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LOVELY HARRIOT,
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LOVELY HARRIOT,

A Crambo Ballad.

BALLAD XI.

I

Great Phœbus in his vast career,
Who forms the self succeeding year,
Thron'd in his amber chariot;

63

Sees not an object half so bright,
Nor gives such joy, such life, such light,
As dear delicious Harriot.

II

Pedants of dull phlegmatic turns,
Whose pulse not beats, whose blood not burns,
Read Malebranche, Boyle and Marriot;
I scorn their philosophic strife,
And study nature from the life,
(Where most she shines) in Harriot.

III

When she admits another wooer,
I rave like Shakespeare's jealous Moor,
And am as raging Barry hot.
True, virtuous, lovely, was his dove,
But virtue, beauty, truth and love,
Are other names for Harriot.

IV

Ye factious members who oppose,
And tire both Houses with your prose,
Tho' never can ye carry aught;
You might command the nation's sense,
And without bribery convince,
Had ye the voice of Harriot.

V

You of the music common weal,
Who borrow, beg, compose, or steal,
Cantata, air, or ariet;

64

You'd burn your cumb'rous works in score,
And sing, compose, and play no more,
If once you heard my Harriot.

VI

Were there a wretch who dar'd essay,
Such wond'rous sweetness to betray
I'd call him an Iscariot;
But her e'en satire can't annoy,
So strictly chaste, but kindly coy,
Is fair angelic Harriot.

VII

While sultans, emperors, and kings,
(Mean appetite of earthly things)
In all the waste of war riot;
Love's softer duel be my aim,
Praise, honour, glory, conquest, fame,
Are center'd all in Harriot.

VIII

I swear by Hymen and the pow'rs
That haunt Love's ever blushing bow'rs,
So sweet a nymph to marry ought;
Then may I hug her silken yoke,
And give the last, the final stroke,
T'accomplish lovely Harriot.