worm is cut in twain,
It joins and is a worm again';
When thoughts fo weighty, so intense,
Above the reach of common fense,
Distract and twirl the mind about,
Which fain would hammer something out;
A kind discharge relieves the mind,
As folks are eas'd by breaking wind;
Whatever whims or maggots bred
Take place of fenfe in poet's head,
They fix themselves without controul,
Where'er its feat is on the foul.
Then, like your heathen idols, we
Have eyes indeed, but cannot fee.
(We, for I take the poet's part,
And for my blood, am Bard at heart)
For in reflection deep immerst,
The man muse-bitten and be-verst,
Neglectful of externals all,
Will run his head against a wall,
Walk thro' a river as it flows,
Nor fee the bridge before his nose.
Are things like these equeftrians fit To mount the back of mettled tit?
but farewell, for here comes Bob, And I muft ferve fome hackney job; Fetch letters, or, for recreation, Transport the bard to our Plantation.
Robert joins compts with Burnam Blacks Your humble fervant Hanbury's hack.
ATTEMPTED IN THE MANNER OF MR. C. DENIS.
INSCRIBED TO JOHN WILKES, ESQ.
Labitur&labetur in omne volubilis ævum.
EAR WILKES, whofe lively focial Wit
EAR
Difdains the prudifh Affectation
Of gloomy Folks, who love to fit
As Doctors should at Confultation,
Permit me, in familiar Strain,
To fteal you from the idle hour
Of combating the NORTHERN THANE,
And all his puppet tools of Pow'r.
Shame to the Wretch, if sense of shame
Can ever touch the mifcreant's breast,
Who dead to virtue as to fame,
(A Monster whom the Gods deteft)
Turns traitor to himself, to court
Or Minifter or Monarch's fmile;
And dares, in infolence of fport,
Invade the CHARTER of our Isle.
But why should I, who only ftrive
By telling of an easy tale,
To keep attention half alive
'Gainft BOLGOLAM and FLIMNAP rail ?
For whether ENGLAND be the name,
(Name which we're taught no more to prize)
Or BRITAIN, it is all the fame,
The Lilliputian Statesmen rife
To malice of gigantic fize.
Let them enjoy their warmth a while,
Truth fhall regard them with a fmile,
While you, like GULLIVER, in fport
Pifs out the fire, and fave the Court.
But to return - The tale is old;
Indecent, truly none of mine-
What BEROALDUS gravely told
I read it in that found divine.
And for indecency, you know
He had a fashionable turn,
As prim obfervers clearly fhew
In t'other Parfon, Doctor STERNE.
Yet POPE denies it all defence,
And calls it, blefs us! Want of fenfe.
But e'en the decent POPE can write
* Of bottles, corks, and maiden fighs,
Of charming beauties less in fight,
Of the more fecret precious hair,
+ "And fomething elfe of little Size,
You know where."
If fuch Authorities prevail,
To varnish o'er this petty fin,
I plead a pardon for my tale,
And having hemm'd and cough'd-begin.
A Genius (one of thofe I mean,
We read of in th' Arabian nights;
Not fuch as every day are seen
At Bob's or Arthur's, whilom White's;
For howfoe'er you change the name,
The Clubs and Meetings are the fame;
Nor those prodigious learned folks,
Your Haberdashers of ftale Jokes,
Who dress them up so neat and clean
For News-paper or Magazine;
*Rape of the Lock.
† Pope's Letters.
VOL. II.
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