THRICE happy cat, if, in thy A— House,
Thou luckily shouldst find a half-starv'd mouse;
The mice, that only for his music stay,
Are proofs that Orpheus did not better play.
Thou too, if danger could alarm thy fears,
Hast to this Orpheus strangely tied thy ears:
For oh! the fatal time will come, when he,
Prudent, will make his fiddle-strings of thee.
When mighty roast beef was the Englishman’s food,
It ennobled our hearts, and enrichèd our blood;
Our soldiers were brave, and our courtiers were good. …
SOON shall these bounteous springs thy wish bestow,
Soon in each feature sprightly health shall glow;
Thy eyes regain their fire, thy limbs their grace, …