The Humorous Poetry of the English Language; from Chaucer to Saxe Part 87

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ON BISHOP ATTERBURY.

Meek Francis lies here, friend: without stop or stay, As you value your peace, make the best of your way.

Though at present arrested by death's caitiff paw, If he stirs, he may still have recourse to the law.

And in the King's Bench should a verdict be found, That by livery and seisin his grave is his ground, He will claim to himself what is strictly his due, And an action of trespa.s.s will straightway ensue, That you without right on his premises tread, On a simple surmise that the owner is dead.

FORMA BONUM FRAGILE.



What a frail thing is beauty! says baron Le Cras, Perceiving his mistress had one eye of gla.s.s: And scarcely had he spoke it, When she more confus'd as more angry she grew, By a negligent rage prov'd the maxim too true: She dropt the eye, and broke it.

EARNING A DINNER.

Full oft doth Mat. with Topaz dine, Eateth baked meats, drinketh Greek wine; But Topaz his own werke rehea.r.s.eth; And Mat. mote praise what Topaz verseth.

Now sure as priest did e'er shrive sinner, Full hardly earneth Mat. his dinner.

BIBO AND CHARON.

When Bibo thought fit from the world to retreat, And full of champagne as an egg's full of meat, He waked in the boat; and to Charon he said, He would be row'd back, for he was not yet dead.

Trim the boat, and sit quiet, stern Charon replied: You may have forgot, you were drunk when you died.

THE PEDANT.

Lysander talks extremely well; On any subject let him dwell, His tropes and figures will content ye He should possess to all degrees The art of talk; he practices Full fourteen hours in four-and-twenty

EPIGRAMS OF JOSEPH ADDISON.

THE COUNTESS OF MANCHESTER.

Written on his admission to the Kit-Cat Club, in compliance with the rule that every new member should name his toast, and write a verse in her praise.

While haughty Gallia's dames, that spread O'er their pale cheeks an artful red, Beheld this beauteous stranger there, In nature's charms divinely fair; Confusion in their looks they showed, And with unborrowed blushes glowed.

TO AN ILL-FAVORED LADY.

[IMITATED FROM MARTIAL.]

While in the dark on thy soft hand I hung, And heard the tempting syren in thy tongue, What flames, what darts, what anguish I endured!

But when the candle entered I was cured.

TO A CAPBICIOUS FEIEND.

[IMITATED FROM MARTIAL.]

In all thy humors, whether grave or mellow, Thou 'rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow; Hast so much wit, and mirth, and spleen about thee, There is no living with thee, nor without thee.

TO A ROGUE.

[IMITATED FROM MARTIAL.]

Thy beard and head are of a different dye: Short of one foot, distorted in an eye: With all these tokens of a knave complete, Should'st thou be honest, thou 'rt a dev'lish cheat.

EPIGRAMS OF ALEXANDER POPE.

ON MRS. TOFTS.

(A CELEBRATED OPERA SINGER.)

So bright is thy beauty, so charming thy song, As had drawn both the beasts and their Orpheus along; But such is thy avarice, and such is thy pride.

That the beasts must have starved, and the poet have died.

TO A BLOCKHEAD.

You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come: Knock as you please, there's n.o.body at home.

THE FOOL AND THE POET.

Sir, I admit your general rule, That every poet is a fool, But you yourself may serve to show it, That every fool is not a poet.

EPIGRAMS OF DEAN SWIFT.

ON BURNING A DULL POEM.

An a.s.s's hoof alone can hold That poisonous juice, which kills by cold.

Methought when I this poem read, No vessel but an a.s.s's head Such frigid fustian could contain; I mean the head without the brain.

The cold conceits, the chilling thoughts, Went down like stupefying draughts; I found my head begin to swim, A numbness crept through every limb.

In haste, with imprecations dire, I threw the volume in the fire; When (who could think?) though cold as ice, It burnt to ashes in a trice.

How could I more enhance its fame?

Though born in snow, it died in flame.

TO A LADY, On hearing her praise her husband.

You always are making a G.o.d of your spouse; But this neither Reason nor Conscience allows; Perhaps you will say, 'tis in grat.i.tude due, And you adore him because he adores you.

Your argument's weak, and so you will find, For you, by this rule, must adore all mankind.

The Humorous Poetry of the English Language; from Chaucer to Saxe Part 87

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