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POETICAL SKETCHES 
 
 SCAEBOEOUGH 
 
 1813 
 
• 
 
 PUBLISHER" S NOTE. 
 
 This Large Paper Edition is limited to 60 Copies 
 numbered, and type distrihiited. 
 
 No...r.^u 
 
J. Green del. 
 
 y/iDO\jv Pucker & f^ER J^vmphs 
 
^, .. ^. . ^ J^..v^ ih^.r-y\^^XLjyZ 
 
 POETICAL SKETCHES 
 
 SCARBOROUGH 
 
 IN 1813 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 
 TWENTY-ONE PLATES OF HUMOROUS SUBJECTS 
 
 COLOURED BY HAND 
 
 /tnni (Original BEsigns 
 
 MADE UPON THE SPOT BY J. GREEN AND ETCHED BY T. ROWLANDSON 
 
 DRIFFIELD: 
 
 FRANK FAWCBTT. 
 
 1893 
 
WITH 
 
 SENTIMENTS OF GRATEFUL RESPECT 
 
 FOR HIS 
 
 VALUABLE ASSISTANCE, 
 
 THIS 
 
 WORK IS INSCRIBED 
 
 TO THE 
 
 REV. FRANCIS WRANGHAM, M.A., F.R.8., 
 
 VICAR OF HUNMANBY, NEAR 
 
 SCARBOROUGH, 
 
 BY HIS MUCH OBLIGED, 
 
 HUMBLE SERVANT, 
 
 JAMES GREEN. 
 
 708 
 
PUBLISHER'S PREFACE. 
 
 THE present work is a fac-simile in 
 reprint of a book published in the first 
 quarter of the present century, when the 
 pleasures of watering-places were only attain- 
 able by the privileged few. 
 
 It is unique as a poetical and pictorial 
 expose of the manners, customs and amuse- 
 ments, of the opulent, the gay and the infirm, 
 who frequented Scarborough; when George 
 the Third was King; and when as yet the 
 stage-coach was the most potent factor in 
 the way of locomotion. 
 
 The original publication ran through 
 several editions, and the one here reproduced, 
 is a replica of the annotated edition of 1813, 
 with its historical prelude. 
 
 The coloured plates bear the unmis- 
 takable impress of the hand of Thomas 
 Rowlandson. This is strikingly apparent in 
 the representation of the Venerable Arch- 
 deacon Wrangham in the ball-room plate, 
 
Publishe*' s Preface. 
 
 which curiously resembles the celebrated 
 figure of Doctor Syntax. 
 
 Apart from the illustrations — and here 
 we must not ignore the excellent initial work 
 of J. Green — there is a remarkable trinity 
 of talent embodied in the letterpress, in the 
 names of Wranghani, Papworth and Combe. 
 
 Archdeacon Wrangham — the scholar, 
 the country parson and the gentleman. J. 
 B. Papworth —no less cultured; with a 
 pen equally facile in descriptive verse; and 
 William Combe — of Doctor Syntax fame — 
 the English Le Sage, and the most varied 
 and voluminous writer of any age. Tliese 
 were the prominent dramatis personce who 
 in collaboration, formed the syndicate which 
 resulted in the production of " Poetical 
 Sketches of Scarborough," in 1813. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 THE originals of the plates introduced into 
 this volume were sketches made as souvenirs 
 of the place during a visit to Scarborough in the 
 season of 1812. They were not intended for pub- 
 lication, but being found to interest many per- 
 sons of taste, several of whom expressed a desire 
 to possess engravings of them; and some gentle- 
 men having offered to add metrical illustrations 
 to each, the present form of publication was 
 adopted. 
 
 The kind reception which the first edition of 
 the POETIC SKETCHES met with from the public 
 demands the best acknowledgments of the parties 
 who produced them : — by correcting the errors 
 occurring from the haste icith which the volume 
 was written, an attempt has been made to render 
 the present edition someivhat more ivorthy of the 
 Library. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF SCARBOROUGH. paob 
 
 THE STAGE COACH AND ARRIVAL... I 
 
 BREAKFAST ROOM I5 
 
 SPA WELLS 25 
 
 SPA TERRACE 33 
 
 SHOE SHOP 43 
 
 CASTLE AND NORTH SHORE 53 
 
 WARM BATH 73 
 
 CORNELIAN PARTY 85 
 
 SEA BATHING IO5 
 
 THE DRIVE 113 
 
 CHURCH AND CHURCH YARD I 23 
 
 SHOWER BATH 133 
 
 LIBRARY 141 
 
 PROMENADE 15 I 
 
 THEATRE 159 
 
 STAGE, (A FRAGMENT) I 65 
 
 BALL ROOM 1 69 
 
 TERRACE STEPS 177 
 
 WATER PARTY 185 
 
 • POST OFFICE 197 
 
 DEPARTURE 207 
 
SOME ACCOUNT 
 
 OF 
 
 SCARBOROUGH. 
 
 ScARBOROTJOH, about 214 miles distant from 
 London and 40 from York, is situated in the south- 
 east corner of the North-Riding of Yorkshire, at the 
 bottom of a beautiful bay, from which it rises in the 
 form of a crescent, on a slope of a bald and varied 
 shore, presenting several points of great elevation. — 
 It is sheltered on the north-east by a lofty and preci- 
 pitous rock surrounded by the sea, except on the 
 west side. This rock contains on it's summit a level 
 area of nineteen acres, on which stand the ruins of 
 the castle. The town is well built, but from if s ro- 
 mantic situation, regularity cannot be expected. The 
 principal streets of the upper town ai'e spacious and 
 handsome, particularly Queen Street, Long Room 
 Street, and Newborough. The latter, which may 
 be considei-ed as the main or high street, is about 
 1000 feet in length, 50 wide, and has on each side 
 an excellent flagged pavement 9 feet broad. In 
 regard to beauty of situation, the New Buildingson the 
 a 
 
U SOME ACCOUNT OF SCARBOROUGH. 
 
 Cliff stand unrivalled. As lodging-houses, for which 
 purpose they were originally built, they are commo- 
 dious and elegant, and in summer are agreeably re- 
 freshed by the breezes from the sea. The terrace, in 
 front, elevated near 100 feet above the level of the 
 sands, commands a variety of delightful prospects. — 
 According to the enumeration of 1811, Scarborough 
 contains 6570 resident inhabitants. 
 
 How long this town has enjoyed the privileges of 
 a Corporation is not known : the first charter extant 
 was granted by Henry II. in 1181; but the muni- 
 cipal constitution has frequently been changed. 
 The corporate body has, since the accession of 
 William III., consisted of two bailiffs, a recorder, 
 two coroners, four chamberlains, and 36 common - 
 council-men. The Duke of Rutland is the present 
 recorder. 
 
 In 11 Edward 1. 1282, Scarborough first began to 
 exercise the right of returning two members to serve 
 in Parliament. By a decision of the House of Com- 
 mons, in April 1736, it was determined that the right 
 of election belongs exclusively to the Corporation. 
 The present members are the Hon. General Edward 
 Phipps, and the Right Hon. Charles Manners Sutton. 
 
 Scarborough is considered, by most writers, as a 
 place of great antiquity; and, from it's name, which 
 signifies "the Town on the Cliff"," is thought to have 
 been known to the Saxons, if not also to their Roman 
 
SOME ACCOONT OF SCARBOROUaH. Ill 
 
 predecessors. This conjecture, however, but ill a- 
 grees with the silence of Domesday Book, in which 
 record no mention is made of this place; but to ac- 
 count for that circumstance, it has been suggested 
 that the ravages of the Danes, the destructive con- 
 tests of the Northumbrian princes, and the vindictive 
 policy of William the Conqueror, who laid waste a 
 great part of Yorkshire, might then have reduced it 
 to a miserable state of obscurity. 
 
 As a town, Scarborough is little known in history, 
 except so far as it was connected with it's Castle built 
 in the reign of King Stephen, (about 1136) by William 
 le Gros, Earl of Albemarle and Holderness. The prin- 
 cipal events relating to this edifice are recapitulated 
 in a distinct Canto of the following Poem. The pre- 
 sent remains afford but a faint idea of the ancient 
 strength of this important fortress, which was proved 
 in several memorable sieges. It was, nevertheless, 
 taken during the reign of Queen Mary, in a manner 
 that gave rise to a proverbial expression still com- 
 monly used in the neighbourhood: "Scarborough 
 warning; a word and a blow, but the blow first!" — 
 In 1553, Mr. Thomas Stafford, second son of Lord 
 Stafford, having Joined the party of Sir Thomas 
 Wyatt, the Duke of Suffolk, and other insurgents 
 against the authority of the Queen, formed a plan 
 for surprising the Castle. He repaired to the town 
 on a market-day, and under the most unsuspicious 
 appearances, was permitted to enter the fortress 
 
iV SOME ACCOUNT OF SCARBOROUGH. 
 
 where he strolled about with a careless air, as if mere- 
 ly to gratify curiosity. About thirty of his followers 
 disguised as peasants, with market-baskets on their 
 arms, also gained admittance; and selecting a fa- 
 vourable opportunity, secured all the sentinels at the 
 same moment, seized the gate, and admitted their re- 
 maining companions, who under the exterior garb 
 of countrymen had concealed arms. Short, however, 
 was the triumph of Mr. Stafford, who retained pos- 
 session of the Castle only three days, when it was re- 
 ' covered by the Earl of Westmoreland with a consi- 
 derable force. The leader of the insurgents, with 
 four others was sent to London, where being arraign- 
 ed and convicted of high treason, he was beheaded. 
 
 During the civil wars under Charles I. Scarborough 
 sustained two sieges from the parliamentary forces. 
 The first of these, which lasted a whole j'ear, was not 
 less remarkable for the gallant defence made by the 
 governor Sir Hugh Cholmley, than for the heroic spirit 
 displayed by his lady, "who," we are told, " would not 
 " forsake him; but, determined on facing all danger, 
 " continued with him the twelve months during the 
 " siege of the town and castle. She endured much 
 " hardship, yet with little show of trouble; and in 
 " the greatest danger would never be daunted, but 
 " showed a courage above her sex." She was inde- 
 fatigable in her attentions to the sick ; "and when 
 " Sir John Meldrum (who commanded the besiegers) 
 " had sent propositions to Sir Hugh, with menaces 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF SCARBOROUGH. V 
 
 " that if they were not accepted, he would that night 
 " be master of all the works and castle, and in case 
 " one of his men's blood was shed would not give 
 " quarter to man or woman, but put all to the sword; 
 " Lady Oholmley, conceiving Sir Hugh would more 
 " relent therein, in respect of her being there, 
 " came to him and prayed him, that he would not, 
 " for any consideration of her, do aught which might 
 " be prejudicial to his own honour or the king's af- 
 " fairs." Her enthusiasm was not shared by the 
 other females in the town, who according to a Hala- 
 tion of tlie Surrender, "could hardly be kept from 
 " stoning Sir Hugh." 
 
 It appears that in 1666, many prisoners of state 
 were confined here. Among them was George Fox, 
 the celebrated founder of the sect of the Quakers, 
 who in his Memoirs speaks of three different rooms 
 in which he was imprisoned. One of them looked 
 toward the sea, and "laying much open, the wind 
 " drove in the rain forcibly, so that the water came 
 " over his bed and ran about the room, so that he was 
 " fain to skim it up with a platter." In enumerat- 
 ing his sufferings and persecutions he states, that "a 
 "three-penny loaf lasted him three weeks, and some- 
 " times longer; and most of his drink was water, 
 " with wormwood steeped in it." 
 
 The ravages of time, and two destructive sieges, 
 reduced this fortress to little better than a mass of 
 
Tl SOME ACCOUNT OP SCARBOROUGH. 
 
 ruins; and it lay iu a neglected state till the rebel- 
 lion in 1745, when it was hastily put into temporary 
 repair, so as merely to prevent a surprise, and made 
 a depot for military stores. The following year the 
 present barracks contiguous to the castle-wall, capa- 
 ble of accommodating 120 men besides officers, 
 were built. At the same time a battery of twelve 
 eighteen-pounders was erected on the declivity of the 
 hill facing the haven; and lest the firing of the guns 
 should bring down the lofty but ruined Charles' 
 tower, which stood on the projecting angle above, 
 it was wholly demolished. 
 
 Of four monasteries and two hospitals, formerly 
 existing at Scarborough, no vestiges worthy of notice 
 remain, except part of the church of St. Mary, 
 which originally belonged to a convent of White or 
 Carmelite friars, founded by Edward II. and sup- 
 pressed by Henry V. It was afterwards converted 
 into a parish church, and is now the only edifice in 
 the town for divine worship according to the rites of 
 the Church of England. During the first siege of 
 the Castle under Charles I., the besiegers made a 
 lodgment in this church, which was then very exten- 
 seusive, and it's lofty towers enabled them greatly to 
 annoy the garrison, who however returned their fire 
 with such vigour and judgment, as soon obliged the 
 enemy to abandon their post : but the edifice suf- 
 fered much on this occasion. From the preamble 
 to a brief obtained 12 Charles II. 1660, for rebuilding 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OP SCARBOROUGH. Vll 
 
 this church, it appears that during this siege, "two 
 " very fair churches were by the violence of cannon 
 "beaten down; and that in one day there were 
 " threescore pieces of ordnance discharged against 
 " the steeple of the upper church of St. Mary, and 
 " the choir thereof quite beaten down, and the stee- 
 "ple thereof so shaken that notwithstanding theen- 
 " deavours of the inhabitants to repair the same, the 
 " steeple and the bells on the 10th day of October 
 " last fell, and brought down with it most part of the 
 "same church." By the assistance of the brief, 
 and other contributions, part of the body of the 
 church and the tower, which now stands at the east 
 end, were built in 1669 on the foundations and ruins 
 of the old fabric. The other church, destroyed 
 by the fire from the castle, during the siege, was 
 that of St. Thomas, which had been converted into 
 a magazine by the forces of the parliament. 
 
 The town abounds with Dissenters; Presbyterians, 
 Quakers, Baptists, Methodists, and Roman Catho- 
 lics; all of whom have their respective places for 
 religious worship. 
 
 The attractions which Scarborough presents to the 
 invalid, are two-fold: namely, it's mineral waters and 
 sea-bathing. The properties of the former were dis- 
 covered about the year 1 620 by a lady resident in 
 this town, and the waters have ever since been held 
 in high estimation. The Spa is pleasantly situated 
 
viii SOME ACCOUNT OP SCARBOROtJaH. 
 
 on the sea shore at the foot of the cliffs, a little to 
 the south of the town, aud consists of two wells, one 
 of which is more purgative and the other more chaly- 
 beate. The former, commonly called the Scarborough 
 Water, contains in a gallon 52 grains of calcareous 
 earth, 2 of ochre, and 266 of vitriolated magnesia. 
 The chalybeate has, in the same quantity of water, 
 70 grains of calcareous earth, 139 of vitriolated mag- 
 nesia, and 1 1 of marine salt. When these waters are 
 poured from one glass into another, they throw up a 
 numberof bubbles which shows that they contain much 
 fixed air. At the fountain they have both a brisk 
 pungent chalybeate taste, but the purgative is also 
 somewhat bitter. From two to four half pints is the 
 quantity usually drunk. They have been found par- 
 ticularly beneficial in hectic fevers, weakness of the 
 stomach, and indigestion; in relaxations of the sys- 
 tem; in nervous, hysteric, and hypochondriac 
 disorders; in scurvy, asthmatic complaints, habitual 
 costiveness, and sexual indispositions. 
 
 In December 1737, this celebrated Spa was lost for 
 a time by a singular incident. It is situated fronting 
 the sea to the east, under a high cliff, the top of 
 which is 51 yards above the high-water level. The 
 staith or wharf projecting before the Spa-house was 
 a mass of stones bound by timbers, and forming a 
 fence for the security of the building. It was 76 
 feet long, 14 high, and in weight by computation 
 2463 tons. On Wednesday, December 28th, in the 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF SCARBOROUGH. IX 
 
 morning, a great crack was beard from the cellar of 
 the Spa-housej and upon search the cellar was found 
 to be rent, but no farther notice was then taken of 
 the circumstance. The night following, another 
 crack was heard, and next day between two and 
 three in the afternoon a third ; when the top of the 
 Cliff behind it rent 224 yards in length and 36 in 
 breadth, and was all in motion, slowly descending 
 and so continued till dark. The ground thus rent 
 contained about an acre of pasture-land, and had 
 Kittle then feeding upon it, but had sunk nearly 
 1 7 yards perpendicular. The sides of the Cliff nearest 
 to the Spa stood as before, but were rent and broken 
 in many places, and forced forward to the sea about 
 20 yards. The ground, thus sunk, lay upon a level . 
 and next morning the cattle were still feeding upon 
 it, the main land forming a wall on the west, and 
 some part of the side of the Cliff a wall on the east; 
 but the whole exhibited such a scene of confusion 
 as could scarcely be described. As the ground 
 sunk, the earth or sand under the Cliff for above 
 one hundred yards in length on each side of 
 the staith rose in some places six, in others seven 
 yards above it's former level. ' The Spa-wells rose 
 with it, but the water ceased running. Fortu- 
 nately for the town after a diligent search, when 
 the ruins had been cleared away, the spring was 
 again found, and on trial it appeared that the water 
 was rather improved than injured by the accident. 
 b 
 
X SOME ACCOUNT OF SCARBOROUGH. 
 
 The present building was erected in 1739, at the 
 expense of the Corporation. Here a person under 
 the name of Governor resides during the season, to 
 superintend the accommodations provided for the 
 company, and receive the subscription of Is. &d. 
 from each person, one-third of which is appropri- 
 ated to the women who serve the waters, and the 
 rest to the Corporation, toward defraying the ex- 
 pense of the house, platform, and walk. 
 
 The shore, being a fine hard sand, is consequently 
 well adapted for bathing; and at low water is, also, 
 much frequented for walking and riding. The num- 
 ber of bathing-machines kept here is about forty, the 
 regular charge for which is one shilling each time, 
 but at your departure the attendants expect a gratu- 
 ity nearly equal to the whole sum paid to their 
 masters. The sudden tides, and short breakings of 
 the sea, which often come with great impetuosity, 
 render it adviseable to employ guides and machines. 
 
 On the Cliff are two commodious suites of rooms 
 for warm sea-water bathing, both established by sur- 
 geons of the town; and, in 1812, a General Sea- 
 Bathing Infirmary was instituted upon the plan of 
 that at Margate, for the benefit of the diseased poor. 
 
 Scarborough possesses as many sources of amuse- 
 ment, as are to be met with in the generality of simi- 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF SCABBOBODQH. XI 
 
 lar places of public resort. The Assembly Room in 
 Long-Room Street, is not distinguished either for 
 beauty or elegance; but it is commodious, and suffi- 
 cient for the reception of a large company. It is 
 open for dancing on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fri- 
 days; subscribers paying one guinea for the season, 
 and non-subscribers five shillings each night. The 
 Theatre is very neat, the performance in general 
 well executed, and the scenic decorations are much 
 admired. — The Circulating Libraries, for a very 
 moderate subscription contribute to furnish a pleas- 
 ng variety of rational entertainment. 
 
 Fishing, as well as sailing, may be reckoned among 
 the amusements of the visitors to Scarborough. The 
 apparatus for fishing in the sea, with proper attend- 
 ants, may readily be procured: but to such as pre- 
 fer angling, the river Derwent, a mile from the 
 town, pi'esents a favourable opportunity. 
 
 Exercise, that grand specific against numberless 
 disorders may be enjoyed at Scarborough in almost 
 any weather. After the heaviest showers, the flag- 
 ged pavements and the gravel walks on the Cliff are 
 dry in a few minutes; and the sands to the north 
 and south of the town afford abundant opportunity 
 for riding, driving, and walking. The south sands 
 are most frequented on account of the Spa, their 
 proximity to the best part of the town, and their fa- 
 cility of access: but those who love quiet and medi- 
 
Xll SOME ACCOUNT OP SCAEBOEOUGH. 
 
 tation will probably prefer the north sands, where 
 the view of the Castle is highly pleasing and im- 
 pressive. 
 
 A considerable addition has recently been made to 
 the accommodations for public exercise, by the en- 
 closure of Weaponness Hill, or Mount Oliver; 
 round which has been made a driving road wind- 
 ing to a fine level plain on it's summit, which com- 
 mands a very extensive view. This hill is situated 
 a little to the south-west of the town, which it over- 
 looks, and received the latter appellation from a 
 mistaken notion that Cromwell here erected batteries 
 against the Castle during the siege in 1644-5. 
 
 Not far from the Town-gate, which is used as a 
 prison, is a spacious ornamental garden, where such 
 as choose to subscribe may enjoy an agreeable walk 
 during the season at a trifling expense. Pearson's 
 garden also, at Falsgrave, a small hamlet at the dis- 
 tance of about a ipile, commands some beautiful 
 views of the sea, the castle, and the vicinity. 
 
 The rocks and shores are capable of affording 
 ample gratification to the naturalist. The variety of 
 sea-weed, corallines, pebbles, and petrifactions which 
 they furnish is very considerable ; but persons, who 
 prefer a less fatiguing mode of collecting, may 
 purchase very good specimens at the shops in the 
 town. 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF SCARBOROUGH. XIU 
 
 The original pier at Scarborough was of very an- 
 cient construction; but it's date cannot be precisely 
 ascertained. A new one now erecting, and of which 
 about 40 feet are finished every year, will be upward 
 of 1240 feet in length. Many of the stones em- 
 ployed in this work weigh 20 or 30 tons each : they 
 are procured from the quarry of White Nabb^ an 
 opposite point about two miles to the south of the 
 harbour. This quarry is a great natural curiosity, 
 the strata lying as regularly as if artificially deposited, 
 in order to their being taken up and applied with 
 greater facility. 
 
 Among the charitable institutions of this town are 
 several schools for the education of poor children. 
 The Amicable Society, instituted in 1 729, consists of 
 250 members, under whose auspices 37 boys and 
 22 girls receive instruction. In the Spinning School, 
 20 girls are educated and clcthed. The School of 
 Industry is not only supported like the preceding, 
 but superintended by the Ladies of Scarborough. 
 Lastly, the Lancasterian School erected in 1810, near 
 the North-cliff, is capable of accommodating 450 
 children. 
 
 On an airy hill on the road to Peasholme stands 
 an Hospital for the relief of aged and disabled sea- 
 men, which is an appendage to, and under the go- 
 vernment of the Trinity House, London. It's funds 
 arise from a rate on ships belonging to the Port, 
 
XIV SOME ACCOUNT OP SCAKBOEO0OH. 
 
 and a deduction of six-pence per month from the 
 pay of each of their hands. 
 
 Scarborough has some foriegn trade, and builds a 
 considerable number of ships, many of which are 
 now chartered to government; and others are em- 
 ployed in the East and West-India, coasting, and 
 coal trades. Considerable quantities of corn, pota- 
 toes, dried fish, and other articles of commerce are 
 exported coast-wise. Here are likewise a sail-cloth 
 manufactory, and three rope-walks. 
 
 The fishery affords employment, as iriight natural- 
 ly be expected, to many of the industrious inhabi- 
 tants. The fishermen of this place are, perhaps, not 
 more superstitious than those of other towns on our 
 coast; but it is remarked of them, that when pro- 
 ceeding to sea on their usual business, they will not 
 upon any account, utter a single word. All their 
 preparations therefore, as well as the embarkation, 
 are carried on with the most profound silence aud 
 gravity. Significant signs alone express whatever 
 is necessary; and this pantomime does not terminate 
 till they arrive on the fishing-ground. A new ship 
 is by no means suffered to go to sea on a Friday, and 
 neither omens nor lucky and unlucky days are yet 
 struck out of the fishermen's traditional calendar. 
 
 The fish-market is held on the sands, by the sides 
 of the boats, which at low-water are frequently run 
 
SOME ACCOUNT OF SCARBOROUGH. XV 
 
 up on wheels with a sail set and conducted by the 
 fishermen, who dispose of their cargoes in the fol- 
 lowing curious manner: — One of the female fish- 
 mongers inquires the price, and bids a groat. The 
 fishermen ask a sum in the opposite extreme: the 
 one bids up, and the other reduces the demand till 
 they meet at a reasonable point, when the bidder 
 suddenly exclaims " Het !" This practice seems to 
 be borrowed from the Dutch. The purchase is after- 
 ward retailed among the regular or occasional 
 surrounding customers. 
 
 A Life-boat, on Mr. Greathead's plan, was built 
 here in 1801, and has proved the means of saving 
 many vessels and valuable lives. It is kept in a 
 building recently erected on the road to the Spa, 
 where on application it may be inspected. 
 
<s 
 
SCARBOROUGH. 
 
 THE STAGE COACH AND ARRIVAL. 
 
 JjLAIL, Scarborough! whose castled steep 
 Frowns o'er the vast expansive deep; 
 When Ocean wild assails thy shores, 
 And loud the raging tempest roars. 
 When thunders roll and lightnings fly 
 In vivid terrors through the sky. 
 Thou bravest with gigantic form 
 The malice of the angry storm! 
 
 Hail, Scarborough ! whose shore invites 
 To Pleasure's innocent delights; 
 Whose springs the invitation give 
 To all who seek in health to live, 
 
 B 
 
2 THE STAGE COACH AND ARRIVAL. 
 
 Who for a few short weeks prepare 
 To leave behind a load of care. 
 Or for a summer month to see 
 The world, and its variety. 
 To those, whom Fate has thought it meet 
 To wedge within the crowded street. 
 How great the joy to view the scene, 
 The yellow strand — the ocean green — 
 The sparkling wave — the swelling sail 
 That spreads to catch the favoring gale, 
 Which from thy bold commanding brow 
 The eye delighted seeks below. 
 He who for nine months lives at home. 
 When duty bids him not to roam. 
 May on thy shore from business free, 
 Kejoice to pass the other three: 
 And thus, by Reason's rule, appear 
 To fill the measure of the year. 
 Whatever cause the votary brings 
 To thy salt waves and healthful springs. 
 If 'tis to join the dance and song, 
 And in gay sports the hours prolong; 
 Yet still, within thy festive bowers, 
 Health regulates the joyous hours 
 
THE STAGE COACH AND ARRIVAL. 
 
