To 1810

Miss Flaxman

Sir Knight are we so perfect grown
That you no speck descry —
Or is it, that you fear to own,
That you our faults can spy —
You, who could brave a dragon’s claw
Tho’ breathing fiery vapour
Or take a lion by the paw
Flea giants with your rapier!
’Tis you good Sir who seem to fear
A Tartar to be catching
And think that when three females meet
Some mischief must be hatching!
 A task less arduous than before
Bespeaks your kind attention
Our virtues Sir, a scanty store
Will call up your invention
But if in truth you should persist
The lines will not be many
For count them all, I think the list
Won’t fill a silver penny!