The Race

AS the Farmer went over his corn ripen'd land,
And counted encrease of his grain,
Scarlet poppies he saw down the long furrows stand,
Like soldiers, in lines on the plain.
Quoth he, though in Learning I am not well skill'd,
In mem'ry this maxim I'll keep,
Those weeds among wheat, shew when belly is fill'd
We have nothing to do but to sleep.

Each scene of creation that opes to our view,
Affords contemplation a theme,
As blossoms enamell'd by drops of bright dew,
With di'monds so Court-beauties beam.
See grape to grape swelling, transparent on vine,
That fruit is an emblem of bliss;
Balmy lip to lip Lovers as lusciously join,
And the nectar enjoy of a Kiss.

While Britons, like Britons, dare English Taste own,
Success on our strength could depend;
We now, by importing enervate Bon Ton,
To impotent Idlers descend.
We wed without Love, we attempt without Powers,
And strengthless, and senseless, in swarms,
Insipid as butterflies, basking on flowers,
The fribbles fill fine womens arms.

If Bacchus and Ceres were drove from Love's court,
Desire must frozen depart!
Roast Beef quantum suff. and take tantum Red Port,
They steel the Main-spring of the Heart.
Cou'd we Venus consult, why indeed so we may,
Since each circle a Venus supplies,
I'll back my opinion, those beauties will say
A Milksop's the thing we despise,

The Elixir of Love in our full bottles view,
For Beauty's sake Bumpers embrace;
While kept in this Training we can't but come through,
For Give-and-Take Plates in Love's Race.
Success to that Meeting, where each against each,
Well mounted, push forward to win,
For third, fourth, or fifth heats, they rallying stretch,
And, neck to neck, nimbly come in.