Classic Poem

IMITATED

By Sir Fames Baker , Kt. to Lord Cad — — n.

As tender Lambs with Wolves agree,
Or as thy Holland -Spouse with thee,
(Which is but ill they tell us);
So, Baron, does it raise my Spleen
To see thy bloated Pride and Mien;
We Quality are Jealous.
Thou dar'st not surely plead thy Blood,
It runs thro' such Plebeian Mud,
No Titles can refine it:
It had, my Friend, been much more wise,
To wear thy coarse paternal Frize,
Than thus in Robes to shine it.

Thy modest kindred can aspire
In their ambitious Thoughts no higher,
Than to thy Footman's Wages:
St. Andrew 's doubly Crucify'd,
Dangling inglorious by thy Side,
Whilst they wear Parish-badges.

Now, when conspicuous from afar,
Thy Diamond, Cockade and Star,
Set all Pall-Mall a Staring:
Thy Chariot new, and nothing yet
(Except thy Arms and Coronet)
A jot the worse for Wearing.

How swift, they cry, the Noble runs
Escap'd from uncompounding Duns,
Swift as a Hare new Started:
His dear Mamma's not far behind.
But Justice, Oh! is now stark Blind;
Ah, Sirs, she ne'er was Carted!

Slaves think thee an important Lord,
In Senate and at Council-Board,
In Camps a Son of Thunder;
But sure, as I'm a valiant Knight,
If Marlb'rough taught thee not to Fight,
He taught thee how to Plunder.

Tho' fierce in Scarlet Sash and Plume,
Yet shou'd the needy Clans presume
To re-unite their Forces;
They yet might see their KING restor'd
Without much Blood: The Baron's Sword
Is best at cutting Purses.