ON A SPANIEL, CALLED BEAU, KILLING A YOUNG BIRD. [July 15, 1793.] A SPANIEL, Beau, that fares like you, But you have kill'd a tiny bird, Nor did you kill that you might eat, For him, though chas'd with furious heat, Nor was he of the thievish sort, 224 ON A SPANIEL, CALLED BEAU. My dog! what remedy remains, 225 BEAU'S REPLY. SIR, when I flew to seize the bird You cried-forbear-but in my breast Yet much as nature I respect, And when your linnet on a day, Had flutter'd all his strength away, Well knowing him a sacred thing, I only kiss'd his ruffled wing, 226 ON A SPANIEL, CALLED BEAU. Let my obedience then excuse Nor some reproof yourself refuse If killing birds be such a crime, What think you, Sir, of killing Time With verse address'd to me? FROM A LETTER TO THE REV. MR. NEWTON, Late Rector of St. Mary Woolnoth. [Dated May 28, 1782.] SAYS the pipe to the snuff-box, I can't understand, What the ladies and gentlemen see in your face, That you are in fashion all over the land, Do but see what a pretty contemplative air Or, at least would suppose them the wise men of Gotham. 1 My breath is as sweet as the breath of blow roses, While you are a nuisance where'er you pear; 228 FROM A LETTER TO THE REV. MR. NEWTON. There is nothing but sniv'ling and blowing of noses, Such a noise as turns any man's stomach to hear. Then lifting his lid in a delicate way, And op'ning his mouth with a smile quite engaging, The box in reply was heard plainly to say, If you have a little of merit to claim, You may think the sweet-smelling Virginian weed, And I, if I seem to deserve any blame, The before-mentioned drug in apology plead. Thus neither the praise nor the blame is our own, No room for a sneer, much less a cachinnus, We are vehicles, not of tobacco alone, But of any thing else they may choose to put in us. |