H

CUPID MISTAKEN.

WILLIAM THOMPSON.

ENUS whipt Cupid t'other day,

For having lost his bow and quiver:
For he had giv'n them both away
To Stella, queen of Isis river.

"Mamma! you wrong me while you strike," Cry'd weeping Cupid, "for I vow,

Stella and you are so alike,

I thought that I had lent them you."

CAPTAIN (OF MILITIA) SIR DILBERRY DIDDLE.

[GENT.'S MAG. VOL. XXXVI. p. 233, FOR 1766.]

F all the brave captains that ever were seen,
Appointed to fight by a king or a queen,
By a king or a queen appointed to fight,
Sure never a captain was like this brave knight.

He pull'd off his slippers and wrapper of silk,
And, foaming as furious as whisked new milk,
Says he to his lady, " My lady, I'll go :
My company calls me; you must not say no."

With eyes
all in tears says my lady, says she,
"O, cruel Sir Dilberry, do not kill me!

For I never will leave thee, but cling round thy middle,

And die in the arms of Sir Dilberry Diddle."

Says Diddle again to his lady, " My dear,"

(And a white pocket-handkerchief wiped off a tear)

"To fight for thy charms in the hottest of wars

Will be joy! Thou art Venus." Says she, "Thou art Mars."

By a place I can't mention, not knowing its name,

At the head of his company Dilberry came,

And the drums to the windows call every eye

To see the defence of the nation pass by.

Old bible-faced women, through spectacles dim,

With hemming and coughing, cried, " Lord, it is him!” While boys and the girls, who more clearly could see, Cried, "Yonder's Sir Dilberry Diddle-that's he!”

Of all the fair ladies that came to the show

Sir Diddle's fair lady stood first in the row;

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O, how charming," says she," he looks all in red: How he turns out his toes, how he holds up his head!

Do but see his cockade, and behold his dear gun, Which shines like a looking-glass, held in the sun! Hear his word of command! 'tis so sweet, I am sure, Each time I am tempted to call out-encore !”

The battle now over, without any blows,
The heroes unharness and strip off their clothes;
The dame gives her captain a sip of rose-water,
Then he, handing her into her coach, steps in after.

John's orders are special to drive very slow,
For fevers oft follow fatigues, we all know;
And, prudently cautious, in Venus's lap
Beneath her short apron, Mars takes a long nap.

He dreamt, Fame reports, that he cut all the throats
Of the French, as they landed in flat-bottom boats.
In his sleep if such dreadful destruction he makes,
What havock, ye gods! we shall have when he wakes!

As he went along prying,

With sober advance, A shepherd's flute lying,

He found there by chance.

Our amateur started

And eyed it askance, Drew nearer, and snorted Upon it by chance.

The breath of the brute, Sir,

Drew music for once;

It enter'd the flute, Sir,
And blew it by chance.

"Ah!" cried he, in wonder, "How comes this to pass? Who will now dare to slander The skill of an ass?"

And asses in plenty

I see at a glance,

Who, one time in twenty,
Succeed by mere chance.