NIVERSITYO CALFORNASANDEGO 3 182200211 1532 P O E T S' W I T AM) HUMOUR. * SELECTED EY W. H. WILLS. ILLUSTRATED WITH ONE HUNDRED ENGRAVINGS FROM DRAWINGS BY CHARLES BENNETT AND GEORGE H. THOMAS. LJ LONDON: BELL AND DALDY, 186, FLEET STREET. MECTCUI. HE MILLER OF TROMFINGTON . POOR AND SURE THE OLD AND YOUNG COURTIER THE DUKE AND THE TINKER THE CONJURER COUSENED . JOLLY GOOD ALE AND OLD . THE LONDON VACATION A WEDDING OLD HOBSON AN HOLY SISTER A LOVER'S CHRONICLE A FRAGMENT OF SCIENCE . HOLLAND .... MR. MILD-AND-SLY " COME TO THE MAY-POLE !" GOOD WINE A GENTLEMAN AITTIIUR PAOE Geoffry Chaucer . 1 Sir Thomas Wyatt . . 7 From Perry's Reliqites of An- cient English Pottry . 10 From Percy's Reliqiies . 14 Samuel Rowlands . . . 17 From Gammer Giirton's FeeiUe 20 Sir William Darenant . . 22 Sir John Suckling . . 29 John Milton ... 34 Abraham Cowlry ... 37 Abraham Cowlty . . . 39 Samuel B tiler ... 43 Andrew Marcel . . . 4t> La Fontaine. Tratulited by E. Wright ... 48 From IVestmintttr Drullrry . 51 Francesco Redi. Translated by Jjtigh Hunt . . 55 Contents. A COAT OF ARMS . . . . BE NOT A WIT SAINT ANTHONY'S SERMON TO THE FISHES . A JOURNEY TO EXETER . . ., . BAD AUTHORS WORMS THE SPLENDID SHILLING .... THE WATER CURE THE TINKER AND GLAZIER .... THE THIEF AND CORDELIER A LADY'S DIARY . . A LOVE SONG. IN THE MODERN TASTE THE MERRY SOAP-BOILER .... THE VICAR OF BRAY . . . . A HUNTING WE WILL GO THE PEPPER-BOX AND SALT-CELLAR . THE HONEST MAN'S LITANY THE CHAMELEON THE JACKDAW THE PARROT GAFFER GRAY CUPID MISTAKEN ..... CAPTAIN (OF MILITIA) SIR BILBERRY DIDDLE THE Ass AND THE FLUTE .... THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION . THIRTY-FIVE THE GASCON PROLOGUE TO BARBAROSSA .... THE BARBER'S NUPTIALS .... MONSIEUR TONSON THE LITERARY LADY ..... THE CINDER-KING ..... LODGINGS FOR SINGLE GENTLEMEN THE NEWCASTLE APOTHECARY . THE TOPER AND THE FLIES THE APPLE DUMPLINGS AND A KING . THE PILGRIMS AND THE PEAS AUTHOR PACT. From Westminster Drollery . 56 Tom D'Urfey . . . 57 Abraham a Sancta Clura 58 John Gay .... 61 Alexander Pope . .67 Alexander Pope . . . 70 John Philips ... 72 William Harrison . . 77 William Harrison . . 81 Matthew Prior . . . 85 Jonathan Stcift ... 88 Jonathan Swift . . . 97 Frederick Hagedorn. Trans- lated by E, W. Taylor . 99 Unknown . . . . 103 Henry Fielding . . . 106 William Shenstone . . 109 From Gentleman 's Magazine . 113 James Merrick . . . 115 William Cowper . . . 118 William Cou-per . . . 120 Thomas Holcroft . . . 122 William Thompson . . 124 From Gentleman's Magazine . 125 Tomas De Yriarte. Translated by T.Roscoe . . 127 Oliver Goldsmith . . . 129 Samuel Johnson . . . 133 M.P.J.Charrin. Translated by W. H. Wills . . 134 David Garrick . . . 138 Unknown . . . . 141 Uncertain . . . . 145 Richard Brinsley Sht-riilan . 151 Matthew Gregory Lewis . 153 George Colman the Younger . 155 George Colman the Younger . 157 Dr. Walcot, (Peter Pindar} . 161 Dr. Walcot . . . . 163 Dr. Walcot . 165 Contents. Annm. >- i<> i in TIHII H vi in. TIIK DEVIL'S WALK . l>l I I v's 1'OCKET II AM'KI i:< Illl I COOL REFLECTIONS Till. LoVKR AND THE LAI'-DOG TIIK KMI i -t. KINDER Tin: !M\i K-IIV OF GOTTINGKN BEN BLOCK .'.... < l'l. 10 THE TllKAD-MILL MALBROOCK . . . TIIK LITTLE MAX ALL IN GKEY . THE PLAYHOUSE IN FLAMES THE VENTRILOQUIST . . . MINI UVA'S THIMBLE . A PUBLISHER'S EI-ISTLE . . . THE DEMON-SHI^ . . . FAITHLESS SALLY BROWN . . SI-RING. A NEW VERSION . A COUNTRY HOUSE PARTY . CAPTAIN PATON . . . THE RED FisiiKiiMAX . . . SALAD THE LITTLE VULGAR BOY . THE BELLE OF THE BALL THE COUNTRY CLERGYMAN'S TRII- SlR WlLKINS ET SA DlNAH . THE WONDERFUL ONE-HOSS-SHAY THE BALLAD OF ELIZA DAVIS THE BEAUTY AND THE BEE . THE ANNUITY .... ASK AND HAVE .... A LYRIC FOR LOVERS . . . . ODE TO BIG BEN .... A SEASONABLE STORY . H,Jxrt Bum* . . . UiH-t/ir. Tr,nilnti-d //// ./ >'. Dicight . . . Jiii-httrd Porton . . . Itolitrt Southry . . . l{nl,,rl Simlhty . . . S.iniml 7'ni/lnr Coir ridge . Georgt Canning . . . George Canning . . . Thomat Dibdin , . . Churlet Lamb . . . Unknown. Translated by II . It'. J. P. De Berangtr. Translated by Amelia B. Edwards . Horace Smith . . . Sir Walter Scott . . . Thomat Moore . . . Thomas Moore . . . Thomas Hood . . . Thomas Hood . . . Thomas Hood . . . Lord Byron . . . John Gibson Lockhart . . Winthorp Mackicorth Praed . Sydney Smith . . . Richard Harris Burliam . Albert Smith . . . I,ord Marattlny . . . Adapted by L. W. Dtsanges Oliver Wendtll Holmes . . W. M. Thacktnty . . Charles Mackay . . . George Outran . . . Samuel Lover . . . W. H. Wills ... W. H. W,lls ... Mark Lemon . . . 170 173 17 - , 178 181 183 186 188 190 197 199 204 205 207 209 212 215 218 234 2:).'i 240 244 248 251 268 270 272 274 THE MILLEK OF TKOMPINGTOX. OEOFFRY CHAUCER. T Trompington, not fer fro Cantebrigge, 1 Ther goth a brook, and over that a brigge, Upon the whiche brook ther stont a melle :- And this is veray sothe, that I you telle. A miller was ther dwelling many a day, As any peacok he was proude and gay : 1 Cambridge. 2 Stands a mill. The Miller ofTrompington. Pipen he coude, and fishc, and nettes bete, And turnen cuppes, and wrastlen wel, and shete. 1 Ay by bis belt be bare a long parade, And of a swerd ful trenchant was the blade. A joly popper bare he in his pouche ; Ther n'as no man for peril dorst him touche. A Shefeld thwitel 2 bare he in his hose. Round was his face, and camuse 3 was his nose. As pilled as an ape was his skull. He was a market-be ter 4 at the full. Ther dorste no wight bond upon him legge, That he ne swore he shuld anon abegge. A thefe he was forsoth, of corn and mele, And that a slie, and usant 5 for to stele. His name was hoten deinous Simekim. A wyf he hadde, comen of noble kin. Gret soken 6 hath this miller out of doute With whete and malt, of all the land aboute ; And namely ther was a gret college Men clepe 7 the Soler hall at Cantebrege, Ther was hir whete and eke hir malt yground. And on a day it happed in a stound, 8 Sike lay the manciple 9 on a maladie, Men wenden wisly that he shulde die. For which this miller stale both mele and corn An hundred times more fhan beforn. For therbeforn he stale but curteisly, But now he was a thefe outrageously. For which the werdein 10 chidde and made fare, But therof set the miller not a tare ; He craked host, and swore it n'as not so. Than were ther yonge poure scoleres two, That dwelten in the halle of which I say ; Testif they were, and lusty for to play ; Shoot. 2 Knife. 3 Flat. 4 Market- swaggerer. s Accustomed. 6 Pillage. 7 Called. 8 Suddenly. 9 Caterer. 10 Warden. 2 The Miller of Trompington. And only for hir mirth and rcvclrie Upon the- wunlein besily they crie, To ycvc hem Icvc but a litel stouml, To gon to mille, and seen hir 11 corn yground : Ami hardily they dorsten lay hir neeke, The miller shuld not stele hem half a peeke Of corn by slcighte, ne by force hem reve. And at the last the wardrin yave hrm leve : John highte that on, and Alein highte that other. Of o toun were they born, that highte Strothcr, Fer in the North, I can not tellen where. This Alein maketh redy all his gere, And on a hors the sack he cast anon : Forth goth Alein the clerk, and also John, AVith good swerd and with bokeler by hir side. John knew the way, him ncded not no guide, And at the mille the sak adoun he laith. Aleiu spake first ; All haile, Simond, in faith. How fares thy faire daughter, and thy wif ? Alein, welcome (quod Simkin) by my lif, And John also : how now, w r hat do ye here ? By God, Simond, (quod John) nede has no pei-e. Him behoves serve himself that has na swain, Or elles he is a fool, as clerkes sain. Our manciple I hope he wol be ded, Swa werkes ay the wanges 12 in his bed : And therfore is I come, and eke Alein, To grind our corn and cary it hame agein : I pray you spede us henen that ye may. It shal be don (quod Simkin) by my fa\ . What wol ye don while that it is in hand? 13y God, right by the hopper wol I stand, (Quod John) and seen how that the corn gas in. Yet saw I never by my fader kin, How that the hopper wagges til and fra. Alein answered ; John, and wolt thou MVU ? " Their. la Teetli. 'The Miller of Trompington. Thau wol I be benethe by my croun, And see how that the mele falles adoun In til the trogh, that shall be my disport : For, John, in faith I may ben of your sort ; The Miller ofTrompington. I is as ill a miller as is yc. This miller smiled at hir nicetee, And thought, all this n'is don but for a wile. They wenen 1 that no man may hem begile, But by my thrift yet shal I blere hir eie, For all the sleighte in hir philosophic. The more queintc knakkes that they make, The more wol I stele whan that I take. In stede of flour yet wol I yeve hem bren. The gretest clerkes ben not the wisest men, As whilom to the wolf thus spake the mare : Of all hir art nc count I not a tare. Out at the dorc he goth ful prively, Whan that he saw his time, softely. He loketh up and doun, til he hath found The clerkes hors, ther as he stood ybound Behind the mille, under a levesell : 8 And to the hors he goth him faire and well, And stripeth of the bridel right anon. And whan the hors was laus, he gan to gon Toward the fen, ther wilde mares renne, And forth, with wehec, thurgh thick and thin no. This miller goth again, no word he said, But doth his note, and with these clerkes plaid, Till that hir corn was faire and wel yground. And whan the mele is sacked and ybound, This John goth out, and fint his hors away, And gan to crie, harow and wala wa ! Our hors is lost : Alein, for Goddes banes, Step on thy feet ; come of, man, al at anes : Alas ! our wardein has his palfrey lorn. This Alein al forgat both mele and corn ; Al was out of his mind