I illustrat ,i . , = presented to the UNIVERSITY LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SAN DIEGO by Mrs. Fern Bradley Dufner OLD ENGLISH SONGS FROM VARIOUS SOURCES PR Htl 6s A JOl'RNEY TO F.XKTKR. OLD ENGLISH SONGS FROM VARIOUS SOURCES With Illustrations by HUGH THOMSON And an Introduction by AUSTIN DOBSON ILontion MACMILLAN AND CO AND NEW V O R K 1894 UiciiAKD CLAY AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BUNUAY. INTRODUCTION " H't\ that arc very old" to borrow a phrase from the immortal Isaac lUckerstaff must re- member how, over thirty years ago, followed to Robert Browning's " Men and Women" the same author's single volume of " Dramatis Personcc" It was a brief collection, but it included the blaster in all his moods. For those who looked for " something craggy to break their minds upon" there ivcre "James Lee's Wife" and " Dis Aliter Visum" ; for the mere lovers of poetry, there were " Rabbi Ben Ezra" " Abt Voglcr" the curious speculations of Caliban upon Setebos, the magnificent narrative, "supposed of PampJiylax, the AntiocJicne" entitled "A Death in the Desert" Other pieces there were again in that slender list of twenty, which have since become household words in English Literature. But among the lighter efforts was one in particular H'hich lingers in the mind of the present preface- writer. It was the fancy called " A Likeness." In the critical record its part is only a modest one. Eight lines are all that Mrs. Sutherland Orr viii INTRODUCTION devotes to it in her excellent manual, yet it has haunted one idle brain for a quarter of a century and more. And it is not so muck its central idea which endures, as the skilful presentment of that idea, with its revel of rhyme its "mark ace" and " cigar-case^ its " alas ! mine " and "jasmine" its " keepsake " and " leaps, ache " (surely this last is as neat as Calverley's historical "dovetail" and "love tale" '/) tours de force which, to minds then less familiar with such dexterities, seemed scarcely short of miraculous. Perhaps, in the present day, it might be hinted that for the modern rules of the game the license of rhyming on proper names was used too freely. But this is to seek knots in a reed : and the lines at once regain their ancient charm to the votary who renews his study of them : " I keep my prints, an imbroglio, Fifty in one portfolio. When somebody tries my claret, We turn round chairs to the fire, Chirp over days in a garret, Chuckle o'er increase of salary, Taste the good fruits of our leisure, Talk about pencil and lyre, And the National Portrait Gallery : Then I exhibit my treasure. 1 ' " Talk of the National Portrait Gallery" only necessary in Browning's case for the fitter ex- hibition of his leading idea, would not, by the way, be ill-timed at the present moment, when, at last, there is some Hearing prospect of the transfer, at INTRODUCTION ix least to " an ampler ether" if not to " a diviner air" of the art-treasures so long buried in a corner at Bethnal Green. But it is not of Mr. George Scharfs portraits, or of their new Valhalla at Trafalgar Square, that we now purpose to speak : it is rather of tlie "pencil and lyre" in the poet's preceding line. The lyre here is the lyre of Gay, of Swiff, of Fielding of that supreme " inheritor of unfulfilled renown" the imperishable "Anon": the pencil is one already e.vercised successfully on " C ran ford" and " Our Village" and Goldsmith's " Vicar" the pencil of Mr. HUGH THOMSON. If the reader cannot " chuckle with us over increase of salary" or (in retrospect} "chirp over days in a garret" he can certainly pause for a space while we " exhibit our treasure " ; and, as from a visionary portfolio, draw forth the pictures and poems which follow. Only, seeing that the accomplished A rtist may read this " Introduction," we shall spare his blushes by letting his pleasant sketches speak for themselves, confining our office in the main to running comment on the verses he has chosen for embellishment. Intcgros accederc fontcs, atquc Coridon's , , , , r haunre seems to have been Mr. bong, 1-17 Thomson's motto in his earliest selections, for it is in ]Val ton's "Angler" that he finds his first sources of inspiration. Of the author of the song which Coridon the Country man sings to Piscator and Master Peter, we know' but little, so little that it has even been profanely suggested that Jiis name should be Harris rather x INTRODUCTION than John Chalk/till, that reputed " Acquaintant of Edmund Spenser" and assumed composer of the " Pastoral History hi smooth and easie Verse " isjJiicli Walton put forth in 1683 under the title of " Thealma and Clearchus." Indeed, in some aids to learning, the book is roundly ascribed to Walton himself. But the modern investigator who must always be meddling has discovered there was actually existent in Walton's day a "Jo. Chalk- hill, Gent.," who probably wrote verse, easy and otherwise ; and who, in spite of insinuations to the contrary, may really have been the inventor of this most desirable carol with its artless " heigh trolollie lollie loe, heigh trolollie lee," and its new-old, old-new variation upon that time- honoured and delusive contrast betvveen the Country and the Town which hath ever been the dream of those wJio " study to be quiet " : " For Courts are full of flattery, As hath too oft been tried ; heigh trolollie lollie loe, heigh trolollie lee, The City full of wantonness, and both are full of pride : Then care away, and wend along