Miserae cognosce prooemia rixae,
Si rixa est ubi tu pulsas, ego vapulo tantum.
Poor Sherry, inglorious,
To Dan the victorious,
Presents, as ’tis fitting,
Petition and greeting.
To you, victorious and brave,
Your now subdued and suppliant slave
Most humbly sues for pardon;
Who when I fought still cut me down,
And when I vanquish’d, fled the town
Pursued and laid me hard on.
Now lowly crouch’d, I cry peccavi,
And prostrate, supplicate pour ma vie;
Your mercy I rely on;
For you my conqueror and my king,
In pardoning, as in punishing,
Will show yourself a lion.
Alas! sir, I had no design,
But was unwarily drawn in;
For spite I ne’er had any;
’Twas the damn’d squire with the hard name;
The de’il too that owed me a shame,
The devil and Delany;
They tempted me t’ attack your highness,
And then, with wonted wile and slyness,
They left me in the lurch:
Unhappy wretch! for now, I ween,
I’ve nothing left to vent my spleen
But ferula and birch:
And they, alas! yield small relief,
Seem rather to renew my grief,
My wounds bleed all anew:
For every stroke goes to my heart
And at each lash I feel the smart
Of lash laid on by you.