At the fides there was fpinnage and pudding made hot; In the middle a place where the pafty-was not. Now, my lord, as for tripe it's my utter averfion, And your bacon I hate like a Turk or a Perfian, So there I fat ftuck, like a horfe in a pound, While the bacon and liver went merrily round: But what vex'd me most, was that d'd Scottish rogue, With his long-winded fpeeches, his fmiles and his brogue, And, madam,' quoth he, "may this bit be my poifon, Pray a flice of your liver, though may I be curft, We'll all keep a corner, the lady cried out ;" "We'll all keep a corner was echo'd about." G 4 38 HAUNCH OF VENISON. A visage so fad, and so pale with affright, But we quickly found out, for who could mistake her ? FROM THE HE wretch condemn'd with life to part, Still, ftill on hope relies ; And ev'ry pang that rends the heart, Bids expectation rife. Hope, like the glimm'ring taper's light, Adorns and cheers the way; And ftill, as darker grows the night, Emits a brighter ray. SONG. MEMORY! thou fond deceiver, Still importunate and vain, To former joys, recurring ever, And turning all the past to pain; Thou, like the world, the oppreft oppreffing, THE THE CLOWN'S REPLY. JOHN TROTT was defired by two witty peers, To tell him the reason why affes had ears ?. "An't please you," quoth John, "I'm not given "to letters, "Nor dare I pretend to know more than my betters, "Howe'er from this time I fhall ne'er fee your graces, As I hope to be fav'd! without thinking on affes.” 46 Edinburgh, 1753. EPI |