with me." " / shall love you for it as long as I know yon" says honest Piscator. " / would you were a brother of the Angle, for a companion that is cheerful and free from swearing and scurrilous discourse, is INTRODUCTION xi worth gold." " / love (lie says once more) sncJi mirth as does not make friends asliained to look upon one another next wonting" a sentiment to which, were not the idea as old as Plato, one might fancy a resemblance in the later " mirth that, after, no repenting draws " of a certain austere John Milton. And so farewell, A faster Coridon ! Yours was a good song, and a merry, whoever be the author ! ft is from another self-proclaimed S " acquaintant " of the poet of the "Faerie Qneene" that Piscator borrows his reply a reply for which (according to the flattered Coridon) "Anglers are all beholding." Piscator 's song, he himself tells us, was lately com- posed " at my request by Mr. \Yilliam Basse, one that has made the choice Songs of the Hunter in his carrere, and of Tom of Bedlam, and many others of note." Time has dealt capriciously with this same William Basse. He was the friend of Browne and Wither and Ben fonson, as well as of Spenser and Walton ; and when Shakespeare died, he wrote upon him an elegy wherein he bids him make his fourfold bed with Chaucer and Beaumont and Spenser "Yntill Doomesdaye, for hardly will a fift Betwixt y s day and y l by Fate be slayne, For whom your Curtaines may be drawn againe " a sentiment which, besides something of the spacious Elizabethan spirit, has also the merit of a not-discredited prediction. Yet the bulk of xii INTRODUCTION /fosse's work, unpublished during his life, re- mained nncollectcd until last year, when he was born out of due time in Mr. Warwick Bond's handsome and scJiolarly edition. On the whole, however, it is impossible to regard him as anything but a diluted Spenserian. His fiat pastoral fertility is more curious than edifying, and prompts the suspicion that there must have been just a touch of friendly log-rolling about Walton's praise of his lyric gift, since it is not greatly conspicuous in the pair of pieces mentioned, neither of which excels the "Angler's Song." And even in that the weightiest line is the first ("As imvard love breeds outward talk"}. Still leaving open the question wlietJier your thorough-paced fisherman can really read at his craft one must confess a " contemplative " ease in the stanza " Of recreation there is none So free as fishing is alone ; All other pastimes do no less Than mind and body both possess ; My hand alone my work can do, So I can fish and study too." The " Compleat Angler" comes about \ mi i pp. 41-52. " \\ ho hveth m - u i wa y between the next two selections. " Who liveth so merry" is from the " Dcnteromelia " of 1609, the date of Shakespeare's " Sonnets " : " Come, Sweet Lass," from "Pills to Purge Melancholy" which brings us nigh to Dryden's " Fables " and 1 700. The " Deuteromelia " is a thin quarto of some fifteen leaves, with a preface that might have been written by Holoferncs. Vt Mel Os, sic Cor melos afficit, INTRODUCTION xiii & reficit says a motto in its ItigJily elaborate title- page ; and it was printed at London for Thomas Adams, dwelling in Panic's Church-yard "at the signe of the white Lion." The author was one Thomas Ravenscroft, sometime chorister of Paul 's and graduate of Cambridge, whose " ^-part psalms" were considered by that eminent connoisseur, Mr. Samuel Pepys, to be " most admirable musique" Already, earlier in 1609, Ravenscroft had published a series of rounds and canons entitled " Pammelia" of which " Deuteromelia " is the sequel. Turning its pages, one comes upon the lively catch of " Hold thy peace, tlwu knave" which Feste the Clown, and Sir Toby Belch, and Sir Andrew AguecJieek sing together in Act II. of " TwelftJi Night" a catch, as Sir Toby says, calculated to " draw three souls out of one weaver" A later ditty given in the book suggested the title borne by a famous chronicle of Mr. Rudyard Kipling: " Wee be Souldiers three, Pardona moy ic volts an pree, Lately come forth of the low country With neuer a penny of mony. Fa la la la lantido (filly." (The French of Flanders, it should be observed, apparently left something to be desired in the matter of spelling^ Then follows at p. 18, with its pleasant suggestion of old street cries and open- air callings, the "Freemen's Song" for four voices that Mr. Thomson has here illustrated, the moral of which seems to lie in the lines xiv INTRODUCTION "Who livcth so merry, and maketh such sport, As those that be of the poorest sort?" a point clearly open to argument. It is not true under Victoria : probably it was only poetically true under " Eliza and our James" " Would you liave a love-song, or a ' song of good life ?" asks tlie Clown of Sweet Lass," PP 53-63. ' Toby in that comedy of Shakespeare to which we have already referred. And Olivia's reprobate uncle unhesitatingly declares for a love-song, to wJiidi Ids led-captain, Sir Andrew, witli tJie exaggeration of the imitator, further adds that he " cares not for good life.' 1 Our next dip in the lyric lucky-bag must assuredly have satisfied them both. It is " amatorious " enougJi for Sir Toby ; and as an Invitation a la Dansc should have had special attractions for that expert in " Lavoltas high and swift Corantos" his companion. (Sir Andrew's leg, we all knoiv, did " indifferent well in a flame- colourcd stock."