Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/327

 COUNTESS OF WINCHILSEA ���189 ���At this expence of Time, and Travel know? �Alas! that swearing, staring, bullying Thing, �That tore his Throat, and blustered with his Wing, �Was but some paltry, Dunghill, Craven Cock, �Who serves the early Household for a Clock. 60 �And We his Oats, and Barley often steal, �Nor fear, he shou'd revenge the pilfer' d Meal: �Whilst that demure, and seeming harmless Puss �Herself, and mewing Chits regales with Us. �If then, of useful sense thou'st gain'd no more, �Than ere thou'dst past the Threshold of my Door; �Be here, my Son, content to Dress and Dine, �Steeping the List of Beauties in thy Wine, �And neighb'ring Vermin with false Gloss outshine. �Amongst Mankind a Thousand Fops we see, 70 �Who in their Rambles learn no more than Thee; Cross o'er the Alpes, and make the Tour of France To learn a paltry Song, or antick Dance; Bringing their Noddles, and Valizes pack'd With Mysteries, from Shops and Taylors wreck'd: But what may prejudice their Native Land; Whose Troops are raising, or whose Fleet is mann'd, Ne'er moves their Thoughts, nor do they understand. Thou, my dear Rattlehead, and such as These Might keep at home, and brood on Sloth and Ease; 80 Whilst Others, more adapted to the Age, May vig'rously in Warlike Feats engage, And live on foreign Spoils, or dying thin the Stage. �THE EXECUTOR �A Greedy Heir long waited to fulfill, As his Executor, a Kinsman's Will; And to himself his Age repeated o'er, To his Infirmities still adding more; ��� �