Epistle From Esopus To Maria（2 / 2）

though there, his heresies in church and state

might well award him muir and palmer's fate:

still she undaunted reels and rattles on,

and dares the public like a noontide sun.

what scandal called maria's jaunty stagger

the ricket reeling of a crooked swagger?

whose spleen (e'en worse than burns' venom, when

he dips in gall unmix'd his eager pen,

and pours his vengeance in the burning line,)—

who christen'd thus maria's lyre-divine

the idiot strum of vanity bemus'd,

and even the abuse of poesy abus'd?—

who called her verse a parish workhouse, made

for motley foundling fancies, stolen or strayed?

a workhouse! ah, that sound awakes my woes,

and pillows on the thorn my rack'd repose!

in durance vile here must i wake and weep,

and all my frowsy couch in sorrow steep;

that straw where many a rogue has lain of yore,

and vermin'd gipsies litter'd heretofore.

why, lonsdale, thus thy wrath on vagrants pour?

must earth no rascal save thyself endure?

must thou alone in guilt immortal swell,

and make a vast monopoly of hell?

thou know'st the virtues cannot hate thee worse;

the vices also, must they club their curse?

or must no tiny sin to others fall,

because thy guilt's supreme enough for all?

maria, send me too thy griefs and cares;

in all of thee sure thy esopus shares.

as thou at all mankind the flag unfurls,

who on my fair one satire's vengeance hurls—

who calls thee, pert, affected, vain coquette,

a wit in folly, and a fool in wit!

who says that fool alone is not thy due,

and es thy treacheries to prove it true!

our force united on thy foes we'll turn,

and dare the war with all of woman born:

for who can write and speak as thou and i?

my periods that deciphering defy,

and thy still matchless tongue that conquers all reply!