« AnteriorContinuar »
•Turn'd sour? no measter, no,' reply'd the fellow;
'But just now, as I went, d' ye see,
'To tilt the cask—away rolled he, 'And all the liquor's spilt about the cellar.' The fact was, Numps the cask of ale had stav'd: Now, prythee, tell me how the priest behav'd?
Did he pull off his wig. or tear his hair?
Say, how did he this dire misfortune bear?
'What, you must meddle, must ye
* With the barrel, and be curst t' ye?
* I wish thy paws were in the fire—Odd rot 'm—
'Get thee down stairs, this instant, wretch,
* Or by the living G-d I '11 kick thy breech 'From top to bottom.'
* Nay, now, my dearest,' cried the dame, 'Is this your patience?—Fie for shamei
* I beg you '11 recollect your text, 'Job was not half so vext
'When he 'd his sons and daughters ip bewail.' 'D-n all his sons and daughters if you choose,
* Answer me this, I say—did Job e'er lose 'A barrel of such ale?'
ON THE DEATH OF A NOTED KNAVE. ,
iFheav'n be pleas'd when sinners cease to sin—
A PARODY ON SAPPHO'S ODE.
(Translated by PMllips.)
Blest as old Homer's gods is he,
The man, at night from trouble free,
Who in the chimney-corner smokes,
Gaily talks, and blithly jokes.
'Tis this, that oft has sooth'd my breast,
And added sharpness to the jest.
Wit, beaming 'midst the smoaking croud,
Appears like Sol behind a cloud.
Smoke solid pleasure can impart;
'Tis this that oft has cheer'd my heart;
Tor, while I smoke, in fancy gay,
1 nod, and smile, and puff away.
ON THE CHEW OP A CERTAIN VESSEL,
Several of 'whom happened to be of the same Name mti celebrated Clergymen.
In life's unsettled, odd career,
To please or plague the eyel
That heaven and hell defy.
Here Bonner, bruis'd with many a knock,
And Watts, that once such pleasure took^
Here Burnet, Tillotson, and Blair,
Here Cudworth mixes grog;
And Bunyan heaves the log.
ANNE—OR, THE GRACES.
Instructed to hold up her head;
TO A COMPANY OF BAD F1DDLE-SCRAPEBS,
May ye never play in tune,
May the strings be ever breaking,
May your heads he always aching,
56 THE SUICIDE.
I Tell thee, dear girl, and believe me, 'tis true;
I never beheld such a creature as you,
Such wit! and such beauty!—such taste and such
pride! Thou ne'er hadst an equal since Jezabel died. Fine shape, and fine face, with a simper so thievish Yet artful, deceitful, ill natur'd, and peevish. God moulded thy face, but the devil thy heart; What a pity that Satan should spoil the best part!
Virgimbuspuerisq ,. canto. Hou. in. Op. r.
Scenes of mirth and joy, farewell!
Sadly let the muse complain: Let her seek to move the tear, Sympathetic and sincere;
Render not her efforts vain.
Ye who tender passions know,
And you, ye fair, example take
Nor still persist the hearts to break,
Who to your charms shall make pretence;
And with addresses teaze you, If virtue, beauty, wit, and sense
In vain combine to please you?
THE CARPENTER AND THE COFFINS. &
Let Damon's fate your pity share;
Long sought he Chloe's heart to gain; But Cliloe, cruel, cruel fair,
Return'd his passion with disdain.
Lo! at her feet he sues for grace;
Sighs, more than words, his flame discover; Whilst, trickling down his beauteous face,
The big round drops confess the lover!
In vain his tears, in vain his sighs—
For Chloe, frowning, bids him leave her:
He draws his sword in wild despair';
(Poor Chloe trembled, wept, and blubber'd;)' Three times he flourish'd it in air,
Then plung'd it in—the scabbard!