"And now, I say, adieu, my friends,
For here our fellow-service ends.
You need not put on sorrowing faces;
You will soon meet with ready places;
'Tis me whose disappointing care,
Of cheering prospects, bids despair.
—You all, I'm sure can well believe,
I have most ample cause to grieve
That cruel Fortune thus should frown,
When I thought her fond smiles my own.
—Sir Jeffery now is laid in dust,
But when alive, how good, how just!
And all who knew him well must know
He never wish'd to use me so.
Had he believ'd his end so nigh,
I should have had the legacy,
Which would have made me full amends
For loss of fortune, loss of friends.
Another day had he surviv'd,
To the next morning had he liv'd,
It might, perhaps, have been my fate
To know an independent state,
As he had told me, o'er and o'er,
I ne'er should go to service more.
When I did on his wants attend
He spoke as a familiar friend:
How often too we might be seen
Chatting within the Indian screen!
Whenever we were left alone,
We seem'd not two, but were as one.
I knew each tit-bit that he lov'd;
He always what I gave approv'd;
And as I stood beside his chair,
Attending with respectful air,
He oft would bid me sit and dine,
Fill up his glass and pour out mine.
—When thumb and finger he applied
To the gold snuff box by his side,
I shar'd the pinch, and he ne'er ceas'd
To say, 'God bless you,' when I sneez'd;
Nay, when my snortings I repeated,
He thus my awkward flurry greeted,
'My friend, familiarize your nose
To this exhilarating dose,
For sure as we together dine
This box, Quæ Genus, shall be thine!'
But that kind friend, alas! is dead,
And box and snuff and all are fled.
Nay, had I now a hope on earth,
And could engage in trifling mirth,
I here might my complainings close
With disappointments of my nose.
—His common purse I could command,
'Twas daily open to my hand;
You all well know I paid his bills,
And when, to ease his various ills,
Sir Midriff came, I us'd to squeeze
Into his palm the welcome fees.
Whene'er I showed my weekly book,
He never gave the page a look;
And when I urg'd it the good Knight
Would smile and say, 'I'm sure 'tis right.'
Nay, I can say, in ev'ry sense,
I ne'er abus'd his confidence:
No, no, I never did purloin
An atom of the lowest coin,
And what I have to Heaven is known,
In honest truth, to be my own,
Then wonder not, I feel it hard,
To be depriv'd of my reward,
And, by such a chance, be hurl'd
Again to struggle with the world.
Reasons, besides, I must not tell,
Why the Knight treated me so well;
But I play'd no delusive part,
And they did honour to his heart: |