Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

I hope, my Lord, 'tis not amiss,
That I presume to send you this;
Your kind Assistance thus to crave,
To rescue Osman from the Grave:
Alas! I doubt he's near his End,
Unless your Lordship stands his Friend;
And tho', poor Rogue, he is a Turk,
To save is sure a Christian Work;
By Jove I'd rather have him damn'd,
Than moulder thus in Bureau cramm'd.

My Lord! you'll pardon this Address,
And hope his Suff'rings you'll redress;
'Tis no unusual Thing, I'm clear,
For Bards to ask the Aid of Peer;
Shall I a fresh Example quote,
From little Man of greatest Note?
Who did it but the other Day,
Implor'd a C---d they say;

200

To prop the World, an arduous Task!
No such Atlæan Aid I ask;
Indeed, my Lord! to say the Truth,
And sure my Ipse-dixit's Proof;
The World o'er-fraught with Morals sage,
And Lectures grave thro' many a Page,
On naked Shoulders, Breasts, and so,
Has long been reeling to and fro;
And if this Atlas, this Alcides,
(Whose Strength already fully try'd is)
Don't quickly clap his Shoulders to't,
Adieu! vain World and Moore to boot:
Good L**d! what if the World should fall,
Have mercy, Heav'n! preserve us all:
Our Pray'r is heard, my Lord will write,
All brought about by that same Wight,
Who tickl'd C---d with Puff,
Of Finger, Thumb, and Pinch of Snuff;
A quaint Conceit you say, aye marry,
The Deuce is in't if it miscarry;
For if a Finger, Thumb will do't,
What Peer alive is such a Brute!
As to stand gaping at a Distance,
And not to lend the World Assistance:
I am, my Lord! with Zeal quite fervent,
Your most devoted humble Servant.