All cry they want, to every man
He gives, extravagant, a span.
Thus are they grown more fond than ever,
And he is highly in their favour.
Bright Stella, Quilca's greatest pride,
For them he scorns and lays aside;
And Sheridan is left alone
All day, to gape, and stretch, and groan;
While grumbling, poor, complaining Dingley,
Is left to care and trouble singly.
All o'er the mountains spreads the rumour,
Both of his bounty and good humour;
So that each shepherdess and swain
Comes flocking here to see the Dean.
All spread around the land, you'd swear
That every day we kept a fair.
My fields are brought to such a pass,
I have not left a blade of grass;
That all my wethers and my beeves
Are slighted by the very thieves.
At night right loath to quit the park,
His work just ended by the dark,
With all his pioneers he comes,
To make more work for whisk and brooms.
Then seated in an elbow-chair,
To take a nap he does prepare;
While two fair damsels from the lawns,
Lull him asleep with soft cronawns.
Thus are his days in delving spent,
His nights in music and content;
He seems to gain by his distress,
His friends are more, his honours less.
TO QUILCA
A COUNTRY-HOUSE OF DR.
Pages:
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406