 Discretion mingles with the train 
 
 And Dissipation's sickly reign 
 
 Corrupts not thy remote domain. 
 
 Besides, the philosophic eye 
 
 Smiles ev'n beneath the northern sky, 
 
 And will within thy limits scan 
 
 The whimsicalities of man : 
 
 Nay, while th' expansive view delights 
 
 Of thy wide seas and rocky heights. 
 
 And while thy pleasures mild and free 
 
 Display their chaste variety. 
 
 The curious and inquiring mind 
 
 In thy promiscuous crowd may find 
 
 The virtues, as the whims, that grace 
 
 And variegate the human race. 
 
 To paint thy scenery grand and gay, 
 And blend the living forms that stray 
 In Nature's or in Pleasure's way. 
 The Muse proceeds; — nor swerves from truth. 
 Or in tlie sketch of age or youth; 
 But thus portrays what she, in reason. 
 Fancies may happen every season. 
 
 Cramm'd in a coach just built for four, 
 And outside, — twice as many more: 
 
4 THE STAGE COiCH AND ARRIVAL. 
 
 A fine young man, just fresh from college. 
 
 Of modest worth and classic knowledge 
 
 Edmund, a title known to fame, 
 
 And though no titles decked the name. 
 
 He needed not the herald's art 
 
 To grace or dignify his heart ; 
 
 A man of wealth, and his sage mate — 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Tottergait, 
 
 With daughter Ella, blooming fair, 
 
 And Kate, the mother's equal care, 
 
 The merriest little sprite alive, 
 
 Made np the travelling party five. 
 
 Laws, it is said, are form'd to rule 
 The knave, the thoughtless, and the fool. 
 The bar obeys — the learn'd divine 
 Submissive bows before their shrine; 
 But the disciples of the whip 
 Will sometimes give the laws the slip: 
 The law that circumscribes the load 
 Stands not, like mile-stones on the road; 
 And, place it there — it is agreed 
 Coachmen are not obliged to read. 
 Thus bag and baggage — women, men, 
 Within-side five, and out-side ten ! 
 
THE STAGE COACH A^fD AflRTVAL. 
 
 As inaoh as four stout nags can draw, 
 Are passing on to Scarbro' Spa. 
 
 But now, through clouds of dust that rise 
 Like smoky columns to the skies, 
 Proclaim'd by noise and loud uproar. 
 Behold Lord Harry's chaise and four ! 
 "Huzza! my boys — give spur and thong; 
 "And dashingly, the dash-along." 
 With steady pace the loaded Ply, 
 Perhaps the "Dart," or "Meixury," 
 Views with alarm the swift approach, 
 That threats the honour of the coach. 
 
 Ye four-in-hand, of men the best! 
 Who know what rules a coachman's breast; 
 What snarling anger he must feel. 
 When pole to pole, and wheel to wheel. 
 His panting horses' slacken'd pace 
 Declare him vanquish'd in the race; 
 Say, would you not avow the pain 
 To see him whip — and whip in vain? 
 Ah ! would you not, to say no worse. 
 Repeat his oaths and join his curse? 
 
b THE STAGE COACH AND ARRIVAL. 
 
 High on the Box, in vulgar state. 
 The Coachman's locum tenens sat: — 
 With elbows squared, and reins held short. 
 His coat and hat the "primest sort." 
 With keen, but half-averted eyes, 
 Sir John contended for the prize: 
 Glowing with charioteering pride, 
 "Ya ha — ya ha — ya up" — he cried. 
 
 Then side by side they moved apace. 
 While fate beheld the doubtful race: 
 Familiar greetings quickly follow'd; 
 Each to the other londly hoUow'd 
 "Ah Jack"— "What Baronet! so ho! 
 "Go it, my lad!"— "Ay, that's the go!" 
 
 To claim the wreath in highway story. 
 Fate to his Lordship gave the glory; 
 Yet might Sir Jacky have prevailed. 
 Had not his skill a moment fail'd: 
 For as he boldly urged the pace. 
 And swiftly ran the four-wheel race; 
 Somehow, and we cannot tell why. 
 The poor misguided Mercury, 
 As if its furious heat to cool, 
 Fell over in a stagnant pool. 
 
THE STAOK COACH AND AKRIVAL. 7 
 
 Now oaths, aad shrieks, and screamings foUow'd; 
 
 Lord Harry loud in triumph hollow'd: 
 
 Nor stopp'd to isnow if the disaster 
 
 Call'd for bone-setting, or for plaster. 
 
 The wheels might have a splinter'd spoke. 
 
 Bat not one human limb was broke : 
 
 A various wetting was the harm, 
 
 Which fiU'd the party with alarm; 
 
 Nor did they any ill endure, 
 
 But what a fire and soap could cure. 
 
 Miss Thimble's dress spread out so loose. 
 
 That like a net it caught a goose. 
 
 And Mrs. Bumpkin had the luck 
 
 To fall so squat, she kill'd a duck: 
 
 While the old pair, with no small pother. 
 
 Had tumbled over one another; 
 
 And Ella, pallid with alarms, 
 
 Sunk fearful into Edmund's arms. 
 
 At length, in this sad dripping state, 
 The passengers all sought the gate 
 (Some wetted to their very skin) 
 Of an adjacent village inn. 
 Now chamber-maids were loudly prest 
 And warming-pans in great request: 
 
8 THE STAGE COACH AND AKEIVAL. 
 
 Now fires were stirr'd, to warm without; 
 
 To warm within the liquors spout: 
 
 While clothes of every kind were seen^ 
 
 To form a strange and motley screen, 
 
 So steam'd the kitchen, that they say 
 
 'Twas like a barrack washing-day. 
 
 Some rubb'd their feet, and some their head. 
 
 And some went sulkily to bed. 
 
 Two hours had scarcely passed — no more. 
 When all was dry and frights were o'er; 
 The party met, and hail'd each other 
 Kindly as brother would a brother. 
 A plump, good-humour*d, friendly 'Squire, 
 Whose seat was near the parlour fire. 
 Rose from his chair, as Totter led 
 His Lady from her- sleepless bed. 
 "0, welcome, friends," he smiling cried, 
 "May no worse fortune end our ride; 
 "No agues shake yourself or Lady, 
 "Shaken we've been, enough already: 
 "For me — I've hunted many a hare, 
 "And many falls have had; but swear 
 "Not one like this, for stag or fox: — 
 " Sir ! I was seated on the Box ! " 
 
THE STAGE COACH AND ARRIVAL. 
 
 An Actor, with a tragic stare, 
 Bxclaim'd "0 what a fall was thare, 
 "My countrymen! tlien I — and all 
 "Fell down* — and 'midst the splashing fall 
 "A looker-on, no doubt, might see 
 "The ducks rise up ami mutiny !"\ 
 "Rise!" cried a youth, who near him stood, 
 "I'm sure that our resentment should! 
 "0 — by the thundering Jove — that Lord 
 "Shall know the temper of my sword: 
 "By all the powers — by all that's true, 
 "He shall both feel and eat it too." 
 
 A cool North-Briton shook his head, 
 And in his native accents said; 
 "Hand, Sir, pray baud; for I maun say 
 "Twere gude correction thrown away: 
 "For aw his state, I'm sure you'll grant, 
 "He's truly insignificant; 
 "An it were true that Lords are used 
 "To make their state so much abused, 
 
 * Shakspeare's Julius Caesar, 
 t Antony's Speech over the Body of Caesar. 
 C 
 
10 THE STAGE COACH AND ARRIVAL. 
 
 "I wad join we ye to correct 
 "The folly and the disrespect; 
 "But you remember, there's a rule — 
 "The wisest house may haud a fule; 
 "And, as our nobles fill their station, 
 "They're ornamental to the nation." 
 
 "I recollect," said Edmund, "Sir," 
 "(So thought our British orator*) 
 "They are the capitals," said he, 
 "Of polished, high, society: 
 "But when by chance they fill the part, 
 "Unformed of genius or of art, 
 "Without the elegance and grace 
 "That in the Corinth gem t "^^ trace, 
 "In such a state of things we see 
 "A strange uncouth deformity. 
 
 * Burke, on the French Eevolution. 
 
 t The Capital of the Corinthian Order of Architecture is 
 traly a Gkm in Art — An Athenian artist accidentally finding 
 the Acanthus, or Dock, spreading its foliage about a basket 
 covered with a tile, and which had been placed on a tomb 
 of a young virgin, containing the little articles of her infantine 
 amusements; he became interested by its beautiful forms, and 
 thence composed the lovely model, which has deservedly 
 transmitted the name of Callimachus to our times. 
 
THE STAGE COACH AND ARRIVAL. 11 
 
 "The wise, who think aright, must know 
 "When Fate or Fortune yields the blow, 
 "And kingdoms fall — for lie they must, 
 "Like Rome and Athens, in the dust — 
 "It is the high-wrought polish'd form; 
 "Feels most the havock of the storm." 
 
 A deep half-smother'd feeling sigh. 
 That instant, claim'd th' inquiring eyej 
 'Twas from the breast, as all might see, 
 Of a poor wandering Refugee. 
 His snuff-box, open in his hand. 
 Was closed in haste: — he took his stand 
 Remote from all; and seem'd to fear. 
 How ill he might conceal a tear. 
 
 "Won't you sit down?" fair Ella said 
 To a short, pretty, little maid. 
 "What is the matter? are you hurt? 
 "0 never heed the dust and dirt." 
 "No; I'm not hurt. Ma'am — not at all: 
 "Though sure it was a dreadful fall; 
 "But dear — my Lady, only see — 
 "The Irishman has ruin'd me; 
 
12 THE STAGE COACH AND ARRIVAL. 
 
 "Yet the dear Gentleman, you know, 
 "Could not prevent the overthrow; 
 "But that poor box, and all that's in it, 
 "He smash'd together in a minute; 
 "Flowers, and feathers — all are gone, 
 "And not one left. Ma'am — no, not one: — " 
 Full many a sob and tear betray'd 
 The sorrows of the trembling maid; 
 The ruin of her little trade. 
 Ella's pure heart could never fail 
 Kesponsive throbs, to Sorrow's tale. 
 And soon she prest her hand; when lo! 
 All grief was banish'd from her brow; 
 Such feelings are to mortals given 
 To mark a near approach to Heaven, 
 And angels quit the spheres to see 
 Thy lovely deeds O Charity. 
 
 "And now the Coachman came to say — 
 They might proceed upon their way." 
 
 Tottergait. 
 
 "Ah! right; — but, friend, we can't forget 
 "Our Coachman was a Baronet, 
 
THE STAGE COACH AND ARRIVAL. 13 
 
 "Who claims perhaps a right to break 
 "An arm or leg, a rib, or neck; 
 "For if you are. Sir Knight, you see — 
 "We're not your Honour's company." 
 
 Coachman. 
 
 "No, please your Worship; you are sure 
 "Whene'er I drive, to be secure: 
 "All's one to me — or light or dark, 
 "I am a Coachman: — that there spark, 
 "Who in the horse-pond with you ran, 
 "He's Tiothing — but a Oentleman." 
 
 The Coach now drew up to the door. 
 All were replaced as heretofore: 
 Onward they drove, and many a joke 
 Their renovated spirits spoke; 
 And night arrived, as records tell, 
 Ere they alighted at the Bell. 
 
 J. p. 
 
CO, 
 
THE BREAKFAST ROOM. 
 
 PHILOSOPHERS have long atro 
 Descanted learnedly, we know. 
 On air and exercise; and write. 
 That each creates an appetite: 
 — Such feelings will with poets rise, 
 Without or air or exercise. 
 
 Now seated all at ease within 
 The parlour of the Old Bell Inn; 
 Bread, butter, ham — oh, savoury dish ! 
 And potted shrimps, and well-dried fish 
 Unite their tempting powers, to win 
 The willing party to begin. 
 
10 THE BREAKFAST ROOM. 
 
 From Huddersfield a youthful pair, 
 Good-humour'd, gay, and debonair, 
 Assam'd the hoaonrs of the feast. 
 And well supplied each anxious guest; 
 For many join the social throng, 
 And cheerful words the meal prolong. 
 Others in pairs, or single state, 
 Their coffee drank, and muffins ate. 
 In the far corner and alone 
 Sat a tall man, all skin and bone: 
 Solemn his features, and his eye 
 Proclaimed a shrouded mystery. 
 Now whispers round the table ran 
 Of "Who can be that curious man?" 
 For frequently that place he took. 
 And ponder'd o'er some ancient book; 
 How singular! — he never spoke — 
 He never smiled, whate'er the joke: 
 "Who can this solemn mortal be?" — 
 It still remained a mystery. 
 At length, however, he arose. 
 And with three very courteous bows 
 Eetir'd; — and then became the cause 
 Of a few moments' general pause. 
 
THE BREAKFAST ROOM. 17 
 
 "Poor Gentleman!" a Lady said, 
 "I fear he's troubled in the head: 
 "Pray, Heaven, it may not prove to be 
 " Delirium — or lunacy ! " 
 
 Miss Jane replied, "I know 'twill prove 
 "He's disappointed in his love: 
 "Dear Gentleman — how soft his eye! 
 "And then — I'm sure I heard him sigh; 
 "Besides, those marks of grief and care" 
 "Plainly bespeak his deep despair." 
 
 "Care, child !" a grave old Merchant said, 
 "The greatest care is care in trade: 
 "I'll venture to pronounce, that he 
 "Has had some heavy loss at sea; 
 "The wind has been uncommon high: 
 "Enough, poor man, to make him sigh!" 
 
 The Player said, "I think it is 
 "A tragic actor, by his phiz: 
 "I know that one is coming down 
 "To play, a night or two, from town;" 
 D 
 
18 THE BREAKFAST ROOM. 
 
 "And this is he, of whom I've heard: 
 
 "For what a nose, and chin, and Bird*. 
 
 "What a Penruddock he must make! 
 
 "Or rushing through the tangled brake, 
 
 "Octavian! prostrate on the floor, 
 
 " ' Away — ril bay the moon no moref.' 
 
 "Or rising full of stifled woe, 
 
 " ' Floranthe ! my Floranthe ! — oh-h-h J/ 
 
 "He is an actor, by his look, 
 
 "And the book is — the Prompter's book." 
 
 "I rather think," a Broker said, 
 "A pocket-ledger 'twas he read; 
 "And sure I am, that when he sigh'd, 
 "His eye was on the debtor side: 
 "But here's the waiter — tell us, pray 
 "Who is that Gent, who went away?" 
 
 Waiter. 
 
 "Why, Sir, I think that he lives here 
 "About a month in every year." 
 
 * For Beard— Modem Vocab, 
 t Monntaineera, X n)i<i- 
 
the brbakfa8t room. 19 
 
 Broker. 
 
 ''Has he not had a tumble down?" 
 
 Player. 
 
 "It is not Roscius, from Town?" 
 
 Merchant. 
 
 "Does not the Sea his losses prove?" 
 
 Miss Jane. 
 
 " Is not the Gentleman in love ?" 
 
 Old Lady. 
 
 "Tell us at once, my clever lad, 
 "Is he not sometimes very mad?" 
 
 Waiter. 
 
 "True, Ma'am, it is; — he's not in health, 
 "But then he has a power of wealth: 
 "'Tis for the waters, he is come; 
 "Poor gentleman — he's deaf and dumb." 
 
 Now wonder and a strange amaze, 
 Express'd a dozen different ways, 
 Yielded — as well, indeed, it might — 
 To the demands of appetite. 
 
20 THE BREAKFAST ROOM. 
 
 So the cessation, as a rest. 
 
 Gave to the viands greater zest. 
 
 And now much louder clamours rise 
 
 For commissariat supplies: 
 
 "Waiter, waiter; — good Heavens, what 
 
 "An idle race we here have got: 
 
 "Ho, waiter — won't the fellow stir? 
 
 "W-a-i-t-e-r"—" With you, this instant, Sir." 
 
 "The York Courant" — "Some tea and toast" — 
 
 "Here's ham for two. Ma'am." — "Silly post: 
 
 "I told you, tongue." — "'Tis very true; 
 
 "For Mrs. Clacket — tongue for two." 
 
 "More coffee, Waiter." ."Bring the bread:" 
 
 Me. Qcid-nunc. 
 "The greatest news that e'er was read." 
 
 Alderman. 
 "Permit me. Sir! what may it be?" 
 
 Waiter. 
 "Muffins for one, and toast for three." 
 
 QUID-NUNC. 
 
 ' The fourteenth ult. the army tooTt — 
 Lady Grace. 
 "The Sunday-School Subscription-Book." 
 
THE BREAKFAST ROOM. 21 
 
 QUID-NUNC. 
 
 ' the field, and correspondents say — 
 Mrs. Jadntbr. 
 'Pray pall the bell, Sir." 
 
 QuiD-NUNC. 
 
 ' — on that day 
 ' Took place a very dreadful slaughter. 
 'As the French fell in — 
 
 Mrs. Fidget. 
 
 "More hot water." 
 
 Q01D-NUNC. 
 
 'With half an army, on the halt, 
 'Who bravely pepper'd them with — 
 
 Alderman. 
 
 "Salt." 
 
 Qdid-nunc. 
 
 '-out intermission, half the day, 
 
 ' When all their army march' d away.' 
 
zz the breakfast room. 
 
 Captain Gape. 
 "Waiter — I call'd you — stupid block; 
 "Why don't you answer? what's o'clock?" 
 Alderman. 
 "Waiter, what's this?" 
 
 TOTTERGAIT. 
 
 "The Bill, d'ye see?" 
 Waiter. 
 
 "Just NINB—HABD EGOS, Sir,"ONB POOND THREE.' 
 
 "Come, come, my dear," said Tottergait, 
 "Our yester-evening's rueful fate, 
 "Our water-party, and affright, 
 "Have caused no loss of appetite." 
 
 Lady Grace. 
 
 "A water-party! — bless me! — sure! 
 "Could you such killing heat endure? 
 "At sea, 'twas vastly hot, I'm told." 
 Mrs. Tottergait. 
 
 "No, Ma'am, we found it vastly cold: 
 " Of sailing there I'm always fond, 
 "But not of sousing in a pond; 
 "Although we eat and drink so hearty, 
 "A pond contain'd our water party." 
 
THE BREAKFAST ROOM. 23 
 
 Thus did the morning chat go round. 
 With thanks, that nobody was drown'd; 
 Kind welcomes, and the Scarbro' news; 
 Aud fine descriptions of the views 
 That would delight the Ladies' eyes, 
 And charm with beauty and surprise. 
 "Ladies, you must not lose a day 
 "In visiting Cornelian Bay: 
 "This is a jasper, I am told, 
 "I mean to have it set in gold; 
 "See what a colour! and how pure! 
 "'Twill make the sweetest brooch I'm sure." 
 
 The breakfast o'er, some bade adieus. 
 Some letters read, some read the news: 
 Each to his purpose took his way. 
 And as they chose, to waste the day. 
 
 J. P. 
 
THE SPA WELLS. 
 
 SOON as the sun's resplendent ray 
 Breaks o'er the foreland into day. 
 Light as the vapours that exhale 
 From mountain height, or skim the vale. 
 The nymphs arise — each lovely face 
 Beams with a renovated grace; 
 And charms are witness'd, that adorn 
 None but the daughters of the morn. 
 
 'Tis now the busy crowd prepares 
 A visit to the Spa- Well stairs: 
 For Health like Truth, as sages tell, 
 Lies at the bottom of a well; 
 And he who built this fabric, knew 
 The object we should hold in view; 
 So very wisely thought it fit. 
 We take some ste^js to dip for it. 
 
26 TBK SPA WELr.8. 
 
 And first a ladder leads yuu to 
 A something of a bird's-eye view 
 Of all the quaffers ranged bolow; 
 And by a ladder — down you go: 
 And great philosophers declare 
 You find Hygeia's altars there. 
 
 But, ere you taste the hallow'd feast, 
 Pay tribute to her sage high-priest; 
 'Tia but a very paltry bribe 
 To win the goddess — so subscribe: 
 And you shall not lament the hour 
 That brought you to the Governor:* 
 For in his shatter'd form you'll see 
 A native rough urbanity; 
 And would you merriment provoke. 
 He will return you joke for joke. 
 This is his haven; here he knows 
 The tranquil blessings of repose: 
 For he has dared to stem the wave. 
 And many a threatening storm to brave; 
 
 * Mr. Pkarson, appointed by the Corporation. 
 
' THK SPA WKLLS. 27 
 
 Till by the keen remorseless frost 
 His active hands and feet were lost. 
 Amid the elemental strife 
 While fiercely combating for life, 
 A victim to th' inclement sky, 
 He saw his much lov'd brother die ! 
 
 And now some widow* ladles out 
 To many a lady, lord, and lout. 
 From either well the healing balm 
 That bile and vapours can disarm. 
 For Nature very kindly sent 
 Chalybeate and aperient; 
 
 Whose taste trausforms th' enchanting grace \ 
 Of Beauty's rosy smiling face 
 To angry looks and sour grimace. 
 
 The 'squire explores the sparkling liquor. 
 Not as I've seen him with the vicar; 
 He doubtful tastes the healthful brim ; 
 Water, indeed, is new to him. 
 
 Widows appointerl by the Corporation. 
 
28 THE SPA WELTjS. 
 
 The alderman, with true devotion. 
 Drinks up whole goblets of the potion : 
 He thinks 'tis fit a public speaker 
 Should be — at least — a little sleeker; , 
 So every summer hither flies, 
 T' escape the gourmand's maladies. 
 
 As round the spot our eyes are thrown. 
 How many active thoughts are known; 
 How well divined what causes bring 
 Such numbers to the Scarbro' spring. 
 Look at that merry fellow there. 
 Behold his face, devoid of care: 
 Though he laments that here he's come. 
 And left a charming wife at home. 
 
 That round fat lady — she so big. 
 With feather'd hat and flaxen wig : 
 Why, she has heard what people say. 
 Of sulphats of magnesia; 
 And thiuks to ease her husband's fate 
 Perhaps of — half-a-hundred weight ! 
 
 What brings that lolling lounging thing, 
 Who turn'd the corner with a swing; 
 
THE SPA WELLS. 29 
 
 With vacant stare and shambling gait? 
 
 Oh? he is come to captivate. 
 
 — And what that pretty simpering fair? 
 
 To yield herself to Neptune's care. 
 
 — And what that strutting, wealthy clown? 
 
 To throw his cash about the town. 
 
 The player there, so full of wit? 
 
 He comes — to have a benefit. 
 
 Those lovely ladies — they who seem 
 
 To need no air, no healing stream? 
 
 Why sure you must have learn'd at school, 
 
 That fam'd Bethesda's healing pool 
 
 Oft by an angel, as 'tis said. 
 
 To be disturbed was visited ; 
 
 The pretty, smiling, lovely daughters 
 
 Are all disturbers of the waters : 
 
 And many youths whose livers need 
 To be from all affections freed. 
 Find to their cost a keener smart 
 About the region of the heart. 
 
 'Tis said, and we of course suppose 
 By such as could the fact disclose. 
 That though long sought by many a sage. 
 The water is no cure for age. 
 
30 THE SPA WELLS. 
 
 With shaking frame, and aching head, 
 E'en as he left his sleepless bed, 
 Friend Totter thus address'd his wife: 
 "I'll drink no more, my dearest life — 
 "In vain we seek, and ah! to late, 
 "A frame worn out to renovate; 
 "Youth is the season to repair 
 "The ravages of toil and care; 
 "To stem disease, and hope to gain 
 "A permanent relief to pain. 
 "The aches, that must attend on age, 
 "Will follow to the latest stage; 
 "They'll follow me, my dearest wife, 
 "Through the last fragment of my life; 
 "Yes — balls and plays, I plainly see, 
 "Are not in tune for sixty-three." 
 
 "My dear," she said, "you'll mend, no doubt; 
 "Come — we'll go up, and look about: 
 " There's Captain Bagshot will amuse, 
 "And cheer you with the newest news; 
 "In Kussia he has friends by dozens, 
 "In Portugal as many cousins; 
 "And then the Broker, Mr Knox, 
 "Will tell you all about the stocks. 
 
THE SPA WELLS. 31 
 
 ''As Mister Edmund well observes, 
 "Tae air will brace your slackened nerves. 
 "The waters strengthen, as you know; 
 "The doctors all have told you so: 
 "We must keep up, at any rate, 
 "The family of Tottergait." 
 
 No sooner said, than off they walk, 
 And pass along in pleasant talk; 
 While Ella and her sister Kate 
 Beguile the way in laugh and prate. 
 Till they all join the beaux and belles 
 That form the splendor of the wells. 
 
 J. p. 
 
< 
 
THE SPA TERRACE. 
 
 "OH, tell me, gentle Ella, why— 
 "When last thy lovely hand I prest, 
 
 "The tear stood trembling in thine eye, 
 "And fell a pearl upon thy breast? 
 
 "Was it reproach, that bade it rise? 
 
 "No, Ella, no; — for though so coy, 
 "Thy lips, a comment to thine eyes, 
 
 "Express'd a cheering smile of joy. 
 
 "Since it was not a pang of woe 
 
 "With which thy throbbing bosom strove 
 
 "Hope bids my heart with rapture glow, 
 "And think the tear — a gem of love." 
 
 Such were the sounds that met the ear 
 Of Ella, lovely maidj for, near. 
 
34 THE SPA TKBKACB. 
 
 Young Edmund urged the pleasing tale, 
 
 Form'd to enrapture and prevail: 
 
 Perhaps the fact may be forgot. 
 
