Poems By Mr. Polwhele. In three volumes |
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II. |
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III. |
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Poems | ||
The carriage indeed, as we reach'd Crockernwell,
Had begun with its jostling my spleen to dispel,
When we enter'd the inn by a porch of rude granite,
Strong-pillar'd, whoe'er had the honour to plan it;
Where a damsel, sunburnt as a haycock adust is,
Said, ‘Business that morning was done by the justice:’
And the justice, I found, was our classic friend Hayter,
At once a proficient in law and in metre;
Tho' rarely, perhaps, the heroics of Greece
Disturb the still brains of a justice-of-peace.
Had begun with its jostling my spleen to dispel,
When we enter'd the inn by a porch of rude granite,
Strong-pillar'd, whoe'er had the honour to plan it;
Where a damsel, sunburnt as a haycock adust is,
Said, ‘Business that morning was done by the justice:’
248
At once a proficient in law and in metre;
Tho' rarely, perhaps, the heroics of Greece
Disturb the still brains of a justice-of-peace.
Poems | ||