} " Come, Siveet Lass " is apparently one of the innumerable performances of that prolific Tom D'Urfey, whose words, married to the music of Purcell and Bloiv and Farmer, were once so well known to our ancestors. " He has been the delight of the most polite companies and conversations, from the beginning of king Charles the Second's reign to our present times" says Addison in the " Guardian " ; and Pope, in his B infield boyhood, tells his friend Cromwell that D'Urfey is "your only poet of toler- able reputation in this country." Over his volumin- ous plays and farces, which Collier justly attacked, INTRODUCTION xv Oblivion has discreetly " scattered her poppy " ; but not a few of his songs still linger in our anthologies. One of the last testimonies to their popularity in his own day is contained in Gay's " Shepherd's Week." The references in the third and fourth lines are to D'Urfey's burlesque opera called " Wonders in the Sun" and his " ode" of the " Newmarket Horse Race " : "A while, O D y, lend an Ear or twain, Nor, though in homely Guise, my Verse disdain, Whether thou seek'st new Kingdoms in the Sun, Whether thy Muse does at New-Market run, Or does with Gossips at a Feast regale, And heighten her Conceits with Sack and Ale, Or else at Wakes with Joan and Hodge rejoice, Where D y 's Lyricks swell in every Voice, Yet suffer me, thou Bard of wondrous Meed, Amid thy Bays to weave this rural Weed." According to the notes to Gay's Pastorals in the admirable edition of the late Mr. JoJm Underhill, it appears that D'Urfey supplied the words to two other old songs mentioned ly Gay, " Gillian of Croydon " and " Sawney Scot" Many who could sing, and many who could not, must have blessed that tuneful memory. When Tom D'Urfey was buried in Morning in ~, T , n . ,-,, , , . , & 1723 at St. fames s, Piccadilly (where pp 65-79 th ere * s a tablet to his memory], Steele followed him to his grave. It was in Steele's then new periodical, the " Taller" that first appeared the piece which here succeeds to "Come, Sweet Lass." Swift's " Morning in London" (or, xvi INTRODUCTION more strictly, " Morning in Town"), which Addison is supposed to have sent to " Mr. Bickerstaff" from Dublin with some of his own contributions to his friend's venture, is leagues removed from the previous verses. "An ingenious kinsman of mine" says Steele introducing it " has run into a way perfectly new, and described things exactly as they happen : he never forms fields, or nymphs, or groves, where they are not ; but makes the incidents just as they really appear." Swift, in short, is one of the earliest of the realists, witJi much of their merit and most of their defects. Nothing could be surer-sighted than his inspection of the "slipshod 'prentice" the mop-whirling maid (vvJwm he uses again in the City Shower), the "youth with broomy stumps" (observe the nice distinction between "broomy stumps " and " stumpy broom "), the small-coal man, the bailiffs, and all the sordid rest. But his photo- graph of these things is taken from the seamy side, and, like his latter-day disciples, he dwells upon this by preference. Neither Steele nor Addison, one would think, could have left this picture as it is. They might perhaps have missed its microscopic view of the mean and squalid ; but they would undoubtedly have added some touch of red-veined humanity to warm the composition a pretty girl seen smiling at her glass a child wondering in its bed at the birth of a neiu day. We are apt to think that Sivift's contemporaries were blinder to his faults than we are. But the Anglo-Gallic Annotator of the " Babillard" was perfectly right when he con- demned the petty range of the ideas. And it is not INTRODUCTION xvii necessary to contend with Johnson that, since " such a number of particulars could never hare been assembled by the power of recollect ion," Swift must have noted down what lie observed. On the contrary, Steele, in penning a little caveat against possible imitators of these particular verses, goes partway towards improvising the material himself. " / bar" he says, " all descriptions of the Evening ; as, a med- ley of verses signifying grey peas are noiv cried warm . ... or of Noon ; as, that fine ladies and great beaux are just yawning out of their windows \'n Pall-Mall." One of these imitators, in a better sense, A Journey ^^ ^ ^ f fl j- ^ pi easant r j t y m i n g SI-IK tpistlt which follows Swift's Dutch picture. In the advertisement to " Trivia" Gay himself admits his indebtedness for "several hints" to Dr. Swift ; and indeed it has always been supposed that " Morning in Town " and the "City Shower" supplied the initial sug- gestion for that poem. In the order of Gay's productions, the "Journey to Exeter" comes just before " Trivial For reasons best known to the Artist, though doubtless sufficient, the introductory lines to Richard Boyle, Earl of Burlington, upon whose prompting, and at whose cost, the little trip was undertaken, are here omitted : "While you, my Lord, bid stately piles ascend, Or in your Chisii'ick bow'rs enjoy your friend ; Where Pope unloads the boughs within his reach The purple vine, blue plumb, and blushing peach : I journey far. :> b xviii INTRODUCTION " Within his reach" we have ahvays supposed to be a sly stroke at the minute stature of the great Alexander. But Gay does not spare his own defects : li You knew fat Bards might tire, And, mounted, sent me forth your trusty Squire." Who the traveller's " two companions " were, history has not related, though he calls one Grtzvius: ' Now