Classic Poem

Address'd to a Relation.

Strange to relate, and yet how true,
Whene'er of late I hear from you,
Though your quick Answer to a Line,
But just receiv'd, (in which was Rhime)
You seem with most incurious Eye,
As by Design, to pass it by,
Don't think I fish for Praise, my Bro',
My Scrolls have no Desert, I know;
And yet I think some slight Regard,
You might bestow on Mushroom Bard;
Not that because I'm born to write,
Peruse you must in very Spite:
In Pill and Bolus you abound,
Give me of good Rump-Stake a Pound.
Hold — now I've hinted your Profession,
I hope it won't be deem'd Digression;
If by the Way I make a Note,
(Myself indeed I should not quote)
I sent you Word of a Specific,
By Regular prescrib'd me when sick,
In nervous Plaints, most nobly good,
(Testis est Scribbler Underwood )
And yet no Mention have you made,
Though in your very Walk of Trade,
'Tis vastly strange, and yet a Truth,
I thought you wou'd have wish'd the Proof,
And therefore offer'd to remit,
By way of Samp', a Box of it;
But now observe I press it not,
Perhaps you think th' Effects forgot;
Far otherwise — with grateful Heart,
I shall revere the skilful Part,
My worthy W YNSTOK has display'd,
(An Honour to your healing Trade! )
On Monday next, please Heav'n, I mean,
To quit this noisy uproar Scene;
But as I've not receiv'd from Wales
The promis'd Line, a Doubt prevails,
When I shall pass the S EVERN Tide,
(Long pre-engag'd on t'other Side;)
In the mean while B ATH'S my Address,
Parade my Quarters — nothing less;
If I should take a further Flight,
You may assure yourself I'll write.
We'll now take Breath — with much Regard,
I rest your loving Bro' and Bard.