Well! what is it from thence we gather? With wit that's flighty, learning light; In the next place, his feet peruse, Wings grow again from both his shoes; Designed, no doubt, their part to bear, And waft his godship through the air: And here my simile unites, For in the modern poet's flights, I'm sure it may be justly said, His feet are useful as his head. Lastly, vouchsafe t'observe his hand, Though ne'er so much awake before, With this he drives men's souls to hell. Now to apply, begin we then; And here my simile almost tript, Yet grant a word by way of postscript. Moreover, Mercury had a failing: Well! what of that? out with it-stealing; Being each as great a thief as he: Are they but senseless stones and blocks? AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG. GOOD people all, of every sort, Give ear unto my song; In Islington there was a man, Of whom the world might say, That still a godly race he ran A kind and gentle heart he had, And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree. This dog and man at first were friends ; But when a pique began, The dog, to gain his private ends, Went mad, and bit the man. Around from all the neighbouring streets The wondering neighbours ran, And swore the dog had lost his wits, To bite so good a man. The wound it seem'd both sore and sad To every christian eye; And while they swore the dog was mad, They swore the man would die. But soon a wonder came to light, The man recover'd of the bite, The dog it was that died. THE CLOWN'S REPLY. JOHN TROTT was desired by two witty peers STANZAS. WHEN lovely woman stoops to folly, The only art her guilt to cover, To hide her shame from every eye, |