THE Boys Whipt Home: OR, A RHYTHME UPON THE Apprentices Poem, &c. ⟨13. Aug. 1681⟩
VVHat against Nature! 'Prentice Poets too?
The Laurel Ravish'd by such things as you!
See how she fades, and shrinks from
your command:
Plant-Animal! she flies your Artless hand.
Long since she hated Noise and sooty smells,
And in serene and quiet Champions dwells:
The heavenly
Muses scorn to be confin'd
Within the Limits of a servile Mind:
Their thoughts are
boundless, as the Aetherial Sky,
And born by wing'd Imagination, fly
Above the reach of those that trembling stand,
Beneath the Terror of a
Masters Hand.
Poor Boys! Just from
A-B-C Whippins come,
That scarce secure from
Atkins fate, their Bum:
At a Cit's Table now preferr'd to wait,
With Looks demure, to change a Greasie Plate;
Where they've pick'd up some
Tory-Scraps of
State
From the Grave Softness of their
Masters Pate.
Huge Politicians grown of mickle might!
Champions Equip't to Fight, to Write, to Sh—
A Mouse will do as much as they can do.
Poor Boys! A brace of Bucks was made their cheer
To shew their Courage, Hearted like a Deere,
Whose spreading Horns foretel the future Fates
Their Wives shall fix upon their graver Pates.
Unhappy Youths! misguided by your Zeal,
Come mind your Shops, and not the Commonweal.
To his most steady hand; who stears the Throne
Best, by that Sacred Judgment of his own:
Around whose Temples rests a blisful Crown,
Self guarded by the Powers of his Frown,
'Gainst all, but those insatiate Woolves of
Rome
May
English Mastiffs proove their hasty Doom.
But come Poor Boys, ye may in time be wise,
Despair not, there are better ways to Rise:
Follow your Trades, and you may chance to be,
Thought worthy of their Masters Pedigree:
His pretty modest Daughter hee'l bestow,
Which you're acquainted with before, or so:
To whom you've sung Ballad-obscenity
The very Zenith of your Poetry.
When Shops shut down sitting on Jolted knee.
Thus hopefully you'l rise, and time may place
An Aldermans upon your Beard-less Face:
Where grunting out scarce sence, 'tis understood
The Apothegme of the Brother-hood.
FINIS.
London, Printed for Lu. Smith, 1681.