« السابقةمتابعة »
One wipes his nose upon his sleeve,
Yet not to give offence or grieve,
The punch goes round, and they are dull
At length the busy time begins,
'Come, neighbours, we must wag.' The money chinks, down drop their chins, Each lugging out his bag.
One talks of mildew and of frost,
And one of storms and hail, And one of pigs that he has lost By maggots at the tail.
Quoth one, 'A rarer man than you
O, why are farmers made so coarse,
A kick that scarce would move a horse,
Then let the boobies stay at home;
THE QUEEN'S VISIT TO LONDON,
THE NIGHT OF THE 17TH MARCH, 1789.
WHEN, long sequester'd from his throne,
Then, Loyalty, with all his lamps
"Twas hard to tell of streets or squares,
Bright shone the roofs, the domes, the spires,
To hang their momentary fires
So, fire with water to compare,
To' express unwieldy joy.
For no such sight had England's Queen Forsaken her retreat,
Where George, recover'd, made a scene Sweet always, doubly sweet.
Yet glad she came that night to prove,
How much the object of her love
Darkness the skies had mantled o'er
Darkness, O Queen! ne'er call'd before To veil a deed of thine!
On borrow'd wheels away she flies,
And gratify no curious eyes
Had known their sovereign come.
On many a splendid wall, Emblems of health and heavenly aid, And George the theme of all.
Unlike the enigmatic line,
Which shook Belshazzar at his wine
Soon watery grew her eyes and dim,
None else, except in prayer for him,
It was a scene in every part
But other magic there, she knew,
To raise such wonders in her view,
That cordial thought her spirits cheer'd, And through the cumbrous throng, Not else unworthy to be fear'd, Convey'd her calm along.
So, ancient poets say, serene
The seamaid rides the waves, And fearless of the billowy scene Her peaceful bosom laves. With more than astronomic eyes
She view'd the sparkling show; One Georgian star adorns the skies, She myriads found below.
Yet let the glories of a night
ANNUS MEMORABILIS, 1789.
COMMEMORATION OF HIS MAJESTY'S HAPPY RECOVERY.
I RANSACK'D, for a theme of song,
But none I found, or found them shared
To modern times, with Truth to guide
Thus, as the bee from bank to bower,
But rests on none till that be found