When you partly raise your fnout, Fleer, and gibe, and laugh, and shout: This among Hibernian asses For sheer wit and humour paffes. Thus indulgent Chloe bit, Swears you have a world of wit. DEATH AND DAPHNE †. To an agreeable young Lady, but extremely lean. Written in the year 1730. Eath went upon a folemn day DE At Pluto's hall his court to pay : The phantom, having humbly kist Of doctors, fevers, plagues, and pills. The burial-article decrease; And vex'd to fee affairs mifcarry, Declar'd in council, Death must marry: That Death fhould get a num'rous breed; A periwig of twisted snakes; See an anecdote relating to this lady, above, p. 4. 35 5 10 15 20 Which in the nicest fashion curl'd. (Like toupets * of this upper world), 25 30 35 G-d d-n his blood, and b-d and w-ds. Harangu'd, and welcom'd him to town. 50 His mind was running on his match. His Majefty of terrors came, Fine as a col'nel of the guards, To vifit where fhe fat at cards. *The periwigs now in fashion are fo called. 55 She, as he came into the room, Was never seen except her own : 60 Charm'd with his eyes, and chin, and fnout, Her pocket-glass drew flily out; And grew enamour'd with her phiz, 65 As juft the counter part of his. She darted many a private glance, And freely made the firft advance ; Was of her beauty grown so vain, 70 Nothing, fhe thought, could fooner gain him, She ask'd about her friends below; (The ladies there muft needs be rooks, For whom the hang'd herself above? WHAT pride a female heart inflames! 75 85 go 368 DEATH Which in th (Like With Tha An I 370 ON STEPHEN Upon thy hand his Auger laid, DUC K. For when, by chance, it meagre fhade Away the frighted spectre fcuds, 95 100 On STEPHEN DUCK, the THRESHER, and favourite POET. THE HE thresher Duck could o'er the Queen prevail, The proverb fays, No fence against a fail. From threshing corn he turns to thresh his brains; His poems, A PANEGYRIC 5 on the DEAN, in the perfon of a LADY in the north t. Written in the year 1730. REfolv'd my gratitude to show, Thrice Rev'rend Dean, for all I owe, The Lady of Sir Arthur Acheson. 5 INDULGENT you to female kind, Nine more fuch champions as the Dean IMPATIENT to be out of debt, The bard, who humbly daigns to chufe Behind my back, before my nose, He founds my praife in verfe and profe, My heart with emulation burns To make you fuitable returns: And then, to mend the matter ftill, I thus begin: My grateful mufe Robert and Darby's || coadjutor: 40 A village near Sir Arthur Achefon's houfe, where the author paffed two fummers. The names of two overseers. |