« AnteriorContinuar »
A NEW SIMILE.
IN THE MANNER OF SWIFT.1
•long had I sought in vain to find
Imprimis, pray observe his hat,
1 Printed among the Essays (the xxviith).
In the next place, his feet peruse,
Lastly, vouchsafe t' observe his hand, Fill'd with a snake-encircled wand; By classic authors term'd caduceus, And highly fam'd for several uses. To wit—most wondrously endued, No poppy water half so good; For let folks only get a touch, Its soporific virtue's such, Though ne'er so much awake before, That quickly they begin to snore. Add too, what certain writers tell, With this he drives men's souls to hell.
Now to apply, begin we then; His wand's a modern author's pen; The serpents round about it twin'd
Denote him of the reptile kind;
And here my simile almost tript,
b our scribbling bards.
AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG.>
Good people all, of every sort,
Give ear unto my song;
It cannot hold you long.
In Islington there was a man,
Of whom the world might say, That still a godly race he ran
Whene'er he went to pray.
A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes; The naked every day he clad,
When he put on his clothes.
And in that town a dog was found,
As many dogs there be,
And curs of low degree.
1 See Vicar of Wakefield, c. xvii.
In the Citizen of the World, vol. ii. lett. lxvi. is a paper on the ' Epidemic Terror, the dread of Mad Dogs, which now prevails; the whole nation is now actually groaning under the malignity of its influence.'
This dog and man at first were friends;
But when a pique began,
Went mad, and bit the man.
Around from all the neighbouring streets The wondering neighbours ran, And swore the dog had lost his wits, To bite so good a man.
The wound it seem'd both sore and sad
To every christian eye; And while they swore the dog was mad,
They swore the man would die.
But soon a wonder came to light,
The man recover'd of the bite,