O M R B h（1 / 1）

on rs riddell&039;s birthday

4th noveber 1793

old ter, with his frosty beard,

th once to jove his prayer preferred:

“what have i done of all the year,

to bear this hated doo severe?

y cheerless suns no pleasure know;

night&039;s horrid car drags, dreary slow;

y disal onths no joys are crowng,

but spleeny english hangg, drowng

“now jove, for once be ighty civil

to unterbance all this evil;

give , and i&039;ve no ore to say,

give aria&039;s natal day!

that brilliant gift shall enrich ,

sprg, sur, autun, cannot atch ”

“&039;tis done!” says jove; ends y story,

and ter once rejoiced glory