his husbandrie : What, whilke way is he gon ? he gan to crie. The wif came leping inward at a renne, She sayd ; Alas ! youre hors goth to the fennc 1 Suppose. * Arbour. I \ The Miller of Tromplngton. With wilde mares, as fast as he may go. Unthank come on his hand that bond him so, And he that better shuld have knit the rein. Alas ! (quod John) Alein, for Cristes pein Lay doun thy swerd, and I shal min alswa. I is ful wight, God wate, as is a ra. 1 By Goddes saule he shal not scape us bathe. Why ne had thou put the capel in the lathe ? Ill haile, Alein, by God thou is a fonne. These sely clerkes ban ful fast yronne Toward the fen, bothe Alein and eke John : And whan the miller saw that they were gon, He half a bushel of hir flour hath take, And bad his wif go knede it in a cake. He sayd ; I trow, the clerkes were aferde, Yet can a miller make a clerkes berde, 2 For all his art. Ye, let hem gon hir way. Lo wher they gon. Ye, let the children play : They get him not so lightly by my croun. These sely clerkes rennen up and doun With kepe, kepe ; stand, stand ; jossa, warderere. Ga whistle thou, and I shal kepe him here. But shortly, til that it was veray night They coude not, though they did all hir might, Hir capel catch, he ran alway so fast : Til in a diche they caught him at the last. Wery and wet, as bestes in the rain, Cometh sely John, and with him cometh Alein. Alas (quod John) the day that I was borne ! Now are we driven til hething 3 and til scorne. Our corn is stolne, men wol us fonnes 4 calle, Both the wardein, and eke our felawes alle. 1 Uoe. 2 " Share," cant for to cheat. 3 Contempt. 4 Fools. POOE AND SUKE. SIB THOMAS WYATT. 1 Y mothers maides when they do sowc and spinnc, They sing a song made of a feldishc mouse : - That for bicause her lieulod 3 was but thinne, Would nedes go see her townish sisters house. She thought herself endurde to greuous paine, The stormy blastes her caue 4 so sore did sowse ; That when the furrowse swimmed with the raiue, She must lye colde, and wet in sorry plight ; And worse then that, bare meate there did remaine, To comfort her, when she her house had dight. 1 Of Allington Castle, Kent; born 1503. Wyatt was a boon companion of Henry the Eighth. He died in 1541. 3 Field-mouse. 3 Livelihood. * Cave. 7 Poor and Sure. Some time a barley corne, sometime a beane, For which she laboured hard both day and night. In haruest time, while she might go and gleane, And when her store was 'stroyed with the floode, Then welaway for she undone was clene : Then was she faine to take, instede of foode Slepe if she might, her hunger to begile. My sister, quod she, hath a liuing good, And hence from me she dwelleth not a mile ; In colde and storme, she lyeth warme and drye In bed of downe ; the durt doth not defile Her tender fote, she labours not as I. Eichely she fedes, and at the riche man's cost, And for her meate she nedes not craue nor cry ; By sea, by land, of delicates the most Her cater sekes, and spareth for no perell : She fedes on boyle meate, bake meat, and rost, And hath therefore no whit of charge nor travell. And when she list, the licour of the grape Doth glad her hart, till that her belly swell, And at this iourney makes she but a iape. 5 So forth she goes, trusting of all thys wealth, With her sister her part so for to shape, That, if she might there kepe herself in health, To Hue a lady while her life doth last. And to the dore now is she come by stealth, And with her foote anone she scrapes full fast. Thother for feare durst not well scarse appeare ; Of euery noyse so was the wretch agast. At last, she asked softly who was there ? And in her language as well as she could, " Pepe" (quod the other) " sister, I am here." " Peace" (quod the towne mouse) " why speakest thou so loude ?' And by the hand she toke her faire and well, " Welcome," quod she, " my sister by the rode." 5 Jest. 8 Poor and Sure. She feasted her, that ioye it was to tell, The fare they had ; they drank the wyne so clerc. And as to purpose now and then it fell She chered her, with, " How, sister, what chere?" Amid this ioy hefell a sory chance, That, welaway, the stranger bought full dere, The fare she had ; for, as she lookte a skauce, Under a stole she spied two shining eyes In a rounde head, with sharp cares : in France Was never mouse so feard, for the vnwisc Had not ysene such a heast hefore, Yet had nature taught her after gise To know her fo, and dred him euermore ; The toune mouse fled, she knew whither to go. The other had no shift, but wonders sore ; Feard of her life, at home she wisht her tho', And to the dore, alas ! as she did skippe, The Heaven it would, lo ! and eke her chance was so, At the threshold her sely fote did trippe, And, ere she might recouer it again, The traytour cat had caught her by the hippe, And made her there against her wyll remaiue, That hath forgot her power suertie, and rest, For seking welth, wherin she thought to raigue. THE OLD AND YOUNG COURTIEK. N old song made by an aged old pate, 1 Of an old worshipful gentleman, who had a greate estate, That kept a hrave old house at a bountiful rate, And an old porter to relieve the poor at his gate ; Like an old courtier of the queen's, And the queen's old courtier. With an old lady, whose anger one word asswages ; They every quarter paid their old servants their wages, And never knew what belong'd to coachmen, footmen, nor pages. But kept twenty old fellows with blue coats and badges ; Like an old courtier, fcc. With an old study fill'd full of learned old books, With an old reverend chaplain, you might know him by his looks. With an old buttery hatch worn quite off the hooks, And an old kitchen, that maintaiu'd half-a-dozen old cooks : Like an old courtier, no rust. Inil a mit-hruwn tu>ti- And a rral> lavdr in tin- I'viv ; A lytlt' bread shall do me stead ; Much bread I not dc>\iv. No froste nor snow, no winde, I trow, Can hurt me if I wolde, I am so wrapt, and throwly lapt, Of joly good ale and old. Back and syde go bare, go bare, fec. And Tyb, my wyfe, that, aa her lyfe, Loveth well good ale to seeke, Full ofte drinkcs shee, tyll ye may see The teares run doun her cheeke ; Then doth she trowle 1 to mce the bowle, Even as a malt worme shuld ; And sayth, Sweethart, I took my part Of this joly good ale and oldc. Back and syde go bare, go bare, kc. Now let them drynke tyll they nod and wynke Even as good fellowes shoulde doe, They shall not misse to have the blisse, Good ale doth bringe men to ; And all poor soules that have scowred bowles Or have them lustily trolde, God gave the lyves of them and their wyves, Whether they be younge or olde. Back and syde go bare, go bare, Both foote and hande go colde ; But, belly, God sende thee good ale ynoughe, Whether it be newe or old. 1 Pass. THE LONPON VACATION. SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT. OW Town-wit sayes to witty friend, " Transcribe apace all thou hast pen'd For I in journey hold it fit, To cry thee up to countrey-wit. Our mules are come ! dissolve the club ! The word, till term, is, ' Rub, rub !'" Now gamster poor, in cloak of stammel, 1 Mounted on steed, as slow as cammel, Battoone of crab in luckless hand, (Which serves for bilboe and for wand) Early in morne does sneak from town, Least landlord's wife should seise on crown : On crown, which he in pouch does keep, When day is done, to pay for sleep ; 1 Or stamin, a woollen cloth. 22 The London Vacation. Kill- lit- ill julinirv liolililit <- rat. llo-t >|iic-i liini runir. n\r~. Sir. what incut?' He calls for room and down lie lies. Quoth host. " Xo supper, sir?" He rries 'The London Vacation. " I eate no supper ; fling on rug ! I'm sick, d'you hear? Yet, bring a jug ! " Now damsel young, that dwels in Cheap, ' For very joy begins to leap : Her elbow small she oft does rub, Tickled with hope of sillabub ; For mother, (who does gold maintain On thumbe, and keys of silver chaine) In snow white clout, wraps nook of pye, Fat capon's wing, and rabbit's thigh, And says to Hackney coachman, " Go Take shillings six, say I, or no." " Whither?" says he. Quoth she " Thy teame Shall drive to place where groweth creame." But husband gray now comes so stall For prentice notch'd he straight does call : " Where's dame ? " quoth he. Quoth son of shop, " She's gone her cake in milk to sop." " Ho, ho ! to Islington ! Enough ! Fetch Job, my son, and our dog Ruffe ! For there in pond, through mire and muck, We'll cry ' Hay, duck ! There, Ruffe ! Hay, duck ! '" 2 Now man that trusts, with weary thighs, Seeks garret where small poet lies : He comes to Lane ; finds garret shut ; Then, not with knuckle, but with foot, He rudely thrusts ; would enter dores ; Though poet sleeps not, yet he snores : Cit chafes like beast of Libia ; then Sweares, he will not come nor send agen ; From little lump triangular Poor poets' sighs are heard afar. a The ponds near Shepherd and Shepherdess fields were used on Sundays for the cruel diversion of duck-hunting even in the present century. In these fields stands the Britannia Theatre, amidst a new and dense suburb, where, now, on Sundays, duck-hunting gives place to religious services. The London Vacation. Quoth he, " Do nolile number* eh.. To walk on feet, that have no shoes?" Then he doe- \\i>h \\itli fervent breath, And as his la-t ivi|iie-t ere death, Karh ode a hoiid, each madrigal, A lease from Haberdashers 1 Hall, Or that he had protected been At court, in list of chamberlain ; For wights near thrones care not an ace For Woodstreet friend, that weildeth mace, Courts pay no scores but when they list, And treasurer still has cramp in fist. Then forth he steales ; to Globe does