162 EPIGRAMS.* I. WOULD the Baptist come again I II. OCCASIONED BY THE FORMER. HOLD of all our viperous race The greedy creeping things in place To come on earth should John determine, Without a word the good old Dervis At once from tyranny and riot Save laws, lives, liberties and moneys, If sticking to his ancient diet He'd but eat up our locusts and wild honeys! III. ON A READER OF HIS OWN VERSES.† HOARSE MÆVIUS reads his hobbling verse To all and at all times, * Annual Anthology, Vol. 11. Bristol, 1800. And deems them both divinely smooth, But folks say, Mævius is no ass! But Mævius makes it clear An ass without an ear. IF IV. F the guilt of all lying consists in deceit V. * you a cheat ACK drinks fine wines, wears modish clothing, JAC But prithee where lies Jack's estate? In Algebra, for there I found of late A quantity call'd less than nothing. AS VI. S Dick and I at Charing Cross were walking But Informator with a stranger talking, So I exclaim'd, "Lord what a lie !" Quoth Dick-" What, can you hear him? "Hear him! stuff! I saw him open his mouth-an't that enough?" * Morning Post, Nov. 16, 1799. VII. TO A PROUD PARENT. THY babes ne'er greet thee with the father's name; 'My Lud!' they lisp. Now whence can this arise? Perhaps their mother feels an honest shame VIII. HIPPONA lets no silly flush Disturb her cheek, nought makes her blush. Whate'er obscenities you say She nods and titters frank and gay. Oh Shame awake one honest flush For this, that nothing makes her blush. IX. THY lap-dog, Rufa, is a dainty beast, To see thee lick so dainty clean a beast. X. * JEM writes his verses with more speed Than the printer's boy can set 'em ; Quite as fast as we can read, And only not so fast as we forget 'em. *Morning Post, Sept. 23, 1799. XI. DORIS can find no taste in tea, Green to her drinks like Bohea; Because she makes the tea so small She never tastes the tea at all. XII. WHAT? rise again with all one's bones? I trusted when I went to Heaven XIII. ON A BAD SINGER. SWANS sing before they die-'twere no bad thing Should certain persons die before they sing. XIV. OCCASIONED BY THE LAST. A JOKE (cries Jack) without a sting— Post obitum can no man sing. And true, if Jack don't mend his manners Post obitum will Jack run foul Of such folks as can only howl. XV. ON A MODERN DRAMATIST. NOT for the Stage his plays are fit, * Morning Post, Nov. 14, 1799. The closet? said his friend, I ween XVI. To be ruled like a Frenchman the Briton is loth Yet in truth a direct-tory governs them both. 1798. XVII. ON A VERY UGLY WOMAN. HOW happy for us mortals 'twere Had Eve been such a woman! There comes from old Avaro's grave A deadly stench-why, sure they have Immured his soul within his grave? Last Monday all the papers said That Mr. was dead; Why, then, what said the city? But when the said report was found *The Keepsake, 1829. |