At length, blind Fate, that drives us all, Brought him at Even to _Vauxhall_, What Time the eager Matron jerks Her slow Spouse to the _Water-Works_, And the coy Spinster, half-afraid Consults the _Hermit_ in the Shade. Dazed with the Din and Crowd, the 'Squire Sank in a Seat before the Choir. The FAUSTINETTA, fair and showy, Warbled an Air from _Arsinoë_, Playing her Bosom and her Eyes As Swans do when they agonize. Alas! to some a Mug of Ale Is better than an _Orphic Tale_! The 'Squire grew dull, the 'Squire grew bored; His chin dropt down; he slept; he snored. Then, straying thro' the "poppied Reign," He dreamed him at _Clod-Hall_ again; He heard once more the well-known Sounds, The Crack of Whip, the Cry of Hounds.
He rubbed his Eyes, woke up, and lo! A Change had come upon the Show. Where late the Singer stood, a Fellow, Clad in a Jockey's Coat of Yellow, Was mimicking a Cock that crew. Then came the Cry of Hounds anew, _Yoicks! Stole Away!_ and harking back; Then Ringwood leading up the Pack. The 'Squire in Transport slapped his Knee At this most hugeous Pleasantry. The sawn Wood followed; last of all The Man brought something in a Shawl,-- Something that struggled, scraped, and squeaked As Porkers do, whose tails are tweaked. Our honest 'Squire could scarcely sit So excellent he thought the Wit. But when _Sir Wag_ drew off the Sheath And showed there was no Pig beneath, His pent-up Wonder, Pleasure, Awe, Exploded in a long Guffaw: And, to his dying Day, he'd swear That Naught in Town the Bell could bear From "Jockey wi' the Yellow Coat That had a Farm-Yard in his Throat!"
MORAL THE FIRST you may discover: The 'Squire was like TITANIA'S lover; He put a squeaking Pig before The Harmony of CLAYTON'S Score.
MORAL THE SECOND--not so clear; But still it shall be added here: He praised the Thing he understood; 'Twere well if every Critic would.
When do the reasoning Powers decline? The Ancients said at Forty-Nine. At Forty-Nine behoves it then To quit the Inkhorn and the Pen, Since ARISTOTLE so decreed. Premising thus, we now proceed.
In that thrice-favoured Northern Land, Where most the Flowers of Thought expand, And all things nebulous grow clear, Through Spectacles and Lager-Beer, There lived, at _Dumpelsheim_ the Lesser, A certain High-Dutch Herr Professor. Than GROTIUS more alert and quick, More logical than BURGERSDYCK, His Lectures both so much transcended, That far and wide his Fame extended, Proclaiming him to every clime Within a Mile of _Dumpelsheim_. But chief he taught, by Day and Night, The Doctrine of the Stagirite, Proving it fixed beyond Dispute, In Ways that none could well refute; For if by Chance 'twas urged that Men O'er-stepped the Limit now and then, He'd show unanswerably still Either that all they did was "Nil," Or else 'twas marked by Indication Of grievous mental Degradation: Nay--he could even trace, they say, That Degradation to a Day.