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H- vard University | Child Memorial Library _

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PANEGYRICK on the New VERS IPICA“

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LL ye Poets of the Age, All ye Witlings of the Stage, Learn your Jingles to reform, Crop your Numbers and con- Let your little Verſes flow - (form, Gently, ſweetly, Row by Row: Let the Verſe the Subject fir, Little Subject, little Wit: Namby Pamby is your Guides Albion's Joy, Hibernia's Pride, Namby Pamby Phillip-is, _ Rhimy pim'd on Miſſy Miſs; Tartaretta Tartaree From the Navel to the Knees That her Father's Gracy-Grace Might give him a Placy-Place. He no longer writes of Mammy Andromache and her Lammy, Hanging panging at the Breaſt Of a Matron moſt diftreſt. Now the venal Poet ſings Baby Clouts, and Baby Things, Baby Dolls, and Baby Houſes; Little Miſſes, little Spouſes, Little Play-things, little Toys, Little Girls and little Boys : As an Actor plays his Part, So the Nurſes get by Heart Namby Pambys little Rhimes, Little Jingles, little Chimes, To repeat to little Miſs, Piddling Ponds of Piſſy-Piſs; Cacking packing like a Lady. Or By-bying in the Crady. Namby Pamby ne'er will die While the Nurſe ſings Lullabye. {Namby Pamby's doubly mild, ' Once a Man, and twice a Child ; To his Hanging Sleeves reſtor d; No he foots it like a Lord; | Now he pumps his little Wits, Sh ing writes, and writing ſh——5, e All by little tiny Bits. Now methinks I hear him ſay, Boys and Girls come out to play, Moon do's ſvine as bright as Day. Now my Namby Pamby's found Sitting on the Friar's Ground,

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Picking Silver, picking Gold, Namby Pamby's never old. Bally-Cally they begin, Namby Pamby till keeps in. Namby Pamby is no Clown, London- Bridge is broken down :

Now he courts the gay Ladee,

Dancing oer the Lady - Lee: Now he ſings of Lick-/pit Lyar, Burning in the Brimſtone Fire; Dar, Lyar, Lick-ſpit, Lick, Turn about the Candle-ftick: Now he ſings of Fackey Horner Sitting in the Chimney-Corner, Eating of a Chriſtmas-Pye, Putting in his Thumb, Oh fie! Putting in, Oh fie! his Thumb, Pulling out, Oh ftrange !u Plumb, And again, how Nancy-Cock, Naſty Girl! beſh—# her Smock. Now he acts the Granadier, Calling for a Pot of Beer :

M here s bis Money? He's forgot +

Get bim gone, a drunken Sot.

Now on Cock-Horſe does he ride;

And anon on Timber ſtride,

See-and-Saw and Sacch'ry-down,

London is a gallant Town.

Now he gathers Riches in,

Thicker, faſter, Pin by Pin;

Pins apiece to ſee his Show;

Boys and Girls flock Row by Row;

From their Cloaths the Pins they take;

Riſque a Whipping for his Sake;

From their Frocks the Pins they pull,

To fill Namby's Cuſhion full.

So much Wit at ſuch an Age,

Does a Genius great preſage.

Second Childhood gone and paſt,

Should he prove a Man at laſt,

What muſt ſecond Manhood be

In a Child ſo bright as be! . Guard him, ye Poetick Powers;

Watch his Minutes, watch his Hours;

Let your tuneful Nine inſpire him

Let Poetick Fury fire him:

Let the Poets one and all

To his Genius Victims fall.

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