run ; And smiles, and vowes, four acts are done : Finis to bring he does protest, Teh's ev'ry play'r his part is best. And all to get (as poets use) Some coyne in pouche to solace Muse. Now wight that acts on stage of Hull, In sk idlers' bark does lie at Hull Which he for pennies two docs rig, All day on Thames to bob for grig : Whilst fencer poor does by him stand, In old dung-lighter, hook in hand ; Between knees rod, with canvas crib, To girdle tied, close under rib ; Where worms are put, which must small h'sh Betray at night to earthen dish. Now London's chief, on saddle new. Rides into fair of Bartholomew ; He twirles his chain, and looketh big, As if to fright the head of pig, That gaping lies on greasy stall, Till female with great belly call. 25 The London Vacation. Now alderman in field does stand, With foot on trig, a quoit in hand : " I'm seaven" quoth he " the game is up ! Nothing I pay, and yet I sup." To alderman quoth neighbour then, " I lost but mutton, play for hen." But wealthy blade cryes out " At rate Of Kings, should'st play ! let's go ; tis late." Now lean atturney, that his cheese Ne'r par'd, nor verses took for fees ; And aged proctor, that controules The feats of punck in court of Paul's, Do each with solemn oath agree To meet in feilds of Finsbury : With loynes in canvas bow-case tyde, Where arrows stick with mickle pride ; With hats pinn'd up, and bow in hand All day most fiercely there they stand ; Like ghosts of Adam, Bell, and Clymme : Sol sets for fear they'l shoot at him. Now Spynie, Ralph, and Georgie small, And short hayr'd Stephen, whay-fac'd Paul, (Whose times are out, indentures torn) Who seaven long years did never skorue, To fetch up coales for maid to use, Wipe mistresses', and children'? shooes, Do jump for joy they are made free ; Hire meagre steeds, to ride and see Their parents old who dwell as near, As place call'd Peake in Derby-shire. There they alight, old croanes are milde ; Each weeps on cragg of pretty childe : They portions give, trades up to set, That babes may live, serve God and cheat. 26 The London Vacation. Near lioiisi' nf law by Temple Bar. Now man of man- raiv- nut Imw far Jn stockings blow he nmrchcth on, With velvet cape his cloock upon ; In girdle, scrowles, where names of some, Arc written down, whom touch of thumbc, On shoulder left, must safe* convoy, Anoying wights with name of Roy. Poor pris'ner's friend that sees the touch, Cries out aloud, " I thought as much." Now vaulter good, and dancing lass, On rope, and man that cries " Hey, pass," And tumbler young that needs but stoop, Lay head to heel to creep through hoopc ; And man in chimney hid to dress, Puppit that acts our old queen Bess, And man that whilst the puppits play, Through nose expendeth what they say, And man that does in chest include Old Sodom and Gomorrah lewd : And white oate-eater that does dwell ; In stable small, at sign of Bell : That lift up hoofe, to show the prancks, Taught by magitian, stiled Banks ; And ape, led captive still in chaine, Till he renounce the Pope and Spaine. All these on hoof now trudge from town, To cheat poor turnep-eating clown. Now man of war with visage red, Grows chollerick and sweares for bread. He sendeth note to man of kin, But man leaves word " I'm not within." He meets in street with friend cnll'd Will : And cryes " Old rogue ! what living still?" 27 The London Vacation. But er' that street they quite are past, He softly asks " What money hast?" Quoth friend " a crown ! " he cryes " Dear heart ? O base, no more, sweet, lend me part ! " But stay, my frighted pen is fled ; Myself through fear creep xinder bed ; For just as Muse would scribble more, Fierce city dunne did rap at door. EPIGRAM. [FEOM ROWLAND'S EPIGRAMS.] HE sanguine dye of Lesbia's painted face Is often argued for a doubtful case. The color's hers she sweares : not so some thought it, And true she swears : for I know where she bought it. 23 A WEDDING. 1 SIR JOHN srcKLIXG. TELL thee, Dick, where I have heen ; Where I the rarest things liave seen : Oh things without compare ! Such sights again cannot he found In any place on English ground, Be it at wake, or fair. At Charing Cross, hard by the way Where we (thou know'st) do sell our hay. Tin-re is a house with stairs ; c 1 The occasion of this poem is said to have been the marriage of Lord Broghill to Lady Margaret Howard, daughter of the Earl of Suffolk. * Suffolk House stood close to the foot of the Haymarket. Suffolk-street, Pall Mall, takes its name from it. 29 A Wedding. And there did I see coming; down Such folks as are not in our town ; Vorty at least, in pairs. 30 A Wedding. tin iv-t din- |>r>t'lrnt tine (His Ix'tinl no bignvr dm' ili.m thine) WulkM mi In-fore tin- iv-t : Our landlord looks like nothing to him ; The King (ri-lain Show'd him his room win-re he must lodge that night, Pull'd off his hoots, and took away the light : It' any ask for him, it shall he said, " Hobson has supp'd, and 's newly gone to bed." it. HERE licth one, who did most truly prove That he could never die while he could inuvc : So hung his destiny, never to rot While he might still jog on and keep his trot ; Made of sphere-metal, never to decay L'ntil his revolution was at stay. Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime 'Gainst old truth) motion number'd out his time : And, like an engine moved with wheel and weight, His principles being ceased, he ended straight. Rest, that gives all men life, gave him his death, And too much breathing put him out of breath : Nor were it contradiction to affirm, Too long vacation hasten'd on his term. Merely to drive the time away he sicken'd, Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quicken'd ; " Nay," quoth he, on his swooning bed out-stretch'd, " If I mayn't carry, sure I'll ne'er be fetch'd, But vow, though the cross doctors all stood hearers, For one carrier put down to make six bearers." Ease was his chief disease ; and, to judge right, He died for heaviness that his cart went light. His leisure told him that his time was come. And lack of load made his life burdensome, That even to his last breath (there be that say't ). As he were pre>*'d to death, lie eried, " .More weight;' Old Hob son. But, had his doings lasted as they were, He had been an immortal carrier. Obedient to the moon he spent his date In course reciprocal, and had his fate Link'd to the mutual flowing of the seas, Yet (strange to think) his wain was his increase : His letters are deliver'd all and gone, Only remains this superscription. EPIGEAM. [FROM WESTMINSTER DROLLERY. 1671.] WATCH lost in a tavern ! That's a Crime ; Then see how men by drinking lose their time. The Watch kept Time ; and if Time will away, I see no reason why the Watch should stay. You say the Key hung out, and you forgot to lock it, Time will not be kept pris'ner in a Pocket. Henceforth, if you will keep your Watch, this do, Pocket your Watch, and watch your Pocket, too. 86 AX HOLY SISTER. A UK A II AM ( IIWLKY. II K that can sit three sermons in a day. And of those three .-carce bear three words away She that can rob her husband, to repair A budget -pne.-t. that noses a Ions; praver : She that with lamp-black purities her shoes, And with half-eyes and Bible softlv An Holy Sister. She that her pockets with lay-gospel stuffs, And edifies her looks with little ruff's ; She that loves sermons as she does the rest, Still standing stiff that longest are the hest ; She that at christenings thirsteth for more sack, And draws the hroadest handkerchief for cake : She that sings psalms devoutly, next the street, And beats her maid i' th' kitchen, where none see't ; She that will sit in shop for five hours space, And register the sins of all that pass, Damn at first sight, and proudly dares to say, That none can possibly be sav'd but they That hang religion in a naked ear, And judge men's hearts according to their hair ; That could afford to doubt, who wrote best sense, Moses, or Dod on the commandments ; She that can sigh, and cry " Queen Elizabeth," Rail at the Pope, and scratch-out " sudden death :" And for all this can give no reason why : This is an holy-sister, verily. 38 A LOVER'S CHRONICLE. ABRAHAM COWLKY. AUGARITA first possess'd, If I remember well, my breast, Margarita first of all ; But wben awbile tbe wanton maid With my restless heart bad play'd, Martha took tbe flying ball. Martha soon did it resign To tbe beauteous Catharine. Beauteous Catharine <^ivc j>larlla fame. Ann'il \\itli a rc-i>tl<--> tlann-. And tli' artill'-ry of ln-r \-\<- : Whilst -In- proudly inaivh'd about, Greater conquests to find out, She beat out Susan hy the live. But in her place I then Black-eyed Bess, her viceroy-maid ; To whom ensued a vacaix-y : Thousand worse passions then posscss'd The interregnum of my breast ; Bless me from such an anarchy ! Gentle Henrietta theu, And a third Mary, next began ; Then Joan, and Jane, and Audria ; And then a pretty Thomasine, And then another Catharine, And then a long ft cattera. But should I now to you relate, The strength and riches of their state : The powder, patches, and the pins, The ribbons, jewels, and the rings, The lace, the paint, and warlike things, That make up all their magazines ; If I should tell the politic arts To take and keep men's hearts ; The letters, embassies, and spies, The frowns, and smiles, and flatteries, The quarrels, tears, and perjuries (Numberless, nameless, mysteries !) And all the little lime-twigs laid, By Machiavel the waiting-maid : I more voluminous should grow 41 A Lover's Chronicle. (Chiefly if I like them should tell All change of weathers that befell) Than Holinshed or Stow. But I will briefer with them be, Siuce few of them were long with me. An higher and a nobler strain My present Emperess does claim, Heleonora, first o' th' name ; Whom God grant long to reign ! EPIGRAM. [FROM DODSLEY'S TOY SHOP.] HIES Sylvia to a Reverend Dean, " What reason can be given, Since marriage is a holy thing, That there are none in Heaven ?" " There are no women," he reply'd, She quick returns the jest, " Women there are, but I'm afraid They cannot find a Priest." A FRAGMENT OF SCIENCE. SAMUEL BUTLEB. LEARNED man, 1 whom once a week A hundred virtuosos seek, And like an oracle apply to, T' ask questions, and admire, and lie to ; Who entertained them all of course, As men take wives for better or worse, And pass them all for men of parts Though some but sceptics in their hearts ; For when they're cast into a lump, Their equality must jump ; 1 In allusion, probably, to the meetings held at the house of Sir Kenelm Digby. The satire is levelled against certain members of the Royal Society. 