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(1744)
O LINCOLN! joy of womankind! | |
| To you this humble ode’s designed: | |
| Let —— inspire my song: | |
| Gods! with what powers are you endu’d! | |
| Tiberius was not half so lewd, | 5 |
| Nor Hercules so strong. | |
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| ’Tis —— now my pen employs, | |
| And since I sing of heav’nly joys, | |
| From heaven my notes I’ll bring; | |
| And tho’ the lyric strain I chuse, | 10 |
| I’ll open like the Mantuan muse— | |
| “——, and the man I sing.” | |
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| But don’t expect much flattery | |
| From such an honest bard as me, | |
| Dear, noble, vigorous youth; | 15 |
| For when I say that you —— more | |
| Than ever mortal did before, | |
| You know I say the truth. | |
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| Four times a night, some happy fair, | |
| You —— throughout the gliding year, | 20 |
| This course of joy pursuing; | |
| Of feats like these what annals speak, | |
| ’Tis eight and twenty times a week, | |
| And, Faith! that’s glorious doing. | |
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| Had Messalina —— with you, | 25 |
| Whom no then man could e’er subdue, | |
| Tho’ many a Roman tried: | |
| She’d own your vigor and your charms, | |
| And, melting, dying in your arms, | |
| Cry’d out —— “I’m satisfied!” | 30 |
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| Then still love on with loosen’d reins, | |
| While youth is boiling in your veins, | |
| And sparkles in your face; | |
| With w—— be lewd, with Whigs be hearty, | |
| And both in ——, and in party, | 35 |
| Confess your noble race. | |
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| To you and steady Pelham then, | |
| With joy I’ll dedicate my pen, | |
| For both shall be my theme; | |
| Since both divided England share, | 40 |
| You have the love of every fair, | |
| He every man’s esteem. | |
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