Графични страници
PDF файл
ePub

Lady B----- B----- finding in

the Author's Room fome Verses unsinished, underwrit a Stanza of her own, with Raillery upon him, which gave Occasion to this Ballad. To the Tune of, The Cutpurse.

I.

ON

NCE on a Time, as old Stories rehcarse,

A Friar would needs fhew his Talent in Latin; But was sorely put to't in the midst of a Verse, Because he could find no Word to come pat in;

Then at the Place

He left a void Space, And so went to Bed in a desperate Case, When behold the next Morning, a wonderful Riddle, He found it was strangely fill'd up in the Middle.

Chorus. Let cenfuring Criticks, then, think sobat

they lill on't, Who would not write Verses with such

an Aliftant?

II. THIS

II.
This put me the Friar into an Amazement,

For he wisely consider'd it must be a Sprite,
That came thro' the Key-Hole, or in at the Cazement,
And it needs must be one that could both Read and
Write:

Yet he did not know

If it were Friend or Foe,
Or whether it came from above or below,
Hewe'er it was civil, in Angel or Elf,
For he ne'er could have fill'd it so well of himself.

Cho. Let centuring, oc.

III.
Even so Master Doctor had puzzled his Brains

In making a Ballad, but was at a Stand :
He had mix'd little Wit with a great deal of Pains,
When he found a new Help from invisible Hand.

Then good Dr. S

Pay Thanks for the Gift, For you freely must own you were at a dead Lift: And tho' some malicious young Spirit did do't, You

may know by the Hand it had no Cloven Foot.

Clo. Let centuring, wc.

V-'s HỌU SE. '

Built from the Ruins of Whitehall that was burnt.

IN

N Times of Old, when Time was Young,

And Poets their own Verses sung,
A Verse could draw a Stone or Beam,
That now would over-load a Team ;
Lead 'em a Dance of many a Mile,
Then rear 'em to a goodly Pile.
Each Number had its diff'rent Pow'r;
Heroick Strains could will a Tow'r ;
Sonnets, or Elegies to Chloris,
Might raise a House about two Stories ;
A Lyrick Ode wou'd slate; a Catch
Wou'd tile, an Epigram wou'd thatch.

But to their own, or Landlord's Cost,
Now Poets feel this Art is loft ;
Not one of all our tuneful Throng
Can raise a Lodging for a Song
For Jove consider'd well the Case,
Observ'd they grew a num'rous Race,
And shou'd they Build as fast as Write,
'Twould ruin Undertakers quite.
This Evil therefore to prevent,
He wisely chang'd their Element :

On

On Earth the God of Wealth was made
Sole Patron of the Building Trade,
Leaving the Wits the specious Air
With Licence to build Castles There :
And 'tis conceiy'd their old Pretence
To lodge in Garrets, comes from thence.

PREMISING thus in modern Way,
The better Half we have to say ;
Sing, Muse, the House of Poet V
In higher Strains than we began.

V. (for ’ris fit the Reader know it,)
Is both a Herald and a Poet;
No wonder then if nicely skill'd
In both Capacities to build.
As Herald, he can in a Day,
Repair a Houfe gone to Decay;
Or by Atchievement, Arms, Deviitut
Erect a new one in a Trice,
And as a Poet he has Skill
To build in Speculation still.
Great Jove ! he cry'd, the Art restore,
To build by Verse as heretofore ;
And make my Muse the Architect ;
What Palaces shall we erect!
No longer shall forsaken Thames
Lament his old Whitehall in Flames ;
A Pile shall from its Ashes rise,
Fit to invade, or prop the Skies.

JOVE smild, and, like a gentle God, Consenting with the usual Nod, Told V he knew his Talent beft, And left the Choice to his own Breaft. So V resolv'd to write a Farce ; But well perceiving Wit was scarce, With Cunning that Defect supplies ; Takes a French Play as lawful Prize ; Steals thence his Plot, and ev'ry Joke, Not once suspecting Joe wou'd Smoke ; And (like a Wag) sat down to write, Wou'd whisper to himself, a Bite. Then from the motly, mingled Style Proceeded to erect his Pile, So Men of old, to gain Renown, did Build Babel with their Tongues confounded. Jove saw the Cheat, but thought it belt To turn the Matter to a Jeft ; Down from OlympusTop he slides, Laughing as if he'd burst his Sides ; Ay, thought the God, are these your Tricks : Why then old Plays deserve old Bricks; And since you're sparing of your Stuff, Your Building shall be small enough. He spake, and grudging lent his Aid; Th' experienc'd Bricks that knew their Trade, (As being Bricks at second Hand,) Now move, and now in Order stand.

T:

« ПредишнаНапред »