Horace in London Consisting of imitations of the first two books of the odes of Horace. By the authors of the rejected addresses, or the new theatrum poetarum [Horace and James Smith] |
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| XXX. |
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| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. | ODE XXXVI. THE GAOL DELIVERY.
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| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
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 | Horace in London |  |
106
ODE XXXVI. THE GAOL DELIVERY.
Et thure et fidibus juvat.
Scrape the fiddles, rub the glasses;
Jove bestow'd, to sweeten life,
Claret, music, dice, and lasses;
Fill about, and banish strife.
Find some flat who apes his betters,
Bid him cook a tavern treat;
Blithest of insolvent debtors,
Florio issues from the Fleet.
Jove bestow'd, to sweeten life,
Claret, music, dice, and lasses;
Fill about, and banish strife.
Find some flat who apes his betters,
Bid him cook a tavern treat;
Blithest of insolvent debtors,
Florio issues from the Fleet.
Mark with what a merry mazzard,
Nightly poaching where they list,
Elbow shaking sons of hazard
Shake his honorable fist.
But his brother, gay and jolly,
Simpers with sincerest glee:
Sons of the same mother, Folly,
Who can wonder they agree?
Nightly poaching where they list,
Elbow shaking sons of hazard
Shake his honorable fist.
107
Simpers with sincerest glee:
Sons of the same mother, Folly,
Who can wonder they agree?
Tap we now our heels in dancing
Tipsily along the floor:
When the burgundy's advancing,
Heel taps shall exist no more.
Thornton, aid us in our waltzing,
Aid us, Bacchus, in our reels:
If we stumble, why the fault's in
Polished floors and brazen heels.
Tipsily along the floor:
When the burgundy's advancing,
Heel taps shall exist no more.
Thornton, aid us in our waltzing,
Aid us, Bacchus, in our reels:
If we stumble, why the fault's in
Polished floors and brazen heels.
Bring burnt toast and pepper'd devils,
Dry provocatives to drink;
Smile, Aurora, on our revels,
Fill the bowl, boys, to the brink.
In a jovial hob and nob let
Kitty with the youth contend,
Quaff, like Ammon's son, the goblet:—
Joy to our unprison'd friend!
Dry provocatives to drink;
Smile, Aurora, on our revels,
Fill the bowl, boys, to the brink.
In a jovial hob and nob let
Kitty with the youth contend,
Quaff, like Ammon's son, the goblet:—
Joy to our unprison'd friend!
108
Kitty on each rival brother
Turns in turn her leering eye,
Dubious whether this or t'other
Best deserve her tender sigh.
Should Old Nick hereafter waver,
To decide, like Kitty, loth,
Horace, as a special favor,
To his care surrenders—both.
Turns in turn her leering eye,
Dubious whether this or t'other
Best deserve her tender sigh.
Should Old Nick hereafter waver,
To decide, like Kitty, loth,
Horace, as a special favor,
To his care surrenders—both.
| Horace in London | |