o'er true Roman way our horses sound, Grcsvius would kneel, and kiss the sacred ground ; " and a line or two higher he speaks of sketching them both at Dorchester as they snored in their elbow chairs. There are many draivings by Pope extant ; ivhat ivould one not give for this solitary croquis of Gay ! But in default of pictures with the pencil, the poem abounds in those pen sketches which are still the freshest legacy of tJie bard of " The Beggar's Opera." We seem to see the pigeon- feeding Solomon of Turnham Green, as he has been revealed to the Artist and denied to the antiquary ; we watch the travellers riding warily over Bagshot Heath " Where broken gamesters oft' repair their loss ; " we taste the red trout and " rich metheglin " of Steeles borough of Stockbridge, the lobster and " unadulterate wine " of Morecombe ; we spell out on the road from Honiton " Where finest lace industrious lasses weave," the rhyming sign of that " Hand and Pen " ivhere the rain-drenched party take shelter. And at Axminster INTRODUCTION xix there is the "pretty ivashcrmaiden" (as Mr. Henley would call her} of whom Mr. Thomson has contrived so charming a portrait. But why, O why ! has he forborne to draw for us that most impressive local celebrity, the female barber ? ''The weighty golden chain adorns her neck, And three gold rings her skilful hand bedeck : Smooth o'er our chin her easy fingers move, Soft as when Venus strok'd the beard of Jove" Twelve years had passed away when iapp> j^ ti . com p ose( i t j ie frrj^f a)ll i better- could I be,' ; , , ii7-i->" Known song which follows, ^tnce, in 1728, William Hogarth painted, for IVilliam Blake eventually to engrave, the likeness of Captain Macheath " between his tiva Deborahs " the Polly and Lucy of the "Beggar's Opera" the couplet " How happy could I be with either, \ \ 'ere t 'other dear Charmer away" has been an almost indispensable formula for the expression of mascu- line indecision in presence of conflicting feminine attractions. Xor has it been employed in this way alone, for it has done service in many another fashion of dilemma. To take but the latest example, only the other day it was triumphantly pressed by Sir IVilliam H (if court into a discussion on the business of the House of Commons, when to the amusement of that august body Mr. Goschen neatly countered its Leader by completing the quotation : ' Hut while you thus tease me together, To neither a word will I say." b 2 xx INTRODUCTION For this reason, it may be, Mr. Tliotnson has treated the song, less as an extract from the fatuous piece ivliich made " Gay rich, and Rich gay" than as a cosmopolitan utterance a cry wrung from the heart of embarrassed male humanity. It is, in fact, one of those " Eternal Verities " of ivhich Carlyle was wont to speak as old as Adam, as young as yesterday. Over Fielding's "Hunting Song " and " Oh ! dear ! what can the matter be ? " we will go, j^.j. we may pass more rapidly. If t lie play of " Don Quixote in England" from Act II. of which the first is taken, really included these verses when it was sketched by its author at Leyden, it folloivs that his gifts as a song-ivriter must have been manifested more early and more enduringly than his dramatic powers. Fielding's comedies have never held their ground ; but this rollicking ditty of men and dogs, set to the fine old air " There was a jovial beggar" is still good to sing and to hear. The same play contains a sug- gestion of another famous lyric: " Oh the roast beef of old England, And old England's roast beef ! " And one of the verses in " The dusky night rides down the sky" supplies a useful note to the "Spectator." Says the song : "A brushing fox in yonder wood, Secure to find we seek ; For why, I carry'd, sound and good, A cartload there last week." This is precisely the practice of which Budgell accuses the provident Sir Roger de Coverley : " Indeed the Knight does not scruple to own among his most intimate Friends, that in order to establish his Refutation this Way [as a Fox-killer\ he has secret/y sent for great Numbers of them [Foxes] out of other Counties, which he used to turn loose about the Country by Night, that he might the better signalise himse/f in their Destruction the next Day" Upon " Oh! dear! what can the matter Oh . dear ! fc p " [ )0 fj t wor( f s anf f f nne of whicJi are what can the ,..,, , , . . ,,. anonymous little comment can be needed matter be? ^ pp 141-149 beyond tJiat afforded by the illustrations. It is still among the most familiar of its old-fashioned kind, and may continue to supply subjects to the genre painter for another century or two. " Captain {of Militia] Sir Bilberry rr ^ Diddle " the last upon our list belongs. Diddle, pp i;i-i6" we snou ld imagine, to the epoch of the " Seven Years' War" Sir Dilbcrry is clearly the growth of that chronic dread of invasion which prompted not only Hogarth's "France" and " England" but many another valiant pictorial gibe at the frog-eating "Mounseers" who were always threatening to cross over with their friars, and their Popish racks and thumbscrews, to build their black monasteries within sound of Bow Bells. Like John Gilpin, he is to be ranked with those train-band captains " of credit and renown " who furnished such frank laughter to the Footes and Colmans xxii INTRODUCTION of their day. His actual exploits, as tliose satirists hinted, rarely went, in all probability, much beyond the investment of a Jiay-stack or the occupation of an ale house, for