 | Songs, comic and satyrical |  |
TRANSIT OF VENUS.
Astrologers lately a bustle have made,
How round the sun Venus cou'd dance it,
With optic, catoptric, dioptric parade,
To spy how genteel was her transit:
Between you and I, tho' 'twas mal a-propo,
T'examine a fine woman's actions,
For were we to look among ladies below,
What frays it wou'd make? and what fractions?
How round the sun Venus cou'd dance it,
With optic, catoptric, dioptric parade,
To spy how genteel was her transit:
Between you and I, tho' 'twas mal a-propo,
T'examine a fine woman's actions,
For were we to look among ladies below,
What frays it wou'd make? and what fractions?
Good-lack, how they look'd at this wonderful sight—
A wonderful sight! but what is it?
When all came to all, and when all came to light,
Love's regent, paid Neptune a visit:
Bedew'd by the salt-water spray as she rose,
To Apollo her beautyship run ,
Intending to dry her Olympical cloaths,
So stood between us and the sun.
A wonderful sight! but what is it?
When all came to all, and when all came to light,
Love's regent, paid Neptune a visit:
Bedew'd by the salt-water spray as she rose,
To Apollo her beautyship run ,
Intending to dry her Olympical cloaths,
So stood between us and the sun.
106
While pointing your glasses, and winking each way,
Inquisitives, what did you see?
Does th'Empress of Joy, now, friends, honestly say,
Wear garters above, or 'low knee?
A fig for the farce of your schemes and your scrolls,
Eclipses indeed ye may shew,
But as to each orb which high over us rolls,
Not an inch past your noses ye know.
Inquisitives, what did you see?
Does th'Empress of Joy, now, friends, honestly say,
Wear garters above, or 'low knee?
A fig for the farce of your schemes and your scrolls,
Eclipses indeed ye may shew,
But as to each orb which high over us rolls,
Not an inch past your noses ye know.
Into ditch Thales fell, with his telescope geer,
At midnight wou'd stargazing roam,
When brought back bedaub'd, all his spouse said was, Dear,
You had better observe things at home:
If husbands who ramble, this maxim wou'd mind,
And put it but once to the proof,
Observe things at home; go but home and they'll find,
At home they had business enough.
At midnight wou'd stargazing roam,
When brought back bedaub'd, all his spouse said was, Dear,
You had better observe things at home:
If husbands who ramble, this maxim wou'd mind,
And put it but once to the proof,
Observe things at home; go but home and they'll find,
At home they had business enough.
| Songs, comic and satyrical | |