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66 PEACOCK
The Muse, this cold weather, sleeps up at Parnassus,
And leaves us poor poets as stupid as asses.
She'll tarry still longer, if she has a warm chamber,
A store of old massie, ambrosia, and amber.
Dear mother, don't laugh, you may think she is tipsy
And I, if a poet, must drink like a gipsy.
Suppose I should borrow the horse of Jack Stenton
A finer ridden beast no muse ever went on
Pegasus' fleet wings perhaps now are frozen,
I'll send her old Stenton's, I know I've well chosen ;
Be it frost, be it thaw, the horse can well canter ;
The sight of the beast cannot help to enchant her.
All the boys at our school are well, tho' yet many
Are suffered, at home, to suck eggs with their
granny.
" To-morrow," says daddy, " you must go, my
dear Billy,
To Englefield House ;
do not cry, you are silly."
Says the mother, all dressed in silk and in satin,
" Don't cram the poor boy with your Greek and your
Latin,
I'll have him a little longer before mine own eyes,
To nurse him and feed him with tarts and mince-
pies ;
We'll send him to school when the weather is warmer ;
"
Come kiss me, my pretty, my sweet little charmer !
But now I must banish all fun and all
folly,
So doleful's the news I am going to tell : ye
Poor Wade, my schoolfellow, lies low in the gravel,
One month ere fifteen put an end to his travel ;
Harmless and mild, and remark'd for good nature ;
The cause of his death was his overgrown stature :