Your taste, recovered half from foreign quacks,
Takes airings, now, on English horses’ backs;
While every modern bard may raise his name,
If not on lasting praise, on stable fame.
Think that to Germans you have given no check,
Think how each actor hors’d has risk’d his neck;
You’ve shewn them favour: Oh, then, once more shew it
To this night’s Anglo-German, Horse-Play Poet!—Ed.]
