| Citation |
AWM.734.002
8-15 Jan 1734:11, 12, 21 (733)
WARBLETTA: A Suburban Eclogue.
Not ev'ry temper rural scenes delight:
Begin my muse, a low suburbian flight.
Love, who invades the rural nymphs and swains,
No less a tyrant in the suburbs reigns;
. . . [2 lines]
Begin my muse, Warbletta's woe rehearse,
Who oft' in cadence clear has sung thy verse.
Warbletta--sweetest of the throng that squalls
Melodious ballads--at the end of Paul's;
She, whose love-sonnets with perswasive strein,
Cou'd maids, 'tis said, and prentice-boys detain;
Who on excise, the ever famous song,
You'd sing so loudly--and yet sing so long;
Alluring a wide-gaping motley band,
Whilst in their pockets div'd some nimble hand:
No more her vocal pow'r in publick tries,
But weeping to a neighb'ring gin-shop flies;
There pensive on a runlet sits alone,
And, blending gin with tears, thus makes her moan.
Galloway Tom, inveigling renegade,
The bane of ev'ry fond believing maid!
Curs'd be the day, when first I heard his name,
And kindred warblets chaunt aloud his fame.
. . . [54 lines, bemoaning the loss of Tom's affections.]
What, tho' in ballad so much skill I boast!
So long have reign'd St. Giles's favorite toast!
By pur-blind fiddlers have been often ply'd,
As often all their hated suits deny'd!
. . . [22 lines]
No more shall love-sick ditties swell my throat;
Smut shall no more obtain a warbling note;
Against Excise I'll raise my voice no more.
She said--and dozing sunk upon the floor.
The maudlin matrons cry'd--pray mark her fall!
The pow'r of gin from love defend us all.
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