In sooth, the sorrow of such days When he that takes and he that pays Now all unwelcome at his gates The clumsy swains alight, And well he may, for well he knows So in they come each makes his leg, "And how does miss and madam do, "The little boy and all?" "All tight and well. And how do you, "Good Mr. What-d'ye-call?" The dinner comes, and down they sit : One wipes his nose upon his sleeve, Yet, not to give offence or grieve, The punch goes round, and they are dull At length the busy time begins. "Come, neighbours, we must wag-" The money chinks, down drop their chins, Each lugging out his bag. One talks of mildew and of frost, Quoth one, "A rarer man than you O why are farmers made so coarse, A kick, that scarce would move a horse, Then let the boobies stay at home; Less trouble taking twice the sum, SONNET ADDRESSED TO HENRY COWPER, ESQ. On his emphatical and interesting delivery of the defence of Warren Hastings, Esq. in the House of Lords. COWPER, whose silver voice, task'd sometimes hard, Legends prolix delivers in the ears (Attentive when thou read'st) of England's peers, Let verse at length yield thee thy just reward, Thou wast not heard with drowsy disregard, Thou art not voice alone, but hast beside Both heart and head; and couldst with music sweet Like thy renown'd forefathers, far and wide LINES ADDRESSED TO DR. DARWIN, Author of "The Botanic Garden." Two Poets,* (poets, by report, They best can judge a poet's worth, By labours of their own. We therefore pleas'd extol thy song, No envy mingles with our praise, They would-they must at thine. But we, in mutual bondage knit With an unjaundic'd eye; * Alluding to the poem by Mr. Hayley, which accompanied these lines. |