By madam served, with body bended, When drank to by a neighboring charmer, A wag, to carry on the joke, "Come hither, Dick, step gentle there, "And pull away the farmer's chair." As men at twigs, in rivers sprawling, The ladies squall'd, some fell in fits; Here tumbled turkeys, tarts, and widgeons, And there minced pies, and geese, and pigeons, A pear pie on his belly drops, A custard pudding met his chops. Lord! what ado 'twixt belles and beaux, Some curse, some cry, and rub there clothes: This lady raves, and that looks down And weeps, and wails her spatter'd gown ; One spark bemoans his spatter'd waistcoat, One, "Rot him, he has spoile'd my laced coat!" Amidst the rout, the farmer long The pudding suck'd and held his tongue; At length he gets him on his breech, And scrambles up to make his speech; First rubs his eyes and mouth, his nostrils twangs, Then snaps his fingers and harangues : "Plague tak't, I'ze tell you how'd 'twould be; "Look here's a pickle, zurs, d'ye zee ; “And some, I'ze warrant, that make this chatter, "Have clothes bedaub'd with grease or butter, "That cost-" He had gone on, but here Was stopp'd at once in his career; "Peace, brute, begone!" the ladies cry: The beaux exclaim, "Fly, rascal, fly!" "I'll tear his eyes out!" squeaks Miss Dolly; "I'll pink his soul out!" roars a bully. At this the farmer shrinks with fear, And thinking 'twas ill tarrying here, Shabs off, and cries, "Aye, kill me, then, "When'er you catch me here again." So home he jogs, and leaves the 'squire To cool the sparks and ladies' fire. Thus ends my tale; and now I'll try, Like prior, something to apply. This may teach rulers of the nation, X-HOPE AND FEAR. TWO pilgrims, Hope and Fear, agreed, To Pleasure's altar they'd proceed, Fair Hope was young, but Fear was old, Quoth Fear, "I guess ere long, 'twill rain!" "To climb," said Fear, "twere vain to try!"' "I'm sure," said Fear, "we've miss'd the way, "My strength, my spirits falter." "On, on !" said Hope, "I know we're right!" And oft mistook the northern light For lamps on Pleasure's altar. At length they reach'd the blooming fane, Rough ways, and stormy weather; When, lo! from Pleasure's torch there came Kill'd Hope and Fear together. W Hope, while she lived, was well beloved; XI. THE LEAN COMEDIAN. HENE'ER the sea surrounds a bit of dry land Land, fenced by water, ev'rybody knows, Is guarded well; this truth annoys our foes; Might chance to knock their heads against our breakers. We'll wave that subject till they try us, And when they do, full dearly shall they buy us. My story on an island though I've cast, The place to which the subject of it turns ye, Is not this island, by no isle surpass'd, But one much smaller, which is christen'd Guernsey; Yet, like its larger neighbors, it has towns, Roads, rivers, hills, and dales, and ups and downs, The manager was one of those sharp elves, Among those candidates without a name Who rather work for bread than play for fame; For meat, drink, washing, lodging, and no more, With concord of sweet sounds the heart to reach, Now it so happen'd, on that very day, Each had his part assign'd, and some had two; Had Shakespeare lived he would have died with pleasure Of him whose voice and figure did so strike, So wonderfully he bewitch'd alike Lords, ladies, peasants, milkmaids, tars, and doxies; The manager had only made "A beggerly account of empty boxes." Thus often are the public led on, And soon this lucky elf, Cramming the theatre, so cramm'd himself, XII. MISCONCEPTION. F RE night her sable curtain spread, In Thetis's lap; With fear o'erwhelm'd the victim stands, Ere drowsy watchman yet had early ta'en Where Justice sits in solemn state, Their drowsy nap, A wight, by hunger fierce made bold, Did slyly creep, And frowns-“Beware!”" "Rogue! what excuse hast thou for this, Where num'rous flocks were quiet laid, "The sheep within that fold belong'd? In the arms of sleep. No doubt, the sheep he meant to steal, Was ploughman Joe, Who just arrived in time to stop May ill luck on ill actions wait! "Come, quickly tell. "Confess thy crime; 'twill nought avail "To say the mark above the tail "Thou did'st not heed; "For G. F. M. in letters large, 'Tis true, I did," the thief replies, "As I'm a glutton, XIII. THE BEST OF WIVES. MAN had once a vicious wife, "Or Nature may assert his reign, Her tongue went glibly all day long. A truce without doors or within, He found not. He ev'ry soothing art display'd, Once walking by a river's side, "Weary of life, and quite resign'd, As can be ; My troubles." With eager haste the dame complies, While joy stands glistening in her eyes, Already in her thoughts he dies Before her. XIV. EPILOGUE TO THE "ANDRIA" OF TERENCE. B UT whyact plays ?"-some formal greybeard cries; Tread the great stage of life to play the fool. |