 Whether she answer'd him or not; 
 
 He vows she did, and by her eyes. 
 
 Which she as steadily denies: 
 
 Howe'er, he thinks Love most prevailing 
 
 At the east-corner of the railing. 
 
 The Terrace now invites to walk. 
 
 To courtesy — bow — and nod — and talk: 
 
 "Fine morning, Sir." — "A charming view." 
 
 "A keenish breeze;" — "and how d'ye do?" 
 
 Some chat with Pearson: some look out. 
 
 To know what sailors are about; 
 
 And with the telescope pursue 
 
 The vessel, and describe it's crew. 
 
 "Ah, Pearson — still alive, I see: 
 
 " Merry, and busy as a bee." 
 
 "Yes, Sir, I'm well, and stump about 
 
 "As lively as a grig or trout, 
 
 "And while I'm sovereign of the spring, 
 
 "Am quite as happy as a king; 
 
 "And knights and lords and dukes may roar it, 
 
 "And, if they please, may coach-and-four it; 
 
THE SPA TERRACE. 35 
 
 "Until like me they creep about 
 "With crutches, when they have the gout: 
 "Grout I escape — for if it goes 
 "To seek my fingers or my toes, 
 "'Twill find them, I suppose, d'ye see, 
 "In other latitudes — at sea." 
 
 The stranger, by some friendly aid. 
 Receives a learn'd discourse on trade, 
 The harbour, and what sails it boasts. 
 The traffic to the neighbouring coasts; 
 And, "there's the church — the castle too — 
 "The barrack terminates the view: 
 "That is the theatre — and there's 
 "The life-boat house, and Terrace stairs; 
 "Those are the bathers," and so on. 
 At last, poor Dicky Dickenson, 
 Not quite forgotten ! hither brings 
 The story to the Spa-well springs. 
 First governor, he gave the law 
 That ruled for years the Scarbro' spa; 
 He, sport of Nature! seem'd to vie 
 With ^sop's strange deformity; 
 
36 THK SPA TBRKACE. 
 
 To which, as parallel design' d, 
 She gave an ^sop's nervous mind. 
 
 It proved a very windy day ; 
 The sea besprinkled with it's spray: 
 A lady, somewhat of a prude. 
 Declared the wind was very rude ; 
 And there were ladies, dress'd of course 
 For donkey, buggy, and for horse; 
 But Fashion had so sparing been. 
 That petticoat could not be seen. 
 Though he were blind, whose sight could lose 
 Full half a yard above the shoes; 
 And oft it made the muscles stir 
 Of many a young philosopher! 
 Then o'er the benches, rail and post. 
 Bonnets and hats and wigs were lost. 
 That seem'd rejoiced at being free. 
 And very boldly put to sea. 
 
 "My dear," said Tottergait, "one turn 
 "Again we'll take, and then return; 
 "For all that's to be gotten here 
 "Are coughs and cold, I sadly fear; 
 
THK 3PA TERRACE. 37 
 
 "lly loss by staying here I see; 
 "My wig's for water company." 
 
 Now Cornet Witch'em came to say 
 The officers had named a play — 
 "And may I, Madam, be allow'd — 
 (And here to Catherine he bow'd, 
 While she, in awkward courtesy, bent 
 A — -'Sir, I thank you,' compliment). 
 "Allow'd to offer you a card, 
 "And be your La'ship's body-guard?" 
 
 "Why, Cornet," quoth old Totter, "say, 
 "Did you not join us yesterday? 
 "But come to-day — we dine at four; 
 "And then the girls will tell you more. 
 "You must be punctual as the chime: 
 "For cur's is military time. 
 "Come, Mr. Edmund — Ella, come, 
 "Goody and I are going home; 
 "Remember, it is getting late, 
 "And don't you make the party wait." 
 Then, arm in arm, the steady pair 
 Left for the beach the Spa- well stair: 
 
38 THE 8PA TERRACE. 
 
 The young folks followed arm in arm, 
 
 As still as silenced by a charm! 
 
 Ella was silent — for the why, 
 
 'Twould be impertinent to pry: 
 
 Edmund said nothing — by the way. 
 
 Perhaps he nothing had to say; 
 
 But Kate was silent — she, whose tongue 
 
 Was never known to rest so long: 
 
 For now she thought, and yet would scorn it, 
 
 She though that — she had kill'd the Cornet! 
 
 Soon to the dropping spring they came. 
 That boasts a visual healing fame; 
 And there a friend was deep intent 
 On the eye-wash experiment. 
 "How!" cried a youth, "with some surprise, 
 "I see you bathing thus your eyes! 
 "This outward care is sure a sin; 
 "I thought your light was all within." 
 
 "True, friend, it may be so," said he, 
 "But I would solve a mystery: 
 "My light, perhaps, doth inward shine, 
 "But I would willingly see thine." 
 
THE SPA TERRACE. 39 
 
 "Well, Backram!" he replied, "d'ye find 
 "The waters useful to the blind?" 
 "Yea — I perceive a strengthen'd sight: 
 "Thy sense, my friend, is very light." 
 "Sir," said young Edmund, "you possess, 
 "In patience, store of happiness: 
 "Unruffled by the youthful wit, 
 "You foil his aim — the biter's bit." 
 
 "Why, friend?" the simple man replied, 
 "My patience is not often tried; 
 "Pride forms the troubles that infest 
 "The human heart, and rules the breast: 
 "Humility will calm the sense 
 "Of many a seeming light offence; 
 "And well thou know'st, 'tis rarely meant, 
 "But by the weak and ignorant." 
 
 At home arrived — the breakfast o'er, 
 The ride dispatch'd — again the door 
 (That might distinguish Edmund's touch. 
 The knocker had been us'd so much) 
 Admitted him, once more to prove 
 To his loved Ella all his love; 
 And now, since Cupid had inspired 
 
40 THE SPA TEEKACE. 
 
 His pen, and e'en his genius fired, 
 He controverts — what she disputed, 
 Who, in a sonnet, is refuted. 
 
 To Miss Ella. 
 
 NO! tell me not your sparkling eyes. 
 To speak your very soul denies; 
 Each softer passion to them flies: 
 
 Swiftly they go. 
 And tell what feelings bid them rise 
 
 Of joy or woe. 
 
 In gaiety, thine eyes betray. 
 
 By every lucid sparkling ray, 
 
 Whate'er thy bounding heart would say; 
 
 And truly thence 
 It's sweet affections well display. 
 
 And innocence. 
 
 Full oft, I've seen thine eyes disclose 
 A sympathy for others' woesj 
 And as the sparkling tear arose. 
 
 By feeling sent, 
 then they were — thy poet knows. 
 
 Most eloquent! 
 
THE SPA TERRACE. 41 
 
 Thine eyes, in gentleness, declare 
 Bach feeling that adorns the fair; 
 Such graces love to revel there, 
 
 I've thought to us, 
 Howe'er of beauty well aware, 
 
 'Twas dangerous. 
 
 The tributes welcome to the skies, 
 That from thy youthful bosom rise. 
 And speak thy virtues by thine eyes. 
 
 Full soon must prove 
 Our admiration of the prize 
 
 A-kin to love. 
 
 Banish'd from thee, may every woe 
 Thy gentle bosom still forego: 
 There peace and pleasure ever glow. 
 
 Never to cloy: 
 And be each gem, if tears must flow, 
 
 A tear of joy. 
 
 J. p. 
 
o 
 
 z 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 ;2 
 S 
 
— r--*c-i '^s^i.a*^ 
 
 THE SHOE SHOP. 
 
 FASHION, an ignis fatuus jade. 
 Or jack-a-lanthera friend to trade. 
 Delusive sports before our eyes — 
 Away each willing votary flies : 
 Up hill, down dale, through bog and pool, 
 The old, the young, the wise, the fool; 
 All charm'd alike, she leads them on, 
 'Till half by Fashion are undone. 
 
 O would she take a nobler part — 
 Improve the mind, and mend the heart; 
 Lure, by her charms, to worthy toil 
 The genius of our native soil; 
 To science lead the tedious way, 
 Pour on it's gloom the cheering ray. 
 Then bless'd would Albion proudly soar 
 More rich in intellectual lore; 
 
44 THE SHOE SHOP. 
 
 Sublimer thoughts would swell the lay, 
 And art, enraptured, hail the day! 
 Then Rome and Greece no more might vie 
 With British arts, or minstrelsy. 
 
 Fashion, for so the leam'd insist, 
 Has grown a sage ceconomist! 
 Has changed her once expensive views 
 To stay at home, and cobble shoes! 
 SiLENA, lovely blooming maid, 
 An amateur of Crispin's trade. 
 Sits all day long on three-logg'd stool. 
 With awl, with pincers, and with rule! 
 Eesolved among the leam'd to soar 
 In sage hypodematic lore, 
 A rival to the great Magog 
 Of Crispin art, hight Crispin Clog*. 
 A paving stone within her lap 
 She hugs, and hammers — rap, rap, rap — 
 To harden or to soften soles. 
 And bores her friends with boring holes. 
 
 * See Ackermann's Eepository of Arts, on these subjects. 
 Yol. III. page 373. 
 
THE SHOE SHOP. 45 
 
 She, skill'd in winning female arts 
 
 To captivate and soften hearts. 
 
 Sings sweet (for, know, she never whistles) 
 
 As she pulls through the thread and bristles; 
 
 And, wide extending both her arms. 
 
 She sivals Jobson's wife in charms. 
 
 Lord Blinker too with hides and tether 
 Sits, half invisible, in leather; 
 Platting and twisting — waxing — lugging, 
 And at a vice with main strength tugging; 
 So earnestly intent, you'd swear 
 He sought to be a muse's heir: 
 But no! the nine he counts no more; 
 His whole arithmetic is four. 
 He scorns, what to the muse belongs: 
 He's making whip-sticks, cords, and thongs. 
 The wreath, to crown the poet's lays. 
 He gathers not he whips his bays! 
 
 At Scarbro', if the reigning fashion 
 Was or was not the leather passion. 
 Admits of doubt: — but, all who tread 
 The margin of old ocean's bed. 
 
46 THE SHOE SHOP. 
 
 And on the shingles take their views, 
 Will learn the worth of boots and shoes. 
 
 Fair Ella and her sister came 
 To Leather urn's, of Crispin fame. 
 To purchase shoes: — experience taught her. 
 They must be made — to keep out water; 
 And Leatherum was a student learn'd, 
 In all his ancestor's discern'd; 
 He to defiance well might put 
 The Crispins of all Lilliput*; 
 The arts and sciences, he swore. 
 And half a hundred studies more. 
 Were needful to produce a shoe 
 Worthy a tasteful lady's view. 
 He would discourse of Greece and Rome, 
 As each had been his native home: 
 Would tell, what unique soles and sandals 
 They wore; and what the Goths and Vandals: 
 Trace down the history of his trade. 
 Till laws for long-soled boots were made. 
 
 * The size of the great toe is all the measure they require to 
 make the shoe. Swift. 
 
THE SHOE SHOP. 47 
 
 A waste of leather to restrain. 
 And rid them of a weight of chain. 
 He'd talk of jockey-boots, and then 
 Revert to ancient boots again: 
 Half-boots and jack-boots, that 'twas fruitless 
 To try to stop him — it was bootless: 
 So very wisely people waited. 
 Till all his learned prate was prated. 
 
 Ella. 
 
 "I want, immediately, a pair — 
 
 Leatherum. 
 
 "Yes, Ma'am, of course, you want — a chair — 
 "Some boots." 
 
 Ella. 
 
 "No, Sir; I rather choose 
 "To have a pair of walking shoes." 
 
 Leathebum. 
 
 "Why, Ma'am there's nothing Scarbro' suits 
 "For walking, half so well as boots: 
 "I make them now — ah, here, you see 
 "Boots that will reach you to the knee; 
 "Pray try them on " 
 
48 the shoe shop. 
 
 Ella. 
 "Indeed, I waut- 
 
 Leatherum. 
 *"Tia boots, indeed, depend upon't: 
 
 "Those very boots were made to fit 
 
 "A. lady of exceeding wit; 
 
 "They would have suited, lovely Miss, 
 
 "The Venus of de Medicis: 
 
 "They are of very Grecian mould — 
 
 "This curve, how beautiful! behold, 
 
 "To symmetry of form how true! 
 
 "They are the very boots for you." 
 
 Ella. 
 
 "Yes, yes; perhaps the boots might fit 
 "The Lady of 'exceeding wit;' 
 " — Did she return them, as a pair 
 "By far too beautiful to wear?" 
 
 Leatheruu. 
 
 "To beautiful!— return'd!— oh, 
 "She's absent for a week, or so: 
 "I'll make another pair, you know. 
 
THE SHOE SHOP. 49 
 
 "This art, like other arts, you'll see 
 
 "Is founded on consistency: 
 
 "Beauty and use are here intended 
 
 "To be most exquisitely blended, 
 
 "With ease to wear, and strength and leather 
 
 "Suited to every kind of weather; 
 
 "To bid defiance to the sea, 
 
 "Though you should ford it to the knee; 
 
 "And keep your feet, though rain should fall, 
 
 "As dry as dancing at a ball. 
 
 "Trust me — for Scarbro' boots like these 
 
 "Are eminently form'd to please: 
 
 "Pray try them on." 
 
 Ella. 
 
 "Well, as you choose; 
 "But let my sister see some shoes." 
 
 Leatherum. 
 
 "Here is a shoe — your foot — that well 
 "Might need a more than magic spell, 
 " To form with so much grace ! such ease ! 
 "A little higher — if you please." 
 
 H 
 
50 the shoe shop. 
 
 Catherine. 
 
 "The shoe is pretty. Sir — but see, 
 "It pinches most exceedingly." 
 
 Lbathbruh. 
 
 "They're rather tight; but they will spread, 
 "And soon accommodate the tread: 
 "By wear they very soon give way — 
 "They'll fit divinely in a day." 
 
 Ella. 
 
 "This shape I like; but. Sir, the boot 
 "Is much too large about the foot." 
 
 Leathekum. 
 
 i< > 
 
 'Tis easy — not too loose, I think; 
 "They'll fit divinely when they shrink.' 
 
 The Ladies, now at once amazed, 
 On Leatherum in wonder gazed: 
 He, not abash'd, just waved his head; 
 "Indeed it is the truth," he said. 
 
THE SHOE SHOP. 51 
 
 'Work made of such delightful leather 
 'Both shrinks, or widens, with the weather." 
 
 When Crispin's votaries had pray'd 
 
 Their Saint would bless and name the trade, 
 
 And showing humbly that it stood 
 
 Above the rank of works in wood. 
 
 In cloth or iron, stone or lead; 
 
 And humbly hoping, as they said, 
 
 He would relieve them — Crispin laught, 
 
 And, waggishly, he named it — Ckaft. 
 
 J. P. 
 
< 
 
THE OASTLE. 
 
 HIGH on yon foreland's rugged brow. 
 Which beetles o'er the surge below, 
 Of yore in military show 
 
 A stately fortress stood. 
 Seven centuries have roll'd away 
 Since first those towers, with lichens gray. 
 Reflected bright the Eastern ray 
 
 Upon the foaming flood. 
 
 Since first by Albemarle* it's crest 
 In war's accourtrements was drest. 
 How many a gallant corse unblest. 
 Has bleach'd its wall around ! 
 
 * This castle was built about the year 1136 by 'William Le 
 GroB, Earl of Albemarle and Holdemess a nobleman described 
 by an early chronicle as juvenia ttrenuUsimus, in armis mul- 
 tum exerdtatus. 
 
 EiNDBRWBLL's Hist. of Scarborough. 
 
54 THE CASTLE. 
 
 For stormy have it's fortunes been ; 
 And, oft of battle broils the scene, 
 It bears upon it's time-worn mien 
 The deep-indented wound. 
 
 Nor from the stroke of civil rage, 
 When hosts with kindred hosts engage. 
 And sire and son sad conflict wage. 
 
 Has Scarbro' singly bled. 
 Oft too the Scot, with onset rude 
 Fierce issuing from his solitude. 
 His hand in borderer's gore imbrued. 
 
 The bolt of death has sped. 
 
 And lo ! through fields of flame and blood 
 
 Remorseless pouring like a flood. 
 
 They rush o'er moss, and wold, and wood! 
 
 'Tis Scotia's grim array. 
 By infant's scream and matron's shriek 
 Unsoften'd, southron spoil they seek: 
 But O, foul forayers ! this your freak 
 
 Full dearly shall ye pay. 
 
 On Cuton-Moor, to your pale gaze 
 
THE CASTLE. 55 
 
 His standard * Albemarle displays ! 
 HallowM by many a mystic phrase, 
 
 It's silken foldings flow: 
 For there, as erst to Constantino, 
 The cross's silver splendours shine. 
 And broider'd characters divine 
 
 In rich effulgence glow 
 
 And venerable bishops there 
 
 Lift high their feeble arms in air. 
 
 With pious rite and fervent prayer 
 
 Invoking Heaven to bless : 
 Nor shrink they from the banner'd field. 
 To plumed casques where mitres yield. 
 Nor shun the patriot blade to wield. 
 
 The flying foe to press. 
 
 * In 1136 was fought on Cuton-Moor, near Northallerton, 
 between the Earl of Albemarle and David King of Scotland, 
 the battle of the Standard ; so called from a mast borne upon a 
 wheel-carriage, surmounted by a silver cross, under which 
 were suspended three banners dedicated to St. Peter of York, 
 St. John of Beverley, and St. Wilfrid of Eipon. With this 
 Standard in their van, the English counted themselves invin- 
 cible. Ralph, bishop of the Orkneys, harangued, absolved, 
 and blessed them before the engagement; and infirmity alone 
 prevented Roger, Archbishop of York, from accompanying 
 them to the field. Of the Scottish infantry above 10,000 were 
 left dead upon the field. 
 
56 THE CASTLE. 
 
 -But not with Scotish blood-drops wet . 
 That sword could charm Plantagenet, 
 Or guard the princely coronet 
 
 On Albemarle's red brow : 
 Not zeal for England's honour shown 
 From royal wrath could shield his own. 
 Nor all his laurel-wreath'd renown 
 
 Avert the lightning blow*. 
 
 His vassal hinds and yellow strand 
 Obey another chief's command; 
 And, echoing o'er the orphan'd land. 
 
 The stranger's horn is heard: 
 'Tis Ebor's crosier'd lord I ween. 
 Whose standard flouts the drooping scene. 
 Where yon proud rock o'erhaugs the green, 
 
 III pomp prelatic rear'd. 
 
 Boots not young Bardolph'sf fate to tell, 
 Who by his monarch's mandate fell, 
 
 When back from Acre's citadel, 
 
 Besmear'd with paynim gore, 
 
 * On the accession of Henry II. Albemarle being deprived 
 of his government, rebelled; and, through the intercession of 
 the archbishop Roger alone, obtained his sovereign's pardon. 
 
 f The younger son of Lord Eardolph, appointed in 1191 to 
 
THE CASTLE. 57 
 
 And treacherous Austria's dnngeon-cave, 
 Bounding across the ocean-wave, 
 Great Coeur de Lion, wildly brave. 
 Re-trod his native shore. 
 
 O blame not thou the red-cross zeal 
 Which sharpen'd Europe's pious steel. 
 To win the tomb, when myriads fell. 
 
 Of Him who died for all: 
 Though Famine perch'd upon their board. 
 And many a noble heart was gored 
 By Saladin's heroic sword. 
 
 Beneath the Holy Wall! 
 
 Yet blessed they, who 'mid the storm. 
 Where death display'd his grisliest form. 
 Their breasts with patriot passion warm. 
 Bore from the field of strife 
 
 the command of Scarborough Castle by Richard I. with whom 
 he was a great favourite. During that prince's absence in tiie 
 Holy Land, he was guilty of various misdemeanors, which 
 cost him his office. William de Dacre, of the North was ap- 
 pointed by Henry III.; and John and William de Vesci 
 (brothers), successively, by Edward I. to the same splendid 
 ■tation. 
 
58 
 
 THE CASTLE. 
 
 Arts, which with flowers of Eden drest 
 The wildernesses of the west; 
 And, giving social hours their zest. 
 The courtesies of life! 
 
 Great names it next was thine to boast. 
 Dread Empress of Brigantia's coast; 
 Nor may they, in oblivion lost. 
 
 Escape the muse's eye: 
 She notes where, flaunting in the beam 
 Of noon-day suns, with golden gleam 
 The»northern Dacre's banners stream 
 
 Athwart the azui-e sky. 
 
 And there with rival radiance glows 
 De Vesci's helm, whose sovereign chose 
 To give his mailed limbs repose 
 
 Within thy pleasant halls*; 
 Ere thundering o'er the Scotish strand. 
 He twangs the bow and hurls the brand, 
 And his by battle-right the land 
 
 Triumphantly he calls. 
 
 * Edward I. resided for some time in Scarborough Castle. 
 
 HlNDKHWBLL. 
 
THE CASTLE. 59 
 
 Nor leave we Gaveston* unsung, 
 Carnarvon's minion, stout in wrong, 
 Supple and stiff by turns, whose tongue 
 
 With insolent disdain 
 Braved England's barons to be joust; 
 Whose sinewy arm's resistless thrust 
 O'erthrew her mightiest in the dust. 
 
 On Berkshire's tourney' d plain. 
 
 Yet for the prince's dear-bought choice 
 The Gascon's manly soul, and voice 
 Which made the listener's heart rejoice. 
 
 Some frail excuse might lend : 
 No vulgar sycophant was he. 
 Bending for wealth the sordid knee, i 
 
 But train'd to feats of chivalry — 
 
 A great, though guilty friend. 
 
 * This noble Gascon was ' a goodly personage, of a haughty 
 and undaunted spirit, brave and hardy in arms ; ' as he showed 
 himself in the tournament he held at Wallingford, where he 
 challenged and foiled the flower of the English nobility, which 
 more inflamed their malice toward him. In Munster and Tho- 
 mond likewise, as lieutenant of Ireland, he performed every 
 where great service with much valour and worthiness. When 
 he at last, in 1312, surrendered Scarborough Castle (of which he 
 was governor) to the Earl of Pembroke, the articles of capitu- 
 lation were totally disregarded, and he was beheaded. 
 
 (Ed.) 
 
60 THE CASTLE. - 
 
 Witness, ye fields of Munster green, 
 And Thomond, of his toils the scene ; 
 When Ireland, shrinking at his mien, 
 
 Fled from the mortal shock: 
 But nought avail his gallant deeds. 
 In vain the foe's pledged faith he pleads; 
 By vengeful Pembroke's axe he bleeds 
 
 Upon the patriot block ! 
 
 Now Mowbray*, Beauchamp court my quill; 
 And well my swelling verse might fill 
 Percy, De Burgh, and Somerville 
 
 With acts of bold emprise: 
 Nor will I not transmit to fame 
 Fitzwilliam, ever-honour'd name! 
 Which Yorkshire still, with loud acclaim, 
 
 Re-echoes to the skies. 
 
 And he on whom no parent smiled, 
 Glo'ster f, by many a crime defiled, 
 With her his glowing tongue beguiled. 
 These gilded cushions prest; 
 
 * Ralph Fitzwilliam, John de Mowbray, Giles de Bello 
 Campo (or Beauchamp), Henry de Percy, Alexander de Burgh, 
 and Roger de Somerville, are all found in the list of governors 
 of Scarborough Castle. 
 
 ■f Richard III., after his coronation in 1483, visited Scar- 
 
THE CASTLE. 61 
 
 Happy, ere Bosworth's fatal fight 
 Gave .Richmond to his anxious sight, 
 Within the tomb's protecting night 
 Here had he sunk to rest ! 
 
 But my faint step denies to trace 
 Through years remote each noble race*, 
 To whom this ancient pile to grace 
 
 By favouring fate was given: 
 Yet ere from it's loved towers I turn. 
 Befits to clasp the tear-stain'd urn 
 Of beauteous Cholmleyf, changeless borne 
 
 To bloom a saint in heaven. 
 
 Cholmley ! — oh could I breathe that name, 
 Nor tingled at the sound my frame, 
 Nor glow'd afresh thy hallow'd flame, 
 
 Pure Friendship, in my mind — 
 Remembering many a letter'd hour 
 In Bransby's sweet sequester'd bower. 
 Dead were I to each generous power. 
 
 Which thrills and melts our kind. 
 
 borough with Anne, hiB queen, and resided for some time in 
 the Castle. Hinderwell. 
 
 * Such as St Qnintin, Lumley, Evers (or Eure), Bojnton 
 Eobinson, 4c. 
 
 j- Ihe wife of Sir Hugh Cholmley, who latterly held the 
 
.62 THE CASTLE. 
 
 Backward I bend my sad regard. 
 Where Stuart with his country warr'd, 
 And Falkland here, there Hampden bared 
 
 His breast to civil rage: 
 Alas! that natures form'd for love, 
 Whom all the loftier passions move. 
 Such stern antipathies should prove. 
 
 Such deadly feuds should wage. 
 
 E'en in that spirit-stirring hour, 
 When o'er the crest of despot power 
 War's crimson cloud was seen to lower. 
 
 In gloom disastrous spread; 
 'Twas thine, with erring ardour warm, 
 Proud fort (though shatter'd was thy form) 
 For faithless Charles to brave the storm. 
 
 Which burst on Cholmley's head. 
 
 And see! bis angel consort, calm 
 While furious hosts dispute the palm, 
 With healing drugs, religion's balm. 
 The anguish'd pillow tends: 
 
 Caatle for Charles I. See Hinderwell, p. 79; and for his 
 
 lady's heroic fortitude, surpassing beauty, and great benevo- 
 lence, see p. 86—87. 
 
