THE LOGICIANS REFUTED.

LOGICIANS

In imitation of Dean Swift.

OGICIANS have but ill defined
As rational the human mind:

Reason, they say, belongs to man,
But let them prove it if they can.
Wise Aristotle and Smiglesius,

By ratiocinations specious,

Have strove to prove with great precision,

With diffinition and division,

Homo est ratione preditum ;

But for my soul I cannot credit 'em ;
And must in spite of them maintain,
That man and all his ways are vain;
And that this boasted lord of nature
Is both a weak and erring creature.
That instinct is a surer guide,

Than reason-boasting mortal's pride;
And that brute beasts are far before 'em,
Deus est anima brutorum.

Who ever knew an honest brute,
At law his neighbour prosecute,
Bring action for assault and battery,

Or friend beguile with lies and flattery?
O'er plains they ramble unconfined,

No politics disturb their mind;

They eat their meals, and take their sport,
Nor know who's in or out at court:

THE LOGICIANS REFUTED.

They never to the levee go

To treat as dearest friend, a foe:
They never importune his grace,
Nor ever cringe to men in place;
Nor undertake a dirty job,

Nor draw the quill to write for Bob.
Fraught with invective, they ne'er go
To folks at Pater-noster Row;
No judges, fidlers, dancing-masters,
No pick-pockets, or poetasters,
Are known to honest quadrupeds;
No single brute his fellow leads.
Brutes never meet in bloody fray,
Nor cut each others throat for pay.
Of beasts, it is confessed the ape
Comes nearest us in human shape;
Like man he imitates each fashion,
And malice is his ruling passion;
But both in malice and grimaces,
A courtier any ape surpasses.
Behold him, humbly cringing, wait
Upon the minister of state :
View him soon after, to inferiors,
Aping the conduct of superiors,
He promises, with equal air,
And to perform takes equal care.
He in his turn finds imitators;

At court, the porters, lacquies, waiters,
Their master's manners still contract,

And footmen, lords, and dukes can act.
Thus at the court both great and small,
Behave alike, for all ape all.

AN ELEGY

ON THE GLORY OF HER SEX,

MRS. MARY BLAIZE.

GOOD people all, with one accord,

Lament for madam Blaize,

Who never wanted a good word,

From those who spoke her praise.

The needy seldom passed her door,
And always found her kind;
She freely lent to all the poor,
Who left a pledge behind.

She strove the neighbourhood to please,
With manners wond'rous winning;

And never followed wicked ways,
Unless when she was sinning.

At church in silks and satins new,
With hoop of monstrous size;

She never slumbered in her pew,
But when she shut her eyes.

AN ELEGY ON MRS. MARY BLAIZE.

97

Her love was sought, I do aver,

By twenty beaux and more; The king himself has followed her, When she has walked before.

But now her wealth and finery fled,
Her hangers-on cut short all;
The doctors found when she was dead,
Her last disorder mortal.

Let us lament, in sorrow sore,
For Kent-street well may say,

That had she lived a twelve month more,
She had not died to-day.

AN ELEGY

GOOD

ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG.

OOD people all of every sor

Give ear unto my song;

And if you find it wond'rous short,
It cannot hold you long.

In Islington there was a man,

Of whom the world might say,

That still a godly race he ran,
Whene'er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;

The naked every day he clad,
When he put on his clothes.

And in that town a dog was found,
As many dogs there be,

Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,
And curs of low degree.

This dog and man at first were friends;
But when a pique began,

The dog to gain his private ends,

Went mad, and bit the man.