Imagens da página
PDF
ePub
[blocks in formation]

Snip, Snip,' the host was often call'd,
At which his guest was so much gall'd,
That soon to Cambridge he removed,
There too he unsuccessful prov'd:
For tho' he fill'd his glass or cup,
He did not always drink it up:
The scholars mark'd how he behav'd,
And said a remnant sha'nt be sav'd:
The name of remnant gall'd him so
That he resolv'd to York he'd go:
There fill'd his bumper to the top,
And always fairly drank it up:

6

'Well done,' says Jack, a buck of York,
You go thro' stitch, sir, with your work.'
The name of stitch was such reproach,
He rang the bell, and call'd his coach.
But ere he went, enquiries made,

By what strange means they knew his trade.

You put the cap on, and it fits,' Reply'd one of the Yorkshire wits; Our words, in common acceptation, "Could not find out your occupation; "Twas you yourself gave us the clue, To find out both your trade and you. Vain coxcombs, and fantastic beaux In ev'ry place themselves expose; "They travel far at vast expense, To shew their wealth and want of sense; 'But take this for a standing rule, • There's no disguise can screen a fool.'

EPIGRAM.

'A DRUNKEN old Scot, by the rigorous sentence Of the Kirk, was condemn'd to the stool of repent

ance;

THE OLD BATCHELOR.

41

Mess John to his conscience his vices lac'd home, And his danger in this and the world that's to come; "Thou reprobate mortal! why, doth thou not know, Where, after you're dead, all you drunkards must go?

Must go when we're dead! Why, sir, you may

swear,

'We shall go, one and all, where we find the best beer.'

PARODY

ON

ROMEO'S DESCRIPTION OF AN APOTHECARY,

(MAGAZINE OF WIT.)

I Do remember an old BATCHELOR,

And hereabouts he dwells-whom late I noted
In suit of sables, with a care-worn brow,
Conning his books—and mergre were his looks:
Celibacy had worn him to the bone;
And in his silent parlour hung a coat,

The which the moths had used not less than he.
Four chairs, one table, and one old hair trunk,
Made up the furniture; and on his shelves
A grease-clad candle-stick, a broken mug,
Two tumblers, and a box of old segars;
Remnants of volumes, once in some repute,
Were thinly scatter'd round. to tell the eye
Of prying stranger—this man had no wife.
His tatter'd elbow gap'd most piteously;
And ever. as he turn'd him round, his skin
Did through his stockings peep upon the day.
Noting his gloom, unto myself I said,
An if a man did covet single life,.
Reckless of joys that matrimony give,

42

THE APPLE-DUMPLINGS AND A KING.

Here lives a gloomy wretch would shew it him
In such most dismal colours, that the shrew,
Or slut, or ideot, or the gossip spouse,
Were each an heaven, compar'd with such a life.

THE APPLE-DUMPLINGS AND A KING.

(PINDAR.)

ONCE on a time, a monarch, tir'd with whooping,
Whipping and spurring,
Happy in worrying

A poor, defenceless, harmless buck;
The horse and rider wet as muck:

From his high consequence and wisdom stooping.
Enter'd through curiosity a cot,

Where sat a poor old woman with her pot. The wrinkled, blear-eyed, good old granny, In this same cot, illumin'd by many a cranny; Had finish'd apple-dumplings for her pot. In tempting row, the naked dumplings lay; When lo! the monarch, in his usual way,

6

Like lightning, spoke, What 's this? what 's this? what? what?'

Then taking up a dumpling in his hand,
His eyes with admiration did expand:

6

And oft did majesty the dumpling grapple: 'Tis monstrous, monstrous hard, indeed!' he cry'd What makes it, pray, so hard?? the dame reply'd, Low curtsying, 'Please your majesty, the apple.'

Very astonishing, indeed! strange thing! (Turning the dumpling round, rejoin'd the king) "Tis most extraordinary, then, all this is; 'It beats Pinetti's conj'ring all to pieces.

*

THE ALMANAC MAKER.

43

'Strange, I should never of a dumpling dream! 'But goody, tell me, where, where, where's the seam?'

Sir, there's no seam (quoth she) I never knew,
That folks did apple dumplings sew ;'-

'No cry'd the staring monarch, with a grin ;
How, how the devil, got the apple in?"

[ocr errors]
[blocks in formation]

WHILE others dwell on mean affairs,
Monarchs, their councils and their wars,
Philaster roves among the stars.

In melancholy silence he

Travels alone and cannot see
An equal for his company.

Not one of all the learned train
Like him can manage Charles's rain,
Or motion of the moon explain.

He tells us when the sun will rise,
Points out fair days, or clouded skies ;-
No matter if he sometimes lies.

An annual almanac to frame,
And publish with fictitious name,
Is all his labour all his aim.

He every month has something new,
And mostly deals in what is true,
Informing all, and cheating few,

44

THE ALMANAC MAKER.

Our sister moon, the stars, the sun,
In measured circles round him run;
He knows their motions-every one.

The solar system at his will-
To mortify such daring skill,
The comets-they are rebels still.

Advancing in its daily race,
He calculate's each planet's place;
For can the moon elude his chace.

In dark eclipse when she would hide
And be awhile the cloistered bride,
He pulls her veil of crape aside.

Each passing age must have its taste:
The sun is in the centre placed,
And fuel must supply his waste;

But how to find it he despairs,
Nor will he leave his idle cares,
Or Jove to mind his own affairs.

He prophesies the sun's decay;
And while he would his fate delay,
New sorrows on his spirits prey.

The pole has left its ancient track,
The signs are all a going back,
Indeed they are a stubborn pack.

So much upon his shoulders laid,
He reads what Aristotle said;
Then calls the comets to his aid.

The people of the lunar sphere
(As he can plainly make appear)
Are coming nearer year by year.

« AnteriorContinuar »