Classic Poem

'Tis I — tho' shame-fac'd , — MODEST The , now, tries ye,
Don't let th' unlook'd-for change — too much surprize ye.
Your loose deserter, now brought up for sentence,
Uncocks his contrite phiz — and glouts repentance.
Sinners should all feel shame . So far, plain fact is:
Yet, some blush aukwardly — for want of practice,
Ah! what can move hard hearts — if yours he misses,
Whose penitential tweer stands crimp'd , as this is.
Not A BEL'S three-tir'd squint more queerly show'd him,
When the crack'd urinal had half-o'er flow'd him.
Hem — now I'll pluck up grace — and make confession ,
Then (like snug papist ) — tick, for new transgression ,
Some few wild oats I've sown : some, late — been mowing ;
And — not to lie — I've left young crops , yet, growing.
Bear with slow penitence — or, spoil a convert :
Much have I suffer'd — and no little DONE for't!
I'm a poor sinful our — heav'n un-bewhelp me!
Be-mus'd — be-creditor'd — be wiv'd , God help me!
Plung'd, in a sea of woes — past all enduring;
Yet, not one woe, but was — my own procuring .
There now! — Let virtue ne'er expect man's pity,
If truth, so plainly told, wants force to hit ye.

W ELL ; after all — I'm a wild chap — that's certain:
And many a foolish farce , I've plaid my part in.
Yet, search life through, truth ask'd will answer, sadly,
Men, that act many parts, must act some madly ;
But, for my own — to whom hard-fortune gave one,
Oft, in my life to come, I'll act a grave one.

N AY , pray, don't laugh — As I'm a hopeful sinner ,
You shouldn't blue — so bashful a beginner!
Sure, I may act grave parts — who here can borrow ,
Where tears by urn-fulls flow — from tragic sorrow.
Lab'ring from dirge to catch , to gain your pardon,
I'll dig, from bed to bed, the muse's garden.
Teach ye to cry , to-day — to-morrow twitter ;
'Twixt two such sweet extremes — farewel all bitter . —
Restor'd to favour, — and no more a fibber,
Lord! what new dev'l (they'll cry) has mottled C IBBER ?

B UT , we'll be serious — 'Tis nor worse, nor better,
I'm in my country's case — a deep-dipt debtor! —
Is that a crime, too black to hope your pity?
Ah! tell me — camp, fleet, country, court , and city .
— Nay, there's a K ING , God bless him! who, they say,
Owes — more than any king, buThe , can pay .
Owes, to his maker — ev'ry lov'd attraction ,
That awes rebellion , and disgraces faction .
Owes to his people — (what they fly to lend him)
Millions of hearts, and hands, that all befriend him. —
Owes, to himself — contempt of fears below him. —
Owes mercy, to his foes — because they SHOW him.