60 THE ROYAL SHEEP. With soap and sand his homely visage scours Forth, from his mighty bosom, heaves the sigh; This he admires, and this best pleases her-- grows, Safe in the woods, to shelter from the storms ;~ THE ROYAL SHEEP. (PINDAR.) SOME time ago, a dozen lambs, Where, with the sweetest innocence, alas! And rev'rend, horned, patriarchal rams, 'Twas said, that dogs had tickled them to death; Play'd with their gentle throats, and stopp'd their breath. Like HOMER's heroes, on th' ensanguin'd plain, Stalk'd Mr. Robinson* around the slain ; And never was more frighten'd in his life. With wild, despairing looks, and sighs, He, trembling, to the royal presence ventur'd— 6 Oh! please your majesty'-he, blubb'ring, cry'dAnd then stopp'd short What? what? what? what? (the staring King reply'd) 6 Speak, Robinson, speak, speak, what, what's the hurt?' O sire,' said Robinson again 'Speak (said the king)-put, put me out of painDon't, don't, in this suspense, a body keep'O sire!' cry'd Robinson, the sheep, the sheep!' 6 What of the sheep.' reply'd the king, 'pray, prayDead, Robinson? dead? or run away?' 'Dead, (answer'd Robinson:)dead, dead, dead dead' Then, like a drooping lilly, hung his head. How? how? the monarch ask'd, with visage sad,. 'By dogs,' said Robinson, and likely mad.' G *The hind. 62 THE ROYAL SHEEP. No, no. they can't be mad-they can't be mad"No, no, things ar'n't so bad-things ar❜n't so bad.” Rejoin'd the king Off with them quick to market-quick depart; In with them, in, in with them in a cart Sell, sell them, for as much as they will bring." The news of this rare batch of lambs, Design'd for many a London dinner, Reach'd the fair ears of Master Sheriff Skinner, Will be one day proud London's proud Lord Mayor. When suddenly the news was brought, That in Fleet-Market, were unwholesome sheep; Which made the preacher from his pulpit leap, As nimble as a taylor, or as thought. For justice panting, and unaw'd by fears, THE ROYAL SHEEP. Exceeded, I believe, by no man, The alderman, so virtuous, cry'd out Shame!' Cry'd Mr. Robinson, with perfect ease, 63 Sir!' quoth the red-hot alderman again ; 'Off! off! (cry'd Skinner with your carrion heap; 'You (reply'd Robinson) you cry out Shame!" 'You blast the sheep, good Master Skinner, pray! You give the harmless mutton a bad name! You impudently order it away! 'Sweet Master Alderman, do n't make this rout: Clap on your spectacles upon your snout, 6 And then your keen surveying eyes regale, With those same fine large letters on the cart, The alderman now turn'd to deep reflection; 6 Dear Mr. Robinson, I beg your pardon; Your Job-like patience I've born hard on ; 64 THE TINKER AND GLAZIER. Whoever says, the mutton is not good, 'Knows nothing, Mr. Robinson of food. I verily believe, I could turn glutton, On such neat, wholesome, pretty-looking mutton; Pray Mr. Robinson, the mutton sell; I hope, sir, that his majesty is well.' So saying, Mr. Robinson he quitted, Adding just five and twenty humble bows. To work went Robinson to sell the sheep, THE TINKER AND GLAZIER. (BY MR. HARRISON.) SINCE Gratitude, 'tis said, is not o'er common, The tale we give then, and we need not fear, Two thirsty souls met on a sultry day, One Glazier Dick, the other Tom the Tinker; Both with light purses, but with spirits gay, And hard it were to name the sturdiest drinker. |