Horace in London Consisting of imitations of the first two books of the odes of Horace. By the authors of the rejected addresses, or the new theatrum poetarum [Horace and James Smith] |
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XXX. |
XXXI. |
XXXII. |
XXXIII. | ODE XXXIII. CROSS PURPOSES.
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XXXIV. |
XXXV. |
XXXVI. |
XXXVII. |
XXXVIII. |
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Horace in London | ||
98
ODE XXXIII. CROSS PURPOSES.
Albi, ne doleas plus nimio, memor.
'Tis folly yourself and your readers to vex,
With verses as feeble and bald as old Q.;
Your Fanny but echoes the creed of her sex,
Preferring a younger Adonis to you.
With verses as feeble and bald as old Q.;
Your Fanny but echoes the creed of her sex,
Preferring a younger Adonis to you.
Amanda, the mild, follows Ned thro' the Park,
From Kensington Gardens to Cumberland Gate,
Yet Ned, an ungrateful and volatile spark,
Adores a virago, and truckles to Kate.
From Kensington Gardens to Cumberland Gate,
Yet Ned, an ungrateful and volatile spark,
Adores a virago, and truckles to Kate.
But sooner the shark from West Indian seas,
Shall swim in a bowl, and by children be fed,
Than Kitty, as rampant as Pope's Eloise,
Surrender the mistress, and marry with Ned.
Shall swim in a bowl, and by children be fed,
Than Kitty, as rampant as Pope's Eloise,
Surrender the mistress, and marry with Ned.
99
So wills Madame Venus: she's ever delighted
To join young and old in one wearisome yoke,
Then tortures the bosom with flames unrequited,
And thinks our misfortunes an excellent joke.
To join young and old in one wearisome yoke,
Then tortures the bosom with flames unrequited,
And thinks our misfortunes an excellent joke.
Why cannot I love pretty Susan, or Polly,
Or gentle Nannette, or dear sensitive Jane?
The answer, alas! but exposes my folly—
I court lovely Ellen, and court her in vain.
Or gentle Nannette, or dear sensitive Jane?
The answer, alas! but exposes my folly—
I court lovely Ellen, and court her in vain.
I'd give all I'm worth to be able to hate her;
She smiles, and I picture consent in her eye,
When, cold and deceitful as ice to a skaiter,
She tempts me to pleasure, but leaves me to die.
She smiles, and I picture consent in her eye,
When, cold and deceitful as ice to a skaiter,
She tempts me to pleasure, but leaves me to die.
Horace in London | ||