The dainty-fed Dame, in unpinn'd dishabille,
To the Swain of her sighs upon tiptoe will steal ;
Voluptuously welcomes the sense-piercing Kiss,
And gives up her Soul to the dangerous bliss.

While soft broken murmurs betray her delight,
The rustling leaves play thro’ the still of the night,
As if to her Tremblings they kept Time and Tune;
Above mildly shone, in pale splendor, the Moon.

Lady Luna down looking, the luscious scene sees, Withdrew her beams, blushing, from silver-topp'd

trees ; In a cloud veils her face, crying out, fie for shame! To Endymion drives off, -and with him does the same.

'Tis Hypocrisy's Humour, the Ton of the Times,
To lay on our Neighbours the Load of our Crimes;
The failings of friends we to Slander proclaim,
But sink our own Sinnings.--won't you do the same.

Reason ne'er had the Head-ach, no Toasts he'll

approve ; Reason ne'er had the Heart-ach-he ne'er was in Love...

2?? But poor honest Instinct, he's always to blame, For he'll drink and he'll love, and--why we do the


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My Country! my Country ? that Phrase cannot fail;
'Tis the Bait Voters bite at, the Tub for the Whale;
Distinction, on each side, is only a name;
For this side, and that side, ---both sides do the same.

Let us, without blaming or this side or that,
Only keep to our own side, and mind what we're at.
I wou'd be at something, but what, I won't name,
Yet to Toast it I'll teach you, and drink to the same.

Your sentiment, Decency, give it to me,
The Quaker's Address, Friend, I drink unto thee.
So here's to't and to thee; and pray who's to blame?
Why him-can you find him ? who won't do the



“No more let us trouble our Heads 'bout the State."

T was as one morning on Ida Jove shone,

Her arms she expanded, embracing his throne,

Saying, Sire, oh save me from Ruin! For Justice Dione to Jupiter prays,

They abandon my Temples and Shrine, Sir, That Sot and his Sots, have extinguish'd my Blaze,

And drown'd Beauty's Altars in Wine, Sir,

By Styx, but 'tis false, jolly Bacchus reply'd:

Such slander I'll never endure, Ma'am. Love's pains to assuage men that many things try'd,

In me only met with their Cure, Ma'am. Your ignorant Urchin, your Booby, is blind,

And scatters his Arrows at random ; The Heart they mislead, and they madden the Mind;

'Tis Wine which alone can withstand 'em.

Where is it? th' Olympical Grand called out,

Young Semele bumper'd Champaign, Sir, Full nimbly the Genius brush'd it about.

Quoth Monarch, I'll drink again, Sir. So laying his Lightning's Artillery down,

His Tresses imperially shaking, To Venus put on a majestical frown,

Saying, Certainly you are mistaken. Mistaken, Papa ?-Miss pray hold your tongue,

You'd better.- Fove thunder'd to Venus: 'Pon 'Onner (she pertly reply'd) you are wrong,

Celestials be Judges between us.
Go Mercury, summon the States of the sky..

Thus order'd Lord Chancellor Jove, Sir.
At Ida's Exchequer this Suit they shall try,

Decreeing for Wine or for Love, Sir.
Their Worships went first on the Cyprian Cause,

Unarray'd, Beauty figur'd before 'em ;
What licking of lips, what hums, and what hahs !

What peeping there was 'mong the Quorum! The Patron of Vines saw 'twou'd go for the Wench,

Unless that a Dust he cou'd kick up, Tipp'd Hermes the wink, and they bumper'd the

Bench 'Till the Court only chorus'd a Hickup. With eye-lids half-clos'd, one attempted at Speech,

But wind over-charg'd his expression. My Opin--nin--nin--nin-but bump on his Breech

He squatted, and snor'd out the Session. Apollo was Chairman, in full buckld wig,

For that Day, being Juno's Physician, Smelt Cane, strok'd his Chin, us'd hard words, and

look'd big, As became his Right Worship’s Condition.

The Statutes, quoth he, the Statutes at Large,

Aye and small too, declare Coram Nob. But Head was too heavy to hold out the Charge,

It dropp'd, and down fell his full Bob :
An Emblem of what often happens below,

Stupidity office disgraces ;
For Folly has friends, and too many we know-

And we know the W’ise Folks too want Places.

Now Bacchus and Venus agreed 'twixt themselves

Altercation hereafter to smother;
At Dulness to laugh, tho' 'mong dignify'd Elves,

And friendly assist one another.
But now mind the Moral: 'Tis clever to think,

And think too about something clever;-
Since Wine makes us Love, and since Love makes

us drink, Here's Drinking and Loving for ever.


To all ye Ladies now at Land."

ET others sing of Flames and Darts,

And all Love's lullaby ;-
Of crying Eyes, and cracking Hearts

The Deuce a bit will I.
If you are willing, I'm so too,
If not-why there's no more to do.

With fa, la, la.

Shou'd you expect, in Sorrow's guise,

I'll wear a woful face,
Such maudlin Mumm'ry I despise,

Mine is no Lovesick Case-
"Tis but my Whim, e'en make it thine,
Then Whim to Whim, and your's to mine.

Or if you think in golden rain,

Like Jove, I'll pave my way,
Such expectations are but vain,

I've only this to say,
You've something which I wou'd be at,
I've something too ;—so Tit for Tat.

Your Taste, your Talk, I may admire,

And praise, with truth, your Face;
Your sparkling Eyes that speak Desire,

And give Expression Grace.
Yet there's a but I'll not be bold,
Nor say, what's better took than told.

Well kens the Lass what I wou'd win,

And well I ken the Road;
He that is out wou'd fain be in.

A Patriot A-la-mode,-
As you're my Soy'reign grant me Grace,
I only ask a little Place.

Least said, they say, is mended soon,

With you I'll not dispute ;
Ill tastes the long requested Boon

'Tis sweet, when short's the suit.
Then grant, with Grace, the Grace I sue,
Or let me, without Grace, fall to.

With fa, la, la.

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