43 A Fragment of Science. As metals mixed, the rich and base Do both at equal values pass. "With these the ordinary debate Was after news, and things of state, Which way the dreadful comet went 2 In sixty-four, and what it meant, What nations yet are to bewail The operations of its tail ? Why currents turn in seas of ice Some thrice a day and some but twice ; And why the tides at night and noon Court, like Caligula, the moon ? If grass be green, or snow be white, But only as they take the light ? Whether possessions of the devil, Or mere temptations, are most evil ? What is't that makes all fountains still Within the earth to run up hill, But on the outside down again, As if the attempt were made in vain ? Or what's the strange magnetic cause The steel, or Loadstone's drawn or draws The star, the needle, which the stone Has only been but touched upon? Whether the North-star's influence With both does hold intelligence ; (For red-hot iron, held towards the Pole Turns of itself to' t, when 'tis cool :) What makes the body of the sun That such a rapid course does run To draw no tail behind through th' air, As comets do, when they appear, Which other planets cannot do Because they do not burn, but glow ? Whether the moon be sea, or land, Or charcoal ; or a quench'd fire-brand ; 2 The comet which appeared on the 24th of December, 16C4. 44 A fragment of Science. Or if the dark holes that appear Ai.' milv Imivs, in.t cities then- ? Whether the atmo.-phcre turn round Ami keep a jn-t pace with the ground ; Or loiter lazily behind, And clot; the air with gust* of wind? Or whether ( 're-cent- in the Wane, (For so an author has it plain ) J)o burn quite? out. or wear away Their sniiHs upon the rdgt of day ? Whether the sen increase or wa-te, And if it do, how long 'twill last : Or if the sun approaches near The earth, how soon it will be here? These were the learned speculations And all their constant occupations To measure wind, and weigh the air, And turn a circle to a square, To make a powder of the sun, By which all doctors should b' undone ; To find the north-west passage out Although the farthest way about ; If chemists from a rose's ashes, ('.in raise a rose itself, in gases? "Whether the line of incidence Rise from the object, or the sense ? To stew the elixir in a bath Of Hope, Credulity, and Faith; To explicate by subtle hints The grain of diamonds and flint< : And, in the braying of an a-s Find out the treble and the bass ; If mares neigh alto, and a cow A double diapason low. 4 HOLLAND. ANDREW MARVEL. OLLAND, that scarce deserves the name of land, As but the off-scouring of the British sand ; And so much earth as was contributed By English pilots, when they heaved the lead ; Or what by the ocean's slow alluvion fell, Of shipwrecked cockle and the mussel-shell. Glad then, as miners who have found the ore, They, with mad labour, fish'd the land to shore ; And dived as desperately for each piece Of earth, as if it had been of ambergreece ; Collecting anxiously small loads of clay, Less than what building swallows bear away ; Or than those pills which sordid beetles rowl, Transferring into them their dunghill soul. 46 Holland. Ami to tin- -take a -truggling rountry humid. Where harking wave- -till hait tin- fun-ed ground; Building their wat'i y liabel far inure high To catch tin- waves than those to scale thr -ky. ^ et still his claim tin- injured ocean laved. And nft at leap-frog o'er their steeples played ; AH if on purpose it on land had eomc To show them what's their ,/pu--e--ei|. And sat, not as a meat, but as a gue-t ; And oft the Tritons, and the sea-nymphs, saw Whole shoals of Dutch served up for eahillan ; c Or, as they over the new level ranged. For pickled herring, pickled Ileeren changed. Nature, it seem'd, asham'd of her mistake, Would throw their land away at duck and drake : Therefore necessity, that first made kings, Something like government among them brings ; For as with pigmys, who best kills the crane, Among the hungry he that treasures grain, Among the blind the one-eyed blinkard reigns, So rules among the drowned he that drains. Not who first sees the rising sun, commands ; But who could first discern the rising lands. Who Invst could know to pump an earth so leak. Him they their lord and country's father s|eak. To make a bank was a great plot of state ; Invent a shovel, and be a magistrate. 1 A free ocean ; for which the Dutch jurists were then contending with the ilish. * Fresh cod. MR. MILD-AND-SLY. LA FONTAINE. TRANSLATED BY ELIZUR WRIGHT. STORY- WRITER of our sort Historifies, in short, Of one that may be reckoned A Rodilard the Second, The Alexander of the cats, The Attila, the scourge of rats, Whose fierce and whiskered head Among the latter spread, A league around, its dread ; Who seemed, indeed, determined The world should be unvermined. The planks with props more false than slim, The tempting heaps of poisoned meal, 48 Mr. Mild-and-Sly. The traps of win- and trap* of steel, Were only play, compared with him. At length. >o >adly wen- they scared, The rats and mice no longer dared To show their thievish fur,-* Outside their hiding-places, Thus slimming all pursuit ; win-feat Our crafty (ieiieral Cat Contrived to hang himself, as dead, Beside the wall, with downward head, Resisting gravitation's laws By flinging with his hinder claws To some small hit of string. The rats esteemed the thing A judgment for some naughty deed, Sonic- thievish snatch, Or ugly scratch ; And thought their foe had got his meed By being hung indeed. With hope elated all Of laughing at his funeral, They thrust their noses out in air ; And then to show their heads they dare, Now dodging hack, now venturing more. At last, upon the larder's store They fall to filching, as of yore. A scanty feast enjoyed these shallows ; Down dropped the hung one from his gallows, And of the hindmost caught. " Some other tricks to me are known," Said he, while tearing bone from bone, " By long experience taught ; The point is settled, free from doubt, That from your holes you shall come out." His threat as good as prophecy Was proved by Mr. Mild-and-sly ; For, putting on a mealy robe, 49 u Mr. Mild-and-Sly. He squatted in an open tub, And held his purring and his breath ; Out came the vermin to their death. On this occasion, one old stager, A rat as gray as any badger, Who had in battle lost his tail, Abstained from smelling at the meal ; And cried, far off, " Ah ! General Cat, I much suspect a heap like that. Your meal is not the thing, perhaps, For one who knows somewhat of traps ; Should you a sack of meal become, I'd let you be, and stay at home." Well said, I think, and prudently, By one who knew distrust to be The parent of security. "COME TO THE MAY-POLK:" [FROM WKSTMIXSTKU < >\1 1-1. l.a-st- Mini I .MI!-, -ret leave (if your Dads, And away to the May-polo hie, For every fair has a sweetheart there, Ami the fiddler's standing l>y. For Willy shall dance with Jane, And Johnny has got his Joan, To trip it, trip it, trip it, trip it, Trip it up and down. Strike up, says Wat : agreed, says Matt, And I prithee, fiddler, play ; Content, says Hodge, and so says Madge, For this is a holiday. Then every lad did doff His hat unto his lass, And every girl did eurtsey, curtsey, Curtsey on the grass. , says Hal : aye, aye, says Mall. We'll lead up PatJri*gton'$ Poim-l : No, no, says Noll, and so says Doll, We'll first have Bellinger's 1 Mr. W. Chappell, in his admirable work on Popular Mu llii'Ji, and so says Sue, And -ii -:i\- e\.TV one. The fiddler then began To play the tune again. And every girl did trip it. trip it, Trip it to the men. Let's kiss, says Jane, content, says Nan, And so says every she ; How many? says ]iatt, why three, says Matt, For that's a maiden's fee. The men, instead of three, Did give them half a score ; The maids in kindness, kindness, kindness, Gave 'em as many more. Then, after an hour, they went to a bow'r, And play'd for ale and cakes ; And kisses too, until they were due The lasses held the stakes. The girls did then begin To quarrel with the men, And bade them take their kisses back, And give them their own again. Now there they did stay the whole of the day, And tired the fiddler quite With dancing and play, without any pay, From morning until night. They told the fiddler then They'd pay him for his play, Then each a twopence, twopence, twopence, Gave him, and went away. Good night, says Harry, good night, says Mary ; Good night, says Dolly to John : 53 Come to the May -pole. Good night, says Sue, to her sweetheart, Hugh ; Good night, says every one. Some walk'd, and some did run ; Some loiter'd on the way, And bound themselves by kisses twelve To meet the next holiday. EPIGEAM. SAMUEL BUTLEH. HE jolly members of a toping club Like pipe-staves are, but hoop'd into a tub ; And in a close confederacy link For nothing else, but only to hold drink. <-. GOOD WINE A GENTLEMAN. FHAXCESCO REDI. TRANSLATED BY LEIGH HIM . BOYS, this Tuscan land divine Hath such a natural talent for wine. We'll fall, we'll fall On the barrels and all ; We'll fall on the must, we'll fall on tin- presses. We'll make the boards groan with our grievous caresses ; Xo measure, I say ; no order, but riot ; No waiting nor cheating : we'll drink like a Sciot: Drink, drink, and drink when you've done ; Pledge it and frisk it, every one ; Chirp it and challenge it, swallow it down : lie that's afraid is a thief and a down. Good Wine a Gentleman. Good wine's a gentleman ; He speedeth digestion all he can ; No headache hath he, no headache, I say, For those who talked with him yesterday. A COAT OF AEMS. [FROM WESTMINSTER DROLLERY.] 