The Shamrock or, Hibernian Cresses. A Collection of Poems, Songs, Epigrams, &c. Latin as well as English, The Original Production of Ireland. To which are subjoined thoughts on the prevailing system of school education, respecting young ladies as well as gentlemen: with practical proposals for a reformation [by Samuel Whyte] |
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 | The Shamrock |  |
51
HOCUS POCUS.
To the Right Honourable Lady MARY BIRMINGHAM.
The Juggler call'd, and all attentive round
The Guests were plac'd; 'tis meet the Muse record;
Eliza there; and here a Sage profound;
The noble Margaretta next her Lord:
Good Sense in Mary's gracious Form stood by;
And Innocence sat smiling in her Eye.
The Guests were plac'd; 'tis meet the Muse record;
Eliza there; and here a Sage profound;
The noble Margaretta next her Lord:
Good Sense in Mary's gracious Form stood by;
And Innocence sat smiling in her Eye.
I mark'd the Changes of her beauteous Face;
Accustom'd long its Changes to explore;
There sweet Surprize, and mix'd Applause I trace,
As Magus plays his Conjurations o'er:
The more susceptive, as no Art she knew;
Yet Praise was just, just was her Wonder too.
Accustom'd long its Changes to explore;
There sweet Surprize, and mix'd Applause I trace,
As Magus plays his Conjurations o'er:
The more susceptive, as no Art she knew;
Yet Praise was just, just was her Wonder too.
Prompt, and alert, confounding every Sense,
His 'witching Spells all Objects round obey'd;
They came; were gone; none whither knew, nor whence;
Or, if they knew, the Secret none betray'd.
Even so the World is practis'd in Deceit;
But, tho' a pleasing, 'tis a dangerous Cheat.
His 'witching Spells all Objects round obey'd;
They came; were gone; none whither knew, nor whence;
Or, if they knew, the Secret none betray'd.
Even so the World is practis'd in Deceit;
But, tho' a pleasing, 'tis a dangerous Cheat.
From the trim Courtier, to the Herdsman's Boy,
'Tis Sleight, 'tis Trick, 'tis mere Illusion all;
And Candour errs, or Masks the Fair employ,
From Doll the Drudge, to Sylvia at the Ball:
All have their Schemes, and on securely steer;
Tho' often founder'd in the loose Career.
'Tis Sleight, 'tis Trick, 'tis mere Illusion all;
And Candour errs, or Masks the Fair employ,
From Doll the Drudge, to Sylvia at the Ball:
All have their Schemes, and on securely steer;
Tho' often founder'd in the loose Career.
52
Pride of my Hope, the mad Contagion shun;
And be to all, as thou to me art, dear;
The Race of Honour uniformly run;
And rise, the Prime of thy exalted Sphere.
Tis Virtue's Call, inherent in thy Blood;
For all thy Ancestors were wise and good.
And be to all, as thou to me art, dear;
The Race of Honour uniformly run;
And rise, the Prime of thy exalted Sphere.
Tis Virtue's Call, inherent in thy Blood;
For all thy Ancestors were wise and good.
Though on thy Cheek the pure Carnations glow,
Tints lovelier far than Titian's Pencil knew;
Though Grace, and Symmetry thy Figure shew,
Such as Apelles for his Venus drew;
In Reason's Judgement, all would faintly shine,
If not the Lustre of the Soul were thine.
Tints lovelier far than Titian's Pencil knew;
Though Grace, and Symmetry thy Figure shew,
Such as Apelles for his Venus drew;
In Reason's Judgement, all would faintly shine,
If not the Lustre of the Soul were thine.
That melting Sympathy, that silent Tear,
Thy Pity gives, and Modesty would hide,
Far more, Maria, shall thy Name endear,
Than all the Wonders of thy Charms beside.
Nor greater Favour could kind Heaven impart,
Than, with the Power to bless, to give the Heart.
Thy Pity gives, and Modesty would hide,
Far more, Maria, shall thy Name endear,
Than all the Wonders of thy Charms beside.
Nor greater Favour could kind Heaven impart,
Than, with the Power to bless, to give the Heart.
But, say, I view thee with a partial Eye;
Love, justly founded, who can partial name?
Had'st thou a Fault, I never pass'd it by;
And thou, and Duty, ever wert the same.
Mine every fond paternal Care confess'd;
And Time thy genuine Glories shall attest.
Love, justly founded, who can partial name?
Had'st thou a Fault, I never pass'd it by;
And thou, and Duty, ever wert the same.
Mine every fond paternal Care confess'd;
And Time thy genuine Glories shall attest.
Waterstown, Dec. 29th, 1770.
| The Shamrock | |