 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
14
THE DISCOVERY:
Upon reading some Verses, written by a young Lady at a Boarding-School.
Sept. 1760.
Apollo lately sent to know,
If he had any sons below;
For, by the trash he long has seen
In male and female Magazine,
A hundred quires not worth a groat,
The race must be extinct, he thought.
If he had any sons below;
For, by the trash he long has seen
In male and female Magazine,
A hundred quires not worth a groat,
The race must be extinct, he thought.
His messenger to court repairs;
Walks softly with the croud up stairs:
But when he had his errand told,
The courtiers sneer'd, both young and old.
Augustus knit his royal brow,
And bade him let Apollo know it,
That from his infancy till now,
He lov'd nor poetry nor poet.
Walks softly with the croud up stairs:
But when he had his errand told,
The courtiers sneer'd, both young and old.
Augustus knit his royal brow,
And bade him let Apollo know it,
That from his infancy till now,
He lov'd nor poetry nor poet.
15
His next adventure was the park,
When it grew fashionably dark:
There beauties, boobies, strumpets, rakes,
Talk'd much of commerce, whist and stakes;
Who tips the wink, who drops the card:
But not one word of verse or bard.
When it grew fashionably dark:
There beauties, boobies, strumpets, rakes,
Talk'd much of commerce, whist and stakes;
Who tips the wink, who drops the card:
But not one word of verse or bard.
The stage, Apollo's old domain,
Where his true sons were wont to reign,
His courier now past frowning by:
Ye modern Durfeys tell us why.
Where his true sons were wont to reign,
His courier now past frowning by:
Ye modern Durfeys tell us why.
Slow, to the city last he went:
There, all was prose, of cent per cent.
There, alley-omnium, script, and bonus,
(Latin, for which a Muse would stone us,
Yet honest Gideon's classic stile)
Made our poor Nuntio stare and smile.
There, all was prose, of cent per cent.
There, alley-omnium, script, and bonus,
(Latin, for which a Muse would stone us,
Yet honest Gideon's classic stile)
Made our poor Nuntio stare and smile.
And now the clock had struck eleven:
The messenger must back to Heaven;
But, just as he his wings had ty'd,
Look'd up Queen-Square, the North-east side.
A blooming Creature there he found,
With pen and ink and books around,
Alone and writing by a taper:
He red unseen, then stole her paper.
It much amus'd him on his way;
And reaching Heaven by break of day,
He shew'd Apollo what he stole.
The God perus'd, and lik'd the whole:
Then, calling for his pocket-book,
Some right celestial vellum took;
And what he with a sun-beam there
Writ down, the Muse thus copies fair:
“If I no men my sons must call,
“Here's one fair Daughter worth 'em all:
“Mark then the sacred words that follow,
“Sophia's mine”—so sign'd
Apollo.
The messenger must back to Heaven;
But, just as he his wings had ty'd,
Look'd up Queen-Square, the North-east side.
A blooming Creature there he found,
With pen and ink and books around,
Alone and writing by a taper:
He red unseen, then stole her paper.
16
And reaching Heaven by break of day,
He shew'd Apollo what he stole.
The God perus'd, and lik'd the whole:
Then, calling for his pocket-book,
Some right celestial vellum took;
And what he with a sun-beam there
Writ down, the Muse thus copies fair:
“If I no men my sons must call,
“Here's one fair Daughter worth 'em all:
“Mark then the sacred words that follow,
“Sophia's mine”—so sign'd
Apollo.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |