« ForrigeFortsett »
To say in this wretched condition.
If my coin will not pass,
I must die like an ass;
And so I conclude my petition.
An EPIGRAM on Wood's BRASS MONEY.
ART’RET was welcom'd to the shore
First with the brazen cannons roar ;
To meet him next the soldier comes,
With brazen trumps and brazen drums ;
Approaching near the town, he hears
The brazen bell salute his ears:
But when Wood's brass began to sound,
Guns, trumpets, drums, and bells were drown'd.
s B s was the Dean's familiar friend : James grows a Duke ; their friendship here mult
end. Surely the Dean deserves a fore rebuke, From knowing James, to say, he knows a Duke.
GREAT folks are of a finer mold;
Lord! how politely they can scold ! While a coarse English tongue will itch For whore and rogue, and dog and bitch,
L Eppia mî dicit semper
, male ; nec
, tacet unquam De me. Lesbia me, dispeream, nisi amat, Quo figno ? quia sunt totidem mea: deprecor illam Afiduè ; verum, dispeream, nisi amo. i.
ESBIA for ever on me rails,
. To talk of me she never fails.
Now hang me, but for all her art,
I find that I have gain'd her heart.
My proof is this ; I plainly see,
The case is jult the same with me ;
I curse her ev'ry hour fincerely,
Yet, hang me, but I love her dearly.
Mr Jason HASSARD, a woollen-drapier in Du.
blin, put up the sign of the golden fleece, and defired a motto in verse.
ASON, the valiant Prince of Greece,
From Colchos brought the golden fleece ;
We comb the wool, refine the Ituff;
For modern Jasons that's enough.
Oh! could we tame your watchful dragon
Old Jason would have lefs to brag on.
The Author's manner of living:
N rainy days alone I dine
Upon a chick, and pint of wine.
On rainy days I dine alone,
And pick my chicken to the bone:
But this my servants much enrages,
No scraps remain to save board-wages.
In weather fine I nothing spend,
But often fpunge upon a friend :
Yet where he's not fo rich as I;
I pay my club, and so good b’y'.
To a Lady, who desired the author ta write
some verses upon her in the heroic style.
Written at London in the year 1726.
AFTER venting all my spite,
Tell me, what have I to write ?
Ev'ry error I would find
Through the mazes of your mind,
Have my busy mufe employd,
Till the company is cloy'd.
Are you positive and fretful,
Heedless, ignorant, forgetful?
These, and twenty follies more,
I have often told before.
HEARKEN what my Lady fays;
Have I nothing then to praise?
Ill it fits you to be witty,
Where a fault should move your pity.
If you think me too conceited,
Or to paffion quickly heated;
If my wand'ring head be less
Set on reading than on dress :
If I always feem fo dull t'ye ,
I can solve the difficulty.
You would teach me to be wise ;
Truth and honour how to prize;
How to shine in conversation,
And with credit fill my station;
How to relish notions high;
How to live and how to die.
But it was decreed by fate,
Mr Dean you come too late ;
Well I know, you can discern
I am now too old to learn :
Follies from my youth inftilld
my soul intirely filld :
In my head and heart they centre į
Nor will let your lessons enter.
Bred a fondling and an heirefs ;
Dress'd like any lady-may'ress;
Cocker'd by the servants round,
Was too good to touch the ground;
Thought the life of ev'ry lady
Should be one continual playday ;
Balls, and masquerades, and shows,
Visits, plays, and powder'd beaux.
Thus you have my case at large;
And may now perform your charge.
Those materials I have furnishid,
When by you refind and burnishid,
Must, that all the world may know 'em,
Be reduc'd into a poem.
But I beg, suspend a while
That fame paltry burlesque style ;
Drop for once your constant rule,
Turning all to ridicule :
Teaching others how to ape ye ;
Court nor parliament can 'scape ye;
Treat the public and your friends
Both alike, while neither mends.
SING my praise in strain sublime;
Treat not me with doggral thyme.
"Tis but just you should produce
With each fault each fault's excuse :
Not to publish ev'ry trifle,
And my few perfections ftifle.)
With some gifts at least endow me,
Which my very foes allow me.
Am I spiteful, proud, unjust?
Did I ever break my trust? -
Which of all your modern dames
Censures less, or less defames ?
In good manners am I faulty ?
Can you call me rude or haughty ?
Did I e'er my mite with-hold
From the impotent and old?
When did ever I omit
Due regard for men of wit ?
When have I esteem expressid
For a coxcomb gaily dress'd?
Do I, like the female tribe,
Think it wit to fleer and gibe ?
Who, with less-designing ends,
Kindlier entertains their friends ?
With good words and count'nance sprightly
Strive to treat them all politely.
THINK not cards my chief diversion ;
'Tis a wrong unjust aspersion :
Never knew I any good in ’um,
But to doze my head like ledanum :
We by play, as men by drinking,
Pass our nights to drive out thinking
From my ailments give me leisure,
I shall read and think with pleasure ;
Conversation learn to relish,
And with books my mind embellish.
Now, methinks, I hear you cry,
Mr Dean, you must reply.