Fanny, in vain you've thrown your net;
Your beau is disenchanted;
You said, how can I e'er forget?
That you no "Rymer" wanted.
And said you not, my saucy belle,
For all my genius rare,
Although you liked me passing well,
My "Hobbes" you could not bear?
You say a "Spenser" you admire,
And "Glover's" works elight in;
But should your eyes behold a "Prior"
Your wits away 'twould frighten,
For why? you ne'er could bear a "Hood."
"Cotton"'s your detestation;
You place a "Locke" on what is "Good"
Nor give your "Cook" a ration.
You asked me t'other day to dine,
And if I'm not mistaken,
Told me—'twas when you "dropped the line"—
You know not "Hogg" from "Bacon."
I brought you down a noble "Bird,"
My gift you did not praise;
And thought my "Blackwood," so I heard,
Was only fit to blaze!
Things hard as "Flint" and "Steele" you hate,
You wish no lore to learn;
Your "Pope" you excommunicate,
And laugh to find me "Sterne."
In rings and seals your "Goldsmith"'s fair,
And yet that "Livy" is, you swear,
No better than she should be!
"Moore" would I say to you! Ah me!
O'er "Little" you grow cold;
You say that "Lamb" should quartered be,
And "Young" you say is old.
Your "Johnson" you a "Walker" make,
So merciless your ravage;
Though Crusoe took such pains to take
You throw away—a "Savage."
For "Sparks" you will no pity show:
My love meets no returns;
Then why should still my bosom glow
For one who laughs at "Burns?"
Why to a belle who likes not "Home,"
Nor will my cares divide,
Should I a pensive suitor come,
And bear an "Akenside?"