Classic Poem

ON THE FALLING OF A SLATE FROM A HOUSE ON THE BREAST OF MRS. M. M — — .

Was Venus angry, and in spite,
Allow'd that stane to fa',
Imagining those breasts so white
Contain'd a heart of snaw?
Was her wing'd son sae cankert set,
To wound her lovely skin;
Because his arrows could not get
A passage farder in?
No: — she is to love's goddess dear,
Her smiling boy's delight. —
It was some hag, that doughtna bear
Sic charms to vex her sight.
Some silly, sour, pretending saint,
In heart an imp of hell,
Whase hale religion lies in cant,
Her virtue in wrang zeal:
She threw the stane, and ettled death;
But watching Sylphs flew round,
To guard dear Madie from all skaith,
And quickly cur'd the wound.