Behold Vilaria lately brought to bed, Her cheeks now strangers to their rosy red, Languid her eyes, yet lovely she appears; And oh! what fondness her Lord's visage wears! ...
Lettering continues: "The pamper'd priest in whose extended arms The female infant lies, with budding charms, Seeming to ask the name e'er he baptise, Casts at the handsom gossips his wanton eyes, While gay Sr. Fopling, an accomplished ass, Is courting's own dear image in the glass: The midwife busied too, with mighty care, Adjusts the cap shews innocency fair, Behind her stands the clerk, on whose grave face Sleek Abigal cannot forbear to gaze, But master, without thought, poor harmless child, Has on the floor the holy-water spill'd, Thrown down the hat; the lap-dog gnaws ye rose; And at the fire the nurse is warming cloaths, One guess enquires the parson's name; - says Friendly, "Why don't you know sir! - Hyp-Doctor H - y.""