[11]
Tenants with sighs the smoakless Tow'rs survey,
And turn th' unwilling Steeds another way,
Benighted wanderers, the Forest o'er,
Curse the sav'd Candle, and unopening Door:
While the gaunt Mastiff, growling at the Gate,
Affrights the Begger whom he longs to eat.
And turn th' unwilling Steeds another way,
Benighted wanderers, the Forest o'er,
Curse the sav'd Candle, and unopening Door:
While the gaunt Mastiff, growling at the Gate,
Affrights the Begger whom he longs to eat.
Not so his Son, he mark'd this oversight,
And then mistook reverse of wrong for right:
For what to shun will no great knowledge need,
But what to follow is a task indeed.
What slaughter'd Hecatombs, what floods of wine,
Fill the capacious Squire and deep Divine!
Yet no mean motive this profusion draws,
His Oxen perish in his Country's cause.
'Tis the dear Prince (Sir John) that crowns thy cup,
And Zeal for his great House that eats thee up.
The woods recede around the naked seat,
The sylvans groan—no matter—"for the Fleet."
Next goes his wool—"to clothe our valiant bands:"
Last, for his country's love, he sells his lands.
Bankrupt, at Court in vain he pleads his cause,
His thankless Country leaves him to her Laws.
And then mistook reverse of wrong for right:
For what to shun will no great knowledge need,
But what to follow is a task indeed.
What slaughter'd Hecatombs, what floods of wine,
Fill the capacious Squire and deep Divine!
Yet no mean motive this profusion draws,
His Oxen perish in his Country's cause.
'Tis the dear Prince (Sir John) that crowns thy cup,
And Zeal for his great House that eats thee up.
The woods recede around the naked seat,
The sylvans groan—no matter—"for the Fleet."
Next goes his wool—"to clothe our valiant bands:"
Last, for his country's love, he sells his lands.
Bankrupt, at Court in vain he pleads his cause,
His thankless Country leaves him to her Laws.
The
