Book format: An electronic version of a printed book that can be read on a computer or handheld device designed specifically for this purpose.
Publisher: General Books LLC (3 Feb. 2012)
By: John Courtenay (Author)
This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1794. Excerpt: ... Naples, April 16th, 1793. o HOW I love Naples, so frolic, and gay, Its skies are so bright, so delightful its bay: The folk as they chatter impatiently prance, And seem as if seiz'd with St. Vitus's dance. E'en the poor Lazzaronis are courtly and nice, As they quaff a cool cup of their snow flavour'd ice: They bask in the fun, love their ease, and their jokes. And tho' they pickpockets are good sort of folks. Like Venus, the Ladies so charmingly smile, Or as Eve, when she meant Caro Spos' to beguile: How voluptuous the motions, bewitching the air, Of the sweet Neopolitan languishing fair: The breezes sulphureous, they panting inspire, Like matches of brimstone, each spark gives them fire: While a currency dear, they add to their charms, By shifting each night to a new lover's arms. E. Molti Averne, they tenderly fay, Choose one out of many, for amorous play: Muki Averne, un governe, c cangiar spesso. But But this rigid maxim, difcreetly they soften, By Cangiar SpeJsot that's change very often: Hence Cupid, they fay, is still painted with wings, And Constancy s no where, as Metestas'sings. A lover's faith in fancy blooms, Tho' Phœ:nix like I ween: We hear of his refulgent plumes, But who the bird has seen! Here tribes of wise Lawyers in robes most decorus, Snap, wrangle, and scold, and bawl in full chorus: The client is beggar'd, the knave his cash gathers, So the fox eats the goose, leave the farmer the feathers. 'Tis said how a Pope mov'd by pity divine, In a famine at Rome, sent to Naples for swine: Thirty thousand at least, Marquis Carpio in hope To save such a herd, yet not anger the Pope. Devoutly reply'd--Blessed Father I swear, In Lawyers I'll pay you, the pigs I can't spare. Thro' Thro' streets tomb'd in ashes, delighted we tread, Where Plin...