the "flat-bottomed boats " so frequently mentioned by GoldsmitJi and others never found their way into English ports, nor have we to this day /;/ the mixed metaphor of the " Gazetteer " " lain down to be saddled with wooden shoes." But however we estimate the precise value of what Mr. Ho sea Biglow styles " mi I i shy gloary" there is no need ivhy we should mock at an honourable patriotic instinct, even in a citizen-soldier. If the French had come, doubtless Sir Bilberry would have fought as well waking as he did asleep. In any case, let us not begrudge him his long nap under the short apron of his excellent lady surely one of the most original of Air. Thomson 's creations ! Part of the foregoing Introduction an Intro- duction of necessity somewhat invertebrate and dis- cursive was written in the West of Scotland. On the grey and ancient island of lona, the author, with the rest of his party, followed the appointed Guide in the round of its venerable ruins. The Tale was of Macbeth and King Fergus ; of the Cross of St. Martin of Tours (who divided his cloak with the beggar} ; of the stone pillow of St. Columba (in its cage of iron] ; of the rudely carved griffin which served as model for -the monster at Temple Bar. Meanwhile, in pauses of that instructive oration perhaps even during its progress the eyes of the listeners wandered vaguely to the clear blue over- INTRODUCTION xxiii head ; to the patches of particoloured lie/ten ; to the tufts of salt-fed spleenwort " /;/ the crannied wall"; to the fringe of freckled, bare-legged children with sea-urchins and necklets of shells for sale ; to the endless and inexhaustible detail, often more articulate than history, more persuasive than fact. The function of the preface-making Dryasdust is not unlike that of tlie topographical cicerone. He may recapitulate dates, and recount anecdotes ; but /i is restless audience will seek for themselves, and will probably select what they admire where they have not been invited to search for it. With tJie conviction that such cannot lack for individual choice in the abundant invention of tlie designs which follow, the writer of these preliminary, pages cheerfully absolves them if they should now turn even with a sense of relief from the comment to the text and illustrations. AUSTIN DOB SOX. EALING, September 1894. CONTENTS PACK CORIDON'S SONG i THE ANGLER'S SONG . .... 19 "WHO LIVETII SO MERRY" . 41 "COME, SWEET LASS" ...... 53 MORNING IN LONDON 65 A JOURNEY TO EXETER Si "HOW HAPPY COULD I BE WITH EITHER" . 117 "A HUNTING WE WILL GO" 125 "Oil! DEAR! WHAT CAN THE MATTER BE?" . 141 SIR DILBERRY DIDDLE . . 151 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Cor i don s Song PA(;F. Oh, the sweet contentment The countryman doth find ! . . . 3 Then care away, And wend along with me 5 His pride is in his tillage, His horses and his cart 7 The ploughman, though he labour hard 9 Yet on the holiday, No emperor so merrily Doth pass his time away 1 1 To recompense our tillage, The heavens afford us showers . . 13 This is not half the happiness The countryman enjoys .... 15 Then come away, turn Countryman with me 17 The Angler s Song But these delights I neither wish Xor envy, while I freely fish 21 Some, better pleased with private sport, Use tennis ; some a mistress court 23 Who hunts, doth oft in danger ride ; Who hawks, lures oft both far and wide 25 But who falls in love Is fetter d in fond Cupid's snare .... 27 My hand alone my work can do, So I can fish and study too 29 I care not, I, to fish in seas Fresh rivers most my mind do please 31 The timorous trout I wait To take 33 But yet, though while I fish I fast, I make good fortune my repast ; And thereunto my friend invite, In whom I more than that delight 35 xxviii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PACE As well content no prize to take, As use of taken prize to make 37 The first men that our Saviour dear Did choose to wait upon Him here, Bless'd fishers were 39 "Who liveth so merry" Who liveth so merry in all this land As doth the poor widow that selleth the sand? 43 The broom-man maketh his living most sweet, With carrying of brooms from street to street 45 The chimney-sweeper all the long day, Hesingeth and sweepeth the soot away 47 The cobbler he sits cobbling till. noon, And cobbleth his shoes till they be done 49 The serving-man waiteth from street to street, With blowing his nails and beating his feet 51 Who liveth so merry and maketh such sport, As those that be of the poorest sort? 52 "Come, Sweet Lass" Come, sweet lass ; This bonny weather Let's to-gether .... 55 Come, sweet lass Let's trip upon the grass 57 Ev'ry where Poor Jocky seeks his dear 59 On our green The loons are sporting, There, all day, Our lasses dance and play 61 And ev'ry one is gay But I, when you're away . .... 63 Morning in London The slipshod 'prentice from his master's door Had pared the dirt, and sprinkled round the floor 67 Now Moll had whirl'd her mop with dexterous airs, Frepar'd to scrub the entry and the stairs 69 The youth with broomy stumps began to trace The kennel's edge, where wheels had worn the place 71 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xxix rA(;K The small coal man was heard with cadence deep 73 Duns at his Lordship's gate began to meet 75 The watchful bailiffs take their silent stands 77 And schoolboys lag with satchels in their hands 79 A Journey to Exeter Headpiece 81 With early dawn the drowsy traveller stirs 83 The day that city dames repair To take their weekly dose of Hyde-Park air 85 That Turnham-Green, which dainty pigeons fed, But feeds no more : for Solomon is dead 87 Prepar'd for war, now Bagshot Heath we cross, Where broken gamesters oft repair their loss 89 Relates the Justices' late meeting there, How many bottles drank, and what their cheer 91 What lords had been his guests in days of yore, And praised their wisdom much, their drinking more 93 Next morn, twelve miles led o'er th'unbounded plain, Where the cloak'd shepherd guides his fleecy train 95 With his reed the jocund valleys ring 97 Amid three boarding-schools well stock'd with misses Shall three knight-errants starve for want of kisses? 