« AnteriorContinuar »
When warm'd with dinner's toil, in pearly rills,
With her! I fhould not envy George his queen, Though fhe in royal grandeur deck'd be seen : Whilft rags, just sever'd from my fair-one's gown, In ruffet pomp and greafy pride hang down.
Ah! now it does my drooping heart rejoice,
When from the heart the bade the pointers go,
Then, full of wrath, fhe kick'd each lazy brute, Alas! I envy'd even that falute:
'Twas fure misplac'd,-Shock faid, or feem'd to say, He had as lief, I had the kick, as they.
If the the mystic bellows take in hand,
But should the flame this rougher aid refuse,
With full-blown cheeks fhe ends the doubtful ftrife,
Such arts as thefe, exalt the drooping fire,
With all her haughty looks, the time I've seen,
Look, with what charming grace! what winning tricks!
So bright fhe makes the candlesticks fhe handles,
Oft have I faid,
there were no need of candles.
But thou my fair! who never wouldst approve,
Or mind, how burns my raging breast,-
Thus faid, and wept the fad desponding swain,
But nymphs are free with those they should deny;
Now chirping crickets raife their tinkling voice,
The RAPE of the TRA P.
A BALLA D, 1737.
WAS in a land of learning,
The mufes favourite city,
Such pranks of late
Were play'd by a rat,
As-tempt one to be witty.
All in a college study,
Where books were in great plenty;
This rat would devour
More fenfe in an hour,
Than I cou'd write-in twenty.
Corporeal food, 'tis granted,
Serves vermin lefs refin'd, Sir;
But this, a rat of taste,
All other rats furpafs'd;
And he prey'd on the food of the mind, Sir;
His breakfast, half the morning,
He conftantly attended;
And when the bell rung
For evening fong,
His dinner fcarce was ended!
He fpar'd not ev'n heroics,
On which we poets pride us;
And wou'd make no more
Of King Arthur's*, by the fcore,-
In books of geo-graphy,
He made the maps to flutter:
A river or a fea
Was to him a dish of tea;
And a kingdom, bread and butter.
But if fome mawkish potion
Might chance to over-dofe him,
To check its rage,
He took a page
Of logic-to compofe him
A trap, in haste and anger,
Was bought, you need not doubt on't ;And, fuch was the gin,
Where a lion once got in,
He could not, I think, get out on't.
With cheese, not books, 'twas baited,
Since none-I'll tell you that-
Mind books, when he has other diet.
But more of trap and bait, Sir,
Why should I fing, or either?
Since the rat, who knew the flight,
And dragg'd them away together:
It now may feem,
Had then a dozen or more in.
Then anfwer this, ye fages!
Nor deem a man to wrong ye,
That England's topfy-turvy,
Is clear from thefe mifhaps, Sir;
Let fophs, by rats infested,
Then truft in cats to catch 'em;
* Written at the time of the Spanish depredations.