 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
247
The DECEIVERS DECEIVED.
Damon
, a Youth in Surry bred,
Arch, whimmy, gay, to London came,
And took it in his shandy head,
Disguis'd, to figure as a Dame.
Arch, whimmy, gay, to London came,
And took it in his shandy head,
Disguis'd, to figure as a Dame.
Cynthia, as shandy full as He,
A manly martial garb put on,
And, Yorkshire bred, with soul of glee,
A buckish, smart-drest Ranger shone.
A manly martial garb put on,
And, Yorkshire bred, with soul of glee,
A buckish, smart-drest Ranger shone.
They met, and with each other struck,
The same droll scheme each Rattle laid,
He—Cynthia thought a brother Buck,
She—Damon thought a sister Maid.
The same droll scheme each Rattle laid,
He—Cynthia thought a brother Buck,
She—Damon thought a sister Maid.
Deceivers both, and both deceiv'd,
An Assignation follow'd strait;
A Bagnio snug the guests receiv'd,
Fit scene for friendly Tête-à-Tête.
An Assignation follow'd strait;
A Bagnio snug the guests receiv'd,
Fit scene for friendly Tête-à-Tête.
The bed prepar'd, the roguish pair,
Full of the cheat they aim'd to play,
Quick to the dernier spot repair,
Where, laughing, both the wantons lay.
Full of the cheat they aim'd to play,
Quick to the dernier spot repair,
Where, laughing, both the wantons lay.
But when poor Cynthia found the truth,
What fears her flutt'ring soul possest!
Whilst all enraptur'd was the Youth,
With unexpected treasures blest.
What fears her flutt'ring soul possest!
Whilst all enraptur'd was the Youth,
With unexpected treasures blest.
248
The Morn arriv'd, so pleas'd were both,
They instant to the Altar sped,
Where, happy, they exchang'd their troth,
And, Hands and Hearts united, wed.
They instant to the Altar sped,
Where, happy, they exchang'd their troth,
And, Hands and Hearts united, wed.
And Cynthia blest the happy day,
When first a youthful Buck she shone;
Nor Damon less, when wildly gay,
He Magic Petticoats put on.
When first a youthful Buck she shone;
Nor Damon less, when wildly gay,
He Magic Petticoats put on.
Yet oh! be cautious how ye're found,
Ye Maiden's fair, in garb of Buck;
For 'tis to one a thousand pound,
Ye stumble not on Cynthia's luck.
Ye Maiden's fair, in garb of Buck;
For 'tis to one a thousand pound,
Ye stumble not on Cynthia's luck.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |