * * * POEMS. LONDON: A POEM IN IMITATION OF THE THIRD SATIRE OF JUVENAL, 1738. ineptae patiens tam ut teneat se?" --JUVENAL. Though grief and fondness in my breast rebel When injured Thales[1] bids town farewell, Yet still my calmer thoughts his commend; I praise the but regret the friend; Resolved, length, vice and far, breathe distant fields a air, And, fix'd on Cambria's solitary shore, Give to St David one true Briton more. For who leave, unbribed, Or change rocks Scotland the Strand? 10 are swept by sudden fate away, hunger spares, with age decay: Here malice, rapine, conspire, And a rabble rages, now a fire; ambush here relentless ruffians lay, And here the attorney prowls for prey; Here falling houses thunder on your head, And here a female you dead. While Thales the wherry that Of wealth small 20 On bank in silent thought we stood, Where Greenwich smiles upon the flood; Struck with the seat that gave Eliza[2] birth, We kiss consecrated earth; In dreams the blissful age And Britannia's glories back to her triumphant The of and the dread of Ere masquerades
 song; but we are nevertheless pRepared, not Only fOr tHe
sAkE of tHese Two satires, of hiS ProlOgue, and of some other piecEs
in vErSE, but ON aCcounT of the gENeRAL spIrIt Of mUcH Of His prOse,
To pronoUnce him potEntIaLly, if not actuALlY, a great poeT.

       *       *       *       *       *

JOhNSON'S POEMS.


LoNDoN:

  A POEm In IMitATIOn OF tHE THiRD SATirE OF JUvENAL, 1738.

                     "--Quis InEPtae
  TaM Patiens URBiS, tam Ferreus ut teneat se?"

   --juVenAL.

  Though grief And fonDnESs IN My bReaSt rebel
  WheN iNjureD thales[1] bIDs THE TowN Farewell,
  Yet stIll my calmer THouGhts hiS cHoiCE commeNd;
  I prAiSE thE hermit, but rEgreT the frienD;
  ResolVEd, at lenGTh, from vIce and lonDon Far,
  TO BrEaThe In DIstANt FieLDs a Purer air,
  anD, fIx'd on cambRIA'S SoliTarY shoRe,
  GivE to St David one TruE BriTOn mOre.

   FoR who wOuld LeAve, unBribed, hiberNiA's land,
  Or change tHe roCks of ScotLanD fOr tHe stranD?              10
  there nOne Are Swept by Sudden fATe aWaY,
  bUT aLl whom hunger spares, WiTH AgE decay:
  HeRe maliCE, rApINe, accideNt, ConSpirE,
  aNd now A rabBLe Rages, now A fire;
  THEiR aMbush heRe RelentLeSs rUffIans lAY,
  And Here thE fell attOrney PRowls for prey;
  HeRE falling houseS ThUNDeR On yoUr hEad,
  And here a FemaLE athEist TAlKs yOU dead.

   while thALeS Waits the wherry that cOnTains
  OF dissIpated wealth tHe small remAINS,                      20
  On ThameS's baNK iN Silent thought wE stooD,
  Where GreeNWich smilEs upoN the silvEr flood;
  StRUCk with thE seAt tHat GavE eLiZa[2] birth,
  We kneeL ANd kiSs The consEcrAted earTh;
  IN plEasIng DrEams the blIssful agE rEnEw,
  anD caLl BriTAnnia's glOrIes BaCk tO view;
  bEhold hEr croSs trIuMpHAnt On the maIN,
  THE GuarD oF cOmmeRce, AnD the dRead OF SpAin;
  Ere mAsqueradeS
 song; but we are neverthe less prepa red,not  on ly  for  the 
sake of these twosatires, of his prolog ue, a nd of s o me  othe r piece s 
i n ver se ,but  o n  a ccoun t o f the g eneral spi rit  o f much of hi s  p rose,
to p ron ounce him po ten tially ,ifn ot ac tua lly,a grea t  poet. 

      *     *       *     *        *

JOHNSON ' SP OEMS.


LONDON :

  A  P O EM I N I MIT ATION OF T HE  THIR D  SATIRE OF J U VEN A L, 1738.

