When Stretch'd On One's Bed

When stretch'd on one's bed

With a fierce-throbbing head,

Which precludes alike thought or repose,

How little one cares

For the grandest affairs

That may busy the world as it goes!

How little one feels

For the waltzes and reels

Of our Dance-loving friends at a Ball!

How slight one's concern

To conjecture or learn

What their flounces or hearts may befall.

How little one minds

If a company dines

On the best that the Season affords!

How short is one's muse

O'er the Sauces and Stews,

Or the Guests, be they Beggars or Lords.

How little the Bells,

Ring they Peels, toll they Knells,

Can attract our attention or Ears!

The Bride may be married,

The Corse may be carried

And touch nor our hopes nor our fears.

Our own bodily pains

Ev'ry faculty chains;

We can feel on no subject besides.

Tis in health and in ease

We the power must seize

For our friends and our souls to provide.