Classic Poem

TO THE LATE MRS. HARDINGE .

Too late, respected Friend, I see,
Frugality 's averse to me;
Whatever I can do — to save ,
Calamities the will enslave.
The horse, Lieutenant Bates's pride,
Was rather adverse to the ride;
With kicks resenting the attack
Of such a load upon his back.
The hir'd pony from the Crown
Fell seven times completely down;
He fell, and with him the portmanteau,
With many an Ode, and many a Canto.
It was Miss Hotham , or a witch,
That jerk'd them souse into a ditch.
At Nature's call I once retir'd,
With ale and gooseberry fool inspir'd;
Bucephalus was at the gate,
And fast I thought as Gertrude's hate.
Averse, it seems, to being idle,
He made a push, and snapp'd his bridle;
Then over hills and valleys flew;
I paid for horses to pursue;
But he, to carry packs unwilling,
Robb'd your poor Son of many a shilling,
Before his Military back
Would personate a Lawyer's hack.
The Royal Oak , too fond of Dering ,
To me was rather unendearing;
A feed of corn to keep us up,
And potent ale for Edward's cup,
Enabled us to reach Town Malling ,
But still occasionally falling.
Then, for a chance of Tommy's dinner,
We took a chaise , as I 'm a sinner;
But when at last the sums were counted,
It came to more for being mounted;
Besides the tip for leading back
The Horse of Spirit and the Hack.

MORAL .

If such accounts the saving keep,
Extravagance is full as cheap.