A Riddle

Communicated by Mr Flaxman

Since Riddles are so much in vogue
My fancy needs must play the rogue
And make you search the patent truth
Thro’ thoughts and rhymes alike uncouth.

First to old warriors you may go,
From them perhaps my name you’ll know,
Tho’ they may disavow my aid;
For I have many a hero made
Who stripp’d of my all saving art,
I fear had play’d the coward’s part,
But tho’ from them you’ll know my name,
They cannot tell you what I am,
Nor know those hero’s that I speak of
The subject that I mean to treat of —
I first was known, as story says,
About the gay King Charles’ days;
An humble creature was my sire
Who cross the country trudg’d in mire,
But in long journeys, for his fate,
Forc’d him to travel soon and late.
He rode and fac’d whate’ver ill weather,
Clad in a coat of baize or leather;
But things improv’d as time ran on,

And then I drove my chaise and one,
Till luxury, advancing more,
I now enjoy my coach and four.
And still to make myself more great
I give a livery of state,
And music oft attends my way,
I always travel night and day,
And should I tell you half the schemes
I raising blast, the idle dreams.
The fear that chills, the hopes that burn,
Between my going and return.
I ne’er should end this tedious song,
Which you already think too long.