 | Miscellaneous Work in Verse and Prose |  |
The World's a Song. A Song.
If Life can yield any thing pleasant or sweet,
To strew its rough Valley along,
In Musick, I'm sure, we the Blessing must meet,
For why, the whole World's a mere Song.
To strew its rough Valley along,
In Musick, I'm sure, we the Blessing must meet,
For why, the whole World's a mere Song.
Repair to the Court, and you'll instantly find
Amidst the delusive gay Throng,
No Friendship can hold, nor no Promise can bind,
For the Courtier's Honour's a Song.
Amidst the delusive gay Throng,
No Friendship can hold, nor no Promise can bind,
For the Courtier's Honour's a Song.
Go next to the Camp, and review each trim Blade,
How they strut it so stout and so strong,
Turn 'em into War's Field, and I'm hugely afraid,
Their Courage would prove a mere Song.
How they strut it so stout and so strong,
Turn 'em into War's Field, and I'm hugely afraid,
Their Courage would prove a mere Song.
109
Pray, what are Possessions, tho' ever so great,
Once got the good Lawyers among?
For they'll brief it and thief it, they'll pocket and prate
'Till they've brought all your Wealth to a Song.
Once got the good Lawyers among?
For they'll brief it and thief it, they'll pocket and prate
'Till they've brought all your Wealth to a Song.
The Doctor who sagely lays Finger to Wrist,
With his Hems and his Ha's, ere so long,
When he sits down to write, 'tis to grease his own Fist,
For his Scribble to you's a mere Song.
With his Hems and his Ha's, ere so long,
When he sits down to write, 'tis to grease his own Fist,
For his Scribble to you's a mere Song.
The Fair One who vows to young Thirsis, so kind,
She ne'er his fond Passion will wrong,
The Moment he's gone Damon's call'd from behind,
For why, Lovers Oaths are a Song.
She ne'er his fond Passion will wrong,
The Moment he's gone Damon's call'd from behind,
For why, Lovers Oaths are a Song.
Thus, Youth run thro' Life, and try all that you can,
This Truth you must own e'er 'tis long,
Take Greatness or Riches, take Woman or Man,
Your Gains will turn out a mere Song.
This Truth you must own e'er 'tis long,
Take Greatness or Riches, take Woman or Man,
Your Gains will turn out a mere Song.
| Miscellaneous Work in Verse and Prose | |