 | Poems Lyrique Macaronique Heroique |  |
To my FRIEND, V. O. &c.
VVell (Val.) my Courage up doth bristle,
Like Pistols, to redeem, my whistle,
VVhich Thou, at House, of Sindery,
Didst filch; (for who could hinder ye)
VVhere I, (as many simple man)
Put Churle, upon a Gentleman,
Abating, vigorous Canarye,
VVith thine unballow'd vin de Pari,
Thy Champagne, Shabley, and Burgundy,
(Such Geer, as thou'lt Repent of, one day,)
Intoxicating Pericranion
VVith Whimsey vile (as 'tis with many one)
Till Thou, to shame (as I may say)
As Pan, on syringe, hold, did lay
Took'st up my Pipe, and went'st away.
Like Pistols, to redeem, my whistle,
VVhich Thou, at House, of Sindery,
Didst filch; (for who could hinder ye)
VVhere I, (as many simple man)
Put Churle, upon a Gentleman,
Abating, vigorous Canarye,
VVith thine unballow'd vin de Pari,
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(Such Geer, as thou'lt Repent of, one day,)
Intoxicating Pericranion
VVith Whimsey vile (as 'tis with many one)
Till Thou, to shame (as I may say)
As Pan, on syringe, hold, did lay
Took'st up my Pipe, and went'st away.
Foul fall thy Glewy Fingers! may the Itch,
Or (what's as good) thy Dear Wine's namesake Pitch,
Spoyle thee, for making Pills, of Turpentine,
(Provided, there may be no hurt in mine.)
Or (what's as good) thy Dear Wine's namesake Pitch,
Spoyle thee, for making Pills, of Turpentine,
(Provided, there may be no hurt in mine.)
VVell! 'twill strain charity, if, ever, I
Forgive thee, for this piece, of Theevery,
VVhereby th'ast Robb'd me (and many Men)
Of Dulce Laborum Lenimen:
My Mirth, my Pleasure, and my Solace,
VVherewith, the Shepheard, erst, did woe Lasse:
For Cares, and Griefs (whatever ayle ye)
Mulcentur, Fistulâ pastorali:
It makes us sound, Tarrantula
It cures, nay there's scant a flaw
It heals not; Chorus sancti viti,
It helpeth straight: (or more's the pitty.)
Forgive thee, for this piece, of Theevery,
VVhereby th'ast Robb'd me (and many Men)
Of Dulce Laborum Lenimen:
My Mirth, my Pleasure, and my Solace,
VVherewith, the Shepheard, erst, did woe Lasse:
For Cares, and Griefs (whatever ayle ye)
Mulcentur, Fistulâ pastorali:
It makes us sound, Tarrantula
It cures, nay there's scant a flaw
It heals not; Chorus sancti viti,
It helpeth straight: (or more's the pitty.)
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And tell me who's so crank, as are,
The merry Girles, of Lancha-shire,
Who oft, in Hall—from whence our family
Descends (ycleped Bold, (or many lye)
Have handled, feet and danc'd as madly
As, after Piers, the youth, of bradly,
The merry Girles, of Lancha-shire,
Who oft, in Hall—from whence our family
Descends (ycleped Bold, (or many lye)
Have handled, feet and danc'd as madly
As, after Piers, the youth, of bradly,
Oh! I have made such Girles dance after
My pype, as (friend) would move your laughter.
Thou know'st 'Twas a-la-mode de France,
(Un-us'd, to whistle Dogg a Dance)
Ne Scotney, nor the Lad, of Islewight,
Can be compared, to my Whistle-wright.
(Away wherewith, you handy went,
To breach, of a Commandement)
Had Orpheus, plaid, on this, (d'yee see)
He had Redeem'd, Euridice.
Whose Charming-strains, & sweet μιμητατα,
Have baffeld, quite, Mira Poemata:
For which my Reason (I'le be true t'yee) was
To wear, a pype; Neglect a Hudibras.
Well! hear fam'd Ancient Pistol, tel ye once
What falls on those, confront, the Helicons!
He sayes, that Gaping, ghastly wounds, and Blisters
(Look to it) shall untwine, the fatal-sisters,
Wherefore (good Val.) return, my Flajulate
Thou knowst that Clotho colum bajulat
Lachesis trabit, it ne're mock at)
The word, for Atropos, is, Occat.
My pype, as (friend) would move your laughter.
Thou know'st 'Twas a-la-mode de France,
(Un-us'd, to whistle Dogg a Dance)
Ne Scotney, nor the Lad, of Islewight,
Can be compared, to my Whistle-wright.
(Away wherewith, you handy went,
To breach, of a Commandement)
Had Orpheus, plaid, on this, (d'yee see)
He had Redeem'd, Euridice.
Whose Charming-strains, & sweet μιμητατα,
Have baffeld, quite, Mira Poemata:
For which my Reason (I'le be true t'yee) was
To wear, a pype; Neglect a Hudibras.
Well! hear fam'd Ancient Pistol, tel ye once
What falls on those, confront, the Helicons!
He sayes, that Gaping, ghastly wounds, and Blisters
(Look to it) shall untwine, the fatal-sisters,
170
Thou knowst that Clotho colum bajulat
Lachesis trabit, it ne're mock at)
The word, for Atropos, is, Occat.
Wa'st not enough, to lessen Salary.
With vin d' O bryan, vin sellery
Graves Wines, Burdeaux, Wines of Nautz
Vin d' Hermitage, vin d' Orleans,
Vin de Bov'ry, vin de Boon,
Vin d' Catore, vin Sheroon,
Vin pallet, vin de moy and vin dee,
Vin Court, vin Gree, d' Amant (pox in thee!)
But thou must put me to the purchase,
Of such a pipe, which used in Churches,
Hath brought to pulpit, Roger Karum,
(As Bumkin swears) who long before 'um
Knew not (Jack Falstaf wise) since ever born
Church inside more, then does a pepper corn
As pan, with syrinx, thou with syring, meddle
That's thy True pipe, not mine, and now, I've sed all.
Dear Val: thine own, but can't be merry,
Till, thou restore, my Hotteterre.
With vin d' O bryan, vin sellery
Graves Wines, Burdeaux, Wines of Nautz
Vin d' Hermitage, vin d' Orleans,
Vin de Bov'ry, vin de Boon,
Vin d' Catore, vin Sheroon,
Vin pallet, vin de moy and vin dee,
Vin Court, vin Gree, d' Amant (pox in thee!)
But thou must put me to the purchase,
Of such a pipe, which used in Churches,
Hath brought to pulpit, Roger Karum,
(As Bumkin swears) who long before 'um
Knew not (Jack Falstaf wise) since ever born
Church inside more, then does a pepper corn
As pan, with syrinx, thou with syring, meddle
That's thy True pipe, not mine, and now, I've sed all.
Dear Val: thine own, but can't be merry,
Till, thou restore, my Hotteterre.
Post-script.
Direct to Him, who now in snuff is,VVithin the Rolles, at House of Office.
| Poems Lyrique Macaronique Heroique | |