The Modern Dunciad Virgil in London and Other Poems [by George Daniel] |
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TO A FLY. |
 | The Modern Dunciad |  |
332
TO A FLY.
Busy, bustling, buzzing Fly,
Which is happiest, you or I?
Ever roving, like the bee,
Is the merry lark more free
When to heav'n he soars and sings,
While the vocal woodland rings,
Answering from each dewy thorn
His sweet welcome to the morn?
Constant to the wedded state,
He marries in a hedge his mate—
Who shall count the num'rous fair
Of thy harems in the air?
He the Strephon of a bough,
Of ev'ry room the Juan thou!
Which is happiest, you or I?
Ever roving, like the bee,
Is the merry lark more free
When to heav'n he soars and sings,
While the vocal woodland rings,
Answering from each dewy thorn
His sweet welcome to the morn?
Constant to the wedded state,
He marries in a hedge his mate—
Who shall count the num'rous fair
Of thy harems in the air?
He the Strephon of a bough,
Of ev'ry room the Juan thou!
Little costs your slender meal,
All you eat and drink you steal!
Banqueting on ev'ry dish
Gratis, whether fowl or fish.
Round my nectar'd goblet's brim
Slow you creep with cautious limb,
Fearing lest your little feet
Get entangled with the sweet!
Round my nose on rapid wing
First you buzz, and then you sting!
Then to Celia's cheek repair,
Seek a soft asylum there,
In her auburn tresses skip,
Taste the nectar of her lip,
Bask in the sunshine of her eye,
With all th' effront'ry of a Fly!—
Which is happiest, you or I?
All you eat and drink you steal!
Banqueting on ev'ry dish
Gratis, whether fowl or fish.
Round my nectar'd goblet's brim
Slow you creep with cautious limb,
333
Get entangled with the sweet!
Round my nose on rapid wing
First you buzz, and then you sting!
Then to Celia's cheek repair,
Seek a soft asylum there,
In her auburn tresses skip,
Taste the nectar of her lip,
Bask in the sunshine of her eye,
With all th' effront'ry of a Fly!—
Which is happiest, you or I?
Child of liberty and sport,
Who shall say thy time is short?
Short indeed thy transient span
To the droning life of man;
Yet each minute is an age
In thy hist'ry's tiny page!
Spring's delightful verdant shoots,
Summer's blossoms, Autumn's fruits,
Fair and glorious to the eye,
Have no longer date, but die.
Who shall say thy time is short?
Short indeed thy transient span
To the droning life of man;
Yet each minute is an age
In thy hist'ry's tiny page!
Spring's delightful verdant shoots,
Summer's blossoms, Autumn's fruits,
Fair and glorious to the eye,
Have no longer date, but die.
May no urchin, imp of sin!
E'er transfix thee with a pin;
Spider in his web enthrall,
And wrap thee in a filmy pall;
Poison in thy cup be found,
Or thou in pleasure's draught be drown'd.
With the Autumn's roseate hours,
With the sunshine and the flow'rs,
Sportive creature of a day,
Unmolested pass away.
E'er transfix thee with a pin;
Spider in his web enthrall,
334
Poison in thy cup be found,
Or thou in pleasure's draught be drown'd.
With the Autumn's roseate hours,
With the sunshine and the flow'rs,
Sportive creature of a day,
Unmolested pass away.
| The Modern Dunciad | |