A Day at Tunbridge Wells
" Letty} with modest Maiden Air, Blushing, like Rose, as Lilly fair, Good-Humour smiling in her Eyes, Appears so lovely, and so wise, That her Mind has Thousand Charms. But Oh ! the Heaven in Letty's Arms.
(Without a Title)
" Say Muse the names of all the motley throng, Whom Tunbridge lulls with Country dance and song, Whom empty Love inflames and Water cools, Begin, and give a Catalogue of Fools. Trembling with Palsies, and decrepit age Let N[as]h stand foremost in the crowded page, That child of eighty ! own'd without dispute Thro' all the realms of Fiddling absolute; Alas ! old Dotard ! is it fit for thee To couple dancing fools at eighty-three ? Go, get thee to thy Grave, we're tired all To see thee still, still tottering round a Ball. But Hark, my Muse, what distant noise approaches ? French horns I hear and rattling sound of coaches ! Lo ! with retinue proud from Lewis race Usher'd by bowing Peers arrives his Grace, With civil pride our homage he receives, And nods from side to side to grinning slaves. There gentle A . . . hb . . . . m familiar Bows, And youthful M . . . ch declines his laurell'd brows (Him the proud Laurell of th' Olympic game And Chariot races consecrate to fame.)
There A.....y pays his Levee sneer,
And for one moment quits his Lovely F . . . r,
1 Letty was Miss Borwood, a sister of Mrs. Pothill.