Our genial poet thus invites his friends to a Shrove-Tuesday feast:—
Come and take at my table a seat,
(Tho' granting the times may be bad.)
Now and then a good Dinner I get,
And my share of good ale I have had.
Complaining would be a mere folly:
I ne'er had the Gravel nor Gout;
Shrove Tuesday's the time to be jolly,
So pass the glass briskly about.
Impatient the people are grown
For news-all suspense to dispel;
At Amiens the work's nearly done,
In Amity may we dwell.
Animosities hence done away,
Bright Commerce enliv'ning the shore,
Let this be the Toast of the day,
"Good Fellowship all the world o'er,"
The last card in our possession summons the guests to a Society Feast, and alludes to a terrible time indeed. The date is November 27, 1799. It is as follows—
When Sixpenny Loaves but two pounders appear,
Strange murmurs are sure to be heard everywhere;
Long remembered twill be-let who will draw the line,
IHow eccentric things run through the Year Ninety-nine;
Out of joint are the Seasons-and wond'rous to say!
May look'd like November—November like May.
But Sadness be banish'd-o'er good English cheer
Let's strive to be happy, through Life as we steer.
Whate'er on the War pro or con may be said,
As most people think Blood enough has been shed,
Should a Truce be brought forward-how happy to find it--
A Peace I presume would not long be behind it;
Which Blessing, when certain to be near at hand,
Will Pleasure uncommon! spread over the Land.
And thus the Birmingham Book Club has the honour of being the oldest literary society in the town, and of having had "Freeth the Poet" for one of its earliest members.
