Mirth and Metre consisting of Poems, Serious, Humorous, and Satirical; Songs, Sonnets, Ballads & Bagatelles. Written by C. Dibdin, Jun |
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THE CHAPTER OF BLUSHES. |
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 | Mirth and Metre |  |
159
THE CHAPTER OF BLUSHES.
How various the blushes that tint the cheek!
Some weakness, some shame, and some modesty speak;
And the cheek that a blush can ne'er reveal;
Shews the head can't think, or the heart can't feel;
Some weakness, some shame, and some modesty speak;
And the cheek that a blush can ne'er reveal;
Shews the head can't think, or the heart can't feel;
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So, exceptions all granted,
By gen'ral rules wanted,
We all of us blush in our turn.
By gen'ral rules wanted,
We all of us blush in our turn.
English, Welch, Scotch, and Irish, tho' varied in name,
In essence are one, and all blush the same;
Their blush it is red, and that's valour's hue,
And they make all their foes blush black and blue.
In essence are one, and all blush the same;
Their blush it is red, and that's valour's hue,
And they make all their foes blush black and blue.
So, &c.
That lawyers don't blush, some assert so big;
But sometimes you can't see the blush for the wig;
If doctor's don't blush, it's a wonder to me,
They're so monstrously modest in taking their fee.
But sometimes you can't see the blush for the wig;
If doctor's don't blush, it's a wonder to me,
They're so monstrously modest in taking their fee.
So, &c.
The blush of an actor is rouge and rose pink;
Authors blush black and white, in their paper and ink;
The blush of a critic I never could mark,
For they, like monopolists, deal in the dark.
Authors blush black and white, in their paper and ink;
The blush of a critic I never could mark,
For they, like monopolists, deal in the dark.
So, &c.
Some great folks, with their “blushing honours,” some stake,
Seldom blush; but that's cavilling for cavil's sake;
If they do not blush, they proxy claim,
So their honours blush for 'em, and that's all the same.
Seldom blush; but that's cavilling for cavil's sake;
If they do not blush, they proxy claim,
So their honours blush for 'em, and that's all the same.
So, &c.
May the maiden's blush ever from modesty flow,
The blush of the wife prove affection's glow;
May wealth never blush to own friends downcast,
Nor we e'er have reason to blush for the past.
The blush of the wife prove affection's glow;
May wealth never blush to own friends downcast,
Nor we e'er have reason to blush for the past.
Yet, &c.
163
'Tis not the old trumpeting goddess's Fane,
Where heroes and Patriots due honour obtain;
Where Bards are enroll'd, who, with genius sublime,
Form the apposite union of reason and rhyme;
But where the exploits of such heroes you view,
As Johnson, Big Ben, Humphries, Ward, and the Jew;
The speeches of Patriots, with voices like Jove's,
Who thunder out Freedom for—Fishes and Loaves;
And Poets, like me, in dull Bathos deep sunk,—
And of these the Desert is to line an old Trunk;
Knock! Knocky! Knick! Knock! am I now making game?
For a Trunk-maker's Shop is my Temple of Fame.
Where heroes and Patriots due honour obtain;
Where Bards are enroll'd, who, with genius sublime,
Form the apposite union of reason and rhyme;
But where the exploits of such heroes you view,
As Johnson, Big Ben, Humphries, Ward, and the Jew;
The speeches of Patriots, with voices like Jove's,
Who thunder out Freedom for—Fishes and Loaves;
And Poets, like me, in dull Bathos deep sunk,—
And of these the Desert is to line an old Trunk;
Knock! Knocky! Knick! Knock! am I now making game?
For a Trunk-maker's Shop is my Temple of Fame.
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