Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/180

180 What may thy business be, a formal call? Then take a chair and sit, as if thou 'dst none at all.

Be amiable, I pray thee now, sweet guest! I would not harm thee, that were sport unkind, Thou cam'st, Sir Wasp, like knight with lance in rest, Hoping perchance, some tournament to find, But yet I mean not thou my veins shalt probe, So find some other tilt-yard, prithee, than my robe.

Thou giv'st a warrior's warning, bold and fair, Like Ajax valiant, or Achilles proud, Thou lay'st no ambush, no deceitful snare, But sound'st thy tiny trumpet long and loud, Through which, a moral lesson thou art teaching Backbiters and false friends.—Would that they heeded preaching!

Who knows but what among thy kindred brood Some leech thou art, of credit and renown, And so thou com'st, forsooth, to let me blood!— Haste—leave my arm, or I must help thee down! I 've fear'd the doctors marvellously, ever Since they gave brandy in the spotted fever.—

Mayhap I do misconstrue thee.—Well! well— The best are fallible,—and I will strive If but thy hidden virtues thou wilt tell, To be as just as any one alive;— I would not, even fly or flea should say, I took their reputations wilfully away.—

Dost thou make honey? Sure! I had not thought it, Such beverage must be exceeding rare, I trow the critic gentry may have bought it, To neutralize their very acid fare.—