1766 ENGLISH POETRY 1579-1830: SPENSER AND THE TRADITION

Rev. James Scott

Anonymous, "An Elegy to the unlamented Memory of that poor Poet, Priest, Pander, and Politician, Anti-Sejanus" St. James's Chronicle (15 March 1766).



Ye cinder Sisters, dear to Gray's-Inn-Lane,
Awhile leave sifting, and attend my Strain!
With grief-torn Caps, the White all worn away,
And uncomb'd Locks, attend this dismal Lay!
Ye more Exalted, who in Cares are driven,
Here offer Pray'rs, and wish him well to Heav'n!
Come with your foamy Hands, and smutty Cheeks,
And grace our solemn Scene! — a Brother speaks.
Here drink your Gin and Bitters, rave and moan;
ANTI-SEJANUS! Oh, he's dead and gone!

Ye cruel Butchers, who ne'er drop'd one Tear,
Bestow the Blood of Calves on this dull Bier!
Sheeps-Heads, as just memento morts, spare,
To show Mankind the Emblem of our Care!
Here whet your Knives, in Frocks, or blue or white,
And sharply stab, where he did bluntly write!
Here drink your Gin and Bitters, rave and moan,
Anti-Sejanus! Oh, he's dead and gone!

Ye week-kneed Taylors, Minikins, repair
To this sad Spectacle of Grief and Care;
Your Hell relinquish, Shreds, Sheers, Thimbles, all,
And each his Goose upon a Goose let fall!
Here, like a Louse, upon a Needle spit!
His Sense — for nine such Heads ne'er shade one Wit!
Here drink your Gin and Bitters, rave and moan,
Anti-Sejanus! Oh, he's dead and gone!

JACK KETCH, great Man, the only Man of Men,
Who gives the Coup de Grace without Amen;
Here, here lament what Green and Wit have done,
Preventing thee the hanging of a Son!
A fav'rite Son — who, had thy Favours spread,
Had danc'd on nothing to the TWITCHER'S dead.
Here drink your Gin and Bitters, rave and moan,
Anti-Sejanus! Oh, he's dead and gone!

Ye dirty Harlots, true to Drury-Lane,
Who, like this Corpse, are never free from Stain,
Attend with Noise, and every wanton Step,
Led by the Author of the Demi-Rep!
Let him appear the Cupid of the Train!
Then you may safely walk without the Verge,
And join the solemn Few in solemn Dirge.
Thus o'er your Gin and Bitters, rave and moan,
Anti-Sejanus! Oh, he's dead and gone!