 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
New Prison.
You
Squires o'th' shade, that love to tread
In gloomy Night, when Day's in bed;
That court the Moon, supposing she
Likes such a watchful Industry:
Read here a Story, it will make
Your Eye-lids droop, when she's awake.
'Tis not the horrid noise of Wars,
Consequent Chances, Wounds and Scars,
The dangers of the foaming Deep,
Nor all the Bug bear Fates, that keep
Fond Men in awe, Hobgoblins, Sprites,
Dire Dreams in dark and tedious Nights,
A troubled Conscience, nor the sence
Of man's despairing Diffidence,
That can present so sad a face
Of black Affliction, as this place.
In gloomy Night, when Day's in bed;
That court the Moon, supposing she
Likes such a watchful Industry:
366
Your Eye-lids droop, when she's awake.
'Tis not the horrid noise of Wars,
Consequent Chances, Wounds and Scars,
The dangers of the foaming Deep,
Nor all the Bug bear Fates, that keep
Fond Men in awe, Hobgoblins, Sprites,
Dire Dreams in dark and tedious Nights,
A troubled Conscience, nor the sence
Of man's despairing Diffidence,
That can present so sad a face
Of black Affliction, as this place.
The sneaking Rascals, lowsie Whores,
The creaking of the dismal Doors,
That stink of stinks that fumes within,
(Symptoms of Beasts that dwell therein)
So rot the Air, Cameleons cou'd
Not live unpoyson'd with such Food;
There's reason for't, no Mortal can
Step from the Excrement of Man;
And that which should howe're be sweet,
Is like the rest; I mean, their meat;
The Locusts of the wilderness
Are Sweet-meats to their Nasty Mess.
I could say more; the Place provokes me,
But that the vile Tobacco choaks me.
The creaking of the dismal Doors,
That stink of stinks that fumes within,
(Symptoms of Beasts that dwell therein)
So rot the Air, Cameleons cou'd
Not live unpoyson'd with such Food;
There's reason for't, no Mortal can
Step from the Excrement of Man;
367
Is like the rest; I mean, their meat;
The Locusts of the wilderness
Are Sweet-meats to their Nasty Mess.
I could say more; the Place provokes me,
But that the vile Tobacco choaks me.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |