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I sing the SOFA. I who lately sang Truth, Hope, and Charity *, and touch'd with awe The folemn chords, and with a trembling hand, Escap'd with pain from that advent'rous flight, Now seek repose upon an humbler theme; The theme though humble, yet august and proud Th’occasion--for the Fair commands the song.
Time was, when cloathing sumptuous or for use, Save their own painted skins, our sires had none. As
yet black breeches were not ; fattin smooth,
* See vol. i,
Or velvet soft, or plush with shaggy pile :
At length a generation more refin'd Improv'd the simple plan, made three legs four,