THE CASTLE. 63 
 
 Nor, to her bosom -feelings true. 
 Inquires with party's narrow view, 
 Whose brow she steeps in pity's dew, 
 A foeman's or a friend's. 
 
 Such feelings thou, of wedded love 
 Chaste model, Hutchinson*, did'st prove, 
 When legions round thee madly strove 
 
 In dire fraternal fray; 
 Though in a different cause, o'erplied 
 For liberty, thy soldier died: — 
 Virtue, nor bound to rank nor side 
 
 Holds on her stedfast way. 
 
 — But hark! as from yon holy fane 
 The bell proclaims the hour, in vain 
 I clasp it — ghost-like, from my brain 
 
 The light illusion flies! 
 No more around that foreland's brow 
 Imagination's phantoms glow: 
 Where, Dacre — Cholmley, where art thou? 
 
 All melted in the skies! 
 
 * See Memoirs of Colonel Hutchinson, by his widow Lucy, 
 a most interesting piece of biography. 
 
64 THE CASTLE. 
 
 And DOW, of all the pageant slieen 
 Quick flitting o'er the trophied scene. 
 Memorial of what once hath been. 
 
 No glittering wrecks remain! 
 Before mine eye uncharm'd, is spread 
 Of vulgar roofs the crescent red. 
 And beaving on it's pebbled bed. 
 
 The blue and billowy main. 
 
THE NORTH SHORE. 
 
 POETS and Painters still have vied 
 In sketching Scarbro's southern side; 
 Attracted by the sunny glow. 
 The fort above, the port below. 
 It's cliff, it's spa, it's fonr-in-hand 
 Light flying o'er the yellow strand — 
 And all the lovely, all the gay, 
 Which form it's long et ccetera. 
 
 Like insect-motes in summer air 
 Gaily we flutter here and there; 
 Light on each flower in radiance drest. 
 Which to the day-star spreads it's breastj 
 In quest of kindred triflers stray. 
 And buz our little hour away: 
 But ever with due caution flee 
 Thy sunless crags, Adversity ! 
 
66 THE NORTH SHORE. 
 
 Yet painters there might well discern 
 
 Nature magnificently stern ; 
 
 And poets ethically trace 
 
 Apt lessons for an erring race — 
 
 For, on the mountain's frowning side, 
 
 Oft does sublimity reside : 
 
 Within life's melancholy cell 
 
 The gentler virtues often dwell ; 
 
 And many a gem of moral lore 
 
 Is strew'd upon her rugged shore. 
 
 Not for such precious gatherings there 
 Does restless Tottergait repair : 
 Enough he thought his early youth 
 Had hunted academic truth, 
 Where Euclid taught him to define 
 Precisely straight from crooked line*; 
 When he his flinching hand and cue 
 From birch and ferula withdrew — 
 deem not thou unfriendly those 
 Or to Greek verse, or Latin prose : 
 
 * Scilicet lU posset curco diy^toscere rectum^ &c. 
 Query an leg. curva & rectam. See t-'od. Cant. 
 
THE NORTH SHORE. 67 
 
 Flogging of laziness the doom is, 
 
 Ignaviam pcena premit comes; 
 
 And genius oft will sleep or swerve, 
 
 Till birch explore the hidden nerve 
 
 Where school-boys agony is born: 
 
 Then bright and vigorous as the morn. 
 
 When Phoebus mounts and streaks the east, 
 
 He rushes from inglorious rest; 
 
 And on careering pinion whirl'd. 
 
 Streams light on an adoring world. 
 
 But Tottergait, alert and bold. 
 Like him the crane-neck'd chief of old. 
 With laurels whose bald pate to hide 
 Full six score human myriads died. 
 On Latian or on foreign plains — 
 Thinks nothing done while aught remains*; 
 And hence, by him their Cassar led. 
 The northern shore his party tread. 
 
 Here sought I to protract my verse. 
 The toilsome march I might rehearse — 
 
 * Nil actum rynitans, ^um quid iuperetiet agendum. 
 
68 THE NORTH SHORE. 
 
 Long Room Street Straight, andNewbrough broad; 
 And Queen Street fair, so lies the road ; 
 
 And, stretching far as eye can see, 
 
 The everlasting Ropery ! 
 
 Then might I minutes five or six. 
 Their foot upon the isthmus fix : 
 (The twin-sea'd drawbridge heaving still. 
 Blow the light wind which way it will) 
 Ere down the steep and rough descent 
 Their steps, precipitate, are bent. 
 Ella, there is no cause for fear — 
 At least, Avernus yawns not here : 
 For thitherward the slope was facile. 
 Or Virgil represents the place ill. 
 Yet, here thy light foot totters down. 
 With bird's eye glance survey the town; 
 And, as thou view'st it's narrow space, 
 Think what keen throbs it's bounds embrace: 
 How many a brow with gladness shines. 
 How many a heart in silence pines. 
 Contrasted with the billows' roar 
 Aye surging on yon dreary shore ! 
 
THE NORTH SHORE. 69 
 
 Think too, where opens at thy feet 
 
 That hideous chasm, the seas might meet — 
 
 As some have dreamt — were hamaa art 
 
 Summoned to execute her part! 
 
 But feebler arm than his, who rent 
 
 Huge Athos from it's continent, 
 
 Might scarcely hope with ductile tide 
 
 The ocean's whelming mass to guide ; 
 
 Or bid the wave it's sweep forego. 
 
 And in contracted channel flow. 
 
 These ponderings burthen not the brain 
 Of him, who leads the lovely train: 
 Yet think he must, on that lone strand 
 Where shipless sea and houseless land, 
 With features congruously rude. 
 Share the sad reign of solitude. 
 Scarce e'en a shell or pebble there 
 Rewards the solitary strayer. 
 Though all unrivall'd in the chace 
 The melancholy beach he trace. 
 And leave no stone unturn'd, no labour 
 Spare, to outvie his south-shore neighbour. 
 
70 THE NOBTH SHORE. 
 
 Not Selkirk more disconsolate 
 Ou green Fernandez' margin sate, 
 His eyes around th' horizon veering 
 With hope of distant speck appearing, 
 To animate the lifeless scene 
 And give him back the sight of men. 
 Than Tottergait his glance aghast 
 Across the watery desert cast. 
 In vain, he turn'd himself about: 
 Life, on all sides, seem'd ' quite shut out !' 
 Wither'd by Winter's early breath. 
 That stunted grass announces death; 
 The sea-weed, in vast ruin piled, 
 Speak's tempest's triumphs wide and wild; 
 Scatter'd around yon lonely tree. 
 The leaves proclaim mortality : 
 The very Castle seems to say, 
 'Strong as I was, I've had my day.' 
 "Turn we then southward, girls, our feet, 
 "I love the human face to meet. 
 " — Ha ! sure yon object seems to move : 
 "The surge has given some crag a shove; 
 "And see, it strangely rolls this way — 
 "We shall be crush'd if long we stay: 
 
THE NORTH SHORE. 71 
 
 "Haste, daughters — •Ocean's music wild 
 (And at his own quaint thought he srnil'd) 
 "Is that, which moved rocks of old; 
 "And hence in metaphor we're told 
 "Of Orpheus' and Amphion's shell, 
 "And his whom dolphins loved so well, 
 "That o'er the stormy main they bore 
 "Him safely to his native shore." 
 
 Lo! from his cheek the smile is gone. 
 And forward fast he hurries on. 
 More clearly to his vision shown 
 A horse, it's gentle rider throwu. 
 Scared by the boist'rous billows, flies — 
 And hark! that gentle rider's cries! 
 No more the solitude he mourns; 
 His youthful chivalry returns ; 
 And, with the speed he used to know 
 Full half a century ago, 
 He springs — forgetful of his years! 
 Whom would not move a lady's tears ! 
 More potent they than charmed juice 
 In age youth's vigour to infuse; 
 And, with the magic drops imbued. 
 Re-sinew e'en decrepitude. 
 
Tl THE NORTH SHORE. 
 
 The fallen fair one on her steed 
 Re-seated, homeward they proceed : 
 And, as King Lewis with his train 
 March'd up the hill, and down again; 
 So Tottergait with converse toil, 
 Tired of old Ocean's loud turmoil. 
 His having march'd down to the main, 
 Prepares to march them ap again ! 
 With straining steps the cliff they climb. 
 And with their ramble ends the rhyme. 
 
I 
 
 H 
 < 
 
 s 
 
THE WARM BATH. 
 
 BATHS and the nympli I sing, who waits, 
 Assiduous Tauter*! at the gates; 
 Anxious with cards, her name that bear. 
 To catch th' arriving traveller; 
 Lest nimbler claimants step between. 
 To recommend their own machine. 
 She patient, with her pockets full. 
 Sits all day opposite the Bull: 
 Happy, that lords her tickets took — 
 Too happy might she duck a duke! 
 
 'But of Dame Ducker why this stir? 
 'Another bard will sing of her: 
 
 * A name, appropriated to the canvassers on each new ar- 
 rival; possibly from the French, tout, as they lose nothing — 
 at least, for want of asking. 
 
74 THE WARH BATH. 
 
 'And, if your depth you wish to show 
 
 ' By learned Tract de Balneo, 
 
 'Long since Andrea Baccio 
 
 'Told us, in his huge tome de Thermis, 
 
 'What a cold bath — and what a warm is: 
 
 'For who would venture on lavation, 
 
 ' Without such previous information ? 
 
 'You've read, no doubt, and well could state his 
 
 'De Tepidis, de Temperatis; 
 
 'What Buxtons were in Latium found, 
 
 'To bless the medicated ground; 
 
 ' What Harrogates for taste and smell — 
 
 'As nose and palate both can tell*; 
 
 ' Chalybeate, leaden, golden springs; 
 
 'The latter — what delightful things! 
 
 'In this bank-paper token age, 
 
 ' Had we such, they'^ be all the rage; 
 
 * BacciuB, in the work above-qnoted, in which the writer has 
 occasionally dipped, has a chapter expressly — Zle Arjuu sopore 
 et odore aboniinalilibus. Of these, from his detailed account, 
 there seems to have been no lack in the ancient world; and, as 
 defined by the author (jmos a sulphvris naiura ac diversarum 
 invicem terrarum i^ermhtione reeultant") they appear to have 
 been true Harrogate. 
 
THE WARM BATH. 75 
 
 'And ministers, with such Pactolus, 
 'No more with rags and lead cajole us! 
 'Of Titus next perhaps you'd tell, 
 'Who dippM, as he did all things, well; 
 'On Dioclesian's baths * dissert, 
 'Vast lakes to scour imperial dirt: 
 '(As if our English loyalty 
 'Could e'er surmise a prince might be, 
 'Great as he is by art and nature, 
 'At bottom but a dirty creature, 
 'And from his elevated seat 
 'More water ask'd to make him sweet!) 
 'Then, fast as muse's wing can strain, 
 'Hurry your readers o'er to Spain: 
 'And bid them at th' Alhambra stave, 
 'Though Salamanca still is there; 
 'And Wellington his banner waves, 
 'By tyrants only fear'd and slaves. 
 
 * On the Thermse, both of Titos and Dioclesian, see Bac- 
 cius, VII. 3. Of the latter, which with their accompani- 
 ments appear to have employed in the building 40,000 Christ- 
 ians, a very full account is given, under the quaint idea of their 
 several parts corresponding with the proportions of the human 
 body, in the sixth chapter. 
 
76 THE WARM BATH. 
 
 'Toledo's turrets, black and white, 
 'Look lovely, in the pale moon light; 
 'And were the magic pencil mine, 
 'To sketch and fill the fair design, 
 'Bid here the dome's huge convex bend, 
 'There castles frown and spires ascend; 
 'Above, the mountain rear it's brow, 
 'The valley's plenty laugh below; 
 'I'd trace a scene should quickly call 
 'You, lingering from the ruin'd hall 
 'Where old Abderrahman reposed, 
 ' When sleep his Moorish eye-lids closed ; , 
 'And make you deem — so rich the view — 
 ' What you have read of Eden true ! 
 'To Scott alone such pencil's given, 
 'Dipt in the rainbow hues of heaven: 
 'He only might permitted be 
 '(Such the truth poet's witchery) 
 'If call'd on English baths to rhyme, 
 'Bravely neglecting space and time, 
 'With Rome's sad wrecks to mock our sense, 
 'Or Saracen magnificence; 
 'And whirl the veriest torpedo 
 'Now to Grenada, now Toledo!* 
 
THE WARM BATH. 77 
 
 'Befits not one of humbler wing, 
 'Aught but the theme assign'd to sing.' 
 
 On theme, so limited, 'tis hard 
 
 For gifted or ungifted bard, 
 
 Standing on one leg or a pair, 
 
 To bring two hundred lines to bearf. 
 
 Had I been summoned to describe 
 
 In lengthened strain th' amphibious tribe. 
 
 Half nereids they, half flesh and blood. 
 Though most at home when in the flood; 
 
 I would have framed fit invocation, 
 
 To herald my versification — 
 
 "0 come, Hygeia, wrapt in mantle blue, 
 "Thy cheek besprent with spray, the billows' dew ! 
 "Traverse thy yellow sands with ancle bare, 
 "Arms more than rosy red, and dripping hair; 
 "And all thy temples' portals flinging wide, 
 
 * modo me ThebUj vwdo point Athenis, 
 
 HOR. 
 
 f — — — dueenCos ' 
 
 Ut magnum, versus dicta/mt, starts pede in uno. 
 
 Id. 
 
78 THE WARM BATH. 
 
 "Which tower (like fanes Venetian) o'er the tide 
 "Give to thy moraiag worshippers to lave, 
 " With pure ablution, in the cleansing wave ! 
 "But ah! too like the fount of Salmacis*, 
 "Goddess, thy cleansing wave at Scarbro' is; 
 " Where in gross union male and female blend, 
 "Thy rites too social for the pure t'attend." 
 
 These, and a thousand distichs more, 
 I could have penn'd upon the shore: 
 To Amphitrite sung a sonnet) 
 Or mermaid, as without a bonnet 
 She fingers o'er her sea-green locks. 
 And makes her toilet 'mid the rocks: 
 No more with comb and glass they dress 
 At Exmouth, or at Inverness f; 
 
 * Cui non audita est obsctenfE Sabuncis itndcE .' 
 
 Ovid Met. 
 
 Unde tit injamis, quart male fortibus undis 
 
 Salmacis, 4c. Id. 
 
 Consult Col. G , of the N Militia; whose horse, by 
 
 direction I suppose of his patron Neptune, threw his presump- 
 tuous rider into the sea. 
 
 + Prom Inverness we have heard more than enough of mer- 
 maids. Mr. Toupin, from Exmouth, has still more recently de 
 
THE WARM BATH. 79 
 
 But listeners showery sounds surprise 
 Of wild ^olian melodies ! 
 
 Nay, had it been a shower-bath, some 
 Jove issued demi-god might come, 
 At my fond call, in gremium*,- 
 And that poor soil fecundity 
 With fruits and flowers, that never die. 
 But a mere warm bath — there's the rub- 
 What god would patronise a tub; 
 An artificial stream unlock, 
 A boiler tend, or turn a cock ? 
 Without more preface then, or proem, 
 Headlong I plunge into — my poem. 
 
 scribed the singular tones of one seen last August near the Bar 
 of that place, which were not inaptly compared by one of the 
 party to the mild melodies of the JSoIian harp, combined with a 
 sound similar to that made by a stream of water falling gently 
 on the leaTes of a tree. 
 
 Monthly Mag. Nov. 1812.— p. 345. 
 
 * Turn pater omnipotemt fcrcundis imbribus eelher 
 Conjugis in gremhmi, Ac. 
 
80 THE WARM BATH. 
 
 Who that ethereal lustra may express. 
 That genuine grace, that simple loveliness. 
 Which, though with Phidian marbles it might vie. 
 Shrinks all abash'd e'en from it's own pure eye; 
 Shuts- out th' intruding god of day, and dreads 
 The very woven forms on which it treads ? 
 
 O modesty! how amiably breaks 
 The sudden flash, warm mantling o'er thy cheeks ; 
 When, centre of the crowded circle's gaze. 
 Thou feel'st th' approving voice of honest praise ! 
 In vain, disrobed by Fashion's harlot hand. 
 Bold Beauty flutters shameless o'er the land; 
 Now here now there, a meteor mischief, flies 
 Illusive flickering 'neath the midnight skies: 
 With pale alarm we note th' ill-omen'd form. 
 And deem it portent of a hastening storm. 
 Not Helen only set a realm on blaze; 
 Through woman's wilesall human strength decays : 
 By female magic lull'd, the mightiest sleep. 
 And o'er their spell-bound sovereign nations weep. 
 
 And can no cure for this bright bane be found ? 
 No moral styptic check this bleeding wound? 
 
THE WARM BATH. 81 
 
 And shall not man, by sad experience wise, 
 Shan the fair ruin flaring in his eyes? 
 
 0! how might woman rale with blameless sway; 
 How might our race improve, as they obey: 
 Would but the light deluder cease to move 
 By Fashion's influence fashion's fools to love ! 
 Untainted by the Bacchanal's hot breath, 
 Ungarlanded, except by Virtue's wreath: 
 Would she but cease for fops to spread the lure. 
 And seek the pure in heart, herself as pure; 
 As Ella, or as Laura, maid or wife. 
 The grace of this — the guide to future life! 
 But, what from Helen's foul amour can rise. 
 Save Troy's red flames ascending to the skies! 
 
 Turn we, my muse, where Ella, simple maid. 
 Sits pale with cold and shivering at a shade ; 
 Or shudders through some crevice to descry — 
 Crevice before unmark'd, a curious eye ! 
 Move no light clouds across the curtain'd glass. 
 But stamp a human peeper as they pass. 
 Even fancied sounds her timid ear appal; 
 \ A step draws near — she catches at a shawl. 
 
 H 
 
82 THE WARM BATE. 
 
 Thrice did'st thou entering, Ella, bar the door : 
 
 Thrice lock, to "make assurance doubly sure." 
 
 Thine idle terrors then, dear girl, restrain, 
 
 Phantasmagoric etchings of the brain: 
 
 Those flitting forms are imaged by thy fear — 
 
 No peeping Tom of Coventry is near; 
 
 And, if such Tom of Scarbro' there should be. 
 
 He'd instantly be sent to Coventry. 
 
 O, if not the good angel of thy fate. 
 
 Trust her — the faithful guardian at the gate. 
 
 Had but such caution mark'd poor Lady Scrub, 
 Ere, cynic-like, she stept into her tub; 
 Had she but shot one bolt — why did she not ? 
 The proverb says, 'Fools bolts are quickly shot — ' 
 She ne'er from Captain Pepys had shrunk appall'd, 
 Ne'er fruitlessly for distant Jenny squall'd; 
 Ne'er toil'd in vain her embonpoint to hide. 
 Perversely buoyant, by the vessel's side! 
 "Ah why," the muse expostulating cries, 
 "Are ladies careless, or have captains eyes?" 
 
 Here leave we Ella half an hour. 
 To float like some fair lotus flower. 
 
THE WARM BATH 83 
 
 Which on the Nile's broad surface swims. 
 
 And dips by turns it's flexile limbs; 
 
 Diffusing, in it's lily pride, 
 
 A holy halo o'er the tide — 
 
 That half hour's space elapsed, to be 
 
 Venus Anadyomene. 
 
 w. 
 
J. Greett dt-L 
 
 Cornelian pAv. 
 
THE CORNELIAN PARTY. 
 
 Scepe ex socero meo audivi, cum is diceret socerum 
 suum Lcelium semper fere cum. Scipione solitiim rus- 
 ticari, eosque incredibiliter repiierascere esse solitos, 
 cum rus ex urhe tanquam e vinculis evolavissent. 
 Npn audeo dicere de talibus viris, sed tamen ita 
 solei narrare Sccevola, conchas eos et umhllicos ad 
 Caietam et ad Laurentum legere consuesse, et ad 
 omnem a/nimi remissionem ludumque descendere. 
 
 (Oic. de Oratore, II. 6.) 
 
 IN fair Jamaica, it is said 
 (I but refer to what I've read) 
 Of land-crabs oft yon meet a host 
 Impatient hurrying to the coast. 
 Soon as the season for migration 
 Warns them to quit their inland station*. 
 
 * The violet crab, of Jamaica, performs a fatiguing march 
 of some months' continuance, from the mountains to the sea-side. 
 
 Palsy's Nat. Theol. XTIII. 
 
86 THE CORNELIAN PARTY. 
 
 — But why to fair Jamaica roam 
 
 For what, each summer, shows at home? 
 
 In June, when May-flowers and May-flies 
 Paronomastically rise, 
 Ere yet the dog-star shoots his fire, 
 Prayers on all sides assail the 'Squire 
 From craving wife and coaxing daughters; 
 "Your hunting o'er, your hounds in quarters, 
 "And ere the moors demand your gun, 
 "Full two months interval to run — 
 "Oh ! as you promised, Scarbro' show us, 
 " In the old coach you well can stow us : 
 "Yourself included, we're but seven, 
 "Betty, as eighth, keeps both sides even. 
 "Do, pray Sir, without and or if, 
 "Take a month's lodging on the ens'." 
 
 Thus importuned, what can he do ? 
 He loves his wife, and daughters too; 
 And, though himself had rather stay 
 T'inspect, or even make, his hay; 
 Though he abominates the stir 
 And stench of crowded theatre. 
 
THE CORNELIAN PARTY. 87 
 
 Remembering well the scented gale 
 That ventilates his native vale : 
 Though balls annoy where sylphids meet, 
 To ply untired their nimble feet, 
 Here figuring in, there crossing over — 
 The reason why, he can't discover : 
 Though on a ten yards' terrace he 
 Scarcely finds room to bend his knee. 
 Or on a scanty mile of beech 
 His favourite hunter's legs can stretch; 
 Yet will he go ! With glad surprise 
 They read the answer in his eyes; 
 And all the toilette ammunition 
 Is instant put in requisition. 
 
 The village semstress summon'd straight. 
 Attends the critical debate — 
 Hears caps, and cloaks, and gowns discust. 
 Sees treasures rummaged from their dust — 
 Flounce, stomacher and furbelow. 
 Would arch an antiquary's brow, 
 And prove (whate'er be now the passion), 
 Eve has not always led the fashion. 
 
88 THE CORNKLIAN PARTY. 
 
 O Scarbro' ! queen of sea-side joys . 
 Which no domestic care alloys, 
 Far from the petty jangling war 
 Of housemaid, and of housekeeper ! 
 Throned on thy cliffs, how proudly thou 
 Survey' st the varied scene below : 
 In curve exact thy mansions bending, 
 And to the watery marge descending : 
 Upon that marge, in modest state, 
 Hygeia throwing wide her gate*, 
 (A better Cytherea she. 
 Risen newly from the ambient sea) 
 To indigent infirmity: 
 Thy temple, castle, double mole. 
 Port, spa, and circling round the whole. 
 Of beauty and of strength the zone. 
 The ocean's azure girdle thrown! 
 Thy pleasures ever charm the young. 
 The morning stroll — stroll all day long : 
 
 * The Warm Sea Bathing Infirmary, where the poor, who 
 cannot even afford three tokens and a half per bath, are invited 
 to go. quadranto lavtaum. HOR. 
 
THE CORNELIAN PARTY. 89 
 
 Joy, triumph, health at once they give, 
 To see, to conquer, and to live; 
 And vidi, vici, vixi, plain 
 Eecords the bright and brief campaign. 
 
 Nor hither 'Squires alone resort 
 With water to dilute their port. 
 Walk off the arches which riding gave, 
 And tip the go-by to the grave — 
 That only port they still would pass. 
 As Time's their only hated glass: — 
 For Scarbro' parsons quit their church, 
 For Scarbro' schoolmasters their birch; 
 And York and Lancashire agree 
 To sip their amicable tea. 
 No more indeed, the mortal fight 
 Is waged by roses red and white. 
 But on th' arena* now appear. 
 Embattled, Bell and Lancaster. 
 Fiercely th' inglorious conflict rages, 
 Where pages are opposed by pages; 
 
 * The reader will not fail to remark the appropriateness of a 
 metaphor, originally founded on sand. 
 
 N 
 
90 THE CORNELIAN PABXT. 
 
 And press-mea aad compositor 
 
 Maintain the theologic war, 
 
 While black and white the bearings blot 
 
 Upon each angry chieftain's coat, 
 
 O! might the muse one question blab. 
 
 To combatant in black and drab ! 
 
 Pardon and ponder the inquiry — 
 
 Ccelestibus tant<Bne irce? 
 
 I named above the morning stroll : 
 Impatient to enjoy the whole, 
 Which Scarbro' affluently supplies — 
 Water, and air, and exercise — 
 Old Tottergait, from breakfast hearty. 
 To 'round the Nab' invites his party. 
 Yet will he not the eye-spout pass 
 Untried, nor miss chalybeate glass, 
 As near the Spa his daughters stay. 
 And chide his hazardous delay : 
 "O, see ! the tide already flows, 
 "And will too surely interpose 
 "To bar, perhaps, our safe return 
 "Across yon rough and craggy bourn, 
 "Unless we instant hasten on — 
 
THK CORNELIAN PARTY. 91 
 
 "Pray, pray, papa, let us be gone." 
 But water, drunk or dabbled in — 
 Up, in both cases, to the chin — 
 Water, as Tottergait is told. 
 Will make him vigorous, though old: 
 It can't, indeed, renew his mettle; 
 That only would Medea's kettle — 
 A precious hot-bath long destroyed. 
 Or who with age would be annoy'd? 
 But it can brace without, within. 
 The steel his chest, the salt his skin: 
 Suppress Madeira's rising fume, or 
 Sooth by diluting acrid humour; 
 And stimulate alternately. 
 Pure Nature's genuine Eau de vie. 
 "Mistake not, that I pupil am," 
 Quoth Tottergait, "of Doctor Lambe, 
 "Who makes his water drop by drop 
 "In chemist's or in druggist's shop; 
 "As if in Paradise a still 
 "Where Adam's earliest utensil, 
 "And in some guilty moment quaft, 
 "His death, of running stream a draft! 
 "Charg'd with it's vivifying gas 
 
92 THE CORNELIAN PARTY. 
 
 "I love the sparkle of the glass: 
 "Catherine, the lines ! — by heart she knows 'em- 
 " Sent hither, when my lovely blossom, 
 "With languor struck, her head reclined, 
 "And Edmund grieved that Ella pined; — 
 "This eye-spout blinds one for a time, 
 "Or I myself would read the rhyme." 
 
