Rondeau

A MIGHTY sultan once for fun Indulged an inclination, 'Tis odds by then my story's done You'll make its application.

A wag he sent for to his court, Who, each way you can mention, To furnish whim, and fun, and sport, Still tortured his invention,

To please this sultan, &c.

'Mongst Folly's sons and daughters too With Satire did he wander, And still attempted someting new, Relying on the candour Of this mighty sultan, &c.

At length, his frolics at an end, Cried one, I do not bam you, But as you merit, my good friend, He'll either save or damn you,

Will this mighty sultan, &c.

But, for your comfort, he is just, And easily contented. Nor to him e'er did any trust Who afterwards repented.

You are the sultan who for fun Indulge an inclination, I am the wag—my story's done— Now make its application.