Gift, The. To Iris, in Bow Street, Covent Garden

TO IRIS, IN BOW STREET, COVENT GARDEN .

Say , cruel Iris, pretty rake,
Dear mercenary beauty,
What annual offering shall I make
Expressive of my duty?

My heart, a victim to thine eyes,
Should I at once deliver,
Say, would the angry fair one prize
The gift who slights the giver?

A bill, a jewel, watch, or toy,
My rivals give — and let 'em.
If gems or gold impart a joy,
I'll give them — when I get 'em.

I'll give — but not the full blown rose,
Or rosebud, more in fashion;
Such short liv'd offerings but disclose
A transitory passion.

I'll give thee something yet unpaid,
Not less sincere than civil;
I'll give thee — ah! too charming maid,
I'll give thee — to the devil.

" ETRENE A IRIS .

" Pour temoignage de ma flamme,
Iris, du meilleur de mon âme
Je vous donne a ce nouvel an
Non pas dentelle, ni ruban,
Non pas essence, ni pommade,
Quelques boites de marmalade,
Un mouchoir, des gans, un bouquet,
Non pas heures, ni chapelet,
Quoi donc? attendez, je vous donne
O! fille plus belle que bonne,
Qui m'avez toujours refuse,
Le point si souvent propose,
Je vous donne. Ah! le puis-je dire?
Oui: c'est trop souffrir le martyre,
Il est temps de m'emanciper,
Patience va m'echapper.
Fussiez-vous cent fois plus aimable,
Belle Iris, je vous donne ... au diable."
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