Sent to a neglectful Friend from Bath .
What! forsake without a Cause?
Outrage this to Friendship's Laws;
Give me but to know the Reason,
Neither high or petty Treason;
Have I schem'd 'gainst you or State —
Why incur your Slight, or Hate?
Wherefore to Siberia sent?
How deserv'd this Banishment?
Ever since September last,
Not a single Line has past;
If to B AKER 's you'd address'd me,
Friendly Letter had not miss'd me;
For an Agent I've in Town,
Who remits my Packets down:
Full six Weeks I've sojourn'd here,
Scribbling daily, foul or fair:
Into Wales too I've been rambling,
C ARDIFF Bounds once more perambling;
But 'bove all, a Piece of News,
(Fuel shortly for Reviews)
I've engag'd to bring to Light,
A bold Octave , for public Sight:
In second Month of coming Year,
(If Heav'n so grant my Health to spare)
I design to give it Birth;
A motley Tome as e'er on Earth.
Subscription is my present Mode;
And here I print — of London Road,
I've got a Surfeit — cheating Elves!
Excise my Brain, to fat themselves!
From Wales I've many a worthy Name,
And your's I'll add to swell my Fame;
Bustle amongst your Country Friends,
Trust me 'twill answer all their Ends;
Nor can the Rate be thought too dear,
When Fish and Flesh, and all that's rare,
Is smoking set upon the Board,
Might tempt the Stomach of a Lord:
But what's the Shot? — I hear you cry;
First, Half-a-Crown; and (by the bye)
Another when the Fare's on Table,
Then fall to, — Knise and Fork most able.
Next Week I purpose taking Flight,
A London Rout, that goodly Sight!
But as I ride my own dear Lad,
(Late bought in Wales ) I mean my Nag;
I shall with gentle Pace proceed,
Tho' trust me he's of racing Speed:
You must remember Larth in June,
At Cardiff starting, (out of Tune,
I must confess) and yet with M E ,
He's all I wish a Horse should be,
Easy, genteel, and sprightly free.
To give him Proof of my Esteem,
I've dub'd him C HURCHILL — glorious Theme!
'Twou'd do you good to see him prance,
I'm sure he must been taught in France;
But when I press his conscious Back ,
And hold Discourse in wanton Clack,
He pricks his Ears, looks nobly great,
Informs me with a C HURCHILL 's Heat.
In Course of next ensuing Week,
My Crondal Friend at Home I'll seek:
Then say not like a Thief by Night,
I came to chill you with Affright;
Expect me rapping at your Door —
Now fare you well, at pres. no more.
What! forsake without a Cause?
Outrage this to Friendship's Laws;
Give me but to know the Reason,
Neither high or petty Treason;
Have I schem'd 'gainst you or State —
Why incur your Slight, or Hate?
Wherefore to Siberia sent?
How deserv'd this Banishment?
Ever since September last,
Not a single Line has past;
If to B AKER 's you'd address'd me,
Friendly Letter had not miss'd me;
For an Agent I've in Town,
Who remits my Packets down:
Full six Weeks I've sojourn'd here,
Scribbling daily, foul or fair:
Into Wales too I've been rambling,
C ARDIFF Bounds once more perambling;
But 'bove all, a Piece of News,
(Fuel shortly for Reviews)
I've engag'd to bring to Light,
A bold Octave , for public Sight:
In second Month of coming Year,
(If Heav'n so grant my Health to spare)
I design to give it Birth;
A motley Tome as e'er on Earth.
Subscription is my present Mode;
And here I print — of London Road,
I've got a Surfeit — cheating Elves!
Excise my Brain, to fat themselves!
From Wales I've many a worthy Name,
And your's I'll add to swell my Fame;
Bustle amongst your Country Friends,
Trust me 'twill answer all their Ends;
Nor can the Rate be thought too dear,
When Fish and Flesh, and all that's rare,
Is smoking set upon the Board,
Might tempt the Stomach of a Lord:
But what's the Shot? — I hear you cry;
First, Half-a-Crown; and (by the bye)
Another when the Fare's on Table,
Then fall to, — Knise and Fork most able.
Next Week I purpose taking Flight,
A London Rout, that goodly Sight!
But as I ride my own dear Lad,
(Late bought in Wales ) I mean my Nag;
I shall with gentle Pace proceed,
Tho' trust me he's of racing Speed:
You must remember Larth in June,
At Cardiff starting, (out of Tune,
I must confess) and yet with M E ,
He's all I wish a Horse should be,
Easy, genteel, and sprightly free.
To give him Proof of my Esteem,
I've dub'd him C HURCHILL — glorious Theme!
'Twou'd do you good to see him prance,
I'm sure he must been taught in France;
But when I press his conscious Back ,
And hold Discourse in wanton Clack,
He pricks his Ears, looks nobly great,
Informs me with a C HURCHILL 's Heat.
In Course of next ensuing Week,
My Crondal Friend at Home I'll seek:
Then say not like a Thief by Night,
I came to chill you with Affright;
Expect me rapping at your Door —
Now fare you well, at pres. no more.