Classic Poem

" Jam satis terris, nivis atque dirae, " &c

How funny 'tis, when pretty lads and lasses
Meet altogether, just to have a caper,
And the black fiddler plays you such a tune as
Sets you a frisking.

High bucks and ladies, standing in a row all,
Make finer show than troops of continentals.
Balance and foot it rigadoon and chasse,
Brimful of rapture.

Thus poets tell us how one Mister Orpheus
Led a rude forest to a country-dance, and
Play'd the brisk tune of Yankee Doodle on a
New Holland fiddle.

Spruce our gallants are, essenc'd with pomatum,
Heads powder'd white as Killington-Peak snowstorm:
Ladies, how brilliant, fascinating creatures,
All silk and muslin!

But now behold a sad reverse of fortune,
Life's brightest scenes are checker'd with disaster,
Clumsy Charles Clumfoot treads on Tabby's gown, and
Tears all the tail off!

Stop, stop the fiddler, all away this racket —
Hartshorn and water! See the ladies fainting,
Paler than primrose, fluttering about like
Pigeons affrighted!

Not such the turmoil, when the sturdy farmer
Sees turbid whirlwinds beat his oats and rye down,
And the rude hail-stones, big as pistol-bullets,
Dash in his windows!

Though 'twas unhappy, never seem to mind it,
Bid punch and sherry circulate the brisker;
Or, in a bumper, flowing with Madeira,
Drown the misfortune.

Willy Wagnimble dancing with Flirtilla,
Almost as light as air-balloon inflated,
Rigadoons round her, 'till the lady's heart is
Forc'd to surrender.

Benny Bamboozle cuts the drollest capers,
Just like a camel, or a hippopot'mos,
Jolly Jack Jumble makes as big a rout as
Forty Dutch horses!

See Angelina lead the mazy dance down,
Never did fairy trip it so fantastick;
How my heart flutters, while my tongue pronounces,
Sweet little seraph!

Such are the joys, that flow from country-dancing,
Pure as the primal happiness of Eden,
Wine, mirth, and musick, kindle in accordance
Raptures extatick.