Much controversy straight arose, These choose the back, the belly those; He meant not to forbid the head; Thus, conscience freed from ev'ry clog, 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; Some love a concert, or a race; And others shooting, and the chase. Revil'd and lov'd, renounc'd and follow'd, Thus, bit by bit, the world is swallow'd; Each thinks his neighbour makes too free, Yet likes a slice as well as he: With sophistry their sauce they sweeten, Till quite from tail to snout 'tis eaten. ON THE DEATH OF MRS. (now LADY) THROCKMORTON'S BULFINCH. YE nymphs! if e'er your eyes were red Her fav'rite, even in his cage, Where Rhenus strays his vines among, Or only with a whistle blest, The honours of his ebon poll Were brighter than the sleekest mole, With which Aurora decks the skies, LADY THROCKMORTON'S BULFINCH. 245 Above, below, in all the house, No cat had leave to dwell; And Bully's cage supported stood Well-lattic'd-but the grate, alas! But smooth with wands from Ouse's side, Night veil'd the pole: all seem'd secure : A beast forth sallied on the scout, He, ent'ring at the study-door, And something in the wind Conjectur'd, sniffing round and round, Food chiefly for the mind. 246 LADY THROCKMORTON'S BULfinch. Just then, by adverse fate impress'd, A rat fast clinging to the cage, For, aided both by ear and scent, Minute the horrors that ensu’d; His teeth were strong, the cage was wood- O had he made that too his prey; Might have repaid him well, I wote, Maria weeps the Muses mourn— The tree-enchanter Orpheus fell, THE ROSE. TH HE rose had been wash'd, just wash'd in a show'r, Which Mary to Anna convey'd, The plentiful moisture encumber'd the flow'r, And weigh'd down it's beautiful head. The cup was all fill'd, and the leaves were all wet, To weep for the buds it had left with regret, I hastily seiz'd it, unfit as it was For a nosegay, so dripping and drown'd, And such, I exclaim'd, is the pitiless part Regardless of wringing and breaking a heart |