The RAPE of the TRAP. T A BALLAD, 1737. WAS in a land of learning, uch pranks of late Were play'd by a rat, As-tempt one to be witty. All in a college-study, Where books were in great plenty; This rat wou'd devour More fenfe in an hour, Than I cou'd write-in twenty. Corporeal food, 'tis granted, Serves vermin less refin❜d, Sir; But this, a rat of taste, All other rats furpass'd; And he prey'd on the food of the mind, Sir; His breakfaft, half the morning, He constantly attended; And when the bell rung For ev❜ning-fong, His dinner fcarce was ended! He He fpar'd not ev'n heroics, Of king ARTHUR'S, by the score In books of geo-graphy, He made the maps to flutter: A river or a fea Was to him a dish of tea; And a kingdom, bread and butter. But if fome mawkish potion Might chance to over-dofe him, To check its rage, He took a page Of logick-to compofe him A trap, in hafte and anger, Was bought, you need not doubt on't; And, fuch was the gin, Were a lion once got in, He cou'd not, I think, get out on't. With cheese, not books, 'twas baited, The fact I'll not belye it Since none-I tell you that Whether scholar or rat, Minds books, when he has other diet. By BLACKMORE, But But more of trap and bait, Sir, And dragg'd 'em away together: Both trap and bait were vanish'd, Thro' a fracture in the flooring; Which, tho' fo trim, It now may feem, Had then-a dozen or more in. Then answer this, ye fages! Nor deem I mean to wrong ye, Had the rat which thus did feize on The trap, lefs claim to reafon, Than many a fcull among ye? DAN PRIOR'S mice, I own it, That England's topfy-turvy, Is clear from these mishaps, Sir; Since traps, we may determine, Will no longer take our vermin, But vermin* take our traps, Sir. * Written at the time of the Spanish depredations. Let Let fophs, by rats infested, Then truft in cats to catch 'em; Good luck betide our captains; May quell the Spanish Don, And the t'other deftroy our rats, Sir. On certain PASTORALS. O rude and tunelefs are thy lays, So rude and tunelets are The weary audience vow, 'Tis not th' Arcadian fwain that fings, But 'tis his herds that low. On Mr. C of KIDDERMINSTER'S Poetry. Why 'faith, dear friend, 'tis KIDDERMINSTER* stuff, And I do think you've measur'd out enough. Το * KIDDERMINSTER, famous for a coarfe woollen manufacture. [ 211 ] To the VIRTUOSOS. AIL curious wights! to whom so fair H The form of mortal flies is! Who deem those grubs beyond compare, Whether o'er hill, morafs or mound, Yet, in the fury of the chace, Bleft if one fly repay the race, * Fierce as CAMILLA o'er the plain 'Tis you dispense the fav'rite meat To nature's filmy people; Know what conferves they chufe to eat, And what liqueurs, to tipple. P 2 * See VIRCIL. And, |