 HYMN 
 
 TO 
 
 SCARBOROUGH SPA. 
 
 "O Fount of Health! sparkling Spring! 
 "Thou, who the languid nerve can'st string, 
 "And bid upon the cheek of snow 
 " It's long-forgotten roses blow ! 
 "To taste the pure pellucid wave, 
 "Fresh issuing from thy steeled cave, 
 "Comes one, who were it mine to heal, 
 "Nor care nor pain should ever feel. 
 
 "O to thy cool sequester'd haunt 
 "Receive thy loveliest visitant ! 
 
THE CORNELIAN PARTY. 93 
 
 "Deserve at length thine ancient fame, 
 "Pour all thy vigour through her frame; 
 "Th' elastic step of youth restore, 
 "To climb the mountain as of yore; 
 "And as in brightness, so in force, 
 "Like Phoebus let her run her course. 
 
 "Then shall thy praises Edmund siug, 
 "And o'er thy urn strew offering, 
 "CuU'd at the fragrant morning hour 
 "In Flora's fairest sweetest bow'r; 
 "That thus to him, through thee, 'tis given 
 "To hope on earth a lengthen'd heaven!" 
 
 Then quoting, with pedantic hem. 
 Old Pindar's temperate apophthegm 
 (^gt^Toi/ fjuev wSojg) he gulps down 
 A second tumbler ^o^vkoXttov, 
 And, with unusual vigour mann'd. 
 Ploughs unfatigued the sinking strand. 
 
 At last Cornelian-Bay they tread. 
 With all it's myriad treasures spread; 
 
94 THE COENELIAN PARTY. 
 
 Gems of all kinds — red, white, square, round — 
 
 A new Golconda above ground! 
 
 And now they struggle through the shingle, 
 
 Here group'dround some brightprize.theresingle: 
 
 " Look what an onyx. Sir, is mine, 
 
 "Enough to make a quaker pine; 
 
 "Though they nor brooch nor bracelet wear, 
 
 "Necklace nor pendant at the ear! 
 
 "Take it, dear Kate," fond Ella said, 
 
 "And bear it, polish'd, on your head : 
 
 "The giver, all ungloss'd by art, 
 
 "Wear still, beloved, in your heart." 
 
 Onward the guiltless Mammons travel. 
 With eyes fix'd on the glittering gravel ; 
 Nor e'er to distant cape by chance. 
 Or castle, turn th' admiring glance, 
 Or frowning cliff, or verdant plain. 
 Or white sail glistening on the main: 
 Vain Nature's contest with the maggot. 
 For what in Nature's like — an agate? 
 Nay, if they joy the day is fine — 
 'Tis but because the pebbles shine; 
 
THE CORNBLUN PARTY. 95 
 
 And earthquakes would but give them dread. 
 As swallowing up the sparkling bed. 
 Tides only ebb those beds t'uncover, 
 And flow, they think, to roll them over; 
 As mightiest rivers Brindley calls 
 Mere pap to feed his young canals. 
 
 Fear not, dear girls, the sage profound. 
 With rake and hammer peering round 
 For granite blocks and veined shells. 
 In which the hermit Murex dwells; 
 Fucus or Alga non-descript, 
 From it's firm base by tempests stript — 
 Your paltry triumphs he despises. 
 Bent upon rarer, richer prizes: 
 No tiny basket carries he. 
 To mock his massy industry: 
 No bag like that of smallest size. 
 Which holds our own infirmities; 
 But wallet huge — or blue, or crimson — 
 Like that we crowd our neighbours sins in; 
 Fossils in this (as he supposes) 
 He stores, which would perplex e'en Moses, 
 
96 THE CORNELIAN PARTY. 
 
 And force him, were he now to write, 
 A new cosmogony to indite: 
 For he can trace their rude formation 
 To periods long before creation; 
 And prove, by arguments in plenty, 
 Nil esse quod non fuit ante! 
 — Peace to such vain geologists, 
 With such I enter not the lists. 
 
 But Laura now appears in view: 
 Such faultless figure Guide drew. 
 When in her softest happiest guise. 
 He sketched 'our Lady' of the skies: 
 That lady's frame such soul inspired — 
 By love attuned, by grace attired! 
 Her ye may fear: for not a beam 
 From roughest agate casts it's gleam; 
 No vein so fine, no speck so small. 
 But her quick glance descries them all — 
 'Fear!' the rash phrase, my muse, disprove: 
 For who can fear, whom all must love ? 
 
 And now, unconscious of their stay, 
 They homeward plod their w^eary way: 
 
THE CORNELIAN PARTY. 97 
 
 When tide and tempest join their force, 
 
 To intercept the destined course! 
 
 The rock they climb, whose foot before 
 
 They pass'd, nor heard the surges roar: 
 
 Above the rocks the waves aspire. 
 
 Each than it's predecessor higher; 
 
 A little moment's space recoil. 
 
 Then with redoubled fury boil. 
 
 Not closer to her crag Andromed 
 
 Clung, shuddering at the roar her foe made. 
 
 Than Ella now to her's with fears 
 
 Tenacious, limpet-like adheres. 
 
 Above she views the jutting steep; 
 
 Below she hears the roaring deep: 
 
 No beau, as Perseus, hovers near 
 
 To bid her bosom be of cheer. 
 
 And ere she feel the bellowing shock. 
 
 Bear her in safety from the rock. 
 
 Meanwhile, to Kate's affrighted eyes 
 Bellina's ghost appears to rise; 
 Bellina, in her maiden bloom 
 Sent by a ruffian to the tomb. 
 o 
 
98 THE CORNELIAN PARTY. 
 
 Yon lettered stone * she hovers nigh, 
 Swells with her shriek the sea- bird's cry; 
 And seems in hollow tone to say, 
 "Thou soon shalt join my kindred clay." 
 Oh! to Bellina's doom severe 
 Be struck one chord, be shed one tear. 
 
 'Glowing with health, in early beauty's prime. 
 
 ' Link'd with the youth she loved and trusted most, 
 'Nor meditating she nor fearing crime, 
 
 'Bellina treads the solitary coast. 
 
 'O'er the broad surface of th' unruffled deep 
 'The midnight moon her silver radiance throws; 
 
 'In stillest calm old Ocean's billows sleep, 
 'Great Nature's self is luU'd into repose. 
 
 * The Letter D (for death, like the Greek Q) long marked 
 the stone, upon which Miss Bell's head rested when her corpse 
 was discovered, blooming as in a quiet sleep. It has since been 
 removed, perhaps by tempests. 
 
THE CORNELIAN PARTY. 99 
 
 'Ah! little reeks Belli na, in that breast 
 
 'She deems love's throne, what horrid passions 
 wake! 
 
 'Too soon by deeds the demon stands confest, 
 'Her limbs too soon with force, with terror shake. 
 
 'Bat heaven which oft, it's secret mercies such, 
 'Inflicts in kindness the mysterious blow, 
 
 'Withdrew her from the coarse polluter's touch, 
 'And bade her leave her unstain'd corse below. 
 
 ' Where traces the spring-flood it's utmost bound — 
 'Why should the muse the foul detail relate? 
 
 'There even in death unfaded, was she found; 
 'And many an eye still weeps Bellina's fate.' 
 
 Turn we where other sufferers lie — 
 Alas that maids so fair should die! 
 sickening moment of alarm! 
 A sea of foam, a heaven of storm ! 
 Billow and cloud commixt half way. 
 Torrent direct, collateral spray! 
 
100 THE CORNELIAN PARTY. 
 
 While, as poor Ella lifts her head 
 To scan the perils rouad her spread. 
 Specking with white the lurid sky 
 She marks the screaming sea-birds fly; 
 And deems each note, amid the gloom, 
 Augurial of her hastening doom. 
 
 "Too plain the sense thy cries convey — 
 "'I scent with joy my plenteous prey; 
 " 'Upon yon flinty altar piled, 
 *' 'View my pale victims — sire and child; 
 "'And ere to-morrow's sun arise, 
 "'Shall feast upon the sacrifice!' — 
 "Oh, come not near with dirge so dread — 
 "Spare us, at least, until we're dead!" 
 
 And see! she gives her hoarded heap. 
 Vain offering! to the angry deep: 
 Agate transparent, curious moss. 
 Destined for future brooch or cross. 
 Cornelian, quartz — promiscuous tost. 
 Are in the greedy billow lost. 
 
 As when with Indian gems, and bales. 
 Home-bound, the stately vessel sails. 
 
THE CORNBHAN PARTY. 101 
 
 And cuts the maia with steady prow- 
 Reflected from the glass below; 
 Sooth'd by his precious weight, awhile 
 Old Oceau wears a treacherous smile: 
 Aud now each giddy fair on board 
 To England, as she dreams, restored, 
 Of balls and dress and fashions prates, 
 Conquests to come anticipates; 
 Sees peers contest th' adjoining seat. 
 Hears princes sighing at her feet: 
 \Yhen — Oh! what means that crashing shock? 
 The ship has struck a hidden rock! 
 Sudden, as through the yawning side 
 Rushes the black impetuous tide, 
 From their shrunk minds the waves efface 
 Of fashions, balls, and dress the blaze; 
 And sweep with one dread dash away 
 At once the plunderer and the prey. 
 
 Oh Ella sweet, how throbs thine heart! 
 How to thy cheek the blushes start. 
 As eager plunging through the wave. 
 Thy Edmund hastes — to die, or save 1 
 
< 
 
-r-*cj*»«=a_a*-*— 
 
 SEA BATHING. 
 
 THREE hours, at least, the pacing sun 
 Had his diurnal course begun. 
 And thrown his bright resplendent rays 
 On mountain tops and tranquil seas. 
 Refreshing was the morning gale. 
 That fiU'd full many a distant sail. 
 The gentle wave refused to roar 
 And only kiss'd the pebbly shore. 
 Hygeia sat upon the brow 
 That overlook'd the flood below. 
 Dispensing health to those who sought 
 By watery plunge or briny draught. 
 Her wholesome aid and fostering care 
 Or strength to give or to repair. 
 
 Such was the morn, bright and serene. 
 When Lady Bustleton was seen. 
 
106 SEA BATHINO. 
 
 Who had arrived the night before, 
 
 To stand admiring on the shore. 
 
 Her sister Tab, a maiden lady. 
 
 Who had some time been past her hey-day; 
 
 Two misses, of no common mien, 
 
 Who the world's pleasures had not seen ; 
 
 But had at home learn'd Fal, La, La, 
 
 From private masters and mamma; 
 
 And Tommy a fine sprightly boy. 
 
 His aunt's delight and mother's joy, 
 
 The party form'd, whom coach and four 
 
 Had brought an hundred miles and more, 
 
 To where the wayward Muse has found 'em 
 
 Gazing at every thing around 'em. 
 
 The Baronet refused to roam. 
 
 And therefore grumbling stay'd at home. 
 
 While Caroline her glass was trimming. 
 To see the gentlemen a-swimming; 
 While sister Betsy sought a store 
 Of pretty pebbles ou the shore; 
 And little Tommy, all astride. 
 Upon his cock-horse chose to ride; — 
 The following colloquy began 
 
SEA BATHING. 107 
 
 Between the ladies and a man, 
 Wlio sought with all humility 
 To introduce them to the Sea: 
 "And please your Ladyship, I beg 
 "In my machine you'll put a leg: — 
 "A better you cannot command 
 "Of all you see upon the strand; 
 "While my wife, who for many a year 
 "Has waited on the gentry here. 
 "Will please you madam to a T, 
 "(As if you try her, you will see) 
 "Undress and dress you in a trice, 
 "Arrange your ribbands all so nice, 
 "And stick each pin into it's place; — 
 "For she has waited on her Grace, 
 "And many a noble Lady too, 
 "With such great Quality as you." 
 
 "All this is well," Aunt Tabby said, 
 "You seem, my friend, to know your trade: 
 "But while I see those ladies splashing, 
 "Pray tell me who are yonder dashing?" 
 " — Sir Harry, and Lord John no doubt; — 
 "Like Dolphins they can swim about." 
 
108 SEA BATHING. 
 
 — Aunt Tabby started with affright, 
 
 When she beheld the horrid sight. 
 
 "The thoughts of bathing thus 1 hate ; 
 
 "Nought can be so indelicate : — 
 
 "Besides a sailor, two leagues off, 
 
 "May turn his glass, and spy and scoff: 
 
 " And, after all, I do not know 
 
 " What good salt water can bestow." 
 
 — "Believe me, Ma'am, a daily dip 
 
 "Will rubify the cheek and lip. 
 
 "If you're too fat, 'twill make you thin; 
 
 "And if the bones invade the skin, 
 
 "'Twill in a month their sharpness cover, 
 
 "And clothe them well with flesh all over. 
 
 "The sea's the mill that people mean, 
 
 "To make the old grow young again. 
 
 "Now ladies the machine is ready, 
 
 "My wife prepared, the black horse steady; 
 
 "Tom Careful will the beast bestride, 
 
 "And be your La'ship's Honour's guide. 
 
 "Oh how delighted you will be, 
 
 "When you are splashing in the Sea. 
 
 "And if to me you'll trust young Master, 
 "I'll bear him safe from all disaster." 
 
SEA BATHING. 109 
 
 "Well then," said Lady Bastleton, 
 "Of the sea-party I'll be oae : 
 "The girls shall also take their places, 
 "And in it's waves may wash their faces." 
 
 "Tabby exclaim'd; "If you should please 
 "To play such silly freaks as these, 
 "Why, wives may take these liberties. 
 "But, Sister, sure 'twill not.be wise, 
 "To let the girls employ their eyes 
 "On such strange sights as they may see, 
 "Not fit for either them or me." 
 
 "La, Aunt," the smiling Misses cried, 
 "We're surely not to be denied 
 "To do whate'er Mamma may do ; \ 
 
 "For we hope to be married too, 
 "And so. Aunt Tabby, so do you." 
 
 Thus the old maid outvoted stood 
 And watch'd the ebbings of the flood; 
 But did not like to stand alone, 
 When all the' rest of them were gone : 
 So bribed the dame of a machine. 
 To let her sit awhile within. 
 
110 SEA BATHING. 
 
 Thus as she chatted of the weather. 
 And who and who were got together : 
 The driver, as a thing of course. 
 To the machine attached his horse, 
 Which suddenly was put in motion. 
 And Tabby dragg'd into the Ocean. 
 Now, though this lady had miscarried 
 In that same wish of getting married, 
 She still possess'd the worldly science. 
 Which to a scrape can bid defiance; 
 And knew full well, if once the tale 
 Should in the public rooms prevail. 
 The dashing folks would have a reason 
 For quizzing her throughout the season. 
 Thus, when surrounded with salt water. 
 She burst into a fit of laughter. 
 And through the window stole a peep 
 To see her nieces take a leap. 
 
 "Tell me," she said, "what fish is yonder!"- 
 "No fish, I'm sure, but 'Squire Blunder, 
 "And just beside us here's another, 
 "A comely man. Lord Something's brother. 
 
SEA BATHING. HI 
 
 "They do no harm, my Lady; they 
 "Here in the waves but frisk and play, 
 "And sport about to take a view 
 "Of such fine noble forms as you. 
 "The Ladies, dress'd in flannel-cases, 
 "Show nothing but their handsome faces. 
 "Besides, so noble is your mien, 
 "To such advantage you'll be seen, 
 "That all the Gem' men will agree, 
 "You are the Beauty of the Sea." 
 
 "Well, then," said Tabby, "I'll prepare 
 "To make the saacy fellows stare. 
 " — But stop a moment : — You must know 
 "That not above three months ago, 
 "A fever robb'd me of my hair, 
 "And left my head so bald and bare, 
 "That to do justice to my face 
 "A wig has since supplied it's place. 
 "So till another time I'll stay, 
 "And put off bathing for to-day" 
 
 " — Oh no, here's Lady Bumpkin's tresses 
 "In which, to bathe, she always dresses: 
 
112 SEA BATHINO. 
 
 "For grey her liair has long been grown, 
 "And then she paints her eye-brows brown." 
 
 To this Aunt Tabby did agree. 
 And soon went headlong in the Sea. 
 The Sea received the virtuous maid, 
 Who no unseemly fears betray'd 
 But look'd about her undismayed. 
 Then soon with all the pleasing glow. 
 Which the salt waves so oft bestow. 
 She sought the ready handmaid's care. 
 And found each kind attention there. 
 — Her nieces, when their aunt was seen 
 Descending quick from the machine. 
 Sprung forth with eager step to meet her, 
 And with a cheerful welcome greet her. 
 Thus laughing loud in accents gay. 
 Homeward they took their pleasant way. 
 With stomachs keen and looks bewitching. 
 To breed a famine in the kitchen. 
 
THE DRIVE. 
 
 THE mom was fair, the dust was bound 
 By liquid fetters to the ground; 
 Serene the sky, no clouds appear' d, 
 No mountain forms their heads uprear'd : 
 But o'er the whole expanse a hue 
 Of clear and bright setherial blue 
 Invited all th' equestrian fair, 
 And stylish beaux to take the air. 
 Friend Totter cheerly raised his head. 
 And smiling to the Ladies said; 
 " I promised you, I think, before, 
 "A carriage — yes, my girls, and four: 
 " I'll be your coachman, and our round 
 " Shall be on fashionable ground. 
 "Come, Mrs. Tottergait, to day 
 " We'll Arive blue devils all away : 
 Q 
 
114 THB DRIVE. 
 
 " No, no, we'll have those elves no more; 
 " Ho — bring the carriage to the door." 
 
 Now very soon the carriage came 
 (Such vehicles are known to fame :) 
 A sort of squat barouche — each steed 
 Of high and well-train'd donkey breed : 
 Their sires and dams of some renown, 
 Though not in calendars set down : 
 Such beauties are well known to grace 
 The roads of every watering place. 
 
 Careful, the good man peep'd about. 
 To see what linch-pins might be out : 
 Look'd too, as careful as you please, 
 Both to the wheels and axletress; 
 The perch, the springs, the bolts, the braces- 
 The bridles, saddles, reins, and traces 
 Bscap'd not his regardful eye. 
 Or soundly-shaking scrutiny. 
 And now advanced, with joy elate, 
 Mistress and Misses Tottergait : 
 They took their seats — he gazed around. 
 Drew up the reins, and look'd profound; 
 
THE DRIVE. 
 
 115 
 
 And mounting with a stately grace. 
 
 Set forward at a gentle pace. 
 
 Newbt and Scalby soon they see, 
 
 And travel on in social glee, 
 
 'Till sometimes passing, sometimes past. 
 
 By those who drove more slow or fast. 
 
 At Hackness they arrived at last. 
 
 Ah, lovely vale! thy charms shall long 
 Embellish themes of nobler song! 
 All praised its beauties, and declared. 
 No time to view them should be spared; 
 Yet, in a moment, thought they should 
 Be greatly pleas'd by Ranclippe wood: 
 To it they drove, but wish'd the ride 
 Had wound along the Derwent side. 
 
 "Tut," said old Totter, "prithee, learn 
 "The beauties present to discern: 
 "The bee, that in the roseate bower 
 "Still wanders on from flower to flower, 
 "From each obtains what sweets he can, 
 "And the same lesson teaches man. 
 
116 THB DBITK. 
 
 "If in the paths that we pursue 
 "To cull the good, we keep in view 
 "This road, or that — we need not mind it, 
 " Good is still good where'er we find it ; 
 "And tell me — whersoe'er we range, 
 "Why always should we wish to change, 
 "Pursuing yet the scene untried, 
 "And when that's found — dissatisfied? 
 "Thus 'tis, our discontentments grow — 
 "What is the matter now — wo, wo — 
 "Deuce take the near-wheel donkey's trick: 
 "He's sure at every thing to kick." 
 
 The ass, it seems, was not content 
 With his old worship's argument; 
 Or rather with the smartish stroke 
 That followed every truth he spoke. 
 They first began with gentle beat. 
 But grew more fierce as did his heat; 
 When kicking at the sad disgrace. 
 It threw it's leg beyond the trace. 
 And must have trotted home on three. 
 Had not friend Totter set him free. 
 
THE DRIVE. 117 
 
 Near Ay ton- Bridge, upon the road, 
 Edmund had met the little load: 
 Some stared, but not with much surprise, 
 And pleasure glisten'd in his eyes. 
 As homeward now the party drew. 
 The Castle Walls appearM in view ; 
 The donkeys pull'd, as though they saw 
 Or smelt their corn, and hay and straw; 
 Bat Mister Tottergait said, no — 
 I'm not inclined so fast to go : 
 Donkeys are wilful— ^if you'll ride. 
 Friend Edmund, nearer to my side, 
 I will endeavour to prevail 
 On these to let me tell a tale. 
 
 Mr. Totterqait's Story. 
 
 In Holborn once near Middle-row, 
 Some half a dozen years ago. 
 Two boys, with more than common care. 
 Were leading from a Smithfield fair 
 A poor young ass — the beast was led 
 By an old halter round it's head : 
 Self-will'd by nature, now and then 
 It chose to move — then stop again — 
 
118 THE DRIVE. 
 
 No whip, no cudgel, to it's side 
 By tyrant hand was now applied; 
 They push'd — they urged him on with coaxing, 
 And with a hay-band sometimes hoaxing. 
 They made short way — but still the colt 
 Would stand, as stupid as a dolt; 
 At length, stock-still, it seem'd to say — 
 "Not one step more I'll stir to-day;" 
 And yet, with gentleness, they strove 
 To make the senseless creature move. 
 A gentleman, who chanced to pass, 
 Exclaim'd — " A very pretty ass ! 
 " 'Tis gentle, sure — I have a boy — 
 
 "A child — I've promised him a toy; 
 
 "And (to a stander-by he said) 
 
 "It has a very pretty head — 
 
 " I wonder if the lads will sell ? 
 
 "The donkey would do thrice as well, 
 
 "And on the lawn 'twould range and feed, 
 
 "It is a pretty ass — indeed." 
 
 "Oh, since we cannot make it stir," 
 
 The boys exclaim'd— "We'll sell her. Sir." 
 With inward pleasure now he smil'd, 
 
 To think how well 'twould please his child. 
 
THB DRIVE. 119 
 
 He paid the price ; and lads, he said, 
 Gro, buy another in it's stead : 
 The boys obey'd the glad command, 
 And placed the halter in his hand. 
 
 Quickly increased the gaping crowd. 
 The stifled laugh became more loud ; 
 The chapman view'd his purchased steed, 
 " A very pretty ass indeed \" — 
 " — A very pretty ass!" — he found 
 As quick re-echoed all around : 
 Amazed, he look'd about to see 
 What caus'd such grinning jollity. 
 
 Like transient dreams, like youthful sighs. 
 Like gleams of sun in April skies; 
 The image that his mind had wrought, 
 With home's domestic blisses fraught. 
 The mother's smiles, the boy's delight 
 Had vanish'd all — as well they might. 
 The wife was gone, the child was fled ; 
 The halter, and the ass, instead 
 Secure he held: he saw the throng 
 Their laughter and their jokes prolong. 
 In angry mood he sought the elf, 
 To whom he first address'd himself : 
 
120 THE DRIVE. 
 
 "Good heavens, Sir" — he cried — "You said 
 "The beast was cheap — you liked his head; 
 "I had not bought it, but for you — 
 "And now, pray tell me — what to do?" 
 "Nay, don't be angry," he replied, 
 "The ass wont walk — perhaps 'twill ride. 
 "To show I merit not reproach, 
 "I will advise you — call a coach" — 
 And then (for how could man refrain ?) 
 He into laughter burst again : 
 "A coach, a coach," he bawl'd aloud; 
 "A coach, a coach," — rejoin 'd the crowd. 
 And soon the ass was hoisted in. 
 The crowd observ'd it with a grin; 
 In jnmp'd the gentleman — the door 
 Was quickly closed — then burst the roar : 
 For as he bade his last adieu. 
 The donkey thrust his head out too, 
 Join'd in the chorus of the day. 
 And parted with a farewell bray ! 
 
 The story done, the old man drew 
 The donkey's up — t'enjoy a view ; 
 When Mrs. Tottergait averred 
 The tale the best she ever heard; 
 
THE DRIVE. 121 
 
 And since they were on rising ground, 
 She wish'd a story might go round, 
 And call'd on Edmund; Kate insisted. 
 Since donkeys only were enlisted 
 In this day's sport — that all should be 
 Of long-ear'd race variety. 
 Edmund consented to the plan. 
 And thus his sportive tale began. 
 
 Edmund's Stoey. 
 
 One day, in Britain's famed Museum, 
 
 Where rarities are hung on high; 
 A countryman, who came to see 'em. 
 On a hugh bone * had fix'd his eye. 
 " With that great jaw," 
 Quoth Doctor Shaw, 
 "One Sampson in a mighty passion 
 " (For oft he into choler flew) 
 " Of Philistines a thousand slew, 
 " And might have slaughter'd half the nation." 
 The Bumpkin said. 
 And scratch' d his head. 
 
 * The bone of the Hippopotamus of extraordinary size. 
 B 
 
122 THE DRIVE. ; 
 
 "It is an ass's jaw, indeed! 
 "How glad I am we've lost the breed: 
 "Such monstrous asses, G-od we praise, 
 "Do not exist in our days." 
 