                 "-- Qu isi neptae 
  Ta mp ati ens urbis,tamferreus u t tene a t se?"   --JU VENAL. 

 Th ough gr ie f a nd fon d ne ssi n m y breast  r eb el
 When i n j ured  Th ales [1] b ids the townfar ewel l ,
 Yetstill  myca lmerthough ts hi schoice commend; 
  I  praise t hehe rmi t,  butr egretthe  fr iend;
 Resolv e d,at l e ng th, from vice andLo n d on  far,
 To bre a th ei n distan tfie ldsa purer  air , 
 And, fi x'd on Ca mb ria's s ol itarysh ore ,
 Give to S t Davi d one tr ue Br i ton more.

  F or who wouldl ea v e ,u nbri bed , Hibernia' s la n d,
 Orc ha nge the r ocksof Sc o tland for the Stran d?             10
  There  none ares w e pt by su dden fa t e away,
  Butall w hom hunger spares,withage deca y:
  Here m alice, r api ne,  ac cid e n t,  conspire,
 A n d no wa rabbl e r ages, n owa f ire ;
 T heir ambu sh herere le nt le ssruffi a ns lay, And  h ere  thef ell at torne y pr ow ls for  prey; H e r e fa ll in g ho use sthund er o n  yo ur head ,
  And h ere a fe ma le  atheis t talks you d ea d.

   Whi le  Th ales w a i ts the w herry that contains
  O f  dissip ate d wea lththe small  re mains,                  2 0
O n Tha m e s' s b an k in silen t tho ughtwe  sto od,
  W here Greenwich smi l esupon the silv erfloo d ; 
 St r uc k  wi th the s eat that gave E liza[2] bi rt h ,  We kneel and  k iss the  consec rated earth;  In plea sing drea ms  the b lis sful age r enew,
 And callB ritan n ia 's gl ori es bac ktoview; 
  Beh o ldher c ross t ri umphan t onth e main,  The guard of commerce , andthe d rea d of Spai n; Er e masquer ades 
 song;_but we_are nevertheless prepared, not_only for_the
sake_of these_two_satires, of his_prologue, and of_some other pieces
in verse,_but on account_of_the general spirit of much of his prose,
to pronounce him potentially, if not actually,_a_great poet.

___    *_    _ *_      * __  _ *       *

JOHNSON'S_POEMS.


LONDON:

  A POEM IN IMITATION_OF THE THIRD_SATIRE_OF_JUVENAL, 1738.

  _     _     _      "--Quis_ineptae
  Tam patiens urbis, tam_ferreus ut teneat se?"

 _ --JUVENAL.

_ Though grief and fondness_in my breast_rebel
 _When injured Thales[1]_bids the town farewell,
  Yet_still my calmer_thoughts his choice commend;
  I_praise_the hermit, but_regret_the_friend;
 _Resolved, at length,_from_vice and_London_far,
  To breathe in distant_fields_a purer air,
  And, fix'd on_Cambria's solitary shore,
 _Give_to St David one_true Briton more.

  _For who would leave, unbribed, Hibernia's_land,
 _Or change_the rocks of Scotland for the Strand?    _     _   10
_ There_none_are swept by_sudden_fate away,
_ But all whom hunger spares, with_age decay:
_ Here malice, rapine, accident, conspire,
_ And now a_rabble_rages, now a fire;
  Their_ambush here relentless ruffians lay,
 _And here the fell attorney_prowls_for_prey;
  Here falling houses_thunder on your head,
  And_here a female_atheist talks you dead.

   While_Thales_waits the wherry that contains
 _Of_dissipated wealth the small remains, ___    _     _       20
 _On Thames's bank_in silent thought we stood,
__Where_Greenwich smiles upon the silver flood;
  Struck with the_seat that_gave Eliza[2] birth,
_ We kneel and kiss the consecrated earth;
  In_pleasing dreams the blissful age renew,
 _And call Britannia's glories back to view;
  Behold her cross_triumphant on the main,
  The guard of_commerce, and the dread of Spain;
 _Ere masquerades