The Old General The gen’ral! one of those brave old commanders, Who serv’d through all the glorious wars in Flanders; Frank and good natur’d, of an honest heart, Loving to act the steady friendly part: None led through youth a gayer life than he, Chearful in converse, smart in repartee. Sweet was his night, and joyful was his day, He din’d with Walpole, and with Oldfield lay; But with old age its vices came along, And in narration he’s extremely long; Exact in circumstance, and nice in dates, He each minute particular relates. If you name one of Malbro’s ten campaigns, He tells you its whole history for your pains: And Blenheim’s field becomes by his reciting, As long in telling as it was in fighting: His old desire to please is still express’d; His hat’s well cock’d, his perriwig’s well dress’d: He rolls his stockings still, white gloves he wears, And in the boxes with the beaux appears: His eyes through wrinkled corners cast their rays; Still he looks chearful, still soft things he says: And still rememb’ring that he once was young, He strains his crippled knees, and struts along. |
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