Hadst thou, O PHILIPS, Bard prodigious! found A Taylor, dextrous as my Cobler, ne'er Had Verse of thine the horrid Chasm confess'd Of Galligaskins; at which Winds alternate With chilling Blasts, tumultuous enter'd in. Oft, as I read thy live Description, Tears My Cheeks bedew; and oft, I curse the Times, And Taste of Men, who suffer'd Thee to sing Thy Woes so rueful! Had I flourish'd then, My Coat, my Shirt, had freely gone to Pawn, To purchase Galligaskins sound for Thee. Long, very long, may I th' Affliction scape! And Cash or Credit find t' appear Abroad, Decent in Dress! ne'er may my leathern Bag, Or silken Purse, a splendid Shilling want.
