WE Men wou’d fain monopolize all Wit,
And e’er since Adam nam’d the Beasts, claim’d it,
Thinking in that, by him, our Patent writ.
How grosly we mistook, Orinda knew,
We are convinc’d too by your Verse and You.
‘Tis true, at Ten, we’re sent to th’ whipping fry,
To tug at Classick Oars, and trembling lye
Under Gill‘s heavy lash, or Buzby‘s Eye.
At Eighteen, we to King’s or Trinity are sent,
And nothing less than Laureate will content;
We search all Sects, (like Systematick Fools)
And sweat o’er Horace for Poetick Rules.
Yet after all these Mountain-throes and din,
At length drops out some poor crude Sooterkin,
And makes—cob Tonson vex’t he e’er put in.
But here a Lady, with less noise and pain,
Lays by her Bobbins, Tape, and Point-Lorrain;
Attends her serene Soul, till forth she brought
Fancy well-shap’t, and true digested Thought.
Shadwell and Settle yield she hath the knack,
And swear she will out-doe Revolting Jack;
She cloaths her Sence in such a modest Style,
That her chast Lines no Reader can defile.
Madam, your happy Vein we all admire,
Pure unmix’t rays (just so Ethereal fire
Will shine above the Atmosphere of gross desire,)
Brisk Ayrs, chast Sence, and most delighting Lays;
Take off your Top-knots, and put on the Bays.
S. C. Esq.
© Jane Barker
READ MORE POEMS BY THIS POET:
- A Song: “The Heart You Lest, When You Took Mine”
- To Ovid’s Heroines In His Epistles
- To Madam Jane Barker
- The Last Sayings Of A Mouse
- Advice to his Friends, lamenting the Death of I. F.
- The Middle Sister, Ascribed To Clarinda
- A Second Epistle. To My Honoured Friend Mr. E. S.
- A Virgin Life
- Song: “Damon To Sylvia, When Alone”
- The Petition. A Song.