ANOTHER. ORM'D half beneath, and half above the earth, We sisters owe to art our second birth: Made on the land, to travel on the waters. THE OLD GENTRY. HAT all from Adam first began, Each, when his rustic pains began, "Twas only who left off at noon, But coronets we owe to crowns, 10 By nature we are Adam's sons, And sons of Anstis* by election. Kingsale! eight hundred years have roll'd, Add, that my kindred do so now. The man who by his labour gets THE INSATIABLE PRIEST. UKE PREACH-ILL admires what we laymen can mean; That thus by our profit and pleasure are sway'd, He has but three livings, and would be a dean; His wife died this year, he has married his maid. To suppress all his carnal desires in their birth, He can be content with two thousand a year. * Garter King at Arms. 1 A FRENCH SONG IMITATED. HY thus from the plain does my shepherdess rove, Forsaking her swain, and neglecting his love? You have heard all my grief, you see how I die, Oh! give some relief to the swain whom you fly. How can you complain, or what am I to say, Since my dog lies unfed, and my sheep run astray? Need I tell what I mean, that I languish alone! When I leave all the plain, you may guess 'tis for one. A CASE STATED. OW how shall I do with my love and my pride; Dear Dick,* give me counsel, if friendship has any; Prithee purge, or let blood! surly Richard replied. And forget the coquette in the arms of your Nanny.† * Mr. Shelton. Mrs. Durham. While I pleaded with passion how much I deserv'd, For the pains and the torments of more than a year; She look'd in an almanack, whence she observ'd, That it wanted a fortnight to Bartlemew-fair. My Cowley and Waller how vainly I quote, While my negligent judge only hears with her eye! In a long flaxen wig, and embroider'd new coat, Her spark saying nothing talks better than I. 10 UPON PLAYING AT OMBRE WITH TWO LADIES. KNOW that fortune long has wanted sight, And therefore pardon'd when she did not right; But yet till then it never did appear, That, as she wanted eyes, she could not hear; 10 CUPID'S PROMISE. A FRENCH SONG PARAPHRASED. OFT Cupid, wanton, amorous boy, Oh! raise thy voice! one song I ask ; To Thyrsis easy is the task, Who can so sweetly play and sing. Two kisses from my mother dear, I straight replied, Thou know'st alone If thou❜lt be kind, and make me blest One kiss from Chloe's lips, no more I crave: he promis'd me success; I play'd with all my skill and power, My glowing passion to express. VOL. 11. 20 |