Each former art she vainly tries Poor madam now condemn'd to hack The rest of life with anxious Jack, No more presuming on her sway, Serenely gay, and strict in duty, THE GIFT. TO IRIS, IN BOW-STREET, COVENT-GARDEN. SAY, cruel Iris, pretty rake, Dear mercenary beauty, What annual off'ring shall I make My heart, a victim to thine eyes, Say, would the angry fair one prize H A bill, a jewel, watch, or toy, If gems, or gold, impart a joy, I'll give them-when I get 'em. I'll give but not the full-blown rose, Such short-liv'd off'rings but disclose I'll give thee something yet unpaid, Not less sincere than civil: I'll give thee-ah! too charming maid, I'll give thee-to the devil. LOGICIANS REFUTED, IN IMITATION OF DEAN SWIFT. LOGICIANS have but ill defin'd As rational the human mind; Reason, they say, belongs to man, But let them prove it if they can. By ratiocinations specious, Have strove to prove with great precision, With definition and division, Homo est ratione preditum; But for my soul I cannot credit 'em. And must in spite of them maintain And that brute beasts are far before 'em, Deus est anima brutorum. Who ever knew an honest brute At law his neighbour prosecute; They eat their meals, and take their sport, They never to the levee go To treat as dearest friend a foe; |