Poems or, A Miscellany of Sonnets, Satyrs, Drollery, Panegyricks, Elegies, &c. At the Instance, and Request of Several Friends, Times, and Occasions, Composed; and now at their command Collected, and Committed to the Press. By the Author, M. Stevenson |
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Upon some Gentlemen Rowing down the River, on Friday, June the last, an exceeding hot Day.
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 | Poems |  |
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Upon some Gentlemen Rowing down the River, on Friday, June the last, an exceeding hot Day.
When Rosie June was in effect
Ended, and July New Elect;
A jolly crew together met,
Some parcht with heat, some stew'd in sweat:
A goodly Barge, and gorgeous Saile,
They had, but (save their sighs) no Gale.
To swell their Canvas; sure as Death,
The Elements were out of breath.
Yet gentle Zephyr, thought not far,
Fann'd 'em along the Crystal Yarr:
Whose Water-Citizens did play,
And made Themselves a Holy-day.
The frisking fry wore Coats of Males,
Which Nature made them of their Scales.
And all so full of Courage were,
As every Fish had been a Dare.
True Trouts above, as they did row,
Sate tipling to the Trouts below.
So pleasantly they lickt their Dishes,
You wou'd have sworn they drank like Fishes.
On either side, each Brimmer fills,
Till they grew red about the Gills.
Ended, and July New Elect;
A jolly crew together met,
Some parcht with heat, some stew'd in sweat:
A goodly Barge, and gorgeous Saile,
They had, but (save their sighs) no Gale.
To swell their Canvas; sure as Death,
The Elements were out of breath.
Yet gentle Zephyr, thought not far,
Fann'd 'em along the Crystal Yarr:
Whose Water-Citizens did play,
And made Themselves a Holy-day.
The frisking fry wore Coats of Males,
Which Nature made them of their Scales.
And all so full of Courage were,
As every Fish had been a Dare.
True Trouts above, as they did row,
Sate tipling to the Trouts below.
So pleasantly they lickt their Dishes,
You wou'd have sworn they drank like Fishes.
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Till they grew red about the Gills.
But all this while Phœbus stood by,
As he had other Fish to fry;
And charg'd 'em with his piercing beams,
Reflected from the smooth-fac'd streams;
His furious Rayes doubly design'd,
To melt 'em, and to make 'um blind.
'Tis pitty none a Cloak had on,
And more, no Wind engag'd the Sun.
Nor none, whose fervour could invoke
A Cloud to lend the Sun a Cloak.
But see, and ne'er more need than now,
A gentle Willow gave a Bough:
And made 'em the compleatest Arbour,
Never had Vessel such a Harbour:
There did they deck the Board with chear,
And what is not a dainty there?
Where every One a stomack got,
Wou'd even defie a Mustard-pot.
For Beer, the Men were so well bred,
Always to speak well of the dead.
And for Tobacco, as 'tis fit,
The Pipes did play the praise of it.
The Wine well water'd, and well stopt,
Drank cool as Snow from Mountains dropt.
As he had other Fish to fry;
And charg'd 'em with his piercing beams,
Reflected from the smooth-fac'd streams;
His furious Rayes doubly design'd,
To melt 'em, and to make 'um blind.
'Tis pitty none a Cloak had on,
And more, no Wind engag'd the Sun.
Nor none, whose fervour could invoke
A Cloud to lend the Sun a Cloak.
But see, and ne'er more need than now,
A gentle Willow gave a Bough:
And made 'em the compleatest Arbour,
Never had Vessel such a Harbour:
There did they deck the Board with chear,
And what is not a dainty there?
Where every One a stomack got,
Wou'd even defie a Mustard-pot.
For Beer, the Men were so well bred,
Always to speak well of the dead.
And for Tobacco, as 'tis fit,
The Pipes did play the praise of it.
The Wine well water'd, and well stopt,
Drank cool as Snow from Mountains dropt.
But, as They in their ambush snug'd,
And sometimes Pip'd, and sometimes Jug'd;
They kend a Fleet, but from the Main-yard,
Cou'd not discover Dutch, or Spanyard:
Some said, whose Eyes could better see't,
'Twas the white Squadron, or Plate fleet.
But they prov'd Silver-feather'd Gallies,
That us'd to make Fresh-water sallies.
Their Necks their Masts, which no storm reels,
Their Feet, their Oars, and Bellies, keels.
Their Wings, their Sayles, their battery charmes,
And therefore they stood to their Armes.
And as they did in Triumph Ride,
They gave the Bargers a Broad-side;
Their Admiral bore up so stout,
They durst have sworn he wou'd have fought.
Yet not a Gun fir'd from their Bark,
Though never Men had fairer mark:
Yet they had Fire, and Match, and All,
But neither Powder, nor yet Ball.
And, what is worse, their Teeth now grew
In want of Ammunition too.
Time came to part, for now the Wine,
Tobacco, Beer, and Sun decline.
The back of many a Tench they had
But not the Belly of one Maid:
Venus had sent 'em Females fair and fresh,
But Friday (though her day) was not for Flesh.
And sometimes Pip'd, and sometimes Jug'd;
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Cou'd not discover Dutch, or Spanyard:
Some said, whose Eyes could better see't,
'Twas the white Squadron, or Plate fleet.
But they prov'd Silver-feather'd Gallies,
That us'd to make Fresh-water sallies.
Their Necks their Masts, which no storm reels,
Their Feet, their Oars, and Bellies, keels.
Their Wings, their Sayles, their battery charmes,
And therefore they stood to their Armes.
And as they did in Triumph Ride,
They gave the Bargers a Broad-side;
Their Admiral bore up so stout,
They durst have sworn he wou'd have fought.
Yet not a Gun fir'd from their Bark,
Though never Men had fairer mark:
Yet they had Fire, and Match, and All,
But neither Powder, nor yet Ball.
And, what is worse, their Teeth now grew
In want of Ammunition too.
Time came to part, for now the Wine,
Tobacco, Beer, and Sun decline.
The back of many a Tench they had
But not the Belly of one Maid:
Venus had sent 'em Females fair and fresh,
But Friday (though her day) was not for Flesh.
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