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The Works of Capt. Alex. Radcliffe

In one Volume ... The Third Edition Augmented [by Alexander Radcliffe]
Radcliffe, Alexander (fl. 1669-1696)

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Ovid Travestie, A BURLESQUE UPON Ovids Epistles.
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THE RAMBLE: AN ANTI-HEROICK POEM.
 
[dedication]
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POEMS.
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Several Late SONGS Burlesqu'd or Varied.
 
As Amoret and Phyllis sate, &c.
 
Hail to the Myrtle Shades, &c.
 
The Poor Whore's Song, in allusion to the Begging Souldier, Good your Worship cast an Eye, &c.
 
Now Now the Fight's done, &c.
 
Tell me dearest pr'ythee do, Why thou wilt and wilt not too, &c.
 
Mr. Drydens Description of Night.
 
Thus Burlesqu'd.
 
Disdain, yet still I will love thee; Nothing, &c.
 
Now at last the Riddle is expounded, &c.
 
To the Tune of Per fas per nefas.
 
An Epitaph upon the Worthy and truly Vigilant, Sam. Micoe Esq
 
Upon Mr. Bennet, Procurer Extraordinary.
 
To a late Scotch Tune.
 
Upon a Bowl of Punch.
 
Upon the Pyramid.
 
Upon a Superannuated Couple lately married.
 
On the Protestants Flail.
 
The Narrative.
 
The fourteenth Ode of the Second Book of Horace.
 
The tenth Ode of the second Book of Horace.
 
Horace's well wishes to a scurvy Poet gone to Sea, Epode 10. in Mævium.
 
A Call to the Guard by a Drum.
 
Dr. Wild's Humble Thanks for His Majesty's gracious Declaration for Liberty of Conscience, Mar. 15. 72.
 
To the King.
 
These for his Old Friend Doctor Wild, Author of the Humble Thanks, &c.
 
[Ill Painters when they make a Sign]
 
THE RAMBLE.
 
The Lawyers Demurrer argued.
 
The SWORD's Farewell, upon the approach of a Michaelmas-Term.
 
Wrote in the Banquetting-House in Grayes-Inn-Walks.
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Death and the old man.
 
Upon the Death of Edward Story, Esq; Master of the Pond, and Principal of Bernards-Inn.
 
Upon the Memory of Mr. John Sprat, late Steward of Grayes-Inn.

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An Epitaph upon the Worthy and truly Vigilant, Sam. Micoe Esq

Here Honest Micoe lies, who never knew
Whether the Parish Clock went false or true.
A true bred English Gentleman, for he
Never demanded yet Quel heur est il?
He valued not the Rise of Sun or Moon,
Nor e'er distinguish'd yet their Night from Noon.
Untill at last by chance he clos'd his Eyes,
And Death did catch him napping by surprize.
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But first he thus spoke to the King of Fears,
Have I in Taverns spent my blooming years,
Outsate the Beadle nodding in his Chair,
Outwatch'd the Bulker and the Burglarer;
Outdrank all measure fill'd above the Seal,
When some weak Brethren to their Beds did reel;
And there when last nights Bottles were on board,
When Squires in Cloaks wrapt up in corners snoar'd;
I onely clad in my old Night Campain,
Call'd for more Wine and drank to 'em again?
Have I made Sir John Robinson to yield,
Sent haughty Langston staggering from the Field?
And unto meager Death now must I sink,
Death that eats all without a drop of Drink?
You steal my Life (grim Tyrant) 'cause you knew
Had I sate up I'd kill'd more men than you.
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Quoth surly Death, Statutum est, sic dico;
Sat vigilasti—Bonos Nochios Micoe.
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