University of Virginia Library

Upon seeing a Satire against Mr. Allan Ramsay.

That splenatick, lunatick Fellow,
With Chandler-Chafts, and Brain so shallow;
R---K--- I mean, who dares t'abuse
The Favourites of our blithsome Muse;
Especially bright Ramsay, who
Broad Britain praise, and Hundreds mo'.
Says he, A Poet's nothing worth,
That City-Vices shews not forth.
But, if he had one Grain of Sense,
He'd see his Poem on Lucky Spence.
A Satire sharp on Whores and Bawds;
And Scriblers lash'd, lash all such Blades
That grudge or grumble at what he says,
At Poems, or Pastorals, or fine Plays.
His Poem on Health, all Men may see
A Satire plain on Gluttonie.
His Tale of Bonnets doth declare
What here to mention I forbear.
As for his Fables, and Love-Songs,
No Wit can challenge in them Wrongs,
Except R---K--- fill'd with Envy,
Who 'gainst all honest Things doth cry.
The charming fair Ones cannot pass
His Calumny upon their Dress.
The very Church-men, and the Judges.
In short, at every Thing he grudges.
A melancholly sow'r-mouth'd Block;
At all harmonious Things doth mock.
A Tipe of Hell, himself tormenting;
At every pleasant Thing lamenting.
Rise, great Apollo, in thine Ire,
And crush him down to PLUTO's Fire;
Whence all his Party cannot budge him,
Till Radamanthus come and judge him;
And there appoint him, for's Abuse,
Sisyphus's endless Toil to use;
And all that party him, for ever,
A better Fate befal them never.