 "Sir," said the Doctor, "you must know 
 "We've quite as monstroiis asses now." 
 "Zooks!" cried the fellow, "that is rare! 
 "I'd loik to zee un, I declare; 
 "Do tell me. Muster, where they are." 
 
 Thus press'd, the Doctor slily said, 
 "The asses that I lately saw, 
 "Are not so big about the Jawj 
 "But strangely thicker in the Head." 
 
 No sooner was the story done. 
 Than clouds to shed their stores begun ; 
 The steeds were urg'd to mend their pace. 
 And now the trot became a race. 
 Quickly did Long-Room Street appear. 
 And home in view, their spirits cheer; 
 In haste, since each was not befriended. 
 The jonrney and the stories ended. 
 
 J. p. 
 
X 
 
 
THE CHURCH. 
 
 AND 
 
 CHURCH-YARD. 
 
 FURROW'd by storms, and grey with years. 
 The venerable pile uprears 
 In aweful dignity it's head, 
 Amidst the regions of the dead : 
 The mutilated walls betray 
 It's ancient greatness and decay ; 
 And serve to tell, yet serve to hide. 
 How much to grave monastic pride 
 Was once munificently given : 
 But ah, how little spared to Heaven ! 
 Still does each sculptured arch impart 
 Some vestiges of Saxon art : 
 Some forms of chaster style, the thought 
 By Fancy bred, by Judgment wrought; 
 And to the searching eye convey 
 The beauties of it's earlier day. 
 
124 THE CHUBCH AND CHUBCH-YAKD. 
 
 High on the brow behold it soars, 
 The guardian of it's busy shores, 
 And to the gaudy active throng 
 That still to earthly cares belong, 
 "Leave them beneath," it seems to say; 
 "To happiness behold the way." 
 
 Our aged pair the long rope- walk* 
 Had shortened by a pleasant talk. 
 And thither came to gaze around. 
 And meditate on sacred ground: 
 Full oft they viewed the vessel sweep 
 The surface of the watery deep; 
 The gay and bustling town beneath. 
 The bold and wide-extending heath. 
 The fields with full luxuriance crown'd. 
 Where Plenty, Joy, and Health abound. 
 Now bending read the tomb-stones o'er 
 And on each verse together pore ; 
 And oft they moralize, and then — 
 They read the verses o'er again. 
 
 * The Eope Walk is remarkable for it's length. 
 
THE CHURCH AND CHURCH- YARD. 125 
 
 Till Tofctergait, in thoaghtful mood 
 
 And philosophic attitude, 
 
 Oast on the stones his pensive eye. 
 
 Proceeding in soliloquy: 
 
 "With these last mansions in our view; 
 
 "These palaces six feet by two, 
 
 "What thousand cares we still pursue! 
 
 " Long o'er the sickly lamp, the Sage 
 
 "To learning turns the lengthen'd page. 
 
 " Ambition, wilder as it grows, 
 
 " Dispels the blessings of repose ; 
 
 "Incessant care the Merchant sees 
 
 "In every wave, in every breeze; 
 
 " Remorse and woe the Spendthrifts find, 
 
 " Joy in the van, but Want behind, 
 
 " With all the dire illusive train, 
 
 "That promised bliss — that usher'd pain: 
 
 " Far happier is the peasant's lot, 
 
 " At eve his cares are all forgot — 
 
 " His griefs, the lightest men endure ; 
 
 " His woes, not past the 'morrow's cure ; 
 
 " His errors need no false defence ; 
 
 "Such is thy meed, Innocence!" 
 
126 THE CHURCH AND CHURCH-YAED. 
 
 Not long in contemplative strain 
 Did Mr. Tottergait remain : 
 For the fat 'Squire had hobbled out. 
 Scarcely recovered from the gout ; 
 And in the Church-yard took his way 
 T' enjoy in peace the closing day ; 
 But, luckless Fate! his poor feet found 
 A more than usual rugged ground j 
 And, spite of caution, now he tript — 
 Away the faithless crutches slipt; 
 Their master like a mountain follow'd. 
 And groaning for assistance hollow'd; 
 Then fell so heavily altogether — 
 That, stamped upon his brigs of leather, 
 Friend Totter saw (for he could trace it) 
 A very legible HIC JACET. 
 
 The moralising thought now fled, 
 And Totter quiet forgot the dead, 
 While laughing to the 'Squire he cries, 
 "I've liv'd to see Hie j'acet — rise! 
 "And 'tis no wonder: for, my friend, 
 "I saw it — at thy latter end." 
 
THE CHUECH AND CHUBCH-TAED. 127 
 
 The 'Squire disliked the old man's joke. 
 And half-oflFended scarcely spoke; 
 Yet by a look he seem'd to say, 
 " My joke I'll have another day.' 
 
 " Come, dear," said Madam Tottergait, 
 "I fear we make our ramble late; 
 " So far to walk — so long the roam — 
 "'Tis time to think of going home." 
 " 'Tis rather soon," he said, " to bend 
 " The way of our departed friend :" 
 And smiling kindly on his wife, 
 " No, not just yet, my dearest life — " 
 Fixing his eye upon a stone, 
 Where rests a man five score and one, 
 "No, not just yet, my dear; you see 
 "I'm scarcely turn'd of sixty-three." 
 And now the good and faithful pair 
 Descended slow the Sandgate stair: 
 "No, no, we'll both, if Nature pleases, 
 "Continue on and take new leases." 
 
 The evening closes calm, serene. 
 On Heaven's bright vault no spot is seen; 
 
128 THE CHURCH AND CHURCH-TARD. 
 
 Save some light forms of aerial spray, 
 That glisten red and fade away, 
 Lost in the broad and golden beam. 
 That sinks into the western stream : 
 But soon these transient tints decay, 
 And leave the world to twilight grey. 
 Thus pure the transports of the mind, 
 Temperate, and peaceful, and refined; 
 Attuned to social joys, that rise 
 From the calm influence of the skies. 
 
 Now Edmund with fair Ella came, 
 To view the scene, and tell his flame; 
 For every church-yard still is found 
 A doubly consecrated ground. 
 
 To Death and Love! This path to-day 
 
 Is Love and Hymen's joyous way : 
 When prostrate to the sacred power. 
 Who blesses wish the blissful hour. 
 Lovers before the altars bow. 
 He hears the prayer, records the vow, 
 And as the Priests his gifts dispense 
 To Virtue and to Innocence, 
 
THE CHURCH AND OHDBCH-YARD. 129 
 
 Angels rejoice — for then is given 
 To man a temporary Heaven. 
 
 To-MOBROw! Hark! the dreadful bell 
 Tolls mournful, life's departing knell! 
 Now solemn pensive footsteps tread 
 The dreary passage of the dead : 
 That sigh, that tear, in anguish gave 
 Another victim to the grave. 
 
 Could Virtue, Beauty, Truth, or Sense 
 With Nature's powerful law dispense. 
 Death had not dared the bolt to throw. 
 That laid such excellence so low. 
 
 Fleeting; — with every hour's decay. 
 Our earthly blessings glide away; 
 The spring of Life with sun-shine cheers 
 The scions of our hopes and fears; 
 In winter's cold ungenial sky. 
 Too sensitive, they shrink and die. 
 Then instant seize, and Heaven's behest 
 Clasp fondly to thy youthful breast: 
 s 
 
180 THK CHURCH AND CHUBCH-YABD. 
 
 The bliss neglected, life's beat grace 
 To cold and selfish cares gives place. 
 And man with varied ills engage, 
 Less honoured by advancing age. 
 Shrouded and pall'd, what tearful eyes 
 Shall grace his latest obsequies ? 
 What! not one silent- woe-bred tear. 
 Affection's gem ! — to deck his bier ! 
 Friendship may sigh — but Love alone 
 Bedews the consecrated stone, 
 And that sweet flower, whose perfume shed 
 Can soothe us dying — grace us dead. 
 Must ere it will it's sweets impart, 
 Be fondly planted in the Heart. 
 
 Oh ye, who read how Nature rules 
 The human breast — untaught of schools; 
 Who feel perhaps how pure, how fond, 
 The strongest link of social bond; 
 O ! you well know, how sweet to hear 
 The bells that say a church is near; 
 As Fancy weaves with Hope the thread 
 To curtain round the marriage bed. 
 You will not wonder Edmund's theme 
 
THE CHURCH AND CHORCH-YARD. 131 
 
 Was not of Sol's resplendent beam. 
 
 Or ere the sun had sunk to rest, 
 
 And deep in gloom the welkin drest, 
 
 Ella suspected all that hung 
 
 In trembling accents on his tongue. 
 
 *Twas now he ventured to declare 
 
 His passion to the listening fair; 
 
 Perhaps the time he chose, to hide 
 
 The ebbing of his crimson tide ; 
 
 It aided Ella to conceal 
 
 A blush, she wish'd not to reveal. 
 
 The verse attempts not here to prove 
 
 The true devotion of his love; 
 
 But it may very truly tell. 
 
 Eleven times the turret-bell 
 
 Had struck, and told them morn was nigh. 
 
 Before it made the lovers fly ; 
 
 They reached her home, just time to rob 
 
 The crier of a midnight job. 
 
 J. p. 
 
I 
 
 < 
 
 IS, 
 
THE SHOWER BATH. 
 
 'Tis said by those, who have defined 
 The secrets of the human mind. 
 That in the purest female breast 
 There is a something ne'er at rest; 
 A spirit ever quick and free. 
 Whose name is Curiosity. 
 In early years, confined at home, 
 Nor sufier'd like the boys to roam. 
 What's going on, or what is done. 
 Of grave and sad, of frisk and fun. 
 In the world's wide and ample sphere. 
 The girls can know but what they hear. 
 Nor gain at public school or college 
 A prematurity of knowledge: 
 But 'neath the formal matron's care. 
 Learn the prim look and stiffen'd air: 
 
134 THE SHOWER BATH. 
 
 The simpering smile, and each decorum 
 Which governesses set before 'em : 
 With many a little trifling duty. 
 Relating but to shape and beauty. 
 Thus, with the grace of song and dance, 
 The Misses on tHeir way advance ; 
 And want to know, throughout their teens. 
 What this thing is, and what that means : 
 So that, at length, interrogation 
 Becomes a daily occupation ; 
 And long before they reach to twenty. 
 The whys and wherefores sprout in plenty. 
 So that when Misses meet together, 
 They do not talk about the weather. 
 In justice therefore to the fair. 
 Truth must be willing to declare. 
 That this same brisk inquiring feature 
 Is not the real child of Nature; 
 _ But form'd by art, not inspiration. 
 And is the work of Education. 
 
 Thus Ella and her sister Kate, 
 Engaged one morn in friendly prate. 
 After they had employ 'd their chat 
 In asking this and answering that, 
 
THE SHOWER BATH. 135 
 
 And wondering both what things could mean 
 
 Which they before had never seen, 
 
 Thought of what difference there could be 
 
 Between a Cold Bath and the Sea. 
 
 — "That you may know," Old Mary said — 
 
 Now Mary was the Chamber-maid; 
 
 And at that time with brush and broom 
 
 Was come to adonise the room. 
 
 At Scarbro' she was born and bred ; 
 
 There her laborious life had led. 
 
 And now it was old Mary's pride 
 
 To be a kind of Scarbro' guide, 
 
 To the good ladies to make known 
 
 Whate'er was furnish'd by the town: 
 
 Nor did she e'er her language spare 
 
 In telling all that bappen'd there. 
 
 In short she hasten'd to explain 
 The bath that came like shower of rain. 
 That when a string was pull'd, it fell 
 Like what is call'd a dropping- well; 
 Only the tumbling water seems. 
 Instead of drops, to come in streams : 
 While one receives it sitting there. 
 Naked 'tis true, but in a chair. 
 
136 THE SHOWER BATH. 
 
 'Tis done so quick that, in a minute. 
 
 You are out — and then you are in it. 
 
 And ladies oft are heard to say, 
 
 It makes them all so brisk and gay ; 
 
 It puts them in such lively tune 
 
 That they could leap above the moon. 
 
 " I tried it once," said laughing Mary, 
 
 " And was as frisky as a fairy. 
 
 " — 'Tis at the rooms — in half an hour 
 
 " You may enjoy the watery bower : 
 
 " While I'll go forward to prepare, 
 
 " And say that you are coming there." 
 
 Now so it happened, that Mamma 
 And good Aunt Tabby and Papa, 
 With Mrs. Frump, were all below. 
 Risking at whist a crown or so: 
 So that they might escape unseen. 
 And no one know where they had been. 
 
 Thus, on their curious scheme intent. 
 Well screened with veils away they went; 
 When, having view'd the strange machine, 
 A thing they ne'er before had seen; 
 
THE SHOWER BATH. 137 
 
 Aud all it's tricks aad magic shown. 
 The Misses wish'd to be alone. 
 Ella unrobed we now shall leave 
 In the first dress of mother Eve ; 
 Nor will the muse presume to see 
 Her form beneath the canopy. 
 From whose recess the watery store 
 Was in a thousand rills to pour: 
 While Kate, impatient for the fun, 
 When Ella had her washing done, 
 Took off her robings one by one. 
 
 1 
 
 / 
 
 Now Edmund, who had call'd to say — 
 " What is the party of the day ; 
 "And whither, fair ones, will you stray?" ) 
 Was led by Love, we will presume, 
 To find them at the Bathing-room. 
 First, at the door he gave a tap, 
 A second and a louder rap. 
 Which said as plain as rap could speak, 
 "Fm come my Ella fair to seek; — 
 "May I within the room appear, 
 " Or must I wait your presence here V 
 
 I 
 
138 THE SHOWER BATH. 
 
 But SO it was, as it appear'd. 
 The modest notice was not heard : 
 Some power, a foe to their repose. 
 Had then contrived their ears to close ; — 
 And what was worse, to say no more. 
 That they should not have lock'd the door : 
 So Edmund thought, that he might venture 
 Unceremoniously to enter. 
 But a strange scene now meets Ws eyes : 
 The sight his feeling petrifies: 
 While each with unexpected sounds 
 Th' astonished sense of hearing wounds. 
 The pug-dog bark'd, and Ella scream'd, 
 Down the tremendous torrent stream'd; 
 While Kate was like a crouching goddess, 
 In only petticoat and boddice. 
 So that, astonish'd at the view, 
 Edmund shrunk backwards and withdrew: 
 What had he seen — what could he do! 
 " This ought to have been done before," 
 Said Kate, and then she lock'd the door, 
 — How they both treated this intrusion. 
 With a gay laugh, or grave confusion j 
 
THE SHOWEli, BATH. 139 
 
 Whether poor Edmund was to feel \ 
 
 The rage which female eyes can deal, > 
 
 The tell-tale muse will not conceal. / 
 
 Cries Ella, " Sister, with what grace 
 
 "Can I e'er look in Edmund's face; 
 
 " When I reflect where he has been, 
 
 " And all, alas, that he has seen \" 
 
 "Think you," said Kate, "he had the power 
 
 "To see you 'midst the falling shower? 
 
 " His peering eyes could ne'er prevail 
 
 " To view you through your watery veil : 
 
 " Besides, poor fellow, of the two, 
 
 " He was far more confus'd than you : 
 
 "We may put on some trifling airs, 
 
 " To bring poor Strephon to his prayers — 
 
 "Just hint, that he was very wrong; — 
 
 "But we'll not keep our anger long, 
 
 " If he's discreet, and — holds his tongue." 
 
THE LIBEAEY. 
 
 NOW LiTEEATUEE no more appalls, 
 Immured 'midst gloom of cloister'd walls, 
 But with a winning grace unbends 
 To treat us all like common friends; 
 And readily her store supplies. 
 To make men good, and great, and wise. 
 Fair Histoey unfolds her page. 
 To spread the truths of every age; 
 Eecords the deeds by heroes done. 
 How well they end, how well begun; 
 Eemove the mask of vice and fraud. 
 And what is truly great applaud. 
 As in life's tide by careful fate 
 The mind is made to circulate, 
 Just so each watering place supplies 
 
 It's CIECULATING LIBRARIES : 
 
142 THE LIBRARY. 
 
 Where charming volumes may be had, 
 Of good — indifferent — and bad. 
 And some small towns on Britain's shore 
 Can boast of book-shops half a score: 
 Scarbro'j and with much truth, may boast 
 Her's good as any on our coast; 
 Ainswoeth's or Scaum's — no matter which. 
 Or Whiting's — all in learning rich, 
 Afford a more than common measure 
 Of pleasant intellectual treasure. 
 
 To pass the hour, the youthful fly 
 To one or t'other Library: 
 The aged join the throng, who choose 
 To ponder o'er the daily news : 
 And oft with self-applause elate 
 They enter into deep debate. 
 Praise or abuse the highest station. 
 And rule at second-hand the nation. 
 
 Mr. Quid-nunc. 
 
 Tou may depend upon it. Sir, 
 The Turks begin again to stir — 
 
THE LIBRARY. 143 
 
 News has arrived that states it so, 
 
 Fresh from the Archipelago: 
 
 Northward, the Swede has join'd with us. 
 
 Both are in arms — the Russ and Pruss : 
 
 If 'the Great Lord' at last should get 
 
 Into the British Cabinet, 
 
 Fm of opinion that — ^you know — 
 
 I say no more — but time will show. 
 
 Merchant. 
 
 Why, then, 'tis clear, a treaty must 
 Be politic, as well as just: 
 For commerce 
 
 Post Captain. 
 
 Pho ! 'tis always right. 
 And just, and politic to fight; 
 If he comes in, affairs will be 
 Entrusted to the Admiralty. 
 
 Colonel . 
 
 Affairs will keep their former train. 
 And we begin a fresh campaign : 
 
144 THE LIBEAEY. 
 
 France will retreat, or I'm mistaken : 
 
 TOTTKRGAIT. 
 
 And Holland — by the Dutch, be taken. 
 
 'Squiee Jack. 
 
 I'll bet you six to five, and say 
 ' Done' first, the rascals run away ; 
 Talking of running — punch to port. 
 Young Grigsby's donkey shows us sport : 
 He rides himself; I'll bet a dollar 
 He beats Black Tom, the last course, hollow. 
 
 And now to Tottergait he hies : 
 " Which does your Worship patronise ? 
 "I'll take your bet " 
 
 TOTTEROAIT. 
 
 I've none to suit 
 Either the beggar, or the brute. 
 
 'Squire. 
 
 Boo — boo — 'tis useless, time to waste 
 With one, that really has no taste. 
 
the library. 145 
 
 Miss Wrinkle. 
 
 Good Mr. — what's your name — you sent 
 Th' ExTATic Joys op Sentiment, 
 In change for Maxims op the Great, 
 And Memoirs op a Profligate ; 
 'Twas but one volume, Sir, and then 
 The books returned at least were ten; 
 I've reason to complain, indeed — 
 You sent me nothing, Sir, to read. 
 
 Shopman. 
 
 Why, Ma'am, I sent you half a score; — 
 
 _5 36 2—8—1—4 
 
 The Voyages of Captain Cook, 
 Besides the Sentimental Book ! 
 
 Miss Wrinkle. 
 
 You sent them — true — but, Sir, 'tis plain, 
 'Twas but to be — sent back again : 
 Joe — put them down — and give him. Sir, 
 The Venial Crime, and Murtherer: 
 o 
 
146 THE LIBEART. 
 
 Maid, Wife and Widow — if you please — 
 And give him Horrid Mysteries. 
 
 And now, more loaded than before. 
 Half frighted Joseph sought the door: 
 As Joe went out, a man stalk'd in. 
 Who caused an universal grin; 
 Of form erect — with solemn pace. 
 Fast fixt each muscle of his face, 
 A Quaker reach'd the counter end, 
 And said — "I want John Robins, Friend." 
 
 Shopman. 
 
 "John Robins, Sir — he don't live here: 
 " He did, but left his place last year; 
 " He's gone away" 
 
 Quaker. 
 
 " It is not he, 
 "Of whom I make demand of thee, 
 "John Robins was a Friend like me; 
 " — Like me ! but I my words should mend ; 
 "John Robins was indeed a Friend." 
 
the library, 147 
 
 Shopman. 
 
 " That alters not, good Sir, the case, 
 " There is no friend within this place : 
 "Do tell me, Sir what is your will?" 
 
 Quaker. 
 "Why, child, I want John Robins still." 
 
 Shopman, 
 
 " He don't live here, again I say, 
 " John Robins long has gone away : 
 "What would you have? and why this strife?" 
 
 Quaker. 
 "Why, Friend — I'd have John Robins' Life." 
 
 The Ladies scream'd, and fled amain — 
 " It is the Monster come again ! 
 "The Monster! — 'tis the Monster!" all 
 With vehemence began to squall. 
 
148 THE LIBRA.R7. 
 
 The Shoptnaa hid himself — for he 
 
 Suspected 'twas insanity. 
 
 QaiD-NUNC with terror quickly fled. 
 
 By policy to save his head. 
 
 The 'Squire displayed so fleet a pace. 
 
 It might have won the Donkey race. 
 
 Old Totter said— "'Tis plain, I see, 
 
 " In this there is a mystery : 
 
 " In all his features I can find 
 
 " No mark of an assassin's mind. 
 
 "I know these people*, and 'tis true, 
 
 " They wish their words should be but few 
 
 " Too many is but useless stuff, 
 
 " But there should always be enough — 
 
 " Tell me, my friend, what 'tis you want ? " 
 
 Quaker. 
 
 "My words have been too few, I grant; 
 "'Tis for John Robins' LiFEf I look, 
 "As printed in a little book," 
 
 * Scarborough has many worthy and respectable inhabitants 
 of this Sect. 
 
 t A very clever and amusing little account of John Robins, 
 one of the early Society of Friends. 
 
THE LIBRARY. 149 
 
 Peace now restored — the party greeted, 
 And such as chose to stop re-seated, 
 The greater portion walk'd away 
 To change the pleasures of the day. 
 
 J. P. 
 
THE PROMENADE. 
 
 THE scholars of old Epicorus 
 And other learned Sophs assure us. 
 That human pleasures often lie 
 In that thing call'd Variety. 
 Nay, it is said by learned Bacon, 
 Who is not commonly mistaken. 
 That Nature by it's various dress 
 Administers to happiness. 
 Hence in her numerous tribes we see 
 The due appropriate symmetry. 
 Which every different class doth claim. 
 In form and character the same : 
 While, by each others side, they show 
 What to contrasted charms they owe. 
 And thus the curions mind is lost, 
 As it surveys the countless host 
 
152 THE PROMENADE. 
 
 That Nature spreads before the eye. 
 In varying prodigality 
 Of colouFj shape, and scent, and sound 
 What in the air or earth are found, 
 Or in the watery depths abound. 
 
 Examine well the various dies. 
 Which the parterre in May supplies; 
 The differing scents different flowers. 
 That blend their sweets in fragrant bowers; 
 The cultured beauty of the fields, 
 Or the wild scene the mountain yields; 
 The lofty hills that crown the vale, 
 The rivulet winding through the dale : 
 These will incite the grateful eye 
 To bless the kind variety. 
 
 The winged natives of the grove 
 Alike the pleasing doctrine prove ; 
 Or in the plumage or the note. 
 That decks the wing or swells the throat — 
 From the proud eaglets towering wings. 
 To the sweet song the linnet sings. 
 — Nor doth the ocean less abound. 
 Or in it's waves or depths profound. 
 
THE PROMENADE. 153 
 
 From the huge whale whose monstrous form 
 
 In it's own circle stirs a storm. 
 
 To the small nautilus whose sail 
 
 Is spread to catch the flying gale, 
 
 And every finny shoal that roves 
 
 O'er beds of pearl and coral groves. 
 
 — Nor less th' amusing search is led 
 
 To wild or social quadruped : 
 
 To those that various clothing give, 
 
 Or in the Nubian deserts live; 
 
 Or to our wants the carcase yield. 
 
 Or drag the car, or plough the field. 
 
 But wherefore thus the range extend 
 'Tis time that our research should end. 
 And to a higher theme ascend : 
 To Man the Muse must strive to rise. 
 And sport 'midst his varieties. 
 But now her verse is not allow'd 
 To dash among the world's great crowd; 
 She must her stated flight confine 
 To where the Belles of Scarbro' shine. 
 Where mix'd with Beaux the Belles are glad 
 To saunter on the Promenade. 
 
 X 
 
164 THB PEOMENADB. 
 
 First, in the morn the sea invites 
 To fair ablution's cleansing rites. 
 At noon th' equestrian parties roam; 
 For dulness only stays at home. 
 The bookish lounge may next succeed. 
 To rest awhile and chat and read. 
 When dinner and when coffee o'er. 
 The Terrace that commands the shore. 
 And courts the breezes from the sea, 
 Concludes the day's variety. 
 And thus concludes it, as it ought. 
 Where Fashion shines and Beauty's sought. 
 For well 'tis known, as Fashion's duty. 
 To give new grace and charm to Beauty : 
 And thus as ever-varying Nature 
 Displays her power in form and feature. 
 Fashion and Taste and Art combine 
 To make those forms and features shine, 
 With added lustre, added grace. 
 By suiting to the shape and face 
 The muslin's web, the floating lace; 
 ■ And, as it suits them more or less. 
 Each gay variety of dress. 
 
