 | Churchill defended, a poem |  |
Faults in thy Form, and Manner too, they find,
Because Heaven bless'd thee with a noble Mind.
For me, I like thy Manner, and thy Form,
Though “like a Porpoise's before a Storm.”
In whom great Parts and Liberty have Place,
Each little Singularity's a Grace.
Thanks to the Gods, the Show that dazzles Fools,
And makes them err from common Sense's Rules,
Me of my Judgment never yet could rob;
I like thee better with thy old black Bob,
Thy Spartan Roughness, and thy rusty Cloaths,
Than the whole sallow Tribe of Green-Park Beaux.
What is a Coxcomb's Complaisance or State,
The finest Person, and the finest Gait?
What's Lace, what's Powder, and a dangling Cane,
Where there's no Generosity, or Brain?
Because Heaven bless'd thee with a noble Mind.
For me, I like thy Manner, and thy Form,
Though “like a Porpoise's before a Storm.”
In whom great Parts and Liberty have Place,
Each little Singularity's a Grace.
16
And makes them err from common Sense's Rules,
Me of my Judgment never yet could rob;
I like thee better with thy old black Bob,
Thy Spartan Roughness, and thy rusty Cloaths,
Than the whole sallow Tribe of Green-Park Beaux.
What is a Coxcomb's Complaisance or State,
The finest Person, and the finest Gait?
What's Lace, what's Powder, and a dangling Cane,
Where there's no Generosity, or Brain?
| Churchill defended, a poem | |