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With his goose-quill the scribbling elf,
And here my simile almost tript,
ards ! why, what a pox
THE CLOWN'S REPLY.
John Trot was desired by two witty peers, To tell them the reason why asses had ears. ‘A’nt please you,'quoth John, 'I'm not given
to letters, Nor dare I pretend to know more than my
betters; Howe'er, from this time I shall ne'er see your
graces, As I hope to be sav'd, without thinking on
asses.' Edinburgh, 1753.
ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG.
Good people all, of every sort,
Give ear unto my song ;
It cannot hold you long.
Of whom the world might say
Whene'er he went to pray.
To comfort friends and foes;
When he put on his clothes.
As many dogs there be,
And curs of low degree.
But when a pique began,
Went mad, and bit the man.
Around from all the neighbouring streets,
The wondering neighbours ran, And swore the dog had lost his wits,
To bite so good a man.
The wound it seem'd both sore and sad,
To every Christian eye ;
They swore the man would die.
But soon a wonder came to light,
That show'd the rogues they lied, The man recovered of the bite,
The dog it was that died.
When lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray, What charm can soothe her melancholy,
What art can wash her guilt away ?
The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover,
And wring his busom-is, to die.
PROLOGUE TO ZOBEIDE,
In these bold times, when Learning's sons
explore The distant climates, and the savage shore ; When wise astronomers to India steer, And quit for Venus many a brighter here; While botanists, all cold to smiles and dimpling Forsake the fair, and patiently go simpling; Our bard into the general spirit enters, And fits his little frigate for adventures. With Scythian stores and trinkets deeply laden, He this way steers his course, in hopes of
trading; Yet, ere he lands, has order'd me before To make an observation on the shore. Where are we driven ? our reckoning sure is
lost? This seems a rocky and a dangerous coast. Lord, what.a sultry climate am I under! Yon ill-foreboding cloud seems big with thunder;
[Upper gallery. There mangroves spread, and larger than I've
[Pit. Here trees of stately size, and billing turtles in 'em
Here ill-condition'd oranges abound- [Stage. And apples, bitter apples, strew the ground:
[Tasting them. The inhabitants are cannibals, I fear: I heard a hissing—there are serpents here! 0, there the people are-best keep my distance ; Our captain (gentle natives) craves assistance; Our ship’s well-stored-in yonder creek we've
laid her, His honour is no mercenary trader. This is his first adventure : lend him aid, And we may chance to drive a thriving trade. His goods, he hopes, are prime, and brought
from far, Equally fit for gallantry and war. What, no reply to promises so ample ? -I'd best step back, and order up a sample.
O MEMORY, thou fond deceiver,
Still importunate and vain, To former joys, recurring ever,
And turning all the past to pain ! Thou, like the world, the opprest oppressing,
Thy smiles increase the wretch's woe; And he who wants each other blessing,
In thee must ever find a foe.