A POETICAL DIALOGUE BETWEEN LIONEL LOVELORN, ESQ. AND GEOFFRY GINGER, ESQ. Whereas, so pleas'd the Powers above, I'm fall'n, desperately, in love! TRUMBULL THE object of the following Dialogue is to "brand with scorn" all petty dealers in draggle-tailed distichs and hitching hyperboles, who jingle about "sighing swains," and "love-lorn lasses." But I have had neither leisure nor patience, except in a few instances, to point out the particular nonsense of the many individual “dull fools," of that kind, Who will persist, although "in spite but have aimed the shafts of satire, with little discrimination, at the whole tribe of moon-struck Sonneteers, who palm upon the publick their "thrilling ecstasies," and "liquid perils," for genuine chattels of Parnassus. I would further observe, that I had nearly finished this dialogue before I had seen the "Baviad and Mæviad," in which Mr. Gifford lashes some of the same herd which are here made the subject of satire. But although I cannot expect to gather laurels in the path of such a writer as Mr. Gifford, I hope I may be considered at least as a gleaner in the field of science, and have the honour of correcting some of the " servum pecus" who may have escaped his animadversion. POETICAL DIALOGUE BETWEEN LIONEL LOVELORN, ESQ. AND GEOFFRY GINGER, ESQ.* LIONEL. LET shepherds pipe romantick strains To melting maids, on lilied plains, Of romping Bess, and "rosy Nell," GEOFFRY. Till whip-poor-will repeat the song, And mocking-bird the note prolong, * Lionel attempting to chaunt a love-song, Geoffry re. spondeth every stanza, and taketh him off, much after the manner of a merry Andrew, at Bartholomew Fair. Or tune sweet Fancy's vocal shell, LIONEL. Let amateurs of wild romance, GEOFFRY. Not every crow, nor croaking raven, Can match the tuneful swan of Avon; Some bards, who mount, like school-boy's kite, Are wildered in their giddy flight, Mid cloudy labyrinths, so mazy, Like wild-geese, lost in weather hazy.— LIONEL. Or let your dealer in sublime, The bard, who builds the lofty rhyme, GEOFFRY. Or wight of eagle-ken, who notes The murderous feats of sans culottes, Who best can manage Death's machines, Guns, bayonets, bombs, and guillotines. LIONEL. 'Tis mine a nobler theme to choose, A theme more worthy of my muse, For Sylvia's eyes my soul inspire, And Cupid tunes Apollo's lyre! |