194
Tixall Poetry.
But ah he danced with a grace,
None like him ere was seene,
Noe god that ever fancied was
Had halfe soe good, a meine.
None like him ere was seene,
Noe god that ever fancied was
Had halfe soe good, a meine.
To Jemmy every swaine
Did lowly doff his bonnet,
And every lass would straine
To please him in her sonnet:
The pride of al the youth he was,
The glory of the grove,
The pleasure of each tender lass,
The theame of all their love.
Did lowly doff his bonnet,
And every lass would straine
To please him in her sonnet:
The pride of al the youth he was,
The glory of the grove,
The pleasure of each tender lass,
The theame of all their love.
But oh! unlucky fate!
A curse upon ambition!
The busie fopps of state
Have ruin'd his condition.
For glittering hopes he's left this shade,
His glorious houres are gone,
By flattering knaves and fooles betraid,
Poore Jemmy is undone.
A curse upon ambition!
The busie fopps of state
Have ruin'd his condition.
For glittering hopes he's left this shade,
His glorious houres are gone,
By flattering knaves and fooles betraid,
Poore Jemmy is undone.