1 GREAT pretender to gentility Came to a herald for his pedigree : Beginning there to swagger, roar, and swear, Requir'd to know what arms he was to bear. The herald, knowing what he was, begun To rumble o'r his heraldry ; which done, Told him he was a gentleman of note, And that he had a very glorious coat. " Prithee, what is't?" quoth he, " and take your fees." " Sir," says the herald, " 'tis two rampant trees, One couchant ; and, to give it further scope, A ladder passant, and a pendant rope. And, for a grace unto your blue-coat sleeves, There is a bird i' th' crest that strangles thieves." 56 UK N)T A WIT. TOM D'tTlFEY. FATHER, says Dick, could you taste the delights That myself and companions enjoy at nights, \\Viv you once but to hear the conundrums and quibbles, The retorts and the puns, the lampoons and the libels, The rhymes, repetitions, the songs, and the catches, The whims and the flirts, and the smart witty touches, That over the flask we most lovingly vent, You would think a whole night most gloriously spent ; And wou'd guess by our wit, and the course that we follow, We cou'd all be no less than the sons of Apollo. Ah ! Dick, says the father, take care, I intreat ye, Thou'dst better be hang'd of the two than be witty ; For if thou'rt once thought, by thy studies and labours, To've acquir'd more wit than the rest of thy neighbours, Thou'lt be sneer'd at by fools, and be fear'd by thy betters, And hunted about by rogues, bailiffs, and setters. Thy lodging must be in some nine-penny garret, Thy drink . porter's guzzle much oftener than claret ; Thy coat must through all the four seasons be worn, Till it's robb'd of its lap like a sheep newly shorn ; You must always seem pleasant, that is, if you can, Keep your wits ready prim'd for a flash in the pan : When your pockets are empty, your brains must project Puns, quibbles, and tales, to supply the defect ; That whenever you meet with a generous chub, You may sneak out a jest in the room of your club : For a wit is no more than a merry Tom Fool, A satirical scourger, or a flattering tool. SAINT ANTHONY'S SEKMON TO THE FISHES. SANCTA CLARA. AINT ANTHONY at church Was left in the lurch, So he went to the ditches And preached to the fishes. They wriggled their tails, In the sun glanced their scales. Saint Anthony's Sermon to the Fishes. Tin- r;ii-|>-. with their spawn, Are nil thither drawn ; 1 la\c opened their jaws, Eager for each clan No sermon beside ll.i-l the carps so edified. Sharp-snouted ]iik-. \\ In* keep fighting like tikes, Now swam up harmonious To hear Saint Antonius. No sermon beside Hud the pikes so edified. And that very odd fish, Who loves fast-days, the cod-fish, The stock-fish, I mean, At the sermon was seen. No sermon beside Had the cods so edified. Good eels and sturgeon, Which aldermen gorge on, Went out of their way To hear preaching that day. No sermon beside Had the eels so edified. Crabs and turtles also, Who always move slow, Made haste from the bottom, As if the devil hat! got 'em. No sermon beside Had the crabs so edified. 59 Saint Anthony's Sermon to the Fishes. Fish great and fish small, Lords, lackeys, and all, Each looked at the preacher Like a reasonable creature. At God's word, They Anthony heard. The sermon now ended, Each turned and descended ; The pikes went on stealing, The eels went on eeling. Much delighted were they, But preferred the old way. The crabs are backsliders, The stock-fish thick-siders, The carps are sharp-set, All the sermon forget. Much delighted were they, But preferred the old way. 60 A JOURNEY TO KXKTKR. JOHN GAY. 'WAS on flu- iliiy wlirn c-ity ton>a<-hs know the hour to cat.. Who rim foisake thy \valN, and not admin' The proud cathedral, and the lofty spire? What .sempstress IMS not proved thy scissars good '.' From hcnco first cninr th' intriguing riding-hood. Amid three hoarding-schools well atock'd with misses, Shall three knight-en-ants starve for want of kisses ? 3 O'er the green turf 4 the miles slide swift away, And Blandford ends the labours of the day. The morning rose ; the supper reck'ning paid, And our due fees discharged to man and maid, The ready ostler near the stirrup stands, And as we mount, our half-pence load his hands. Now the steep hill fair Dorchester o'erlooks, Border'd by meads, and wash'd by silver brooks. Here sleep my Iwo companions, eyes supprest, And propt in elbow chairs they snoring rest : I weary sit, and with my pencil trace Their painful postures, and their eyeless face ; Then dedicate each glass to some fair name, And on the sash the diamond scrawls my flame. Now o'er true Roman way our horses sound, Grscvius would kneel, and kiss the sacred ground. On either side low fertile vallies lie, The distant prospects tire the travelling eye. Through Bridport's stony lanes our rout we take, And the proud steep descend to Morcombe's lake. As herses pass'd, our landlord robb'd the pall, And with the mournful scutcheon hung his hall. On unadulteratc wine we here regale, * Salisbury was the head quarters of cutlery until supplanted by Sheffield. In the old copy from which this Epistle to the Earl of Burlington is abridged, it is thought worthy of attestation in a note that Salisbury actually contained " three" ladies' schools. 4 Salisbury plain. 63 A 'Journey to Exeter. And strip the lobster of his scarlet mail. We climb'd the hills, when starry night arose, And Axminster affords a kind repose. 64 A "Journey to KxvAv. The maid -uhdu'd U !.<-. li,-r trunk unlock-. And ui\e- the eleanly uiil of douhi- -moek-. Meantime- mil- .-I i irN her Ini-y linger- ml. While the -nap lather- uYr tin- foaming tnli. \\ e ri-e. din- heard- demand the harher'- art ; A female enter-. and performs the part. The weighty golden rliain adorn- her mrk. And tin re ^\ all their winding play; Tln-ii fun-ciciK-c is a worm within, Thut gnaw* thrm night and day. Ah, Moore ! thy skill were well employ'd, And greater gain would ri-r If thou eould'.st make the courtier void The worm that never dies. Thou only canst our fate adjourn Some few short years, no more ; E'en Button's wits to worms shall turn, Who maggots were before. 71 THE SPLENDID SHILLING. JOHN PHILIPS. APPY the man who, void of cares and strife, In silken or in leathern purse retains A Splendid Shilling ! he nor hears with pain New oysters cried, nor sighs for cheerful ale ; But with his friends, when nightly mists arise, To Juniper's Magpie, or Town-Hall l repairs ; Where, mindful of the nymph, whose wanton eye Transfix'd his soul, and kindled amorous flames, Chloe, or Phillis ; he each circling glass Wisheth her health, and joy, and equal love. Meanwhile, he smokes, and laughs at merry tale Or pun ambiguous, or conundrum quaint : But I, whom griping penury surrounds, And hunger, sure attendant upon want, With scanty offals and small acid tiff (Wretched repast !) my meagre corpse sustain, Then solitary walk, or doze at home In garret vile, and with a warming puff Ilegale chill'd fingers, or from tube as black As winter-chimney or well-polish'd jet Exhale mundungus, ill perfuming scent ! Not blacker tube, nor of a shorter size, Smokes Cambro-Briton (versed in pedigree. Spiling from Cadwallader and Arthur, kings 1 Two noted alehouses at Oxford in 1700. T/ie Splendid Shilling. Full famuu- in niiiiantii- lair) when li- O'er many a miii'iTy liill ami harrcn rliH'. of famed Ccstriaii The Splendid Shilling. High overshadowing rides, with a design To vend his wares, or at th' Arvonian mart Or Maridunum, or the ancient town Ycleped Brechinia, or where Vaga's stream Encircles Ariconium, fruitful soil ! Whence flow nectareous wines, that well may vie With Massic, Setin, or renown'd Falern. Thus, while my joyless minutes tedious flow, With looks demure and silent pace, a Dun, Horrible monster ! hated by gods and men, To my aerial citadel ascends. With vocal heel thrice thundering at my gate, With hideous accent thrice he calls. I know The voice ill-boding, and the solemn sound. What should I do, or whither turn? Amazed, Confounded, to the dark recess I fly Of wood-hole. Straight my bristling hairs erect Through sudden fear, a chilly sweat bedews My shuddering limbs, and (wonderful to tell !) My tongue forgets her faculty of speech ; So horrible he seems ! His faded brow, Intrench'd with many a frown, and conic beard. And spreading band, admired by modern saints, Disastrous acts forbode. In his right hand Long scrolls of paper solemnly he waves, With characters and figures dire inscribed, Grievous to mortal eyes : (ye Gods ! avert Such plagues from righteous men !) Behind him stalks Another monster not unlike himself, Sullen of aspect, by the vulgar call'd A Catchpole, whose