Each one shilling god within reach of a nod is, And plain are the charms of each gallery goddess— You, Brandy-fac’d Moll, don’t be looking askew, When I talk’d of a goddess I didn’t mean you. Tol de rol, &c. VI. Our stage is so prettily fashion’d for viewing, The whole house can see what the whole house is doing: ’Tis just like the Hustings, we kick up a bother; But saying is one thing, and doing’s another. Tol de rol, &c. VII. We’ve many new houses, and some of them rum ones, But the newest of all is the new House of Commons; ’Tis a rickety sort of a bantling, I’m told, It will die of old age when it’s seven years old. Tol de rol, &c. VIII. As I don’t know on whom the election will fall, I move in return for returning them all; But for fear Mr. Speaker my meaning should miss, The house that I wish ’em to sit in is this. Tol de rol, &c. IX. Let us cheer our great Commoner, but for whose aid We all should have gone with short commons to bed; And since he has saved all the fat from the fire, I move that the house be call’d Whitbread’s Entire. {71} Tol de rol, &c. XV. ARCHITECTURAL ATOMS. TRANSLATED BY DR. B. {72} [DR. THOMAS BUSBY, MUS. DOC.] * * * * * Lege, Dick, Lege!—JOSEPH ANDREWS. * * * * * _To be recited by the Translator’s Son_. AWAY, fond dupes! who, smit with sacred lore, Mosaic dreams in Genesis explore, Doat with Copernicus, or darkling stray With Newton, Ptolemy, or Tycho Brahe! To you I sing not, for I sing of truth, Primeval systems, and creation’s youth; Such as of old, with magic wisdom fraught, Inspired LUCRETIUS to the Latians taught. I sing how casual bricks, in airy climb, Encounter’d casual cow-hair, casual lime; How rafters, borne through wondering clouds elate, Kiss’d in their slope blue elemental slate, Clasp’d solid beams in chance-directed fury, And gave to birth our renovated Drury.