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Much controversy straight arose,
These choose the back, the belly those;
By some 'tis confidently said
He meant not to forbid the head:
While others at that doctrine rail,
You laugh-'tis well-The tale applied May make you laugh on t'other side. Renounce the world-the preacher cries. We do a multitude replies. While one as innocent regards A snug and friendly game at cards; And one, whatever you may say, Can see no evil in a play;
Some love a concert, or a race;
With sophistry their sauce they sweeten, Till quite from tail to snout 'tis eaten.
MRS. (NOW LADY) THROCK MORTON'S
YE nymphs! if e'er your eyes were red With tears o'er hapless fav'rites shed, O share Maria's grief!
Her fav'rite, even in his cage,
Where Rhenus strays his vines among, The egg was laid from which he sprung; And, though by nature mute,
Or only with a whistle blest,
Well-taught he all the sounds express'd Of flagelet or flute.
The honours of his ebon poll
With which Aurora decks the skies,
Above, below, in all the house,
Well-lattic'd-but the grate, alas!
But smooth with wands from Ouse's side,
Night veil'd the pole: all seem'd secure: When led by instinct sharp and sure, Subsistence to provide,
A beast forth sallied on the scout,
He, ent❜ring at the study-door,
And something in the wind
Just then, by adverse fate impress'd,
For, aided both by ear and scent,
His teeth were strong, the cage was woodHe left poor Bully's beak.
O had he made that too his prey;
Maria weeps-the Muses mourn—
On Thracian Hebrus' side