Or Ashmy snatch the horn!
Don’t ever to such rows give birth,
As if you had no end on earth,
Except to “wake the lyre;”
Don’t “strike the harp,” pray never do,
Till others long to strike it too;
Perpetual harping’s apt to tire;
Oh I have heard such flat-and-sharpers,
I’ve blest the head
Of good King Ned,