Classic Poem

To the Tune of " Sally in Our Alley "

Since singing's grown so much in vogue
With this harmonious nation,
'Tis fit we suit our epilogue
Unto your darling passion.
Then from the courtier to the cit,
As France has done before us,
Let box, let gallery and pit
All bear a bob in chorus.

We want, Alas, the voice and gift
Of charming Senesini;
Permit us, then, to make a shift
With Signor Cibberini.
What tho' his lays he cannot raise
To soft Cuzzoni's treble,
Like Chaucer's clerk our tuneful spark
Can squeak a sweet quinible.

To please the town a thousand shapes
Like Proteus he does borrow;
A fop or clown today he apes,
A cardinal tomorrow.
Thus human nature he does trace
Thro' all its various fashions,
And suits his actions, voice, and face
To diff'rent parts and passions.

As is the darling looking-glass,
Of fops the sole direction,
So of the gentleman or ass
A player's the reflection.
For as his character he suits,
In diff'rent lights he shows you
The mighty odds 'twixt men and brutes,
T'instruct, and not expose you.

Thus in this retrospect of life
You see mankind in little;
'Twixt worth and scorn the constant strife,
And worldly joys how brittle;
How hateful vice is, spite of bags,
Of grandeur and oppression,
While truth and virtue, tho' in rags,
Are lovely past expression.

As goes a bear unto the stake
An actor treads the stage-a;
His spirit sinks, his heart does ache
For fear of critics' rage-a;
For they are such mischievous elves,
And so delight in riot,
They neither will be pleased themselves,
Or let mankind be quiet.

Oh, yield not up poor Colley's play
To party rage and spite-a,
Since he endeavours ev'ry way
To give the town delight-a;
You sav'd his last from envy's blast,
Spare then in pity this-o,
But one poor night, in mere despite
Of those who come to hiss-o.