Quæ Genus Officiating At A Gaming House.]

Such pensive musings on him wrought Till he his welcome pillow sought, When, as absorb'd in sleep he lay, Fancy did on his spirits play, And in a strange and fearful dream A form did on his vision beam, With ghastly look as it were come From the pale confines of the tomb. He seem'd with one uplifted hand Instant attention to command, The other, as he solemn stood, Folded around the flowing shroud; And thus QUÆ GENUS seem'd to hear The hollow voice that pierc'd his ear. "I am thy foster-parent's shade, } Who, in the earth, has long been laid, } And let his counsels be obey'd. } 'Tis SYNTAX who before thee stands, And wait with awe his grave commands. Fool as thou art, in thy misdoing Art thou not hast'ning to thy ruin? Am I call'd hither to accuse Thy erring ways, and idle views? Do I the wretched agent see Of gambling fraud and usury? And is it thus you form the plan To vault into a Gentleman? SYNTAX thy memory must own As the sole parent thou hast known, Whose mercy did the Foundling save From menace of an infant's grave. Better, perhaps, his fond regard Had not thy sad condition spar'd, If what of future life may last, Wakes no contrition for the past. Hear me, and tremble as I speak, Though you may human laws escape; The life you lead is not forgiven By the offended laws of Heaven. If such your doings, I can ne'er Petition for your pardon there. The present means which you possess, If rightly us'd, will give success; Nay, if you cease to roam abroad, And turn from folly's wand'ring road; If you keep all things right at home, Much unexpected good may come. QUÆ GENUS, to my words attend, The errors of your life amend; Resist the world's seducing power, Or fear me at the midnight hour." --Thus as he thought the vision spake, The curtains round him seem'd to shake; And frowning, as in angry mood, At the bed's foot the figure stood, When, in a misty gleam of light, It seem'd to vanish from his sight.

He woke in such an agitation His night-cap stream'd with perspiration; He started with a fearful stare, Not knowing if to pray or swear. He did from further sleep refrain As he perhaps should dream again, And Sommerden's departed Rector Might read another curtain-lecture. But when as through the shutter's crack He saw the beams of Phoebus break, Up he arose, the bell he rung, And, "Breakfast," issued from his tongue: The loud command was soon obey'd, And morning meal in order laid. On sofa stretch'd, he munch'd the toast, And sipp'd the Bohea, doubly dos'd With cordial drops, we won't say gin, Which he pour'd plentifully in, And did his trem'rous nerves redeem } By power of the reviving stream, } From the dire horrors of the dream. } --His spirits thus with strength recruited, He turn'd his mind to what was suited To the condition chance had bound him, And perils which might still surround him: Of his late playmates what became When power broke up the midnight game; And if pursued by any danger, To which as yet he was a stranger. But soon he found, enquiry made, The Bow-street spirits all were laid; Nor was it to the party known, By whom the mischief had been done.-- Thus, from all legal threat secure, He felt determin'd to abjure The course of life he had pursued, Nor suffer knav'ry to delude His conduct into any plan That might disgrace a Gentleman; The character which his fond thought Had to a flatt'ring crisis brought, When he might try, and not in vain, The wish'd for honour to maintain. Besides, in favour of his scheme, He felt the warnings of the dream, As he their meaning understood Foreboded much of future good.

At length his boasting fancies tired Of all to which his pride aspired; And, having nothing else to do, He sauntered forth to take a view Of what a saunter might present For serious thought or merriment; When, as he careless stroll'd along, Half-humming some new-fangled song, He heard a voice that did proclaim His own but too familiar name. 'Twas Mr. CARMINE, who was known An artist of the first renown For portraiture of living faces, Whose pencil gave and heighten'd graces, Who, 'mid the hurry of the street, Did sauntering QUÆ GENUS greet: When, having sought a place of quiet, Free from the passing, bustling riot, In civil tones the man of art Began his Queries to impart. "Your family, I hope, are well, And will you Lady VALCOUR tell, If it so please her you may come And fetch her fine resemblance home: Nay she may have forgot, I fear, That the last sitting's in arrear: Give but the hint as I demand And you shall feel my grateful hand." --QUÆ GENUS hasten'd to reply With the gay VALCOURS' history, And fear'd that, for a year or two, The picture must in statu quo Within his gallery remain, At least, till they came home again. "Well then," said CARMINE, "tell me friend, What fortunes on your steps attend." "Sir," he replied, "'tis Fortune's pleasure I should enjoy a state of leisure. Sir CHARLES, so generous and kind, Wish'd not that I should stay behind, Nay, would have paid me high to go, As I've a paper that will shew: But certain schemes play'd on my brain Which fix'd my purpose to remain, And yet, with all my honest care, I have not brought one scheme to bear." "My friend," the artist said, "if you Have not a better scheme in view, My place, unless I greatly err, Would suit your turn and character 'Tis but to know and to make known The beauties by my pencil shewn, And lard, as you the occasion see, With strokes of modest flattery. Take care you manage well your tongue To please the old as well as young, And study the expressive grace That's seen to beam on any face; When, in fair words and cautious mood You may mark the similitude Between the charms that smiling live, And such as art like mine can give. Nor to the sex your hints confine, The ermin'd sage and grave divine, The chubby face of childhood too Attention must be made to woo, While I shall to your mind impart The nomenclature of my art;-- And if, as I presume you will, Display the show with ready skill, From Misses, Beaux, Old Dames and Sages, You'll gain, Good Fellow, three-fold wages. --Now turn the offer in your mind, And, if your prudence is inclin'd To take it, you will let me know To-morrow how your wishes flow."