 | The Poetical Works of Mr. William Pattison |  |
188
FROM London to Cambridge.
An Epistle to Mr. Roche.
SIR,
Yours, I receiv'd, with mighty Pleasure,
Attended with my learned Treasure;
And had I Burkett's Knack, and Time,
I'd shoe my Muse's Feet with Rhime,
I'd send you such a Pack of News,
Nay, make an Hackney of my Muse:
Prove Logically Pope a Fool,
Sagely denounce great Shakespeare dull,
To both prefer good Master Fenton,
Or, in a Moment's Time invent One;
But for Necessity you know,
One's Self might stand—in Statu Quo.
Attended with my learned Treasure;
And had I Burkett's Knack, and Time,
I'd shoe my Muse's Feet with Rhime,
I'd send you such a Pack of News,
Nay, make an Hackney of my Muse:
Prove Logically Pope a Fool,
Sagely denounce great Shakespeare dull,
To both prefer good Master Fenton,
Or, in a Moment's Time invent One;
189
One's Self might stand—in Statu Quo.
But hang it, I've no Turn for Satire,
Besides, 'tis quite against my Nature;
For Criticisms! pshaw the Bottle,—
The Devil take your Aristotle:
Give me a sparkling foaming Glass,
As bright, and clever as my Lass;
Thus let us dance an endless Round,
Till one, or t'other throws me down.
Besides, 'tis quite against my Nature;
For Criticisms! pshaw the Bottle,—
The Devil take your Aristotle:
Give me a sparkling foaming Glass,
As bright, and clever as my Lass;
Thus let us dance an endless Round,
Till one, or t'other throws me down.
But now to talk a little serious,
Nor vainly light, nor yet mysterious;
Pray how do Cambridge-Matters stand?
How fare the Brethren of the Band?
For now I think on't in your last,
Those things were negligently pass'd;
But in your next, pray let me know,
If you can come to Town, or no;
For solitary here I stay,
Impatient at your long Delay;
Most indolently spend my Time,
Or sleep, or drink, or idly Rhime;
Now lay new Models for a Poem,
Then in a Moment's Time undo 'em;
For faith the tuneful Tribe neglect me,
While you are absent to direct me.
But, if you'll come, then in a Trice,
Assisted by your good Advice;
I'll polish my poetick Store,
And fish for Trouts in Metaphor;
To Thames' serene Retreats repair,
And finish my Six Cantoes there;
My pleasurable Labours done,
Subscribe, your Servant Pattison.
Nor vainly light, nor yet mysterious;
Pray how do Cambridge-Matters stand?
How fare the Brethren of the Band?
For now I think on't in your last,
Those things were negligently pass'd;
But in your next, pray let me know,
If you can come to Town, or no;
190
Impatient at your long Delay;
Most indolently spend my Time,
Or sleep, or drink, or idly Rhime;
Now lay new Models for a Poem,
Then in a Moment's Time undo 'em;
For faith the tuneful Tribe neglect me,
While you are absent to direct me.
But, if you'll come, then in a Trice,
Assisted by your good Advice;
I'll polish my poetick Store,
And fish for Trouts in Metaphor;
To Thames' serene Retreats repair,
And finish my Six Cantoes there;
My pleasurable Labours done,
Subscribe, your Servant Pattison.
| The Poetical Works of Mr. William Pattison | |