99 The ready ostler near the stirrup stands, And as we mount, our half-pence load his hands 101 Here sleep my two companions, eyes supprest, And propt in elbow-chairs they snoring rest 103 Forth we trot 105 The maid subdu'd by fees, her trunk unlocks, And gives the cleanly aid of dowlas smocks 107 Meantime our shirts her busy fingers rub, While the soap lathers o'er the foaming tub 109 Now swelling clouds roll'd on ; the rainy load Stream'd down our hats, and smok'd along the road 1 1 1 Then he that could not Epic fights rehearse, Might sweetly mourn in Elegiac verse 113 "This is the ancient hand, and eke the pen; Here is for horses hay, and meat for men'' 115 xxx LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS "How happy could I be with either" rA(,i: "How happy could I be with either" 117 How happy could I be with either, Were t'other dear charmer a-way 119 But while you thus tease me to-gether 121 To neither a word will I say 123 "A Hunting we will go" "A hunting we will go" 127 The huntsman winds his horn 129 The wife around her husband throws Her arms, and begs his stay 131 Away he goes, he flies the rout, Their steeds all spur and switch 133 Some are thrown in, and some thrown out, And some thrown in the ditch 135 But a hunting we will go, A hunting we will go 137 Then hungry, homeward we return, To feast away the night . 139 "Oh! dear f what can the matter be?' Oh ! dear! what can the matter be? Johnny's so long at the fair 141 At the fair 143 He promis'd he'd bring me a bunch of blue ribbons To tie up my bonny brown hair 145 He promis'd he'd bring me a basket of posies, A garland of lilies, a garland of roses 147 Oh! dear! what can the matter be? 149 Sir Dilberry Diddle " O cruel Sir Dilberry, do not kill ///K ILLUSTRATIONS xxxi I-.V.K ( )f all the fair ladies that came ID the show, Sir Middle's fair lady stood first in the row 159 The dame gives her captain a sip of rose-water, Then he, hand- ing her into her coach, steps in after 101 And prudently cautious, in Ycnu->'s lap, lieneath her short apron, Mars takes a long nap 163 Cor i don* s Song from J^altons Complete Angler Coridons Song the sweet contentment 'The countryman doth find ! Heigh trolollie lollie loe, Heigh trolollie lollie lee. That quiet contemplation PoJJeJJeth all my mind; Then care away, And wend along with me. Coridorfs Song Cor i don s Song For Courts are full of flattery As hath too oft been tried; Heigh trolollie lollie loe, Heigh trolollie lollie lee. 'The city full of wantonnefs, And both are full of pride : 'Then care away, And wend along with me. Cor i don s Song ; >< Coridons Song But oh ! the honeft countryman Speaks truly from his heart ; Heigh trolollie lollie loe, Heigh trolollie lollie lee. His pride is in his tillage, His horfes and his cart ; 'Then care away, And wend along with me. Cor i don s Son* Coridons Song Our clothing is good sheep-skins, Grey rujfet for our wives ; Heigh trolollie lollie he, Heigh trolollie lollie lee. 'Tis warmth, and not gay clothing, 'That doth prolong our lives ; Then care away, And wend along with me. Condon s Song -. x^nv Coridons Song The -ploughman, though he labour hard, Tet on the holiday, Heigh trolollie lollie loe, Heigh trolollie lollie lee. No emperor so merrily Doth pafs his time away ; 'Then care away, And wend along with me. 10 Condon $ Song 1 1 Coridons Song 'To recompenfe our tillage, The heavens afford us showers ; Heigh trolollie lollie loe, Heigh trolollie lollie lee. And for our sweet refrejliments The earth affords us bowers ; Then care away, And wend along with me. 12 Coridon s Song !P *tas8 f ; -'^" - V.A-% &w<^^iM Coridons Song 'The cuckoo and the nightingale Full merrily do sing, Heigh trolollie lollie loe, Heigh trolollie lollie lee. And with their pleafant roundelays Bid welcome to the spring ; Then care away, And wend along with me. Coridons Song Coridons Song is not half the happinejs The countryman enjoys ; Heigh trolollie lollie loe, Heigh trolollie lollie lee. Though others think they have as much, Yet he that says so lies ; Then come away, turn Countryman with me. 16 Cor i don s Song The Angler s Song s inward love breeds outward talk, 'The hound some praife, and some the hawk ; 20 The Angler s Song 21 The Angler s Song Some, better p leafed with private sport, Ufe tennis ; some a mistrefs court ; But theje delights I neither wijh Nor envy, while I freely fijh. 22 The Angler s Song The Angler's Song Who hunts, doth oft in danger ride ; Who hawks, lures oft both far and wide ; Who ufes games shall often prove 24 'The Angler s Song 'The Angler s Song A lojer ; but who falls in love Is fetter'd in fond Cupid's snare : My angle breeds me no such care. 26 'The Angler s Song 2 7 'The Anglers Song Of recreation there is none So free as fifliing is alone ; All other paftimes do no less Than mind and body both pojfefs ; My hand alone my work can do, So I can fifh and study too. 28 "The Angler's Song *i^ ' ^^T-T/ The Angler s Song I care not, 7, to jifli in seas Frefli rivers moft my mind do pleaje, Whoje sweet calm courje I contemplate, And seek in life to imitate : In civil bounds I fain would keep, And for my paft offences weep. 3 T/ie Angler s Song The Angler s Song And when the timorous trout I wait 'To fake, and he devours my bait, How poor a thing, sometimes I find, Will captivate a greedy mind ; And when none bite, I praife the wife, Whom vain allurements ne'er surprife. 