polluted hands the gods With force incredible and magic charms Erst have endued : if he his ample palm Should haply on ill-fated shoulder lay Of debtor, straight his body, to the touch Obsequious, (as whilom knights were wont) To some enchanted castle is convey'd, 7-1 -The Splendid Shilling. Where irati- impregnable anil cociciw chain- In durance -diet detain him, till, in form Of Money. Palla- -et- tin- eaptixe five. Me ware, ye Debtor- ! \\hen ye walk. hev\.u. . Me dnOMpeot; oft with in-idiou> ken Tin- caitiff eyes your stops aloof, and oft Lies perdue in a nook or gloomy cave. Prompt to enchant >ome inadvertent wretch With his unhallow'd touch. So. poet- sing, (irimalkin, t< domestic vermin sworn An everlasting foe, with watchful eye Lies nightly brooding o'er a clunky gap, Protending her fell claws, to thoughtless mice Sure ruin ; so her discmbowell'd web Arachne in a hall or kitchen spreads, ( >li\ ious to vagrant flies ; she secret stands Within her woven cell ; the humming prey, Kegardless of their fate, rush on the toils Inextricable, nor will aught avail Their arts or arms, or shapes of lovely hue : The wasp insidious and the buzzing drone, And butterfly, proud of expanded wings Distinct with gold, entangled in her snares, Useless resistance make : with eager strides She towering flies to her expected spoils ; Then, with envenom'd jaws the vital blood Drinks of reluctant foes, and to her cave Their bulky carcasses triumphant drags. So pass my days; but when nocturnal shade- Tins world envelope, and th' inclement air Persuades men to repel lienumming frosts With pleasant wines, and crackling blaze of wood : Me. lonely sitting, nor the glimmering light Of make-weight candle, nor the jvou> talk Of loving friend delights; distress'd, forlorn. Amidst the horrors of the tedious night Darkling I sigh, and feed with dismal thought- 'The Splendid Shilling. My anxious mind ; or sometimes mournful verso Indite, and sing of groves and myrtle shades, Or desperate lady near a purling stream, Or lover pendent on a willow-tree. Meanwhile, I labour with eternal drought, And restless wish, and rave ; my parched throat Finds no relief, nor heavy eyes repose ; But, if a slumber haply does invade My weary limbs, my fancy 's still awake, Thoughtful of drink, and eager, in a dream Tipples imaginary pots of ale In vain : awake, I find the settled thirst Still gnawing, and the pleasant phantom curse. THE WATER (THE. WI 1.1. 1 AM IIAIUUSOX. ISS Molly, a funiM Toast, was fair ami vouiig. Had wealth ami charms hut then she hail a tongue From mom to night th' eternal lanim run. Which often lost those hearts her eyes had won. Sir John was smitten, and confess'd his flame, Sigh'd out the usual time, then wed the dame : I'ossess'd, he thought, of ev'ry joy of life : Hut his dear Molly prov'd a very wife. Excess of fondness did in time decline : Madam lov'd money, and the knight lov'd wine; Frum whence some petty discord would ari.-e. As " You'i*o a fool !'* and, " You are mighty wi-r !" 'The Water Cure. Though he, and all the world, allow'd her wit, Her voice was shrill, and rather loud than sweet ; When she began, for hat and sword he'd call, Then, after a faint kiss, cry, " B'ye, dear Moll : Supper and friends expect me at the Rose." " And what, Sir John, you'll get your usual dose ! Go, stink of smoke, and guzzle nasty wine : Sure, never virtuous love was us'd like mine ! " Oft as the watchful bellman march'd his round, At a fresh bottle, gay Sir John he found. By four the knight would get his business done, And only then reel'd oif because alone. Full well he knew the dreadful storm to come ; But arm'd with Bourdeaux, he durst venture home. My lady with her tongue was still prepar'd, She rattled loud, and he, impatient, heard : " 'Tis a fine hour ! in a sweet pickle made ! And this, Sir John, is every day the trade. Here I sit moping all the live long night, Devour' d with spleen, and stranger to delight ; 'Till morn sends staggering home a drunken beast, Resolv'd to break my heart as well as rest." " Hey ! hoop ! d'ye hear my curs'd obstreperous spouse ? What, can't ye find one bed about the house ? Will that. perpetual clack lie never still? That rival to the softness of a mill ! Some couch and distant room must be my choice, Where I may sleep uncurs'd with wife and noise." Long this uncomfortable life they led, With snarling meals, and each a separate bed. To an old uncle oft she would complain, Beg his advice, and scarce from tears refrain. 78 Water Cure. Old WUewood Miiok'd llic matter i\- it wa* ; Cheer up," cry'd he, " ami I'll remove tin- -aii-e. \ \\Minrriiii- >prinu within my garden tlo\\~. Of sovereign \iitne. chiefly tu coni|i08G Domestic jars, and niatriinutiial strife; 'I'lii- best t-lixir t' appease man ami wife: Strange are th' effects ; tin- qualities ilivim- ; 'Tis water call'd, Init wm-tli it- weight in wine. If in his sullen airs Sir .lulm should come. Three spoonfuls take, hold in your month then mum ; Smile, and look pleas'd. when he shall ra^e and -cold ; Still in your mouth the healing cordial hold ! One month this sympathetic medVin try'd, He'll grow a lover; you a happy hride. But, dearest niece, keep this grand secret close. Or every prattling hussy '11 beg a dose." A water bottle's brought for her relief : Not Nantz could sooner ease the lady's grief. Her busy thoughts are on the trial bent, And female like, impatient for th' event. The bonny knight reels home exceeding clear, Prepar'd for clamour and domestic war ; Entering, he cries, " Hey ! whore's our thundeivr fled ! Xo hurricane ! Betty, 's your lady dead ?" .Madam, aside, an ample mouthful take>. C'urt'sies, looks kind, but not a word she speak- : Wondering, he stares, scarcely his eyes Keliev'd, But found his ears agreeably deceiv'd. ' Why how now, Molly, what's the crotchet now?" She smiles, and answers only with a bow. Then, clasping her about. Why let me die ! These night cloaths, Moll, become thee mightily !" With that he sigh'd. her hand began to \>: And I'.ettx call> her lady to undre. The Water Cure. For many days these fond endearments past, The reconciling bottle fails at last ; 'T\vas used and gone. Then midnight storms arose, And looks and words the union discompose. Her coach is order'd, and post haste she flies, To beg her uncle for some fresh supplies ; Transported does the strange effects relate, Her knight's conversion, and her happy state. " Why niece," says he, " I pr'ythee apprehend, The water's water be thyself the friend. Such beauty would the coldest husband warm ; But your provoking tongue undoes the charm : Be silent, and complying; you'll soon find, Sir John without a med'cine will be kind." 80 THE TINKER AND GLAXIKIJ. \\II.I.IAM HARHISOX. WO thirsty souls met on a sultry day, One Glazier Dick, the other Tom the Tinker ; Both with light purses, but with spirits gay ; And hard it were to name the sturdiest drinker. Their ale they quatf'd ; And, as they swigg'd the nappy, They both agreed, 'tis said, That trade was wond'rous dead. They jok'd, sung, laugh'd. And were completely happy. 81 M The Tinker and Glacier. The Landlord's eye, bright as his sparkling ale, Glisten'd to see them the brown pitcher hug ; For ev'ry jest, and song, and merry tale, Had this blithe ending " Bring us t'other mug." Now Dick the Glazier feels his bosom burn, To do his friend, Tom Tinker, a good turn ; And, where the heart to friendship feels inclin'd, Occasion seldom loiters long behind. The kettle, gaily singing on the fire, Gives Dick a hint, just to his heart's desire : And, while to draw more ale the Landlord goes, Dick, in the ashes, ah 1 the water throws ; Then puts the kettle on the fire again, And at the Tinker winks, As " Trade's success ! " he drinks, Nor doubts the wish'd success Tom will obtain. Our Landlord ne'er could such a toast withstand ; So, giving each kind customer a hand, His friendship, too, display'd, And drank " Success to trade !" But, O how pleasure vanish'd from his eye, How long and rueful his round visage grew, Soon as he saw the kettle's bottom fly, Solder the only fluid he could view ! He rav'd, he caper'd, and he swore, And cursed the kettle's body o'er and o'er, " Come ! come !" says Dick, " fetch us, my friend, more ale: All trades, you know, must live : Let's drink ' May trade with none of us, e'er fail ! ' The job to Tom, then, give ; And, for the ale he drinks, our lad of mettle, Take my word for it, soon will mend your kettle." The Landlord yields ; but hopes 'tis no offence, To curse the trade, that thrives at his expence. 