The Wiccamical Chaplet a selection of original poetry; comprising smaller poems, serious and comic; classical trifles; sonnets; inscriptions and epitaphs; songs and ballads; mock-heroics, epigrams, fragments, &c. &c. Edited by George Huddesford |
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ANSWER TO AN OLD LADY OF OXFORD,
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The Wiccamical Chaplet | ||
197
ANSWER TO AN OLD LADY OF OXFORD,
Who sent to the Writer some Verses begging Mulberries.
To prove how much your Rhymes I prize,
O for a World of Mulberries!
Or of such sort, if not such store,
That you might eat 'em ten times o'er,
And every time a relish find
Like what your Verses leave behind!
O for a World of Mulberries!
Or of such sort, if not such store,
That you might eat 'em ten times o'er,
And every time a relish find
Like what your Verses leave behind!
Alas! in vain I wish to suit
With such choice lines such vulgar fruit!
Your Verses will not be forgotten
When all my Mulberries are rotten.
With such choice lines such vulgar fruit!
Your Verses will not be forgotten
When all my Mulberries are rotten.
But since the Fruit will not remain
To shew my reverence of your strain,
A Bow of that fam'd Tree I'll get,
Which Shakespeare's hallow'd hands did set.
With flowers and quaint devices cut:
In which a Patent shall be put,
Drawn up and sign'd by all who own
A right to drink at Helicon;
Wits, critics, poets of all classes,
The Corporation of Parnassus;
By virtue of which grant you'll be
Professoress of Poetry:—
Then, as your last and best reward,
At my request your favourite Bard
Shall dedicate a Seventh Sonnet
To twine the Laurel round your Bonnet.
To shew my reverence of your strain,
A Bow of that fam'd Tree I'll get,
Which Shakespeare's hallow'd hands did set.
With flowers and quaint devices cut:
In which a Patent shall be put,
Drawn up and sign'd by all who own
A right to drink at Helicon;
Wits, critics, poets of all classes,
The Corporation of Parnassus;
By virtue of which grant you'll be
Professoress of Poetry:—
Then, as your last and best reward,
At my request your favourite Bard
Shall dedicate a Seventh Sonnet
To twine the Laurel round your Bonnet.
The Wiccamical Chaplet | ||