Then you'll be thought to understand The gaming table, Britain's bane, With wine and losses quite insane, And even the female sex, I see, Associate with such company See, to the brothel straight repair Their visits to the Cyprian fair, Here they do finish the debauch- Perhaps a purse, perhaps a watch, Now, fell remorse of them takes hold- But, deep in sin, They, like the sow to the mire, we're told, Return again. Next, on the constitution seize, A loathsome, virulent disease, Which power of med'cine cannot ease, So gross and foul; Both night and day it does them tease, To church, too, punctually repair, Upon a day, just once a-year, And join yourself in public prayer; By those that sway the rod of Wisdom profound. power, And always make a good report Of every thing that's done at court; With speeches warm; The patriot, next, straight make your sport, Laugh at reform. If still in verse you wish to shine, And swear all pleasures are divine, To those stretch'd on a bed of death, But, if in Virtue's course you steer, Faith's anchor quiets every fear, Its hold is firm. WRITTEN ON THE 25TH OCTOBER, 1809, BEING HIS LATE MAJESTY'S JUBILEE DAY. SOUND, sound! the silver trumpets sound; Let plains, and woods, and hills, and sky, Thy glorious, long-protracted reign, Full of eventful deeds has been ; No tyranny, that baneful thing, E'er stain'd the honour of the King. Under thy mild, paternal sway, The good example thou dost show, Like the pure streamlet, will bestow Its salutary influence clear, On all that do approach it near. Religion's dictates man obeys; Bright science thou dost patronize, |