 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
264
An EPILOGUE.
[Actors are grown religious now-a-days]
Actors are grown religious now-a-days,
And Epilogues are Graces after Plays:
I hope our Opera prov'd a decent Treat,
And Grace, you know, shou'd follow after Meat.
And Epilogues are Graces after Plays:
I hope our Opera prov'd a decent Treat,
And Grace, you know, shou'd follow after Meat.
Quite tir'd with singing, cou'd I but prevail,
Instead of Epilogue, you'd hear a Tale?—
Thank ye, I read your looks; content they seem;
A Tale I'll give, and Music be my Theme.
Instead of Epilogue, you'd hear a Tale?—
Thank ye, I read your looks; content they seem;
A Tale I'll give, and Music be my Theme.
Springing from Earth, a Lark had new begun
To hail with Mattins the uprising Sun,
When a huge Boar, just tumbling from his Sty,
Thus grunted to the Warbler of the Sky:
“Zoons! what a hideous noise! that screaming note!
“I wish Old Nick was dancing down your throat;
“You see Me wallow quiet in my dung,
“I eat my puddings, and I hold my tongue:
“Why can't you live like me?—Cram and be wise;
“In cramming—ugh!—the greatest pleasure lies.”
To hail with Mattins the uprising Sun,
When a huge Boar, just tumbling from his Sty,
Thus grunted to the Warbler of the Sky:
“Zoons! what a hideous noise! that screaming note!
“I wish Old Nick was dancing down your throat;
“You see Me wallow quiet in my dung,
“I eat my puddings, and I hold my tongue:
“Why can't you live like me?—Cram and be wise;
“In cramming—ugh!—the greatest pleasure lies.”
The Lark his Music for a moment ceas'd,
And thus address'd the long-ear'd grunting beast:
“Peace, growling Wretch! unfeeling of those joys,
“Which Thou and Savages like Thee call noise:
“Thoughtless of Earth, I warbling upward rove,
“Tow'rds Heav'n, the seat of Music and of Love:
“Or if, perchance, my eyes to Earth I bend,
“My Carrols for a moment I suspend;
“Pitying, I view the half-enliven'd Throng,
“To Music callous, and the thrilling song:
“'Tis a sixth Sense, by kind indulgent Heaven
“To favour'd Man and feather'd Songsters given:
“Where Music's felt, we taste the bliss of Gods;
“Without it Larks, like Boars, were breathing Clods:
“Roll in your filth; grunt on—nor dare decry
“Beings superior—Tenants of the Sky.”
And thus address'd the long-ear'd grunting beast:
“Peace, growling Wretch! unfeeling of those joys,
“Which Thou and Savages like Thee call noise:
“Thoughtless of Earth, I warbling upward rove,
“Tow'rds Heav'n, the seat of Music and of Love:
265
“My Carrols for a moment I suspend;
“Pitying, I view the half-enliven'd Throng,
“To Music callous, and the thrilling song:
“'Tis a sixth Sense, by kind indulgent Heaven
“To favour'd Man and feather'd Songsters given:
“Where Music's felt, we taste the bliss of Gods;
“Without it Larks, like Boars, were breathing Clods:
“Roll in your filth; grunt on—nor dare decry
“Beings superior—Tenants of the Sky.”
So said, the little Warbler upwards sprung,
And left the carping Boar in filth and dung;
While the gross Savage, from his kindred Mud
Stood gaping, nor one Warble understood.
And left the carping Boar in filth and dung;
While the gross Savage, from his kindred Mud
Stood gaping, nor one Warble understood.
Tho' Boars, sometimes, the human Form disgrace,
Such, never yet, thank Heav'n, were seen within this place.
Such, never yet, thank Heav'n, were seen within this place.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |