The ladies had not then one b—— bob,
Nor thou the courtly name of Poet Squab.
Next, thy dull muse, an independant jade,
On sacred tyranny fine stanzas made;
Praised Noll, who even to both extremes did run,
To kill the father and dethrone the son.
When Charles came in, thou didst a convert grow,
More by thy interest, than thy nature so;
}
Under his 'livening beams thy laurels spread; }