« VorigeDoorgaan »
Don Carlos now began to find
His malice work as he design'd.
The winter-sky began to frown;
Poor Stella must pack off to town:
From purling streams and fountains bubbling,
To Liffy's stinking tide at Dublin :
From wholesome exercise and air,
To soffing in an easy chair :
From stomach sharp, and hearty feeding,
To piddle like a lady breeding :
From ruling there the houshold singly,
To be directed here by Dingley * :
From every day a lordly banquet,
To half a joint, and God be tbanked:
From every meal Pontack in plenty,
To half a pint one day in twenty:
From Ford attending at her call,
To visits of
From Ford, who thinks of nothing mean,
To the poor doings of the Dean :
From growing richer with good chear,
To running out by starving here.
But now arrives the dismal day;
She must return to Ormond Quay t.
The coachman stopt ; she look’d, and swore
The rascal had mistook the door :
At coming in, you saw her stoop;
brush'd against her hoop :
* The constant companion of Stella.
+ Where the two ladies lodged.
* Each moment rising in her airs,
She curst the narrow winding stairs :
Began a thousand faults to spy;
The ceiling hardly fix feet high ;
The smutty wainscot full of cracks;
And half the chairs with broken backs :
quarter 's out at Lady-day;
She vows the will no longer stay
In lodgings like a poor Grizette,
While there are lodġings to be let.
Howe'er, to keep her spirits up,
She sent for company to sup:
When all the while you might remark,
She ftrove in vain to ape
Two bottles callid for (half her store;
The cupboard could contain but four):
A supper worthy of herself,
Five nothings in five plates of delf.
Thus for a week the farce went on;
When, all her country-savings gone,
She fell into her former scene,
Small beer, a herring, and the Dean.
Thus far in jeft: though now, I fear,
You think my; jetting too severe ;
But poets, when a hint is new,
Regard not whether false or true :
Yet raillery gives no offence,
Where truth has not the least pretence ;
Nor can be more securely plac'd
Than on a nyr.ph of Stella's taste.
I must confess, your wine and vittle
I was too hard upon a little :
Your table neat, your linen fine ;
And, though in miniature, you fine :
Yet, when you figh to leave Wood-park,
The scene, the welcome, and the spark,
To languish in this odious town,
And pull your haughty stomach down ;
We think you quite mistake the case,
The virtue lies not in the place :
For, though my raillery were true,
A cottage is Wood-park with you.
COPY OF THE BIRTH-DAY VERSES
TOME, be content, fince out it must,
For Stella has betray'd her trust;
And, whispering, charg'd me not to say
That Mr. Ford was born to-day ;
Or, if at last I needs must blab it,
According to my usual habit,
She bid me, with a serious face,
Be sure conceal the time and place ;
And not my compliment to spoil,
By calling this your native soil;
Or vex the ladies, when they knew
That you are turning forty-two:
But, if these topicks shall appear
Strong arguments to keep you here,
I think, though you judge hardly of it,
Good-manners must give place to profit.
The nymphs with whom you first began
Are each become a barridan;
And Montague so far decay'd,
Her lovers now must all be paid ;
belle that since arose
Has her contemporary beaux.
Your former comrades, once fo bright,
With whom you toasted half the night,
Of rheumatism and pox complain,
And bid adieu to dear champaign.
'Your great protectors, once in power,
Are now in exile or The Tower.
Your foes triumphant o'er the laws,
Who hate your person and your
If once they get you on the spot,
You must be guilty of the plot :
For, true or false, they 'll ne'er enquire,
But use you ten times worse than Prior *.
In London! what would you do there?
Can you, my friend, with patience bear
(Nay, would it not your passion raise
Worse than a pun, or Irish phrase :')
To see a scoundrel strut and hector,
A foot-boy to fome rogué director,
To look on vice triumphant round,
And virtue trampled on the ground ?
Observe where bloody ***** stands
With torturing engines in his hands,
Hear him blafpheme, and swear, and rail,
Threatening the pillory and jail :
If this you think a pleasing scene,
'To London strait return again ;
Where, you have told us from experience,
Are swarms of bugs and presbyterians.
I thought my very spleen would burst,
When Fortune hither drove me first;
Was full as hard to please as you,
Nor persons names nor places knew :
But now I act as other folk,
Like prisoners when their jail is broke.
have London still at heart,
We 'll make a small one here by art;
The difference is not much between
St. James's-Park and Stephen's-Green ;
And Dawson-streer will serve as well
To lead you thither as Pall-Mall.
Nor want a passage through the palace,
To choque your fight, and raise your malice:
The Deanry-house may well be match'd,
Under correction, with the Thatcht *.
Nor shall I, when you hither come,
Demand a crown a quart for stum.
Then, for a middle-aged charmer,
Stella may vye with your Monthermer;
* A famous tavern in St. James's-street.