Page:Poems (Fields)-1.djvu/27

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THE POST OF HONOR.
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N. B. — No bribes; the postage you must pay From this to Boston, and the other way.A Posiscript, private. — If we all agree, The undersigned expect the usual fee;And if you publish in the Western Ball, Pray don't forget to print our names in full.
 The ambitious guardian of the errant swine,(Sometimes named hog-reeve by the sacred Nine.)Think you no sighs his anxious breast denote,Should chance divest him of his party's vote? —Alas! he cries, with Wolsey in the play,"Farewell, my greatness! Honor swept away!" And feels, beneath that recreant party's frown,A pang as great as when a king goes down.
 The country curate, quoting Greek for gold,Sees it resplendent o'er some distant fold;His reverend locks, just turned of twenty-two, Need other perfumes than a Cape Ann dew;—
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