Epigram On Hearing A Clergyman Preach A Dull Sermon In A Loud, Shrill Voice

Still, still his bell-like voice rings through my head;
Yet not one bright thought cheers my mental view;
O! would that I were deaf, asleep, or dead!
Ye marble statues! how I envy you!

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To hear him preach the Methodistic creed,
What eager crowds to Ranter's chapel speed!
His eloquence the harden'd sinner frightens;
Like heaven itself says Fame, he thunders, lightens.
I go to hear him; Fame has made a blunder;
I see no lightning, though I hear the thunder.

For flowery sermons Doctor Drudge
    Of preachers at the top is;
If from their influence we may judge,
    His flowers are only poppies.

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Sir! you're both fool and knave! to Frank, Blunt cries
I know I am, Sir, Frank to Blunt replies:
Now, in self-knowledge if all knowledge lies,
A fool, like Frank, must be extremely wise!

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Vice is a mouse-trap, pleasure is the bait,
Like mice, enticing mortals to their fate;
And of this truth experience leaves no doubt;
'Tis far more easy to get in than out.

Old maids their spleen on marriage vent;
    The reason would you know?
'Tis not, that others are made wives,
    But that they can't be so.

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How grave he looks! how mighty wise!
He seems Minerva's sacred bird:
He speaks! our ears refute our eyes
The cackling of a goose is heard.

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How came that Jew, deform'd and old,
To wed the youthful, fair Coquette?
Ben had a purse well-stored with gold!
He caught her in't; 'twas Hymen's net!
Flirtilla's teeth, well-form'd and white,
Were Hymen's pincers, and could bite!
When the Royal Exchange to the flames fell a prey,
All the Monarchs and Queens from their niches were thrown;
Lackaday! on the pavement in fragments they lay,
Every one except Charley the Second alone.
Strange event! O my Muse! to blind mortals below
Clear this mystery which none but immortals can know.
"Cytherea and Momus pray'd Vulcan to spare
The blithe, amorous King: Vulcan granted their prayer."