Classic Poem

Come, be content, since out it must,
For, Stella has betrayed her trust,
And, whispering, charged me not to say
That Mr Ford was born today:
Or if at last, I needs must blab it,
According to my usual habit,
She bid me with a serious face
Be sure conceal the time and place,
And not my compliment to spoil
By calling this your native soil;
Or vex the ladies, when they knew
That you are turning forty-two.
But if these topics should appear
Strong arguments to keep you here,
We think, though you judge hardly of it,
Good manners must give place to profit.

The nymphs with whom you first began
Are each become a harridan;
And Montagu so far decayed,
That now her lovers must be paid;
And every belle that since arose
Has her cotemporary beaux.
Your former comrades, once so bright,
With whom you toasted half the night,
Of rheumatism and pox complain,
And bid adieu to dear champagne:
Your great protectors, once in power,
Are now in exile, or the Tower,
Your foes, triumphant o'er the laws,
Who hate your person, and your cause,
If once they get you on the spot
You must be guilty of the plot,
For, true or false, they'll ne'er inquire,
But use you ten times worse than Prior.

In London! what would you do there?
Can you, my friend, with patience bear,
Nay, would it not your passion raise,
Worse than a pun, or Irish phrase,
To see a scoundrel strut and hector,
A foot-boy to some rogue director?
To look on vice triumphant round,
And virtue trampled on the ground:
Observe where bloody Townshend stands
With informations in his hands,
Hear him blaspheme, and swear, and rail,
Threatening the pillory and gaol.
If this you think a pleasing scene
To London straight return again,
Where you have told us from experience,
Are swarms of bugs and Hanoverians.

I thought my very spleen would burst
When fortune drove me hither first;
Was full as hard to please as you,
Nor persons' names, nor places knew;
But now I act as other folk,
Like prisoners when their gall is broke.

If you have London still at heart,
We'll make a small one here by art:
The difference is not much between
St James's Park and Stephen's Green;
And, Dawson Street will serve as well
To lead you hither, as Pall Mall,
(Without your passing through the palace
To choke your sight, and raise your malice).
The Deanery house may well be matched
(Under correction) with the Thatched,
Nor shall I, when you hither come,
Demand a crown a quart for stum.
Then, for a middle-aged charmer,
Stella may vie with your Mountharmar:
She's now as handsome every bit,
And has a thousand times her wit.
The Dean and Sheridan, I hope,
Will half supply a Gay and Pope,
Corbet, though yet I know his worth not,
No doubt, will prove a good Arbuthnot:
I throw into the bargain, Jim:
In London can you equal him?
What think you of my favourite clan,
Robin and Jack, and Jack and Dan?
Fellows of modest worth and parts,
With cheerful looks, and honest hearts.

Can you on Dublin look with scorn?
Yet here were you and Ormonde born.
Oh, were but you and I so wise
To look with Robin Grattan's eyes:
Robin adores that spot of earth,
That literal spot which gave him birth,
And swears, Cushogue is to his taste,
As fine as Hampton Court at least.

When to your friends you would enhance
The praise of Italy or France,
For grandeur, elegance and wit,
We gladly hear you, and submit:
But then, to come and keep a clutter
For this, or that side of a gutter,
To live in this or t'other isle,
We cannot think it worth your while.
For, take it kindly, or amiss,
The difference but amounts to this,
We bury, on our side the channel
In linen, and on yours, in flannel.
You, for the news are ne'er to seek,
While we perhaps must wait a week:
You, happy folks, are sure to meet
A hundred whores in every street,
While we may search all Dublin o'er
And hardly hear of half a score.

You see, my arguments are strong;
I wonder you held out so long,
But since you are convinced at last
We'll pardon you for what is past.

So--let us now for whisk prepare;
Twelve pence a corner, if you dare.