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“ Nobles have honour in a nation,
And I allow to those great people
“ I wish you would leave off your joking, “ Nothing on earth is more provoking. “ With me such quibbles ne'er prevail."
What must I give you then ?-a tale? “ Yes; I may
listen to your story, “ But as a joker, I abhor ye.”
A tree once in a church yard grew,
How did the village boys admire When first he got a-top the spire ! But when he saw, so far beneath, The woodland, meadow, cornfield, heath, Road, river, cottage, hillock, plain, He was you cannot think how vain : So vain, indeed, that he design'd To turn about the first fair wind, And shake in scorn his yellow tongue At the old stock from which he sprung. A furry's long-expected blast Enabled him to move at last; When, his head sparkling to the sun, He wagg'd a while, and thus begun.
Fine company I was indeed in! Hark ye, old log, is that your breeding? Muśt a gold weathercock like me Pay first respects to a poor tree? In what high splendour am I borne here? You grovel in a churchyard corner. Me all the parish come to view : Pray, do they go to look at you? You stand in dirt, must fall, and burn; I turn, old boy; mark that I turn.
Your shape-enough to frighten Nick!-
The solemn branches heave and sigh,
If we be clumsy, you be limber, What then? We both are of one timber. Once a plain simple stick, when sold You got a name, and you got gold, Given by your masters, not your friends, To fit you for their private ends. What made them raise you to that throne ? Your interest, coxcomb? no; their own. “ You turn,” you say; we have a notion, That something regulates the motion.
“men study you ;” vain prater, They study but your regulator.
Yet, cocky, be of cheer : one finds
About while fashion's light gales veer him,
EPITAPH ON DIOPHANTUS.
WITH diagrams no more to daunt us,
'as old as pappy,
sage The life and death : REQUIRED the age.