FAIRER than the queen of love,
Constant as the turtle Dove;
Sweeter than the smiling May,
Calmer than the close of day,
Is the maid whose name I sing
--Shepherds find out who I mean.
Take that line around our sphere
Phoebus passes twice a year:
Take that passion forming nature,
Pour'd unbounded in each creature.
What the coxcomb's brow adorns,
(Pardon cuckolds, 'tis not horns.)
What the bigot calls his rage
And the central part of stage.
To the Jolly God of wine
Heaven's brilliant coachman join.
Morning of the human day
Full of innocence and play.
What the paltry scribbler writes
When the envious maggot bites.
Where the river wide o'erflowing
Sets the leeks and onions growing.
What we once perceived plain,
But will ne'er behold again.
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