The Works of John Hall-Stevenson :: :: University of Virginia Library

Thoughtfully walking in his park,
His Grace, with eyes fix'd on the ground,
Beheld an object of small mark,
Made like a furz-ball, dark and round;
And, like one trod upon, it broke,
Gave a loud crack, and sent forth smoke.
His Grace's diamond buckles sullied,
He kick'd the ball with great disdain,
As if disdaining to be bullied;
The ball look'd twice as big again.
Again he kick'd, kick after kick,
Then took a stone, then tried a stick;
The ball went on at such a pace,
It was grown bigger than his Grace.
Zounds! said the Duke, what have we here?
What means this foolish apparition?
Minerva whisper'd in his ear,
My Lord, it means the opposition.