We give the world to understand, Our thriving Dean has purchased land; A purchase which will bring him clear Above his rent four pounds a-year; Provided to improve the ground,...
Grave Dean of St. Patrick's, how comes it to pass, That you, who know music no more than an ass, That you who so lately were writing of drapiers, Should lend your cathedral to players and scrapers?...
"Here learn from moral truth and wit refined, How vice and folly have debased mankind; Strong sense and humour arm in virtue's cause; Thus her great votary vindicates her laws:...
What though the Dean hears not the knell Of the next church's passing bell; What though the thunder from a cloud, Or that from female tongue more loud, Alarm not; At the Drapier's ear,...
With honour thus by Carolina placed, How are these venerable bustoes graced! O queen, with more than regal title crown'd, For love of arts and piety renown'd!...
HOLD! hold, my good friends; for one moment, pray stop ye, I return ye my thanks, in the name of poor Hoppy. He's not the first person who never did write, And yet has been fed by a benefit-night....
Now the active young attorneys Briskly travel on their journeys, Looking big as any giants, On the horses of their clients; Like so many little Marses...
Dick, thou'rt resolved, as I am told, Some strange arcana to unfold, And with the help of Buckley's[1] pen, To vamp the good old cause again: Which thou (such Burnet's shrewd advice is)...
Poor floating isle, tost on ill fortune's waves, Ordain'd by fate to be the land of slaves; Shall moving Delos now deep-rooted stand; Thou fix'd of old, be now the moving land!...
Virtue conceal'd within our breast Is inactivity at best: But never shall the Muse endure To let your virtues lie obscure; Or suffer Envy to conceal Your labours for the public weal....
Patron of the tuneful throng, O! too nice, and too severe! Think not, that my country song Shall displease thy honest ear. Chosen strains I proudly bring, Which the Muses' sacred choir,...
Harley, the nation's great support, Returning home one day from court, His mind with public cares possest, All Europe's business in his breast, Observed a parson near Whitehall,...
I often wish'd that I had clear, For life, six hundred pounds a-year, A handsome house to lodge a friend, A river at my garden's end, A terrace walk, and half a rood Of land, set out to plant a wood....
This, the most humorous example of vers de soci't' in the English language, well illustrates the position of a parson in a family of distinction at that period.
From a town that consists of a church and a steeple, With three or four houses, and as many people, There went an Address in great form and good order, Composed, as 'tis said, by Will Crowe, their Recorder.[1]...