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THE GENTLE 8HEPHERD. 31
When weary Commons leave the sultry town, And, drown'd with debts, to finger rents go down. This harmless grove no lurking bailiff hides, But in my breast the serpent rage abides. Oh, how I long with you to pass my days, Drink our own healths, and sound each other's praise; Your praise the press shall bear through all the town, And evening posts from London waft it down : But would you write, and rival Anti's strain, The wondering mob his lies would read again; The moving carman hear the powerful call, And pots of beer hang listening in their fall.
But see, the ladies shun the noontide air, And hungry Lords to dinner fast repair: At table all to places fix'd resort— Ye gods, and is there then no place at court ? But soon the sun with milder rays descends To western climes, where my stamp duty ends: On my poor effigy3 their furies prey, By night they burn me, as they hang by day.
1 Earl of Chatham; an Essay hy Thos. Babington Macaulay, 1844.
2 And wicked Twitcher. Lord Sandwich was universally known by the sobriquet of "Jemmy Twitcher."
* On my poor effigy. Effigies of the different members of the Min- |
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