82 The Tinker and Glazier. Tom iiiiilrriiiko tin- j..l: to work heroes; And just concludes it, with tin- ev'ning'g close. Souls so congenial had friends Tom and I>i. k. Karh might l>e fairly cull'd a loving broth, i : Thought Tom, to serve my friend 1 know a trick. And one good turn in truth de-serves another! Out now he slily slips, I '-in not a word he said. The plot was in his head, And off he nimbly trips. Swift to the neighb'ring church his way he takes ; Nor in the dark, Misses his mark, But ev'ry pane of glass he quickly breaks. Back as he goes, His bosom glows, To think how great will be his friend Dick's joy, At getting so much excellent employ. Retum'd, he beckoning, draws his friend aside, Importance in his face, And to Dick's ear his mouth applied, Thus briefly states the case. " Dick ! I may give you joy, you're a made man ; I've done your business most complete, my friend : I'm oft'! the devil may catch me, if he can, Each window of the church you've got to mend ; Ingratitude's worst curse my head befall, If, for your sake, I have not broke them all ! " Tom with surprize, sees Dick turn pole, Who deeply sighs " O, la ! " Then drops his under jaw, And all his pow'rs of utt'rance fail : While horror in his ghastly face, And bursting eye-bolls, Tom can trace ; Whose sympathetic muscles, just and true, 83 'The Tinker and Glazier. Share with his heart, Dick's unknown smart, And two such phizzes ne'er met mortal view. At length, friend Dick his speech regain'd, And soon the mystery explain'd " You have, indeed, my business done ! And I, as well as you, must run : For let me act the best I can, Tom ! Tom ! I am a ruin'd man. Zounds ! zounds ! this piece of friendship costs me dear, I always mend church windows by the year ! " EPIGBAM. MATTHEW PRIOR. YES, every poet is a fool, By demonstration Ned can show it Happy, could Ned's inverted rule Prove every fool to be a poet. 81 Till-: THIEF AND CORDELIER. MAITllKW I'HKtlt. HO has e'er been at Paris mu>t iiml- know the frrevt, The fatal retreat of th' unfortunate brave. \\ lien? honour and justice most oddly contribute To ea-e heroes' pains hy a halter and giblet. There death breaks the shackles which force had put on, And the hangman completes what the judge but begun : There the Squire of the Pad and the Knight of the IV-t. Find their pains no more balk'd, and their hoj>e.s no more cross'd. Great claims are there made, and great sn-ivts .-ire known, And the king, and the law, and the thief, has his own ; Hut my hearers cry out, " What a dem-e il.i-t thoii ail? Cut iitf thy ivHi-i-fion-. and give us thy tale." IB The Thief and Cordelier. 'Twas there then, in civil respect to harsh laws, And for want of false witness to back a bad cause, A Norman, though late, was obliged to appear, And who to assist, but a grave Cordelier ? The Squire, whose good grace was to open the scene, Seem'd not in great haste that the show should begin ; Now fitted the halter, now traversed the cart, And often took leave, but was loath to depart. " What frightens you thus, my good son?" says the priest, " You murder'd, are sorry, and have been confess'd." " O Father ! my sorrow will scarce save my bacon, For 'twas not that I murder'd, but that I was taken." " Pugh ! pr'ythee ne'er trouble thy head with such fancies ; Rely on the aid you shall have from Saint Francis ; If the money you promised be brought to the chest, You have only to die ; let the Church do the rest. "And what will folks say if they see you afraid? It reflects upon me, as I knew not my trade : Courage, friend, for to-day is your period of sorrow, And things will go better, believe me, to-morrow." " To-morrow ! " our hero replied, in a fright, " He that's hang'd before noon, ought to think of to-night." " Tell your beads," quoth the priest, " and be fairly truss'd up, For you surely to-night shall in Paradise sup." " Alas!" quoth the Squire, " howe'er sumptuous the treat, Parbleu, I shall have little stomach to eat ; I should therefore esteem it great favour and grace, Would you be so kind as to go in my place." " That I would," quoth the Father, " and thank you to boot, But our actions, you know, with our duty must suit : The Thief and Cordelier. The feast I proposed to you I cannot taste, For tins night, by our Order, is nmrk'd for a fast." Thou turning ahout to tin- liati^man, he Haiti, " Dispatch me, I pr'ythfr. tliis tiuiiMr-niiir Made; For thy cord and my cord hotli equally tie, Ami we live by the gold for which other men die." A GIANT WHALER. WILLIAM KINO. IS angle-rod mode of a sturdy oak, His line a cable, which in storms ne'er broke, His hook he baited with a dragon's tail, And sate upon a rock, and bobb'd for whale. A LADY'S DIARY. JONATHAN SWIFT. Y Nature turn'd to play the rake well, (As we shall show you in the sequel) The modern dame is waked by noon, (Some authors say not quite so soon) Because, though sore against her will, She sat all night up at quadrille : A Lady She -tivtches, gape*. nnglue- In-i \<-~. And a-k- it' it \- time I" i < f headach ami tin- >ple-n r ciiol her heated lrain>. Her nightgown ami her -lip|M-r- brought hei . Tak-- a laru r e dram of citron water: 'I'lirn tu lii-r -la ; ami. " 1'rtlv. |.i.i\ Dun't I limk tVi-htfiillv t.)-w; He MIVS hi- lni>iiic-s is to know It' ViUl'll li'drrin the silver rll| He keejs in pawn?" " \Miy, show him up."- ^'uitr dreMing-plate he'll he mntent To take for interest out. j>< / out. And, madam, there's my Lady Spade Hath sent this letter by her maid." Well. I remember what she won ; And hath she sent so soon to dun ? Here, rairv down those ten jiistul-- My husband left to pay tor coals: 1 thank my stars they all are light, And 1 may have revenge to-night." Now, loitering o'er her tea and cream. She enters on her usual theme. Her last night's ill success repeat-. Calls Lady Spade a hundred cheat.- : " She slipp'd Spadillo in her brea-t. Then thought to turn it to a jest: There V Mrs. Cut and she combine. And to each other give the sign." x A Lady s Diary. Through every game pursues her tale, Like hunters o'er their evening ale. Now to another scene give place. Enter the folks with silks and lace ; Fresh matter for a world of chat ; Eight Indian this, right Mechlin that. " Observe this pattern ; there's a stuff I I can have customers enough. Dear madam ! you are grown so hard : This lace is worth twelve pounds a-yard. Madam, if there be truth in man, I never sold so cheap a fan." This business of importance o'er, And madam almost dress'd by four, The footman, in his usual phrase, Comes up with, " Madam, dinner stays." She answers in her usual style, " The cook must keep it back a while : I never can have time to dress ; No woman breathing takes up less : I'm hurried so it makes me sick ; I wish the dinner at Old Nick." At table now she acts her part, Has all the dinner cant by heart. " I thought we were to dine alone My dear I for sure, if I had known This company would come to-day But really 'tis my spouse's way. He's so unkind he never sends To tell when he invites his friends. I wish you may but have enough And while with all this paltry stuff She sits tormenting every guest, Nor gives her tongue one moment's rest, In phrases batter' d, stale, and trite, 90 A Lady's Diary. Which modern ladies call polite, \\\ -ee the licxiby hii-haml it In :n !n lira tii ni at IKT wit. But, let me now a while survey < >ur madam o'er her evening tea, Surrounded with her noisy clans < )f prudes, coquettes, and harridans ; When, frighted at the clamorous crew, Away the god of silence flew, And fair Discretion left the place, And Modesty, with blushing face. Now enters overweening Pride, And Scandal, ever gaping wide, Hypocrisy with frown severe, Scurrility with gihing air, Rude Laughter, seeming like to burst, And Malice, always judging worst, And Vanity, with pocket-glass, And Impudence, with front of brass, And studied Affectation came, Each limb and feature out of frame, While Ignorance, with brain of lead, Flew hovering o'er each female head. Why should I ask of thee, my Muse, An hundred tongues, as poets use, When, to give every dame her due, An hundred thousand were too few ? Or how should I, alas ! relate The sum of all their senseless prate, Their inuendos, hints, and slanders, Their meanings lewd, and double entendre* ? Now comes the general scandal charge, What some invent the rest enlarge ; And, " Madam, if it be a lie, You have the tale as cheap as I : 91 A Lady's Diary. I must conceal my author's name, But now 'tis known to common fame.'' Say, foolish females ! bold and blind, Say, by what fatal turn of mind Are you on vices most severe Wherein yourselves have greatest share ? Thus every fool herself deludes, The prude condemns the absent prudes : While crooked Cynthia sneering says That Florimel wears iron stays : Chloe, of every coxcomb jealous, Admires how girls can talk with fellows ; And, full of indignation, frets That women should be such coquettes : Iris for scandal most notorious, Cries, Lord ! the world is so censorious ! And Rufa, with her combs of lead, Whispers that Sappho's hair is red : Aura, whose tongue you hear a mile hence, Talks half a day in praise of silence : And Sylvia, full of inward guilt, Calls Amoret an arrant jilt. Now voices over voices rise, While each to be the loudest vies ; They contradict, affirm, dispute, No single tongue one moment mute : All mad to speak, and none to hearken, They set the very lap-dog barking ; Their chattering makes a louder din Than fishwives o'er a cup of gin ; Not schoolboys at a barring- out Raised ever such incessant rout ; The jumbling particles of matter In chaos made not such a clatter ; Far less the rabble roar and rail, When drunk with sour election-ale. A Lady's Ditiry. Ni iln ilii-v tiu-t tin-it t. infill- alone. Unl >|>eak a IngMgQ \ 'their <>wn ; . Can ri-ad a IKM!. a sliniir. a look. Far Itcttci than a printed hunk : A Lady's Diary. Convey a libel in a frown, And wink a reputation down ; Or, by the tossing of a fan, Describe the lady and the man. But see, the female club disbands, Each twenty visits on her hands. Now all alone poor madam sits In vapours and hysteric fits : " And was not Tom this morning sent ? I'd lay my life he never went. Past six, and not a living soul ! I might by this have won a vole." A dreadful interval of spleen ; How shall we pass the time between ? " Here, Betty, let me take my drops ; And feel my pulse ; I know it stops. This head of mine, Lord, how it swims ! And such a pain in all my limbs ! " " Dear madam ! try to take a nap"- But now they hear a footman's rap : " Go run, and light the ladies up. It must be one before we sup." The table, cards, and counters set, And all the gamester ladies met, Her spleen and fits recover'd