Quaint Gleanings from Ancient Poetry

e Levite it keeps from Parochial Duty,
For who can at once mind Religion and Beauty?
The Rich it alarms with Expences and Trouble,
And a poor Beast, you know, can scarce carry double.
'Twas invented, they tell you, to keep us from falling;
Oh the Virtues and Graces of shrill Caterwauling!
How it palls in your Gain; but, pray, how do you know, Sir, How often your Neighbour breaks in your Enclosure?
For this is the principal Comforts of Marriage,
You must eat tho' a hundred have spit in your Porridg.
If at night you're inactive, or fail in performing,
Enter Thunder and Lightning, and Blood-shed, next Morning;
Lust's the Bone of your Shanks, O dear Mr. Horner:
This comes of your sinning with Crape in a Corner.
Then to make up the Breach all your Strength you must rally, And labour and sweat like a Slave in a Gaily;
And still you must charge--O blessed Condition!--
Tho' you know, to your cost, you've no more Ammunition:
Till at last the poor