3 2 'The Angler s Song "The Angler's Song But yet, though while 1 fijh 1 fa/I, I make good fortune my repafl And thereunto my friend invite, In whom I more than that delight ; Who is more welcome to my dijh Than to my angle was my fifli. The Angler s Song 35 'The Angler's Song As well content no prize to take, As ufe of taken prize to make : For so our Lord was pleafe'd, when He fifliers made fijiiers of men : Where (which is in no other game) A man may fijh and praife His name. 'The Angler s 'The Angler s Song firft men that our Saviour dear Did chooje to wait upon Him here, Blejfd fifliers were, and fi/Ji the laft Food was that He on earth did tefte ; I therefore strive to follow thoje Whom He to follow Him hath choje. The Anglers Song . " Who I he th so merry " ho liveth so merry in all tins land As doth the poor widow that selleth the sand ? And ever she slngeth as I can guejs, " Will you buy a ny sand, a ny sand, mij trejs ? " Who liveth so merry 43 Who liveth so merry 'The broom-man maketh his living most sweet, With carrying of brooms from street to street ; Who would defire a pleafanter thing Than all day long doing nothing but sing? 44- liveth so merry Who liveth so merry The chimney-sweeper all the long day, He singeth and sweepeth the soot away : Tet when he comes home, although he be weary, With his sweet wife he maketh himjelf full merry. 46 Who liveth so merry 47 Who liveth so merry The cobbler he sits cobbling till noon, And cobble th his shoes till they be done Yet doth he not fear, and so doth say, For he knows his work will soon decay. Who liveth so merry 49 Who liveth so merry The merchant-man doth sail on the seas, And lie on the shipboard with little eaje ; Always in doubt the rock is near, How can he be merry and make good cheer? The hufbandman all day goeth to plough, And when he comes home he serveth his sow; He moileth, and moileth all the long year, How can he be merry and make good cheer ? The serving-man waiteth from street to street, With blowing his nails and beating his feet ; And serve//! for forty shillings a year, How can he be merry and make good cheer ? Who liveth so merry Who liveth so merry Who liveth so merry and maketh such sport, As thoje that be of the pooreft sort ? 'The pcoreft sort, wherefoever they be, They gather together, by one, two, and three. m*#*' f ^ $$!. \\\6 t And every man will spend his penny, IVhat makes such a show among a great many ? (Bis.) from Deuteromelia, \ 609 5 2 Cowe, sweet Lajs" ome, sweet lafs ; 'This bonny weather Lei s to-gether ; 54 Come, sweet lajs 1 ^fc"'"" 7 ' "*" ' '. ''' .Jlvx -"> ,- \3o !r 55 Come, sweet lafs Come, sweet lafs Lets trip upon the grafs, 5.6 Come, sweet lafs 57 Come, sweet lafs Evry where Poor Jocky seeks his dear, And unlefs you np-pear, He sees HO beauty here. 5 Come, sweet lajs 59 Come, sweet lafs On our green 'The loons are sporting, Piping, courting: On our green The blitheft lads are seen: There, all day, Our lajjes dance and play, 60 Cowe, sweet lafs X 61 Come, sweet lafs And evry one is gay But I, when you re away. 62 Come, sweet lajs Morning in LONDON. Morning in London hardly here and there a hackney coach Appearing show d the ruddy morn's approach. 'The slipfliod 'prentice from his mafter s door Had pared the dirt, and sprinkled round the floor. 66 Morning in London Morning in London Now Moll had whir I'd her mop with dexterous airs, Prepared to scrub the entry and the stairs, 68 Morning in London 69 Morning in London 'The youth with broomy stumps began to trace The kennel's edge, where wheels had worn the place, 70 Morning in London mm 1 1 A* U>'J)j, infill" 71 Morning in London The small coal man was heard with cadence deep, "Till drown d in shriller notes of chimney-sweep , 72 Morning in London 73 Morning in London Duns at his Lordjhip's gale began to meet; And brick-duft Moll had scream d through half the street. 74 Morning in London Morning in London The turnkey now his flock returning sees Duly let out a-nights to steal for fees ; The watchful bailiffs take their silent stands, Morning in London 77 Morning in London t And schoolboys lag with satchels in their hands. Morning in London 79 c/S 9* * Ml TV v-/x..3^t^ A 'Journey to Exeter on the day that city dames repair ?o take their weekly dofe of Hyde-Park air When forth we trot : no carts the roads infeft, For still on Sundays country horfes reft. A '"journey to Exeter A Journey to Exeter 'Thy gardens, Kenfington, we leave unjeen ; Through Hammer Jmith jog on to Turnham Green A journey to Exeter A Journey to Exeter Turnham-Green, which dainty pigeons fed, But feeds no more : for Solomon is dead. 86 A journey to Exeter A Journey to Exeter Three dujty miles reach Brentford's tedious town, For dirty streets and white-leggd chickens known : Thence o'er wide shrubby heaths, and furrow'd lanes, We com?, where Thames divides the meads of Staines. We ferrfd oer for late the Winters flood Shook her frail bridge, and tore her pies of wood. Prepard for war, now Eagflwt Heath we crofs, Where broken gamejlers oft repair their lojs. 88 Journey to Exeter 89 A Journey to Exeter At Hartley Row the foaming bit we preft, While the fat landlord welcomd ev'ry guest. Supper was ended, healths the glajfes crown d, Our hofl extoWd his wine at evry round, Relates the Justices' late meeting there How many bottles drank, and what their cheer ; What lords had been his guefts in days of yore, And praifed their wifdom much, their drinking more. 90 A Journey to Exeter A 'Journey to Exeter Let travellers the morning vigils keep : The morning rofe, but we lay fafl ajleep. 