THE HYBRIDS,
AN
EPI-COMIC SATIRE
AS-CRIPTION.
HAIL blest stupidity! impervious shield
Of dullness hail! No thorn in all the field
Of reason, wit, or satire, hath been found,
Could reach thy soul in toughest bull-hide bound!
Refreshingly unconscious thou dost graze
Amid the brambles of sublunar ways,
In rare beatitude of placid soul,
Thy skin unbroken sound and whole;
Smiling serene, while scratches, wounds, and pricks
Of fate adverse, and fame’s vexatious tricks,
Which goad the thinner skinned to agony,
But prove a pleasing stimulant to thee.
How almost enviable is such state.
Where angels of bliss indifferent await
To keep the stinging brood of scorn at bay,
And turn the keener darts of love away;—
Where grateful thistles bloom the live-long day,
And long ears wave triumphant at each bray.
PRELUDE.
Ye Gods assist! aid me ye heav’nly nine!
Let all your pow’rs cooperate with mine,
Justly to celebrate the theme divine
Of woman hatching into masculine.
From high empyrean descend, ye Graces,
If there ye dwell, (if not where’er the place is,—)
Unlock, ye Sciences, ye Arts, prepare
Donations rich from water earth and air!
Unite, O Poesy, in one bright chain
All metaphors both sacred and profane!
Fuse, all ye elements, for this my story
In one great holocaust to female glory.
So