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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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ODE XII. MISS PUFF.
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144

ODE XII. MISS PUFF.

Nolis longa feræ bella Numantiæ.

To Horace in Rome.
Immortal Flaccus, on my soul,
Well might you think it passing droll,
Were I to start the rival of your glory;
Ape in my odes your playful verse,
Affect your satire, keen and terse,
Or grace with kings and chiefs my classic story!
You, mighty minstrel, are at home
Chaunting the civil wars of Rome,
The praises of Augustus or Mæcenas:

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My humble Muse in London tells,
Of civil wars 'twixt beaus and belles,
Or burns for thee, Miss Puff, the City Venus.
That eye I sing, whose ambush-play
Kills while it looks another way,
That voice so true to false and vulgar grammar,
That breast I know not where to find,
That graceful curvature behind,
That wealth her father conquer'd with his hammer.
When at my Lord Mayor's ball she dines,
In gold and carving how she shines,
Or like an Ignis Fatuus cuts her capers!
Ah me! in vain I look and sigh,
Some fool will own that goosberry eye,
And make her gold a nostrum for the vapours.
Tho' now in Laurence-Pountney-Lane,
The cruel Syren holds her reign,
Unseen, unnotic'd, through her spatter'd casement,

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Soon blazing forth in Russell Square,
The gilded monster shall be there,
A fruitful theme of laughter and amazement.