The Power of Song

Communicated by Mrs Flaxman

When mighty Ferdinand insanely grave
Would neither wash his hands, or shave;
Nor olio taste, nor soup, nor jelly,
His faithful consort sunk in grief,
When every saint denied relief
Thus pray’d to Farinelli —
Sweet Farinelli swell your throat,
And pour some soft bewitching note
 My dear Italian bug,
Each frantic passion which commands,
Then squall, till Feddy wash his hands
 And shove, look spruce, & smug —
Hark! Farinelli squeaks to please her,
Oh Don Diego fetch the razor
 From yonder golden case,
Diego runs elate with hope,
Lathers his chops with Castile soap
 And trims the sov’reign’s face.

The king arose without a speck,
Bess flings her arms around his neck,
 Perfumed and free from dirt,
Again in regal state he dines
In royal robes superbly shines
 And wears a nice clean shirt.
The mighty master smiled to see
That love was in the next degree,
 And sung Eliza’s charms,
The king admired each new-born grace,
With rapture, view’d her beauteous face,
 And sank into her arms!
Thus Farinelli’s soothing strain
Lulled the wild tempest of his brain;
 No more his senses riot,
So when the frantic ocean raves
A pint of oil will still the waves
 And all is calm and quiet.