Classic Poem

Tune, To you fair Ladies , &c. by the D. of Dorset ,

T O you fair nymphs in rural plains,
We London beaux indite,
And hope you will excuse our strains
Who've hardly time to write:
In Park , in masquerades , and plays ,
We spend our nights , consume our days ,
With a fa, &c.
Whilst arm in arm you sadly walk
Through lanes and dirty fields,
And pass your time away in talk
Of what your country yields;
The town 's diversions we pursue,
And when we think , we think of you, With a, &c.

When just at ten your hour of sleep,
Each to her room repairs,
Our play is done, O take a peep
Of flambeaux, coaches, chairs ;
Of garter'd lords , who nightly wait
To lead you through a croud of state . With a, &c.

Without our Garrick can you live ,
Can country strollers please?
O think how much for you we grieve
For aukward tastes like these.
Dear Garrick Shakespear has restor'd,
And Shakespear now diverts my lord . With a, &c.

Of lilly's drest in fine array
You country ladies boast;
You talk of pinks and birds in May ,
But are not here a toast:
What's magpye's chat to prattling beaux?
Or goldfinch to embroider'd cloaths? With a, &c.

You say that linnets strain their throats,
And make your hedges ring,
That robin gives his sprightly notes,
And larks do sweetly sing.
But make a much politer choice,
Hear harmless, soft T ENDUCCI 's, voice. With a, &c.

When with his dirty boots your Squire ,
And weather-beaten face,
Pretends to kindle Cupid's fire,
And courts with fox and chace ;
In French brocades we shine away
And have the prettiest things to say, With a, &c.

Then haste to town our boxes grace,
Our routs and our ridotto's ;
O think how Ranelagh, dear place ,
Excels your groves and grotto's ;
Leave fifteen two and fifteen four ,
And shew in town your mattadore . With a, &c.

The Answer

T O you smart beaux in London town,
We country girls indite,
Nor think your sneers shall cause a frown,
We laugh at what you write;
At time consum'd in masquerades ,
And fortune spent on wanton jades. With a, &c.

'Tis true that arm in arm we walk,
Like friends through verdant fields,
And often spend some hours in talk
Of joys the country yields;
Much nobler sports than yours pursue,
And we can THINK tho' not of you . With a, &c.

At ten our wholesome hour of sleep,
We rather would retire,
Than have the trouble of a peep ,
And nothing to admire;
Your crouds of state are trifling things,
Your garters look like leading strings . With a, &c.

Of lillies in their fine array,
We chuse to make our boast,
Had rather hear our birds in May ,
Than be a tavern toast:
By magpye's chat no rep is lost,
For goldfinch cloaths the books are crost . With a, &c.

When charming linnets strain their throats,
And make our hedges ring,
When robin gives his sprightly notes,
And larks do sweetly sing;
Their musick better suits our choice
Than theirs who give so much for voice . With a, &c.

In dirty boots the country squire
Can shew an honest face,
Can kindle H YMEN 's lawful fire,
Nor bring us to disgrace:
In so much French you shine away,
As often spoils the things you say. With a, &c.

Can such as we your boxes grace,
Your routs or your ridottos?
A country girl's unvarnish'd face
Suits only groves and grottos .
In fifteen two there's greater skill
Than shewing mat and lose codille . With a, &c.

We own that you display some parts ,
If Garrick you admire;
But can he warm your fribbling hearts ,
With his dramatic fire?
Whilst Garrick Shakespear's self restores,
You're dangling with your green-box wh — s.