To view his stately Walks and Groves, <br /> A Man of Pow'r and Place <br />Was hast'ning on; but as he roves, <br />His Foe the slighted Bramble proves, <br /> And stops his eager Pace. <br />That Shrub was qualify'd to Bite; <br /> And now there went a Tale, <br />That this injurious partial Wight <br />Had bid his Gard'ner rid it quite, <br /> And throw it o'er the Pail. <br /> <br />Often the Bry'r had wish'd to speak, <br /> That this might not be done; <br />But from the Abject and the Weak, <br />Who no important Figure make, <br /> What Statesman does not run? <br /> <br />But clinging now about his Waste, <br /> Ere he had time to fly, <br />My Lord (quoth he) for all your haste, <br />I'll know why I must be displac'd, <br /> And 'mongst the Rubbish lie. <br /> <br />Must none but buffle-headed Trees <br /> Within your Ground be seen? <br />Or tap'ring Yews here court the Breeze, <br />That, like some Beaux whom Time does freeze, <br /> At once look Old and Green? <br /> <br />I snarl, 'tis true, and sometimes scratch <br /> A tender-footed Squire; <br />Who does a rugged Tartar catch, <br />When me he thinks to over-match, <br /> And jeers for my Attire. <br /> <br />As to Yourself, who 'gainst me fret, <br /> E'en give this Project o'er: <br />For know, where'er my Root is set, <br />These rambling Twigs will Passage get, <br /> And vex you more and more. <br /> <br />No Wants, no Threatnings, nor the Jail <br /> Will curb an angry Wit: <br />Then think not to chastise, or rail; <br />Appease the Man, if you'd prevail, <br /> Who some sharp Satire writ.<br /><br />Anne Kingsmill Finch<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-lord-and-the-bramble/
