For all the human race, both Man and Woman,
To Dance their rounds is evident and common:

DAVID of yore,-that good and mighty King,

Would dance betimes,---and dance as well as sing;
Lords, who at Court, would wish to keep their ground,
Must also dance the year attendance round.
Whole nations dance together:-frisking France,

Has led our kingdoms many a woeful dance!
Some folks will tell that Portugal and Spain,
Are now resolv'd to take us out again!

And should we go to dance by Sea or Land,

May GEORGE THE FOURTH still dance the upper hand. All Nature now is one great Ball we find,

The Water daily dancing to the Wind;

The Sea itself, both Morning, Night and Noon,

Rises, and capers to the very Moon!

The Moon herself, around the earth does tread,

A zig-zag cheshire round in orient red:

The Earth and Planets dance around the Sun,

And GOD HIMSELF knows when their dance is done! But when great Nature's in one Chaos blended,

Then we can justly say, the Ball is ended.

THE

HYMENEAL ORGIES;

OR,

THE PRIEST'S BEST PENNY.

I greet my Muse, who may be fairly counted, A Lazy-Hack as ever Poet mounted:

A Jade, that ev'ry Blockhead would enjoy,
But still in vain; because extremely coy:
Yet, by mere dint of serious Invocation,

I mean to win, or pitch her to damnation!!!
As all our Grand and Petit Jurors do,

And oft 'tis known the Priest! and Parson too!

With or without her aid, I sing the Wedding,
From scratching time at dawn, to th' hour of bedding;
Till Pork and Whiskey clos'd the festive scene,

And Tague was ripe to grunt with Catteleen.

Soon as bright Sol our dunghills did adorn,

And crowing Cocks, and Cur-dogs hail'd the morn; When smoke in volumes roll'd o'er thatchless roofs, And Tinkers, Pipers, Bag-men on the hoofs,

Cast from their Kennels and forsaken fleas,

Allow'd their blood-stain'd nails a writ of ease.

When scrubbing, scouring, scalding, broom and shovel,

Combin'd to grace and 'ornament the hovel :
Joan's kindred friends, a motley group complete,
Flock'd in from ev'ry side to grace the Fete ;
To prove their prowess and their teeth to try,
And Potteen's known omnipotence defy:
To howl such notes as cannot be forgot,
And revel in a systematic trot.

Our Barber first a most judicious wight,

To scalp a mazzard, or a jest recite,

Came foremost half an Hamlet to unbristle,

E're he would grease his chops or wet his whistle,

With hand so tremulous and blunted saw,
To hack and lacerate a leatheren jaw.

The solemn Clerk innur'd to gulp and swill,
To tell old tales, and catechise with skill;
With Wake, and Chapel-news an ample store,
The Priest himself had scarcely treasur'd more;
And with sound lungs and memory complete
Th' admiring flock pronounc'd him a Gazette;
To prove him hungry and sincerely thirsting,
Work'd double tides 'till rotten ripe for bursting:
Determined still to play the hardy sinner,

And with full gout to gormandize a dinner;
The dingy Smith, be-dusted and be-sweated,

With fresh Forge-news each stragling Guest he treated:
The Miller next came forward to reveal,

The woeful: wonders of a hopper tale;

The Constable by virtue of his staff,

Arriv'd betimes, thirsting a flood to quaff;"
To keep the peace obedient to his Worship,

And wrest from daring-hands the Pike and Horse-whip.
The Bleeder and the Cow-leech came together,

With sage foreboding of the wind and weather;

With solemn gait and hypocritic air,

To win respect and feast on dainty fare.

The snuffling Groom, whose purple nose was wry'd; The valient Cobler, oft in battle tried;

And limping Luke, and Barnaby the strong,
This fam'd for wrestling,-that renown'd for song;
Next Gerund-Grinder, whose sublime, orations,
Play hide and seek with all the conjugations;

In loud debate the Priest he values not,
And can spout Latin fast as curs can trot;
With knowledge great, and faculties so good,
When most he speaks he least is understood;
With learning pregnant ancient manners grac'd,
Confess'd a Delphian-Oracle at least.

The Taylor nimble as an August-flea,

At length arriv'd, to frisk the hours away;
The Clowns despising ev'ry Fop so nice,
No form would furnish for the King of L**e!
Unask'd he came and not a bit remain'd,
But Bacon-skins of juice and substance drain'd;
The blunted knives no morsel could divide,
His scissors here the painful task supplied;