The Shamrock or, Hibernian Cresses. A Collection of Poems, Songs, Epigrams, &c. Latin as well as English, The Original Production of Ireland. To which are subjoined thoughts on the prevailing system of school education, respecting young ladies as well as gentlemen: with practical proposals for a reformation [by Samuel Whyte] |
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RIDDLE.
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 | The Shamrock |  |
126
RIDDLE.
[Ye Learn'd, who the Secrets of Nature explore]
Ye Learn'd, who the Secrets of Nature explore,
Who hunt after Knowlege, and thirst still for more,
Attend to what follows, and duly regard it:
Hereafter you'll own all your Pains well rewarded.
To you I apply: I'm a whimsical Creature;
And beg you will tell me my Name, and my Nature:
My Story's not long; yet, so strange is my Lot,
I doubt if I 've even a Being, or not.
Who hunt after Knowlege, and thirst still for more,
Attend to what follows, and duly regard it:
Hereafter you'll own all your Pains well rewarded.
To you I apply: I'm a whimsical Creature;
And beg you will tell me my Name, and my Nature:
My Story's not long; yet, so strange is my Lot,
I doubt if I 've even a Being, or not.
In the very first Day of the very first Year,
When, first, new-created, this World did appear,
My Parent, then form'd, was coæval with Time,
Like other Productions, and shone in her Prime;
Being pregnant with me: But, what's hard to unravel,
Tho' in a few Hours she look'd for her Travail,
From that, to this Moment, I 've never been seen,
By King, Lords, or Commons, nor, eke, by the Queen:
She still remains pregnant; I still am expected;
Nor has Time, which tells all Things, th'Imposture detected.
To account for this Fact, will surprize you much more,
Than any Thing else I have told you before;
For, though, from all Ages, she ought to take Warning,
Each Night, she's deliver'd; with Child, every Morning;
And, still more surprizing, the Moment I come
To Life, I, that Moment, return to the Womb;
Or, rather, to tell you the Truth more exact,
(However romantic, yet, faith, 'tis the Fact)
Each Night we expire, when the World is at Rest,
Next Morning, revive, like the Bird of the East,
In the self same Condition, as both of us die;
She, pregnant, as usual; in Embrio, I;
And, thus, shall continue, in one constant Round,
'Till that awful Day, when the Trumpet shall sound;
Then, we, like all Creatures that dwell on this Earth,
Shall both lose our Beings, though I ne'er had Birth.
When, first, new-created, this World did appear,
My Parent, then form'd, was coæval with Time,
Like other Productions, and shone in her Prime;
Being pregnant with me: But, what's hard to unravel,
Tho' in a few Hours she look'd for her Travail,
From that, to this Moment, I 've never been seen,
By King, Lords, or Commons, nor, eke, by the Queen:
She still remains pregnant; I still am expected;
Nor has Time, which tells all Things, th'Imposture detected.
To account for this Fact, will surprize you much more,
Than any Thing else I have told you before;
For, though, from all Ages, she ought to take Warning,
Each Night, she's deliver'd; with Child, every Morning;
And, still more surprizing, the Moment I come
To Life, I, that Moment, return to the Womb;
Or, rather, to tell you the Truth more exact,
(However romantic, yet, faith, 'tis the Fact)
Each Night we expire, when the World is at Rest,
Next Morning, revive, like the Bird of the East,
127
She, pregnant, as usual; in Embrio, I;
And, thus, shall continue, in one constant Round,
'Till that awful Day, when the Trumpet shall sound;
Then, we, like all Creatures that dwell on this Earth,
Shall both lose our Beings, though I ne'er had Birth.
WORROMTO.
| The Shamrock | |