Classic Poem

Friend, with regard to this same hare,
Am I to hope, or to despair?
By punctual post the letter came,
With P LL 's hand, and P LL 's name:
Yet there appear'd, for love or money,
Nor hare, nor leveret, nor coney.
Say, my dear Morgan, has my lord,
Like other great ones kept his word?
Or have you been deceiv'd by 'squire?
Or has your poacher lost his wire?
Or in some unpropitious hole,
Instead of puss, trepann'd a mole?
Thou valiant son of great Cadwallader,
Hast thou a hare, or hast thou swallow'd her?
But now, me thinks, I hear you say,
(And shake your head) " Ah, well-a-day!
Painful pre-em'nence to be wise,
We wits have such short memories.
Oh, that the Act was not in force!
A horse! — my kindom for a horse!
To love — yet be deny'd the sport!
Oh! for a friend or two at court!
God knows, there's scarce a man of quality
In all our peerless principality — "
But hold — for on his country joking,
To a warm Welchman's most provoking.
[So truce with your reflections national
And to the point in order rational.]
As for poor puss, upon my honour,
I never set my heart upon her.
But any gift from friend to friend,
Is pleasing in its aim and end.
I, like the cock, wou'd spurn a jewel,
Sent by th' unkind, th' unjust, and cruel.
But honest P LL ! — Sure from him
A barley-corn wou'd be a gem.
Pleas'd therefore had I been, and proud,
And prais'd thy generous heart aloud,
If 'stead of hare (but do not blab it)
You'd sent me only a Welch rabbit.

On the non-performance of a promise he made the author of a hare

Friend, with regard to this same hare,
Am I to hope, or to despair?
By punctual post the letter came,
With Powell's hand, and Powell's name:
Yet there appeared, for love nor money,
Nor hare, nor leveret, nor coney.
Say, my dear Morgan, has my Lord
Like other great ones kept his word?
Or have you been deceived by squire?
Or has your poacher lost his wire,
Or in some unpropitious hole,
Instead of puss, trepanned a mole?
Thou valiant son of great Cadwallader,
Hast thou a hare or hast thou swallowed her?

But now methinks I hear you say,
(And shake your head) " Ah, well-a-day!
Painful pre-eminence to be wise,
We wits have such short memories!
Oh, that the Act was not in force!
A horse — my kingdom for a horse!
To love — yet be denied the sport!
Oh, for a friend or two at court!
God knows, there's scarce a man of quality
In all our peerless Principality — "

But hold — for on his Country joking,
To a warm Welchman's most provoking.
As for poor puss, upon my honour,
I never set my heart upon her.
But any gift from friend to friend
Is pleasing in its aim and end.
I, like the cock, would spurn a jewel
Sent by th'unkind, th'unjust, or cruel.
But honest Powell — sure, from him
A barley-corn would be a gem.
Pleased therefore had I been, and proud,
And praised thy generous heart aloud,
If 'stead of hare (but do not blab it)
You'd send me only a Welch Rabbit.