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When this did nothing, I brought down,
great cannon, oaths, and shot,
A thousand, thousand to the town,
and still it yielded not.
I then resolv’d to starve the place,
by cutting off all kisses;
Praising and gazing on her face,
with all such little blesses.
To draw her out, and from her strength,
I drew all battries in.
And brought myself to lie at length,
as if no siege had been.
When I had done what man could do,
and thought the place my own,
The enemy lay quiet too,
and smil’d at all was done.
I sent to know from whence and where,
these hopes, and this relief:
A spy inform’d, Honour was there,
and did command in chief,
March, march, quoth I, the word straight give,
let’s lose no time, but leave her:
That Giant upon air will live,
and hold it out for ever.
To such a place our camp remove,
as will no siege abide;
I hate a fool that starves her love,
only to feed her pride.
Printed by J. & M. Robertson, Saltmarket, 1799.
