THE GENEROUS GRANBY 



To leave a man in open air, 

 Waiting on you, sans hat or hair? 

 Why, what a plague ! what breeding's that ? 

 You, fellow, there . . . return my hat. 

 'Tis true, I am not very old ; 

 But, what of that ? . , . I may take cold.' 

 ' Not so, my son,' Fame, smiling, said, 

 And clapt the Laurel on his head : 

 ' Beyond the reach of human eye. 

 Thy warlike beaver waves on high ; 

 Mars saw it fall, and bade it rise 

 An Hat immortal to the skies.' 

 The hero to the goddess bow'd, 

 And saw her vanish through a cloud ; 

 Then turn'd about his horse's head 

 And pick'd his way thro' heaps of dead : 

 Within his tent retir'd to rest. 

 And slept . . . with honour in his breast." ^ 



^ The Gentleman'' s Magazine, September, 1760. 



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