'Twelve tedious miles we bore the sultry sun, And Popham Lane was scarce in sight by one ; The straggling village harbour d thieves of old, 'Twas here the stage-coach" d lajs refignd her gold; That gold which had in London purchaj'd gowns, And sent her home a Belle to country towns. 92 A Journey to Exeter Sutton we pafs, and leave her spacious down, And with the setting sun reach Stockbridge town. O'er our parch' d tongue the rich metheglin glides, And the red dainty trout our knife divides. Sad melancholy ev'ry vijage wears ; What, no election come in seven long years ! Of all our race of Mayors, shall Snow alone Be by Sir Richard's dedication known ? Our streets no more with tides of ale shall float, Nor cobblers feaft three years upon one vote. Next morn, twelve miles led o'er th' unbounded plain, Where the cloak' d shepherd guides his fleecy train. No leafy bow'rs a noon-day shelter lend, Nor from the chilly dews at night defend : With wondrous art, he counts the straggling flock, And by the sun informs you what's a clock. 94- A Journey to Exeter 95 A Journey to Exeter How are our shepherds fall 1 n from ancient days! No Amaryllis chants alternate lays ; From her no lijTning echoes learn to sing, Nor with his reed the jocund valleys ring. Here sheep the pcfture hide, there har-vefls bend, See S arum's steeple o'er yon hill ajcend ; Our horjes faintly trot beneath the heat, And our keen stomachs know the hour to eat. 96 A journey to Exeter 97 A Journey to Exeter Who can forfake thy walls, and not admire 'The proud cathedral, and the lofty spire ? What sempftrefs has not proved thy scijjors good ? From hence firft came tli intriguing riding-hood. Amid three boarding-schools well stocked with mijjes Shall three knight-err ants starve for want of kiffes ? O'er the green turf the miles slide swift away, And Elandford ends the labours of the day. 98 A Journey to Exeter 99 A Journey to Exeter The morning rofe ; the supper reckoning paid, And our due fees dif charged to man and maid ; The ready oftler near the stirrup stands, And as we mount, our half-pence load his hands. 100 A Journey to Exeter 101 A Journey to Exeter Now the steep hill fair Dorchefter overlooks, Border d by meads, and waflid by silver brooks. Here sleep my two companions'' eyes suppreft, And propt in elbow-chairs they snoring reft : I weary sit, and with my pencil trace Their painful poftures, and their eyelejs face ; 'Then dedicate each glafs to some fair name, And on the safli the diamond scrawls my fame. 102 A Journey to Exeter 103 A 'Journey to Exeter ow oer true Roman way our horfes sound, Gr knight. He pulled off his slippers and wrapper of silk, And, foaming as furious as whijktd new milk, Says he to his lady, " My lady, I'll go : My company calls me ; you mu.ft not say no." 152 Sir Dilberry Diddle '53 Sir Dilberry Diddle With eyes all in tears says my lady, says she, " O cruel Sir Dilberry, do not kill me ! For I never will leave thee, but cling round thy middle, And die in the arms of Sir Dilberry Diddle." Said Diddle again to his lady, " My dear" {And a white 'pocket-handkerchief wiped off a tear] " T'o fight for thy charms in the hotteft of wars Will be joy I 'Thou art Venus" Says she, '''Thou art Mars" Sir Dilberry Diddle '55 Sir Dilberry Diddle By a 'place I cant mention, not knowing its name, At the head of his company Dilberry came, And the drums to the window call every eye T0 see the defence of the nation pafs by. Old Bible-faced women, through spectacles dim, With hemming and coughing, cried " Lord, it is him ! " While boys and the girls, who more clearly could see, Cried, " Yonder s Sir Dilberry Diddle that's he!" 156 Sir ~Dilberry Diddle 157 Sir Dilberry Diddle Of all the fair ladies that came to the show, Sir Diddle' s fair lady stood fir ft in the row; " Oh, how charming" says she, " he looks all in red : How he turns out his toes, how he holds up his head ! " Do but see Jus cockade, and behold his dear gun, Which shines like a looking-glafs held in the sun ! Hear his word of command ! 'tis so sweet, I am sure, Each time I am tempted to call out encore ! " 158 Sir Dilberry Diddle 159 Sir Bilberry Diddle 'The battle was over without any blows, The heroes unharnefs and strip off their clothes ; The dame gives her captain a sip of roje-water, Then he, handing her into her coach, steps in after. Johns orders are special to drive very slow, For fevers oft follow fatigues, we all know, And prudently cautious, in Venus' 's lap, Beneath her short apron, Mars takes a long nap. 1 60 Sir Dilberry Diddle 161 Sir Bilberry Diddle He dreamt. Fame reports , that he cut all the throats Of the French as they landed in flat-bottomed boats, In his sleep if such dreadful dejiruction he makes, IV hat havocky ye gods ! we shall have when he wakes ! 162 Sir Dilberry Diddle 163