University of Virginia Library


111

FROM THE LATIN of Mr. BOURNE.

To a Friend's Mansion journeying down,
Distant some threescore Miles from Town,
For speed and safety I engage
My Passage in the flying Stage.
The Coachman, with imperious Haste,
Puts to e'er Midnight's hardly past;
When, rous'd from Sleep, and hurrying in,
And jamb'd two fat old Crones between,
Seated against me I behold
A Captain, resolute and bold;
A jolly Host, round, plump, and squab;
A Mother with her little Babe:
All thus commodiously bestow'd,
We rock and jolt along the Road,

112

Jumbled, as Ruts or Quags betide,
From Fore to Aft, from Side to Side:
And straight, the Converse to refine,
All in melodious Concert join,
Each Beldam her sweet Lungs unfolds;
And whilst one coughs, the other scolds:
Assuming all his martial Airs
The Captain cocks his Hat and swears:
Mine Host, whom slumb'rous Nods compose,
Exalts the Trumpet through his Nose:
The Matron prays we won't rebuke
Her Child, for the poor Thing must puke:
A Coach—If thus it gives us ease,
If it's Conveniencies are these,
My Toil henceforth I'll never spare,
But freely foot it twice as far.