|Share page||Visit Us On FB|
THE GENTLE SHEPHERD. 29
The gay Creoles, with my new tax agree, They parch'd by heat, and I inflam'd by thee; The sultry Sirius burns their sugar-canes, While in thy heart a wholesome winter reigns.
Where stray ye, members, in what lane or grove, While to enforce the act I hopeless move ?
In those fair rooms where Royal G------resides,
Or where the Cockpit's ample hall divides, As in the gilded sconce I view my face, No rising blushes stain the faithful glass; But since my figure pleases there no more, I shun the levee which I sought before. Once I was skill'd in every fund that went, From India bonds to humble cent per cent. Ah, Gentle Shepherd, what avails thy skill To frame a tax for D—w—11 to repeal ?
Let------proud preside at C------1 B------d,
Or wily H—1—d still desire to hoard; Bat in the Treasury let me spend my days, And load the sinking fund a thousand ways.
That wand was mine, which B------, with panting breath,
Into my hands, resigning, did bequeath: