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Verses Written on Leaving a Great House Of Much Ceremony, but Little Sincerity, Or Hospitality
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


73

Verses Written on Leaving a Great House Of Much Ceremony, but Little Sincerity, Or Hospitality

“This is not mine ain house,
Ken by the rigging o't,”
Allan Ramsay.

CAUTION
Thou, who shalt halt at Beaurepaire,
On business, or for pleasures sake,
Please to observe some folks are there
Who notice every step you take,
Survey your hat, inspect your shoes,
But not omission will excuse.
You comb your hair, you brush your coat
Almost to thread-bare to the neat,
Yet, in its knap a single spot
Will be observed by all you meet:
And you will be no more caress'd,
But censured as a clown at best.
If hungry as a famished hawk,
You dare not fill your craving maw,
Or sure to be the country talk,
The laughing stock of high and low:
Be on your guard at every meal,
And starve to death to be genteel.
Good heaven! what a Lord I dreamt—!
The Lordling of this House, who sees,
Must see, with feelings of contempt,
An insect shivering in the breeze,
Such creatures, in a wintry day,
A north-west wind would blow away.

74

The Angels, who in habit here,
Were Angels not ten years ago:
I knew them in a humble sphere,—
But see, what sudden wealth can do!
It looks at things with other eyes,
And new ideas strangely rise.
I knew them ere their pride begun,
I knew them when of manners plain;
When Julia wash'd, and Susan spun,
And pewter plates were scoured by Jane;
When giant Jacob drove the plough
He would not wish to hear of—now.
Ah, well-a-day! how many dreams
A lofty house makes mighty men
How gay these fluttering females seem
That wore a course home-spun—I knew when:
But now!—to please both White & Black,
A man must be—a man of wax.
Lo! linsey woolsey changed to silk
They almost speak, and look divine;
Madeira laughs at Butter milk,
For twelve at noon at six they dine;
They cheat in periods of a mile,
And folly marks their swelling style.
A curse on such preposterous whims!
And why a moment tarry there,
Where glittering Bucks and madam Prims
Disgusted me with Beaurepaire;
A mansion that may suit the vain,
At which I shall not halt again?

75

Oh for the hut of Indian Sam!
He dwells in yonder woods, they say:
His buckwheat meal and venison ham
Once more would cheer me on my way.
I'll seek him, be it far or near,
To find a welcome more sincere.