No.8,1915 Harvard University Child Memorial Library
YEAR, most propitious, to our earthly leaven! The eighteenth century, and twenty-seven! For ever, may, thy fame be kept, in mind, By all the vot'ries of that urchin, blind, Whose barbed darts, promiscuously, bold, Without distinction, pierce the young, and old: In ev'ry class, his trade is sure to thrive, And witless fifteen weds with ninety-five!
Long had, together, pac'd Brighthelmstone's sands Long talk'd of love, and Hymen's silken bands-
Long trod the streets-long scour'd the dusty roads, From Town, to Brighton-eyed those blest abodes, Where Florizel enjoy'd Perditta's charms,
And fat, fair, forty sunk, in George's arms :— Long, Harriet, wistful view'd the ducal crown, Long, practis'd smiles displac'd her temper's frown- Long, Beauclerc sigh'd for Coutts' exhaustless bag, Deplor❜d its price;-yet would not lose the swag.
Again, a respite, to that fatal day,
When she, her cash, and he, his fame, must pay. The sighing dolts, once more, their wits, apply, To chace their fears-and, once more, travel try. Their gaudy trains, now, hasten to set forth, From murky London, to the keener North
Attract all eyes, in ev'ry place they pass She, a rich
, he, a half-bred ass:
Doubting, between two hay-stacks, there he stands, Until his feet exclaim, pray, help us, hands!
O'er England's borders, onward, still they tour- "Tis pleasant trav'ling, in a chaise and four, With money, plenty-all the world attends-
All strive to grace their list of honor'd friends.
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