THE PROMENADE. 155 
 
 Nor doth Philosophy disdain 
 To frolic it in Fashion's train, 
 And introduce her line and rale 
 In Fashion's changeful motley school. 
 She can the pointed needle ply 
 In every gay embroidery, 
 Can make the scisaar's points combine 
 To take the strait or waving line. 
 And with a nice adjusting taste 
 Shape the rich silk to Chloe's waist ; 
 Then on the robe the spangles place, 
 "With scatter'd ease and careless grace. 
 She oft is seen her head to pop 
 Into a millinerian shop. 
 To teach the high coquettish art, 
 And her sage doctrines to impart; 
 How to give vigour to the eye 
 By the adjacent drapery; 
 By suiting to the brow the bonnet. 
 Or other shapes around or on it; 
 How the complexion's hue to aid 
 By tinted fabrics well display'd; 
 In what apt turns the veil to guide, 
 Charms to unfold or faults to hide; 
 
156 THE PBOMBNADE. 
 
 And where the plume should rise or lower. 
 And where be plac'd the fancied flower ; 
 Or if the clustered curls should deck 
 The high-arch'd brow or ivory neck. 
 These with new force can beauty arm, 
 And give e'en homeliness a charm : 
 Can heighten Medicean Graces, 
 And brighten smiles in smiling faces. 
 Nor these alone. — The hand and arm 
 Alike possess the power to charm. 
 The simple bracelet binds the one. 
 The other's gay with glittering stone. 
 But beauty, as we all well know. 
 Pervades the form from top to toe; 
 And fashion will not think it shocking. 
 To shape a shoe or clock a stocking. 
 
 0, how inviting thus to see 
 Fashion and its Philosophy, 
 In varied elegance displayed 
 On viewing Scarbro' Promenade; 
 Where young and old and grave and gay 
 Enjoy the sun's departing ray — 
 Till to enliven the delight. 
 The Rooms to dance and cards invite. 
 
THE PROMENADE. 157 
 
 For which they, sure, are ill repaid, 
 
 Who leave the charmiag Promenade. 
 
 — The Ooloael tired of warlike duty. 
 
 Here comes to gaze awhile on beauty; 
 
 The lengthened evening hour beguiles 
 
 In combating with looks and smiles ! 
 
 And finds, though dumb, that they speak louder 
 
 To hia brave heart than bursting powder. 
 
 The Muse however is forced to own. 
 
 The bulky Lady Cockleton 
 
 And her slim neighbour (like a fish 
 
 Serv'd in a shell by way of dish) 
 
 Fill many a passer-by with laughter. 
 
 To see such strange fish out of water. 
 
 But still I with complacence see. 
 
 To fill up the variety. 
 
 The tranquil Quaker takes his place 
 
 'Midst all this fashionable race. 
 
 He feels not, that the finest dress 
 
 Gives aught of real happiness. 
 
 Nor does he, as he passes by. 
 
 View the fine crowd with evil eye; 
 
 But takes, amid the rich and gay. 
 
 What he esteems the better way : 
 
158 THE PROMENADE. 
 
 Nor does he by his words upbraid 
 The crowd on Scarbro' Promenade. 
 
 Not all the Virtues, that are seen 
 In Margate Packets to convene; 
 Not all the wealthier ones that steer, 
 In coach or chaise, to Ramsgate Pier; 
 Not all the belles, who quit the Town 
 To lounge about on Brighton Down; 
 Nor the grave folks of Tunbridge Well 
 Do, if the Muse speaks truth, excel 
 In beauty, elegance, and worth 
 This gay assembly of the North. 
 
S 
 
THE THEATRE. 
 
 IN London Players often work, 
 Like Negro, Galley-Slave, or Turk ; 
 But the Provincial Actors say. 
 They little have to do — but play : 
 Save now and then, some twice a week. 
 Duchess or Countess may bespeak. 
 And cheering lend her ready hand 
 To foster Nature's mimic band; 
 Who, to her passing image true. 
 Still ' holds the mirror up to view.' 
 
 Scarbro' her Theatre displays. 
 And courts both patronage and praise : 
 Although not mounting to the skies 
 The golden vast prosceniums rise. 
 Astonishing spectators' eyes; 
 
160 THE THEATBE. 
 
 Yet neat, commodious, and to view 
 A little of the tasteful too. 
 
 One door stands open to admit 
 To Box, To Gallery, and Pit, 
 And there, with no excessive rout. 
 It lets you in — and lets you out: 
 'Tis bad — but let this failing rest; 
 Of vomitories, bad's the best. 
 
 'Twas to see Hamlkt and Tom Thumb, 
 The Tottergaits were hither come : 
 The lights were all around suspended. 
 Those from the floor had just ascended. 
 The music's fiddle-tuning din 
 Just finished as they enter'd in. 
 And scarce had they appeared in sight. 
 Than back they rnsh'd in great affright. 
 
 A waggish boy to mischief prone. 
 For ev'ry sort he made his own. 
 Had noted in the orchestre band 
 The thorough-bass — a skillful hand. 
 Who when the tuning was completed. 
 And all in readiness were seated. 
 
THE THEATRB. 161 
 
 Would place his spectacles aright, 
 And with his fingers snuff the light; 
 (Sometimes th' incautious finger suffers, 
 And marks the use and want of snuffers) 
 Then, careful, through the ^ he sent 
 The snuff into the instrument; 
 There safe deposited 'twould lie. 
 And harmless burn and smoke and die. 
 Not so to-night — for Tim had bought. 
 And slily in his pocket brought. 
 Some gunpowder — and ere the band 
 Had ta'en an instrument in hand. 
 He had contrived to pop it where 
 The candle-snuff would next appear. 
 
 Now all was tuned, and each was now 
 Attentive to the leader's bow ; 
 The spectacles as usual goes, 
 Down from the forehead to the nose, 
 The fingers to the candle went. 
 And thence into the instrument. 
 Now 'Bang! — Bang! — Bang!' — a horrid crash 
 Accompanied a vivid flash. 
 And clouds of black and rolling smoke 
 From the beshatter'd ruin broke; 
 
 T 
 
162 THE THEATRE. 
 
 Musicians — audience — and all 
 Join'd in a loud bravura squall ! 
 
 The great basa broke — no other harm, 
 
 They all recovered from alarm ; 
 And soon, the mischief understood, 
 
 They join'd to make the fiddle good : 
 
 The boy just managed to escape 
 
 The troubles of a fiddle-scrape. 
 
 At length, all seated as they found 
 Their names were ticketed around. 
 The crack'd bell's tinkling voice apprises 
 The lights descend — the curtain rises. 
 
 Prince Faulknke swells his lengthen'd tone ; 
 Miss Campion sweetly sings her moan; 
 Holmes clenches his extended fist. 
 And cries— "0 .' Hamlet, list, ! luit." 
 " Na," cries a Bumpkin of the County, 
 " Na dont thee, mun, wi out the Bounty." 
 
 The Queen declares — Polonius dies — 
 Ophelia to the deep brook hies — 
 The Sexton digs his canvas graves — 
 Laertes roars aud Hamlet raves — 
 
THE THEATRE. 163 
 
 The son is drunk to by his mother, 
 The Fencers meet and pink each other, 
 
 The Queen is poison'd from the ring 
 
 Hamlet starts up, and kills the king. 
 Now dear Horatio would sup 
 A portion of the poison'd cup. 
 But on reflexion thinks it best. 
 To live — and bury all the rest. 
 
 The curtain drops, and shortly follow 
 King Arthur, and his DoUaloUa, 
 She squalls the queen of modem shrews; 
 The dagger's point he careful views : 
 All kick and die — A bearded sage 
 Bids them " get up", and clears the Stage. 
 
 The house began to clear apace. 
 And mirth to careful thought gave place. 
 
 Edmund. 
 "This shawl my Ella shall bedeck; 
 
 Mes. Tottergait. 
 " Dear, tye this 'kerchief round your neck." 
 
164 the theatre. 
 
 Child. 
 " Now, sha'nt we come auother day V 
 
 Servant. 
 " Lord Gimcrack's carriage stops the way.' 
 
 As they were now about to go, 
 Old Totter near the second row 
 Pick'd up a paper, that he found 
 Folded and lying on the ground: 
 At home arrived — said he " we'll know 
 "What sport this paper will bestow; 
 " It is a FRAGMENT, and in verse : 
 
 (( 
 
 Read it, friend Edmund — come, rehearse. 
 
 I 
 
 J. p. 
 
THS THEATRE. 165 
 
 THE STAGE, 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 ***** who maintain, and with reason. 
 That Playhouse and Players would every season 
 Amuse and delight with scene, music and robe. 
 Ere Deucalion and Pyrrha repeopled the globe. 
 This readers may doubt; buthowwisely they speak, 
 In ponderous volumes translated from Greek*: 
 Like true antiquaries most boldly aver 
 That Teagedy Vose from a bacchanal stir. 
 Of grape picking — wine drinking — goat eating 
 
 boors; 
 Who knock'd up a dust at Athenian doors; 
 When awe-struck, the masters if truly they say 
 As quickly, as wisely got — out of the way : 
 So joyous the riot, on each year's return, 
 The feast to renew every bosom would burn; 
 
 * See Mr. Dibdin's English Stage. 
 
166 THE THRATRB. 
 
 Again old Silenua was placed on an ass. 
 And goats, graced the triumpli, as well as the glass; 
 Thence progressive examples of frolic — and thus 
 It descended through Homer and Hesiod to us ; 
 And e'en to this' day, a stage treasury doats. 
 On Silenus, and Barthus, and Asses, and Goats. 
 So long as such numbers to folly it yields 
 May the lobbies be called the CEgyeon fields*. 
 Old Time, who to stages still serves as a pander, 
 Aristophanes brought us, and brought us Me- 
 
 NAKDER; 
 
 A couple of comic and jocular elves, 
 
 Who made otherslaugh, and loved laughter them- 
 selves ; ' 
 
 Taught the smile of benevolence still to appear 
 
 Tho' goodness and nature excited the tear. 
 Now Actors the best, and 'tis doubted by no man, 
 
 Was ^sop the Grecian, and Roscius theEoman; 
 
 Which brings us to Rome — where Plautds the 
 sprightly, 
 
 Touch'd his countrymens' foibles and follies so 
 lightly. 
 
 * The Grove where these feasts were celebrated, and where 
 also followed those called " The Triumph of Bacchus." 
 
THE THKATRB. 167 
 
 That Terence indignant; as roughly, 'tis known. 
 
 With satire determin'd to pummel them down. 
 
 To Spain all the Frenchmen most gravely declare 
 
 No debt due from Cokneille and none from Mo- 
 
 LIEBE ; 
 
 Though nothing they horrow'd — I think on the 
 
 whole, 
 They should honestly give it as much as they stole; 
 That Voltaire, and Racine, partook, there's be- 
 lief: 
 And we know the receiver's as bad as the thief : 
 Retributive justice, however, dear reader. 
 Still follow'd the rogues, as boys " follow my 
 
 leader," 
 For the Poets of England, with conscience as small. 
 Came slily behind them — and pillag'd them all. 
 
 But cease we — for well I remember, 'tis said. 
 We never should speak any ill of the dead, 
 I own for myself, as I'm hoping to thrive, 
 I would rather 'twere then, than whilst I am alive. 
 
 In the Temple of Fame, by the worthiest graced, 
 In niches of Honor may Heriod be placed : 
 Menandee, Corneille, Ariosto, Moliere, 
 May each have a pedestal ranged for him there ; 
 
168 THE THEATRE. 
 
 By the w^gis of wisdom, exalted and tried. 
 Each an honor to Art, and hie Country's pride. 
 But Shakspeare — dear Shakspeare, receive as 
 
 thine own, 
 The arch of thy triumph — the loftiest throne; 
 O'er rich wreath of oak, be thy motto unfnrl'd. 
 The Poet of Nature — The Prtde of the World. 
 
 J. p. 
 
t 
 
 o 
 o 
 
 CP, 
 
 S 
 
THE BALL ROOM. 
 
 EPISTLE FROM * * *, ESQ. TO * * * *. 
 
 TO some 'tis the beauty of watering-places, 
 That you meet at each turn with such swarms of new- 
 faces ; 
 The oval, the circular, oblong, and square. 
 Delighted alike to be stared at and stare : 
 From Dora, be-gemm'd and be-equipaged o'er. 
 Three riders behind, three postillions before. 
 To Laura, whose brightness beams warm on the 
 poor. 
 
 Nor less in variety characters crowd — 
 The selfish, the generous, the pert, and the proud : 
 From Dora, who if e'er she dole out her bounty. 
 Records the rare deed for the theme of the county. 
 To Laura on wretchedness showering delight. 
 Whose left hand ne'er knows what is done by her 
 right. 
 
170 THE BALL ROOM. 
 
 But most at elections such medleys are found, 
 Collected to gaze from the district around. 
 When our friend Sheriff Courtly discoursed of 
 
 elections, 
 And sneeringly triumphed in patriot rejections, 
 (For Courtly already holds oflSces twain. 
 And another he modestly hopes to obtain) 
 Told what speeches were made when no rival op- 
 posed. 
 And how chairing and dining with dancing were 
 
 closed } 
 I heard his long story with envy and tears — 
 For a poet, whom seldom such revelry cheers. 
 May venially stuff himself once in seven years. 
 But united — procession, and dinner, and ball — 
 Only think — 'twas my luck to come in for them all. 
 
 And first in due order, and stately progression, 
 
 From the town-hall advanceth the tardy procession; 
 
 The banners in front streaming wide to the wind. 
 
 And the members unhatted and smirking behind : 
 
 Snuffy handkerchiefs shaken in token of love, 
 » 
 
 And such sneezing below ! and such squeezing 
 
 above ! 
 
THE BALL ROOM. 171 
 
 While in mockery of freedom and popular choice, 
 7%eir throats bawl the loudest, whose tongues; 
 have no voice. 
 
 All this you're expecting, of course I should 
 write ; 
 But, alas ! a sharp shower drench'd the pageant 
 
 in spite. 
 And lo 1 reeling on with occasional cheer. 
 The flag-bearers in the far distance appear : 
 Who have shrewdly resolved, with potations of gin. 
 To ward a wet outside — by wetting the in. 
 The banners all stream too — but'tis with the rain; 
 And the members low crouch — 'tis for shelter — in 
 
 vain. 
 In vain the blue heaven they essay to descry ; 
 Not Sir Francis himself could frown worse than 
 
 the sky. 
 But non omnia possumus omnes, say all ; 
 They'd their sun-shine, before they came out of 
 
 the hall ; 
 And not even places and pensions can keep 'em 
 From the nubila (dismal inversion !)2'osi Phoehum. 
 
172 THE BALL ROOM. 
 
 And now for the dinner — but vain were the toil 
 (Even Anstey himself the vast effort would foil) 
 To record how each voter, by innocent wiles, 
 Near the top seeks a station for salmon — and 
 
 smiles ! 
 Oh ! the becks and the nods to behold o'er the 
 
 sherry. 
 Bandied shuttlecock-like, would a cynic make 
 
 merry; 
 While scramblingly thrown from the great to 
 
 "the small. 
 Some courtesy lights, in it's turn, upon all. 
 'Twould disgust you, perhaps, the mere gorging 
 
 to hear; 
 And therefore the lengthen'd detail I forbear : 
 One title defines it; for who not remembers 
 Old Menenius' tale of ' The belly and Members ?' 
 But ere to the Ball-room in clusters they throng. 
 The worshipful Bailiff shall give you a song. 
 Perhaps you will wonder, in running it o'er. 
 When I tell you the table it set in a roar : 
 But each line from his lips approbation still draws — 
 Even these, when he sung them, were heard with 
 
 applause. 
 
THE BALL EOOM. 173 
 
 SONG. 
 
 HARK ! Freedom, Britannia, and George give 
 
 the word ! 
 From millions the shout of rejoicing is heard : 
 With revelry grandeur's proud palaces reel. 
 And poverty's huts the glad sympathy feel. 
 give then, with me, to enjoyment the hour, 
 And while to our King deep libations we pour, 
 Let each loyal bosom with transport rebound. 
 
 And God save the King ! 
 
 Long live the King ! 
 
 And God bless the King ! 
 
 Be re-echoed around. 
 
 In yellow meanders through regions of slaves 
 His tribute the Tiber conveys to the waves; 
 O'er Holland is fasten'd stem Tyranny's chain. 
 And the hoof of Invasion has trampled on Spain : 
 In dust the fierce eagle of Germany lies — 
 But England's red banner still streams to the skies. 
 Let each loyal bosom, &c. 
 
174 THE BALL EOOM. 
 
 Then push round the bowl, fill each glass to the 
 
 brim. 
 To love's bumpers a truce — now we're thinking of 
 
 him, 
 Who while France's broad flag is o'er Europe un- 
 
 furl'd, 
 Stands firm, stands aloue, in the gap of the world : 
 Who long in that gap Britian's champion has stood, 
 The boast of the brave and the pride of the good. 
 Let each loyal bosom, &c. 
 
 And now, with light chaussee, dear capering 
 
 goddess, 
 Terpsichore, come without corset or boddice. 
 Neck-handkerchief, petticoat, tucker, or shawl. 
 Like a modern fine lady equipp'd for a ball. 
 Then note me that gentleman carelessly bowing 
 In those "vile pantaloons, which he fancies look 
 
 knowing;" 
 And doom him in penance nnpartner'd to prance. 
 Or with one of those naked old figures to dance. 
 Poor straight-forward I, who to hop ne'er 
 
 presume. 
 Still the shortest way choose from the top of the 
 
 room: 
 
THE BALL ROOM . 1 75 
 
 But for others, let beaux still appear in their best, 
 And belles be at least more than verbally drest; 
 Not thus in profusion their persons display, 
 Apparell'd like Eve in her birth-night array, 
 How little, sweet innocent creatures ! they know 
 What to Fancy's illusions the handsomest owe; 
 Or themselvesthey would instantly hasten to screen. 
 Till the face and the foot were the whole that was 
 
 seen. 
 And let none but the young in these gambols en- 
 gage, 
 They suit nbt the limbs or the languor of age. 
 'Tis a gastly deception when skeletons frisk. 
 Clap the hands, nod the head, and affect to be 
 
 brisk ; 
 And reminds one of scenes by Dan Holbein erst 
 
 shown, 
 In a dance where the jiggers by Death are led 
 down. 
 
 So old Tottergait thought not. Of life such his 
 
 care is. 
 He resolves to enjoy helitus puellaris; 
 
 * See a scarce Tract, entitled " Bermippus Redivivm." 
 
176 THE BALL ROOM. 
 
 Convinc'd by Hermippus'a * arguments long, 
 That 'the life of the old is the breath of the 
 
 young.' 
 So he joins the gay throng of Graces and Loves, 
 Where his Ella scarce touches the floor as she 
 
 moves. 
 By her Edmund attended, whose joy-lighted eye 
 Courts the envy of all who stand up or stand by. 
 Her sire, less elastic, with toil hobbles down. 
 His heel out of skill, and his ear out of tune : 
 Yet still his heart dances ; so naturalists tell ye, 
 When the tortoise is lodged in an alderman's belly, 
 (There torpid till roused by some medical potion) 
 It's heart unembowell'd, still flutters with motion — 
 But the fiddles have stopp'd, and the wax-lights 
 
 expire. 
 With the music the Muse thinks it fit to retire. 
 Her knees drop the curtsey, her fingers the 
 
 lyre. 
 
 w. 
 
J. Gretn del. 
 
 Jehhace Steps. 
 
THE TERRACE STEPS. 
 
 SINCE meditation merits praise, 
 (And men invent a thousand ways 
 By which the young may soon be brought. 
 To cultivate the charms of thought) 
 A Ball, of course, must be designed 
 To claim the sanction of mankind ! 
 Give Balls — behold what crowds appear, 
 Each to the gay delight sincere. 
 The young — the old — the grave — the gay. 
 As foot-balls — foot the hours away; 
 And 'midst the jocund round they spend. 
 How well concealed the purposed end; 
 Though sure as music's aid they borrow, 
 Reflexion ushers in the morrow. 
 
 Not quite in spirit's Edmund rose. 
 And paused, and then — put on his cloaths : 
 2 A 
 
178 THE TERRACE STEPS. 
 
 Pondering, he wander' d toward the sea, 
 Return'd — and ponder'd o'er his tea. 
 Just then, John enter'd with a note 
 The Hatter's errand-boy had brought, 
 "A letter, John?"— "No, Sir, a bill/' 
 " Unwelcome guests, come when they will : 
 Of newest shape and Regent fold, 
 The tassels worVd in silk and gold, 
 With patent lining made to draw — 
 A fashionable Ghapeau Bras ! 
 " Go, tell the boy he need not wait ;" 
 "And call again, Sir?" Three pounds ei^ht. 
 Upon the sofa spruce and gay. 
 The splendid Chapeau near him lay — 
 " 'Tis fit," said he, " we have some chat, 
 " Good Mister fashionable hat : 
 " To yon, most certainly, I owe 
 " A very reverential bow ; 
 " Perhaps, 'tis fitter that I should 
 " Have said a bow of gratitude. 
 " Last night thy bold and dashing air 
 " Assumed an empire with the fair, 
 "And half the gay and bustling crowd 
 '• Observed thy elegance, and bow'd : 
 
THE TERRACE STEPS. 179 
 
 " A Peer, with more than complaisance, 
 " Made way for thee amid the dance; 
 " And Celia, who with scorn declined 
 "The favour by the 'Squire designed, 
 " Before her sight when thee I bent, 
 " With sweet concession smiled consent. 
 
 " How changed a simple student's fate : 
 " And all thy cost is — three pounds eight ! 
 " Then come, my friend, and let me try 
 " To comprehend thy mystery. 
 " I cannot think, the learn'd agree, 
 " That Oato wore a thing like thee ; . 
 " Or Seneca, the good and wise, 
 " Did 'neath such shadow moralise, 
 " And by thy graceful aid impart 
 " The rules to guide and mend the heart : 
 "Canst thou bestow or wit or sense, 
 " Or add to Virtue's eloquence ? 
 "Abash the bold licentious eye, 
 "Or raise dejected modesty ? 
 "Then let me emulate their plan, 
 " Because you mark the gentleman. 
 
180 THE TERRA.CB STEPS. 
 
 "But if, subverting truth, I find 
 "Thy arts are to enslave the mind, 
 "Transforming now a vicious bent 
 " Into a civil compliment ; 
 " If thou canst bring a grace to suit, 
 "Where vice is most it's substitute, 
 " Make wise and good and kind and brave 
 " Apply to coward, fool, or knave ; 
 " I would not use thy flattering aid, 
 " For all the wealth thy charms have made. 
 
 "Wilt thou become the courtier's friend, 
 " And aid his low and servile bend ; 
 " Assist in fawning for a place, 
 " And give deceit and lying — grace ? 
 
 " Wilt thou, beneath the suitor's arm, 
 " Give, to hypocrisy a charm ? 
 " Wilt thou adorn the specious tale, 
 " That wins — though truth and honour fail ? 
 " woman ! — dearest bliss that Heaven 
 " To man in kindness yet has given, 
 " Dear best relief of every woe, 
 " sweet consoler ! — must we know 
 
THE TERRACE STEPS. 181 
 
 " Thy charms refused where most they're prized, 
 " And given where most they are despised ! 
 
 "Though thy best use might mend my fate, 
 "And at the price of — three pounds bight, 
 "If such thy power, I scorn thy charms, 
 " And throw thee faithless from my arms. 
 " Away, vile Hat — again the round 
 " Shall lead me, where alone is found 
 " The purer train of social ties, 
 "Among the good — the truly wise." 
 
 This his resolve, of course he bent 
 His way — the way he always went : 
 Which led him, like th'nnerring Fates, 
 Direct to Mr Tottergait's. 
 But female spirits, young and gay. 
 Are renovated with the day : 
 The dance with them will oft impart 
 More active impulse to the heart. 
 It oft a healthful store supplies 
 By energetic exercise. 
 Now Ella and her sister Kate, 
 With sprightly steps and hearts elate. 
 
182 THE TERRACE STEPS. 
 
 The Terrace-promenade were walking, 
 And cheer'd it with a little talking; 
 Enjoying thus the golden ray 
 That spangled o'er the busy bay. 
 Kate, who could always well descry 
 What might be seen by mortal eye. 
 Saw Edmund gazing all around. 
 Seeking where Ella could be found ; 
 For when he heard, " Sir, she's been, 
 " I'm sure, two hours upon the Stein." 
 He turn'd about, and now was there. 
 And not far off the Terrace-stair. 
 "I'll have my joke," said Kate, "and he 
 " Shall not o'ertake us presently ; 
 " And if he sees us — still the fun 
 " Will be, to see his Worship run: 
 " Come, sister, come," she cried aloud. 
 And drew her past the busy crowd. 
 " Now, Ella — now, girl — try your skill 
 " How quick we may get down the hill." 
 The terrace-steps they now descend, 
 She heedless how the race may end; 
 When — woeful fate^from gout amending 
 A cit, most cautiously descending, 
 
THE TERRACE STEPS. 183 
 
 Whose trusty crutches held a frame 
 
 To bulky for a human name. 
 
 Stood in the way — unwieldy mass ! 
 
 He scarce left the room for one to pass; 
 
 And swift as ever lapwings flew, 
 
 Down the steep passage now came two : 
 
 Th' impetus would admit no pause 
 
 (There is no ruling Nature's laws;) 
 
 With him poor Kate in contact came 
 
 With such a shock, it shook his frame : 
 
 She scream'd — she lost her sister's hold. 
 
 And then away the couple roll'd : 
 
 She first — but ere her wits forsook her. 
 
 He roU'd still faster, and o'ertook her. 
 
 Piercing the groan, and wild the glance. 
 He threw on Kate's pale countenance : 
 He lay like Falstaff on the plain, 
 Whom fear had levell'd with the slain; 
 But hear no feigning: for he lay, 
 A very mountain of dismay. 
 Now soon he muster'd strength, and roar'd 
 Like bull in Spanish conflict gored; 
 
184 THE TEERACE STEPS. 
 
 And all so wild, so fierce the strain 
 Brought Catharine to herself again. 
 
 J. P. 
 
THE WATER PARTY. 
 
