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On his own Times how wisely King Solomon spoke,
There's a Time to be right, for some Time we've
There's a Time for a Speech, and a Time for a Song.---
Superannuate Socials, like me, leave the Lass,
Turn’d the corner of Forty, 'tis Time to give way ;But Women to Wine change, and still we've our Day. Doctor Bibbibus says, whether Flask or Scotch Pint, As Oil to the Head, Wine the Soul will annoint. Embrace then the Bottles, hug closely your Quarts; May we have in our Arms what we love in our Hearts.
ON N a Brook's grassy brink, in the Willow's cool
come, Had I costly fashions as well shou'd I seem, For fairer
Face is, if Truth's in this stream.
Thro' Church-yardd, on Sunday, as slowly I tread,
Sometimes Lords and Captains, all over perfume, Will stop me, and tell me, I'm Beauty in Bloom. That I rival the Rose,—that I'm whiter than Snow : I simper, and simply say-Don't jęer one so.
They've press'd me, they've promis'd, nay offer'd
me gold, Sometimes (I assure them, they've strove to be bold; They'vetalk'd of myTreasure, they've callidita Gem, To be sure so it is, but it is not for them.
No! no ! 'tis for him, and 'tis only his part,
Who friendly instructs me, who fondly can play,
cheek on the Fleece of my Lambkins I rest, But cold is that pillow compar'd to his breast. 'Tis here for my Fair one!--her Lover reply'd, O’er the hedge as he leap'd, and light dropp'd at her
side ; She started ! a moment Life's bloom left her face, But quick 'twas recall’d by the warmth of embrace. She, languishing lay in Love's tenderest scene, And question’d the Rambler where 'twas he had been ? Why so he wou'd fright her.-She'd scold him she
vow'd, But a Kiss was his plea, and that plea was allow'd. 'Till by Kisses o'ercome, to his transports she yields, The landscapes were lost, and forgot were the fields ; Each felt those Sensations Susceptibles prove, Who, mutually melting, exchange mutual Love.
TURN'D of Forty !—what then ?—why 'twixt
That and Threescore,
Than what Nature undoctor'd will give.
Non sum qualis eram, in School-master's Lore,
Is, our Cake we can't have when 'tis eat ;Do not turn to past views, but new ground gallop o'er,
Nor pull up, for 'tis Time enough yet.
When older Calypso cou'd move,
He had Health, Understanding, and Love.
As Shrubs cannot strengthen to Trees. Affectation Ability's Vacuum supplies,
E'er of Age, they are old by Disease.
Insipid Emaciates each public place throng.
As Trinkets on Watch-chains are worn,
The Fops are for fashion-sake born.
Abortions of what Britons were: Perpetually talk, tho’ they've nothing to say,
Their looks are but Vacancy's stare.
As nothing they think on, so nothing they do,
But only rise up, and lye down; Inexpletive paths Dissipation pursue,
And hue and cry Life thro' the town.
In the pause of Embrace practis'd Beauties aver,
That Wit keeps Desire alive;
To Folly and faint Twenty-five.
No Chronics my muscular bulwarks invade,
Within, prima via is right:
So can pay Beauty's Bill upon Sight.
Yet sound in our Heads, and our Hearts, Let Wine, Wit, and Women, but open the Scene,
We still can go on with our parts. While prompted by natural vigour to play,
We act thus, encore and encore. The warning-bell rung, we've no business to stay,
Valete, the Farce faith is o’er.
A NEW ROAST BEEF.
TO THE OLD TUNE.
N Old England's Flag is Commander in With Monsieur our Monarch's turn'd o'er a new leaf, Down, down with French Dishes, up, up with Roast Beef.
O the Roast Beef, &c.