Is't thus you Bowman [25] treat,
Who eats more toads than _you know who_
Each night did strawberries eat?

Did I not mount the dun-drawn chaise,
And sweat for many a mile?
And gave his Grace's skill much praise,
_Grinning a ghastly smile!_

Did I not elsewhere risk my bones,
My Lord-Duke's freaks took pride in?
Did I not trot down hills of Stones,
And call it pleasant riding?

Did I not all your feats proclaim,
Nor once from duty shrink?
In flattery I sunk my fame,
A Bowman e'en in drink.

Did I not oft my conscience force,
Against its dictates swear?
Have I not prais'd Lord Georg's horse?
Nay, e'en your Lordship's mare?

Did I not oft, in rain and wind,
O'er hills, thro' vallies roam,
When wiser folk would lag behind,
And Spaniels staid at home?

Have I not with your natives fed,