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Poems

or, A Miscellany of Sonnets, Satyrs, Drollery, Panegyricks, Elegies, &c. At the Instance, and Request of Several Friends, Times, and Occasions, Composed; and now at their command Collected, and Committed to the Press. By the Author, M. Stevenson
 
 

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Upon the Norfolk Largess.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Upon the Norfolk Largess.

We have a custom, no where else is known,
For here we reap, where nothing e're was sown.
Our Harvest-men shall run ye, cap and leg,
And leave their work at any time to beg.
They make a Harvest of each Passenger,
And therefore have they a Lord-treasurer.
Here ye must pence, as well as Pray'rs bestow;
'Tis not enough to say, God speed the Plow.
These ask as Men, that meant to make ye stand;
For they Petition with their Arms in hand.
And till ye give, or some good sign appears,
They listen to ye with their Harvest-eares.
If nothing drops into the gaping Purse,
Ye carry with ye, to be sure a Curse.
But, if a Largess come, they shout ye deaf,
Had you as many Ears as a Wheat-sheaf:

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Sometimes the hollow greater is by odds,
As when 'tis answer'd from the Ivye tods.
Here all unite; and each his accent bears,
That were but now together by the eares.
And, which a Contradiction doth imply,
Because they get a Largess they must cry;
Cry with a Pox? whoever of it hears,
May wish their tankard had no other tears:
Thus in a word our Reapers now a days,
Reap in the Field, and glean in the High-ways.