Classic Poem

Upon my life, Sir Nevis, I am piqued
That I have so far panted tugged and reeked
To do an honour to your old bald pate
And now am sitting on you just to bate,
Without your paying me one compliment.
Alas, 'tis so with all, when our intent
Is plain, and in the eye of all mankind
We fair ones show a preference, too blind!
You gentlemen immediately turn tail —
O let me then my hapless fate bewail!
Ungrateful baldpate, have I not disdained
The pleasant valleys, have I not, mad-brained,
Deserted all my pickles and preserves,
My china closet too — with wretched nerves
To boot — say, wretched ingrate, have I not
Left my soft cushion chair and caudle pot?
'Tis true I had no corns — no! thank the fates,
My shoemaker was always Mr Bates.
And if not Mr Bates, why I'm not old!
Still dumb, ungrateful Nevis — still so cold!

(Here the lady took some more whiskey and was putting even more to her lips when shedashed [it] to the ground for the mountain began to grumble — which continued for a fewminutes, before he thus began,)

Ben Nevis
What whining bit of tongue and mouth thus dares
Disturb my slumber of a thousand years?
Even so long my sleep has been secure —
And to be so awaked I'll not endure.
O, pain! — for since the eagle's earliest scream
I've had a damned confounded ugly dream,
A nightmare sure. What, Madam, was it you?
It cannot be! My old eyes are not true!
Red Crag, my spectacles! Now let me see!
Good Heavens, Lady, how the gemini
Did you get here? O I shall split my sides!
I shall earthquake —

Mrs C.
Sweet Nevis, do not quake, for though I love
Your honest Countenance all things above,
Truly I should not like to be conveyed
So far into your bosom — gentle maid
Loves not too rough a treatment, gentle Sir —
Pray thee be calm and do not quake nor stir,
No, not a stone, or I shall go in fits —

Ben Nevis
I must — I shall! I meet not such tit-bits —
I meet not such sweet creatures every day!
By my old night-cap, night-cap night and day,
I must have one sweet buss — I must and shall!
Red Crag! — What, Madam, can you then repent
Of all the toil and vigour you have spent
To see Ben Nevis and to touch his nose?
Red Crag, I say! O I must have you close!
Red Crag, there lies beneath my farthest toe
A vein of sulphur — go, dear Red Crag, go —
And rub your flinty back against it. Budge!
Dear Madam, I must kiss you, faith I must!
I must embrace you with my dearest gust!
Blockhead, d'ye hear — Blockhead, I'll make her feel —
There lies beneath my east leg's northern heel
A cave of young earth dragons — well, my boy,
Go thither quick and so complete my joy.
Take you a bundle of the largest pines
And, where the sun on fiercest phosphor shines,
Fire them and ram them in the dragon's nest,
Then will the dragons fry and fizz their best,
Until ten thousand now no bigger than
Poor Alligators — poor things of one span —
Will each one swell to twice ten times the size
Of northern whale. Then for the tender prize —
The moment then — for then will Red Crag rub
His flinty back — and I shall kiss and snub
And press my dainty morsel to my breast.
Blockhead, make haste!
O Muses weep the rest —
The lady fainted, and he thought her dead,
So pulled the clouds again about his head,
And went to sleep again — soon she was roused
By her affrighted servants. Next day housed
Safe on the lowly ground she blessed her fate.
That fainting fit was not delayed too late.