 "NEPTUNE— thy wide and vast domain 
 "I shall not contemplate in vain; 
 "For. much I love thy placid sea, 
 " And all it's gay variety : 
 "I love to see the various sail 
 "Press gracefully before the gale, 
 " To view the freight of riches, they 
 "In calm temerity convey 
 " From chme to clime ; — the wealth they bear 
 " The South, the East, the West may share : 
 " Exchanging each, whate'er the boast 
 " Of clime or culture, soil or coast ; 
 " Or labour with assiduous hand, 
 " Or lofty genius may command. 
 " Thus is to man a portion given, 
 "Of every good prepared by Heaven." 
 2 B 
 
186 THE WATER PARTY. 
 
 Friend Tottergait proceeded thus 
 For old folks may be garrulous : 
 His little party stood beside. 
 And watch'd the slowly-ebbing tide ; 
 Nor did he cease, for Kate had thrown 
 A lovely rose but newly blown 
 Forth to th© sea; and as the gale 
 Expanded every leafy sail. 
 She with a watchful eye pursued 
 It's voyage to the waters rude ; 
 Beheld it by the surges tost, 
 And soon amid the billows lost. 
 
 It were a theme for half a day. 
 So thus he moralised away : — 
 " Epitome of life ! the flower, 
 " The fragrant beauty of the hour, 
 " In rosy tints, in healthful charms 
 " While yet the glow of Nature warms 
 " Floats gaily on the rippling tide 
 " An emblem of our youthful pride. — 
 " See — farther borne, upon the spray 
 " It takes it's vain and rugged way ; 
 " When dissipation's wild career, 
 " Leaves us a prey to every fear. 
 
THE WATER PARTY. 187 
 
 " The rifled beauties of the rose 
 
 " The bosom's anguishes disclose ; 
 
 " But ah ! should guilt invade the breast, 
 
 " Farewell for ever hope and rest ; 
 
 "The fugitive, alas! shall be, 
 
 " Ev'n as the Rose in storms at sea : 
 
 " For, having left the peaceful shore, 
 
 " It perishes — to bloom no more." 
 
 Nor yet had Tottergait concluded. 
 When Mr Lancaster intruded : — 
 "An' please your honour. Sir' d'ye wish 
 " A boat for sailing — or to fish ? 
 "I see that you are looking out, 
 " Perhaps of wind, or rain, in doubt? 
 " Depend upon it, 'twill be fair ; 
 "And'tis a most delightful air. 
 " I will supply you, if you please, 
 " It blows a very pretty breeze ; 
 " For Cayton cuff mill. Sir ?" he said 
 " Filey ? — or may be, Flambro'-head ?" 
 
 "Why, aye— what say ye, wife— wilt go? 
 " And what say you, girls— aye or no ? " 
 
188 THE WATER PAETT, 
 
 "Oh yes, yes, yes, papa;" and now 
 Lancaster made his usual bow ; 
 And off he set to use his power, 
 To be " quite ready " in an hour : 
 The Tottergaits set off, to choose 
 A pleasant party for the cruise. 
 
 The party now were shipp'd apace, 
 And smiles were seen on every face. 
 The sails were hoisted, and with glee 
 The vessel set away to sea. 
 In mantle gay, of various dyes. 
 Blue, yellow, green, the ocean lies : 
 A vast expanse of field it seems 
 Where one broad waving harvest teems. 
 O'er which deep shadows swiftly fly 
 Projected from a mountain sky. 
 While gleams of sun in splendour pave 
 Contrasting portions of the wave. 
 And sweetly gild the distant sail 
 That swells to greet the freshen'd gale. 
 In murky haze is seen the land. 
 And Scarbro's long and distant strand. 
 
THE WATER PARTY. 189 
 
 That scarcely breaks the leugthen'd line 
 Seeming the ocean to define : 
 The castle, barrack, church, but shew 
 Like fragments of the beetling brow. 
 
 The cheerful tale, the sprightly joke 
 Their spirits and good humour spoke. 
 And now the wit, and now the song. 
 The " the feast of intellect" prolong : 
 The appetite imperious now 
 Brought the provisions from the bowj 
 Cold chicken, ham, and tongue in plenty. 
 More than enough for all the twenty; 
 With wine, and fruit, and bread, and beer. 
 Made up a tolerable cheer. 
 
 " Luff — luff — " the cockswain cried aloud ; 
 " Put her about: — " and soon a cloud 
 A deep and solemn gloom overthrew. 
 Alarming to the busy crew : 
 The breeae more briskly now prevails. 
 And whistles shrilly in the sails; 
 On heaving swells the vessels rise, 
 A darkening cloud spreads o'er the skies. 
 And low the screaming sea-bird flies. 
 
190 THE WATER PARTY. 
 
 The vessel pitching, in a minute 
 Displac'd each mortal that was in it : 
 The ham, the chicken, wine and all 
 At once were upset by the squall. 
 Aunt Tabby with increased alarms 
 Fell plump into Sir Harry's arms; 
 The Alderman, a strange mishap ! 
 Got seated in Miss Prudence' lap; 
 While Lady Bustleton was seen* 
 Against the Vicars breast to lean : 
 But scandal all that day was blind, 
 If otherwise — uncommon kind. 
 
 Much consternation now took place. 
 And dire alarm o'erspread each face ; 
 " We will return," the ladies cry — 
 It was a female mutiny ! 
 " Good Mr. Lancaster, I pray, 
 " Shan't we be shortly cast away ?" 
 
 Mks. Fidget. 
 
 " We shall be seen from land, I hope, 
 " By some one with a telescope ; 
 "And if we are, I have no doubt 
 " They'll send at once the life-boat out. 
 
THE WATER PARTT. 191 
 
 " Ah ; there again — at every shock 
 " We strike upon some hidden rock : 
 " Now, pray, can any body see 
 " The life-boat putting out to sea ? 
 " If I get home but safe and sound, 
 "I will subscribe a dozen pound 
 
 "For life-boat uses aye, a score: 
 
 " I never knew their use before — 
 
 "'Tis very strange, they build no more." 
 
 "Oh bless you. Ma'am," a seaman said, 
 "There is no danger now to dread, 
 "To half the dangers sailors run; 
 "This is but frolicking and fun." 
 
 Mr. Capias. 
 
 " But frolicking indeed ! — I wonder — 
 " Oh ! what a dreadful clap of thunder ! 
 " I wonder all who use the Spa, 
 " Are not obliged to give — by law 
 " Enacting, that the boats should be 
 " Always in readiness — at sea." 
 
192 THE WATER PARTY. 
 
 TOTTERQAIT. 
 
 " Winds do not thus for ever blow, 
 " 'Tis oftener a calm you know : 
 "'Twere useless quite so much to wish — 
 
 Alderman. 
 "They should be used for catching fish/' 
 
 Lady Grace. 
 
 " Sure Captain Manby, when he sees 
 "Us toss'd upon such waves as these, 
 " Will throw his shot and rope, to save 
 " The ladies from this awful grave : 
 "Ah ! never sea was half so rough — 
 
 Mr. Capias. 
 " I hope he'll give us rope enough." 
 
 Kate. 
 " There is the life-boat ! — quite in view ! 
 
 Seaman. 
 
 " Miss, 'tis a pleasure-party too : 
 "In one tack more you'll see each face; 
 " The breeze is dropping, and apace." 
 
THK WA.TBB PARTY. 193 
 
 'Twas not alone the breeze that fell; 
 For pelting — pitiless — pell-mell, 
 A cloud in streams began to shed 
 It's treasures on each drooping head : 
 The boat, which Kate espied, was now 
 Close to the little vessel's bow. 
 
 Some social Quaker friends they were; 
 Like other friends, they sought to share 
 The boon of Nature's equal care : 
 The party huddled close together, 
 T' escape the drenching from the weather ; 
 But she had bid the waters spout. 
 It seems, to take some stiffening out : 
 For what with rain, and what with wind. 
 Cloaks, hats, and coats of every kind 
 Were so adhesive, you might trace 
 Each native elegance and grace : 
 In fact — without a changeful passion. 
 The Friends were "tip top" of the fashion. 
 
 "Lash to — astern," old Totter cried, 
 "With us you'll very safely ride." 
 2 c 
 
194 THE WATBE PARTY. 
 
 Most gladly was the offer seized. 
 And both the parties greatly pleased ; 
 For, when we fancy danger near, 
 'Tis said that numbers lighten fear. 
 
 As near to land the vessels drew. 
 The breeze no fancied tempests blew ; 
 The Friends, with many a kind "farewell,' 
 Broke from the stern their hempen spell ; 
 The little crew as kind a cheer 
 Waved with their 'kerchiefs in the air. 
 For both had learn'd how dear might be 
 Friendships 'midst dangers form'd at sea. 
 
 The vessel sought the sheltering pier. 
 And safe it's stores disburthen'd there ; 
 The boat press'd swiftly to the land. 
 The keel merged deeply in the strand; 
 A landing-board was placed secure 
 And some had made their footing sure; 
 But Rdth more timid, more in haste. 
 Unguardedly her foot misplaced ; 
 And now the wave had clasp'd the maid. 
 Had not the boatman lent his aid ; 
 
THE WATEE PARTY. 195 
 
 Reuben, recall'd by her alarms, 
 Bore her securely in his arms; 
 Close he embraced the lovely fair, 
 Who felt no sense of danger there. 
 
 The curb of art, which natuee reins, 
 The energetic breast disdains. 
 When DANGER joins with love t'impart 
 The warmest feelings of the heart. 
 
 J. p. 
 

 0^ 
 
.-^ci^e^r^*-' 
 
 THE POST OFFICE. 
 
 AUTUMN with changeful, wayward skies, 
 Some pleasures of the Spa denies; 
 But still it's fading charm produces 
 A thousand little odd excuses 
 
 For longer stay and who would part 
 
 The social Friendships of the heart? 
 
 When may they meet, if once they sever ? 
 
 Next season, sure — or surely never! 
 
 And, though it's bonds so closely bind 
 
 Each union of the purer mind. 
 
 That Time's strong arm may not impair 
 
 The close-connected forms they bear; 
 
 This parting violence may prove 
 
 And strain the strongest links of LovB. 
 
 'Tis fit the Muse should here unfold 
 What long ago she might have told : — 
 
198 THE POST OFFICE. 
 
 With all the care to end suspense, 
 And 'scape this dreadful violence, 
 
 This ' ah, farewell !' this ' oh, adieu !' 
 
 Edmund and Ella, latety two 
 
 (The SEASON o'er, what could be done ?) 
 
 Consent obtain'd, are now but one. 
 
 The ToTTEEGAiTS had made it clear, 
 They could not part for half a yearj — 
 " Why surely there is room for all, 
 "To enjoy their ease at Totter-Hall: 
 "You're both but very young," said he, 
 "Then why not wholly live with me? 
 " Young Edmund's uncle, to be sure, 
 "May not his absence quite endure." 
 
 Mrs. Totteeqait. 
 
 "But then, you know, he lives so near, 
 "They'll often visit him, my dear." 
 
 Kate, 
 
 " Besides, we've greater claims than he : 
 " He is but one — and here are three." 
 
THE POST OFFICE. 199 
 
 The party thas th' affair debated, 
 And for the post in patience waited. 
 That wa8 the answer to bring down, 
 And with consent their wishes crowa. 
 
 Egypt, thy hieroglyphic lore 
 We love to contemplate no more ; 
 Thy sculptured effigies remain 
 The signs of sentiment in vain. 
 To thee, great king of Thebes ! we owe 
 The good, which letters can bestow : 
 Cadmus ! who first by genius ' fired 
 To form an alphabet aspired. 
 To tell the tale of tears or laughter. 
 Of past, of present, or hereafter. 
 He first gave thought substantial show. 
 And tuneful numbers taught to flow; 
 Gave order to the warbling lyre. 
 And to the poet's fancy — fire. 
 Cadmus it was — so poets sing. 
 Who pluck'd the feather from the wing, 
 
200 THE POST OFFICE. 
 
 And taught the means to future ages 
 
 To fix the thought, and fill up pages. 
 
 But what avails how well we write, 
 
 How warm we think, how fine indite. 
 
 If when our best effusions' made. 
 
 Our Letters could not be convey'd : 
 
 Of Billet-doux the aid how poor, 
 
 If no conveyance was secure. 
 
 Then sure, to Palmer's name* belong 
 
 Some portion of the poet's song. 
 
 Who with such careful speed sends down 
 
 The mail bags seal'd to every town; 
 
 And makes the postmen, like their betters. 
 
 Men of intelligence and letters. 
 
 Now Palace-Hill, so lately quiet. 
 Becomes a little scene of riot, 
 For there a Sibyl oft presides, 
 And now dame Fortune's favour guides. 
 And as she gives to each his share, 
 Distributes joy and hope and care. 
 
 * Mr. Palmer, the inTentor of the present mails. 
 
THE POST OFFICE. 20,1 
 
 Among the group, in plainest suit 
 A Quaker youth, demure and mute. 
 With anxious eye and beating heart 
 (Pure nature undisguised by Art) 
 Claim'd from the Sibyl one dear frame, 
 From her he loves — but dare not name. 
 'Tis his ' his bosom's all on fire ! — 
 
 The Spirit moves him — to retire. 
 
 Just now poor Pat has ceased to blunder 
 But yet expressed his rage, his wonder, 
 That he alone should be denied 
 The pleasure shared by all beside : 
 " Och ! I'll revenge these slights," said he, 
 " And send no answers — they shall see." 
 
 Now for a Lady all made way : — 
 'Twas long since Cupid own'd her sway; 
 And, even in her fairest hours. 
 He never strew'd her path with flowers ; 
 So tall her form, so parch'd her skin, 
 Her face so long, her form so thin, 
 And such a cold forbidding air. 
 She seem'd half-sister to Despair : 
 2 D 
 
202 THE POST OFFICE. 
 
 Disdain was seated in her eye, 
 As slie bid Patrick — " Sir, stand by." 
 "No, no, my jewel — you may say, 
 " I rather chose to stand away." 
 
 An Emige^, an "old-school" beau, 
 "Approach'd the Sibyl, bowing low : 
 " Permettez moi — ah — vil you see 
 "If dare be lettre — vone pour me ? 
 " 'Tis from de child I lofe so deer, 
 "I incommode. Madam, I fear." 
 
 " Jecous rends graces." — " Why that's enough 
 
 I hate such complimenting stuff " 
 (Exclaim'd John Bull, a country 'Squire, 
 Who came for letters to inquire) 
 " Bowing and scraping I despise, 
 " And compliments are heaps of lies." 
 
 Next, forward came a spruce young lad. 
 In a becoming livery clad : — 
 " My Lady's letters, if you please — 
 " What ! only nine ! — no more than these ? 
 " How will my Lady scold and rave, 
 " When only nine she's like to have : 
 
THE POST OFFICE. 203 
 
 " Fm sure she'll take it in her head, 
 " That every friend she has is dead." 
 
 With what remains the postman hies. 
 To forward to their destinies. 
 
 At Totter's door arrived — poor Kate 
 (Anxious to know their future fate; 
 If the old uncle had consented. 
 Or all their little plans prevented :) 
 Caught from the servant's hand the cause 
 Of her next censure or applause : 
 " If he consents, he has my kiss; 
 " If not — the seal is black ! — what's this ! 
 " Good heaven's— 'tis to ' Sie Edmund Bliss!' " 
 
 The paper fell — she could no more : 
 It lay neglected on the floor : 
 Enough was told — too well it said, 
 ' Edmund, thine early friend is dead.' 
 The little party many a tear 
 Shed to a memory so dear. 
 But Edmund strove his grief to hide. 
 In silent sorrow, from his bride; 
 
\ 
 
 204 THE POST OFFICE. 
 
 She aim'd with every soothing art 
 Her consolations to impart: 
 He press'd her closer to his heart. 
 
 The party separated straight. 
 And by himself left Tottergait : 
 His moralisings now began. 
 He wrote them down — and thus they ran. 
 
 TIME, 
 
 "Sow short." 
 
 Alternate as shadow and sunshine, we find 
 The pleasure and sorrow, that chequer the mind ; 
 The tear will succeed to the smile of delight. 
 As morning departs in the mantle of night. 
 
 How the morn glides away ! 
 Ah ! how it flies ! 
 
 The sun beams receding. 
 
 The dark clouds succeeding, 
 
 The loud storm is breeding 
 To shroud the skies ! 
 
THE POST OFFICE. - 205 
 
 To soon is youth over, and grey age appears ; 
 For Time is still adding his burthen of years ! 
 How little regarded the gradual decay, 
 That swiftly is stealing our summers away ! 
 
 How the years glide away ! 
 Ah ! how they fly ! 
 
 Summer is yet to-day, 
 
 Spring it was yesterday, 
 
 The morrow is winter-day, 
 How soon we die ! 
 
 J. p. 
 
nr 
 < 
 
 !a 
 
THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 THE chilliag winds and rain combine, 
 That all should Scarbro's sweets resign ; 
 First one by one — 'then four by four, 
 And then they're off by half a score; 
 Her G-RACE is gone — with her a host 
 Of charms to captivate, are lost : 
 When she withdraws her genial ray. 
 The sun has set of Scarbro's day. 
 
 And now in furious haste is gone 
 The Knight, and Lady Bustleton, 
 Hugh Mrs. Cockle and her baby, 
 Good Mr Quid-nunc and Aunt Tabby : 
 Indeed, 'tis said — but known not whether- 
 That the two last went off together ; 
 And that she had not now "miscarried, 
 "In that same wish of getting married." 
 
208 THE DEPAETUBK. 
 
 The Player rais'd his tragic tone, 
 " Othello's occupation's gone ;" 
 And with the world's a stage in view, 
 He cried, " 111 make my exit too." 
 
 As his last round Friend Totter took 
 A lengthened walk, and farewell look : 
 He visited the Spring, the Spa, 
 The EooMS, and Mr. Hartley * saw — 
 Pressing his hand — "I hope once more 
 "To trip it gaily on thy floor." 
 At Beoadrick's call'd a bill to pay. 
 And to the Schools t he trudged away : 
 In secret there he'd oft dispense 
 The mite of his benevolence. 
 Good Mrs. Tottergait should not. 
 In this eulogium, be forgot : — 
 She ne'er the grateful boon denied. 
 And readily her hand supplied. 
 Returning homeward — weary quite, 
 The Gate of Scarbro' % full in sight. 
 
 * The Master of the Ceremoniee. f A Charitable InBtitution. 
 X The Goal is here situated, and the Borongh-gat« is a portion 
 of the prison. 
 
THE DEPARTURE. 209 
 
 He paused — and for a time, he stood 
 In his reflecting attitude. — 
 
 For there in close confining cells 
 The poor and care-worn captive dwells 
 And wastes a tedious life away. 
 In tears the night, in sighs the day, 
 " Shall - 1 return, alas," said he, 
 " And disregard thy misery ? 
 " Oh no — beneath thine arches lay 
 " Both health and pleasure's jocund way ; 
 " Beneath thy portal forth we go 
 " But not unmindful of thy woe, 
 " For ev'ry sigh that heaves the breast, 
 " The pang that robs its balmy rest, 
 " The grief that bids the heart despair 
 " Seek not in vain the boon to share 
 " Which heaven's indulgent hand supplies ; 
 " For midst thy walls what mis'ry lies 
 " Claims all our kindest sympathies. 
 
 " Was it the hand of stern decny 
 " That stole thy little means away ? 
 " Was it disease in evil hour 
 " Subdued thy breast — unnerved thy power ? 
 
 2 s 
 
210 THE DEPAETUEE. 
 
 "Stealing insidious to our homes, 
 
 " Rum in various mantle comes ; 
 
 ''A Proteus, that with smiles assails, 
 
 "With tempting lurements ! — and prevails; 
 
 " To various ills our peace decoys, 
 
 " And with it's savage arm — destroys : 
 
 " Ev'n Friendship's sacred name has led 
 
 " Her millions to thy iron bed. 
 
 " How to relieve thy wants," said he, 
 
 " Or set the weary prisoner free ? 
 
 " For Misery, fertile of it's woes, 
 
 "In broad and wild luxuriance grows. 
 
 " Vig'rous on every side it spreads, - 
 
 " And wide it's baneful influence sheds. 
 
 " Mounting with parasitic power 
 
 " It twines about the feeble flower, 
 
 " And strengthening at the deadly wound, 
 
 " Prostrates its beauties to the ground. 
 
 " But little aid can I bestow, 
 "To thy vast aggregate of woe." 
 
 Friend Tott«r paused, and for a while 
 Was more than grave : but now a smile 
 
THE DEPARTURE. 211 
 
 Proclaim'd some plan of future good ; 
 
 And so — still pondering, he stood : — 
 
 " Next year I vow, I'll try the Spa 
 
 " For these poor tenants of the law : 
 
 " To lose so good a scheme 'twere pity — 
 
 " I'll try to form a Grate Committee * : 
 
 " Then will the kind, the lovely fair, 
 
 " Bring many a generous offering there ; 
 
 " For dove-like Charity her nest 
 
 " Has raised within the female breast : 
 
 " There Love, it's mate, with thought refined 
 
 " Sits brooding o'er the fruitful mind ; 
 
 " And into animation thence 
 
 "Awakes thy form — Beneficence!" 
 
 Now cheerfully away he stalk'd. 
 
 And to his Banker's next he walk'd. 
 
 To settle his account, and leave 
 
 To many a captive a reprieve. 
 
 At home the little party sate 
 On various schemes in deep debate ; 
 
 * Very trifling voluntary contributions, made at the Spa and 
 Libraries, would afford great relief to the fiietiiers, and dis- 
 charge many of those who are confined for small debts— an im- 
 portant charity. 
 
212 THE DEPARTUEE. 
 
 When Kate in laughing mood— ^said she, 
 
 " Oh, nobody attends to me ; 
 
 "Whatever falls from Ella's lips 
 
 " I should have said her Ladyship' s) 
 
 " Is like a little law — whilst I, 
 
 " Regarded as a post, stand by. 
 
 " yes ! yes ! though once 'twas Kate, 
 
 " Know, all — that I'm Miss Tottergait ; 
 
 " And with the transfer I expect, 
 
 " At least. Sir Edmund's high respect." 
 
 'Twas thus the hours passed swiftly away. 
 With mirthful ease — discreetly gay; 
 When Kate proposed a walk, once more 
 To trace their old amusements o'er; 
 They met friend Totter at the door. 
 " Adieu, papa " — you know ' our round 
 ' Is always fashionable ground.' 
 
 They to the Spa a visit paid. 
 Thence to the Steyne-like promenade: 
 As Kate walk'd up the Terrace-stair, 
 She sought, in vain, her Falstaff there. 
 
THE DBPAETUEE. 213 
 
 To Bean's sweet garden * now they hied, 
 Of rural charms fair Scarbro's pride. 
 To Whiting's now their way they took, 
 And bought the " Scarbro' Sketches" Book. 
 
 " Bless me !" said Kate, " look round, and see 
 " What all those strange placards may be : 
 " At every house within our view, 
 " I'm sure, at least, that I see two !" 
 
 Of various forms, and styles, she sees 
 " Apartments, with Conveniencies." 
 Here" SELLING OFF, at 10 per cent. 
 " BELOW PRIME COST."— As on they went, 
 " Lodgings to Let." — Now — " gone away ; 
 " Inquire at Craclciiell's o'er the way ; 
 " The Waggon daily goes at Seven." 
 And here — " Two Coaches at Eleven." 
 And, to express some social ways, 
 " Wanted — Companions in a chaise." 
 
 " 'Tis time that we were gone : and yet, 
 " I leave thee, Scarbro' with regret ;" 
 
 * A snbscription-garden ; where, occasionally, a band of 
 music attends in the evening. 
 
214 THE DEPAETDEE. 
 
 Said Kate— "I like thy broken ground, 
 " The neatness that is seen around, 
 " It seems good housewives here abound * : 
 " If we may judgement form by samples, 
 " The Scarbro' wives set good examples." 
 
 Early next morn, the youthful pair 
 (A morning not divinely fair) 
 
 Set off to Totter Hall 'twas late 
 
 When venerable Tottergait 
 
 Order'd his chaise for he was now 
 
 Prepared to make his parting bow. 
 
 The rain in streams began to pour. 
 
 The carriage too was at the door; 
 
 No matter — with his usual care. 
 
 He gaily led his Lady there, 
 
 And by her, piae'd his Catharine fair. 
 
 Away they drove — " Adieu \" said he, 
 " To Scarbro's sweet variety : 
 " Though Travel's varying joys may blend 
 " With Nature's balm, and jointly lend 
 
 * There is a peculiarly cheerful effect produced by a display 
 of flowers, and in the general cleanliness, which meets the eye 
 everywhere in Scarborough. 
 
THE DEPARTURE. 215 
 
 "Their wiles to lure mankind astray, 
 
 " For Health or Pleasure far away ; 
 
 "Yet Memory, faithful still, supplies 
 
 " Her themes to bid affections rise ; 
 
 " That yield the breast as warm a glow 
 
 " As beauty gives, or lovers know ; 
 
 "And bids the mind on distant lands 
 
 " To venerate it's native strands. 
 
 "Dear is thy site, and blest, Home! 
 
 " Or humble cot, or lofty dome ; 
 
 " Sweet social spot ! thy genial charm 
 
 " Can labour and fatigue disarm ; 
 
 "And absences but more impart 
 
 " Thy love engrafted in the heart." 
 
 J. p. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
p. f AWCETT 4 pO., pi^^lFFlBLD. 
 
14 DAY USE 
 
 RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED 
 
 LOAN DEPT. 
 
 This book is due on the last date stamped below, or 
 
 on the date to which renewed. 
 
 Renewed books are subject to immediate recalL 
 
 1NTEIV "j:^'^:^ 
 
 
 Liikit 
 
 
 OCT 13 1965 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 LD 21A-60m.3.'65 nnlS^^f'X'lVr.'^^rr,;. 
 (F2336sl0)476B ^'"'^jg^,^;,^^''"""" i 
 
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