quite, Our madam can sit up all night. " Whoever comes, I'm not within :"- Quadrille's the word, and so begin. How can the Muse her aid impart, UnskiU'd in all the terms of art ! Or in harmonious numbers put The deal, the shuffle, and the cut? The superstitious whims relate, That fill a female gamester's pate ? A Lady's Diary. \Vlmt agony of soul >-\\> ! To see a knave'-, inverted li. - : In vain, ala- ! her hope is fed ; She draws an ace, and sees it red. In ready counters never pays, But pawns her snuff-box, rings, and keys : KMT with some new fancy struck, Tries twenty charms to mend her lm-k. " This morning, when the parson came. I said I should not win a game. This odious chair, how came I stuck iu't ? I think I never had good luck in't. I'm so uneasy in my stays : Your fan a moment, if you please. Stand further, girl, or get you gone ; I always lose when you look on." " Lord ! madam, you have lost codille ; I never saw you play so ill." " Nay, madam, give me leave to say 'Twas you that threw the game away ; When Lady Tricksey play'd a four, You took it with a matadore. I saw you touch your wedding-ring Before my Lady call'd a King ; You spoke a word began with H, And I know whom you meant to teach, Because you held the King of Hearts. Fie ! madam, leave these little arts." " That's not so bad as one that rubs Her chair to call the King of Clubs, And makes her partner understand A matadore is in her hand." " Madam, you have no cause to flounce ; 95 A Lady's Diary. I swear I saw you thrice renounce." " And truly, madam, I know when Instead of five, you scored me ten. Spadillo here has got a mark, A child may know it in the dark : I guess the hand ; it seldom fails ; I wish some folks would pare their nails." While thus they rail, and scold, and storm, It passes but for common form ; And conscious that they all speak true, They give each other but their due ; It never interrupts the game, Or makes them sensible of shame. The time, too precious now to waste, And supper gobbled up in haste, Again afresh to cards they run, As if they had but just begun. But I shall not again repeat How oft they squabble, snarl, and cheat. At last they hear the watchman knock, " A frosty morn past four o'clock." The chairmen are not to be found ; " Come, let us play the other round." Now all in haste they huddle on Their hoods and cloaks, and get them gone ; But first the winner must invite The company to-morrow night. Unlucky madam, left in tears, (Who now again quadrille forswears) With empty purse, and aching head, Steals to her sleeping spouse to bed. ,.,. A LOVE SONG. IN THE MODERN TASTE. 1>K \X N WIK I. LUTTERING, spread thy purple pinions, Gentle Cupid, o'er my heart : I a slave in thy dominions ; Nature must givr \v;iy to art. Mild Arcadians, ever blooming, Nightly noIU-:i{. FROM THK (JKHMAN OF FRF.DKRICK HAfJF.DORN. 1 1: \\M.\II:I> itv r.. \v. TAYI.OH. STKADY ami a skilful toiler, .lolui a >na[i-lMjilcr, ' Manii-il all he wished, his heart was light, Hi- \\urki'd and sang from morn till night. E'en durini;- meals his notes were heard, And tO hi- heel' were ut't preferred : a 1 Born in Hamburgh in 1708; studied law, and in 1729 he came to England as secretary of the Danish Legation, and made himself master of our language. In 1733 he was appointed secretary of the English factory at Hamburgh, and in 17J4 he died suddenly. 'The Merry Soap-boiler. At breakfast, and at supper, too, His throat had double work to do ; He oftener sang than said his prayers, And dropped asleep while humming airs : Until his very next door neighbour, Had learned the tunes that cheered his labor, And every passer-by could tell Where merry John was wont to dwell. At reading he was rather slack, Studied at most the almanac, To know when holy days were nigh, And put his little savings by ; But sang the more on vacant days, To waste the less his means and ways. 'Tis always well to live and learn. The owner of the soap concern A fat and wealthy burgomaster, Who drank his hock, and smoked his knaster, At marketing was always apter Than any prelate in the chapter, And thought a pheasant in sour krout Superior to a Turkey-poult ; But woke at times before daybreak With heart-burn, gout, or liver ache Oft heard our sky-lark of the garret, Sing to his slumber, but to mar it. He sent for John one day and said, " What's your year's income from your trade ?" " Master, I never thought of counting To what my earnings are amounting At the year's end : if every Monday I've paid my meat and drink for Sunday, And something in the box unspent Remains for fuel, coals, and rent, 'The Merry Soap-boiler. l'\e hll-liailded tin- lirrdflll Ami feel (jiiitc ea-y with my lot. The maker \ tin- almanac Must, like \onr \\or-hi|>. knuw no lack. Klse 11 red letter e;illll<- da\ Would oftener be struck a\\.i\." " Jollll. you've Keen long a fllitllflll fellow, Though always merry, si-Mom mellow. Take this rouleau of fifty dollars, My purses glibly slip their collars ; Mut. Itefore breakfast let this singing No longer in my ears he ringing; When once your eyes ami lips unclose, I must forego my morning doze." John blushes, bows, and stammers thanks. And steals away on bended shanks. Hiding and hugging his new treasure, As had it been a stolen seizure. At home he bolts his chamber door, Views, counts, and weighs his tinkling store, Nor trust it to the savings-box, Till he has screw'd on double locks. His dog and lie play tricks no more, They're rival watchmen of the door, Small wish has he to sing a word, Lest thieves should climb his stair unheard. At length he tintls. the more he saves, The more he frets, the more he craves ; That his old freedom was a blessing 111 sold for all his now possessing. One day, he to his master went And carried back his hoard unspent. Master." says he. " I've heard of old. I'ulilest is he who watches gold. 101 The Merry Soap-boiler. Take back your present, and restore The cheerfulness I knew before. I'll take a room not quite so near, Out of your worship's reach of ear, Sing at my pleasure, laugh at sorrow, Enjoy to-day, nor dread to-morrow, Be still the steady, honest toiler, The merry John, the old soap-boiler." ON BUTLER'S MONUMENT. REV. SAMUEL WESLEY. HILE Butler, needy wretch, was yet alive, No generous patron would a dinner give. See him, when starved to death and turn'd to dust, Presented with a monumental bust. The poet's fate is here in emblem shown He ask'd for bread, and he received a stone. 102 THE VICAR OF BRAY. 1 N good King Charles's golden days, When loyalty no harm meant, A zealous high-churchman was I, And so I got preferment. To teach my flock I never miss'd Kings were by God appointed, And lost are those that dare rr>i-t Or touch the Lord's anointed. Ami this is law that I'll maintain l*n til my dying day, sir, That whatsoever King shall reign, Still I'll be the vicar of Bray, sir. 1 In Berkshire. Nichols says, in his Select Poems, that the song of the Vicar of Bray " was written by a soldier in Colonel Fuller's troop of Dragoons, in the reign of George I." The Vicar of Bray. When royal James possess'd the crown. And popery grew in fashion. The penal laws I hooted down, And read the Declaration : The Church of Rome I found would fit Full well my constitution ; And I had been a Jesuit, But for the Revolution, And this is law that I'll maintain Until my dying day, sir, That whatsoever King shall reign, Still I'll be the vicar of Bray, sir. When William was our king declar'd, To ease the nation's grievance ; With this new wind about I steer'd, And swore to him allegiance : Old principles I did revoke, Set conscience at a distance ; Passive obedience was a joke, A jest was non-resistance. And this is law that I'll maintain Until my dying day, sir, That whatsoever King shall reign, Still I'll be the vicar of Bray, sir. When royal Anne became our queen, The Church of England's glory, Another face of things was seen, And I became a tory : Occasional conformists base, I blam'd their moderation ; And thought the church in danger was, By such prevarication. And this is law that I'll maintain Until my dying day, sir, That whatsoever King shall reign, Still I'll be the vicar of Bray, sir. 104 The Vicar of Bray. \Vlirll (ir.ip.Jf ill puddillg-tillli- l-ailli- nVl. Anil niuilrratr mm lookM lii^. ~ii. My principles I diang'd oner mi. -, Ami M lieranir u whig, -ii ; And tliu- prefei ini'iit I |incin'il From our new fuitli's drt'ctidcr; And almost c\'r\ d;iv alijnr'd The POJH- and tlir rn-tc-nder. And this is law that I'll maintain L'ntil mv dvin^ dav. >ir, That whatMH-vfi- Kiii.i^ shall ivi.tjii. Still I'll } tlir \icai of Hiay, sir. Th' illastrious house of Hanover, And Protestant succession, To these I do allegiance swear While they can keep poosion: For in my faith and loyalty, I never more will falter, And George my lawful king shall be L'ntil the times do alter. And this is law that I'll maintain Until my dying day, sir, That whatsoever King shall reign, Still I'll he the vicar of Bray, sir. 105 A HUNTING WE WILL GO. HENHY FIELDING. HE dusky night rides down the sky, And ushers in the morn ; The hounds all join in glorious cry, The huntsman winds his horn, And a hunting we will go. The wife around her husband throws Her arms, to make him stay ; " My dear, it hails, it rains, it blows ; You cannot hunt to-day." Yet a hunting we will go. Away they fly to 'scape the rout, Their steeds they soundly switch ; 106 A Hunting -nr will Go. Snlllc .'lie tllpiMII ill. -nine illi- rllluWII (lilt. Ami -dine an- thrown in the ditch. Yrt a Iiutiiiii-- \vo will go. A Hunting we will Go. Sly Reynard now like lightning flies, And sweeps across the vale ; And when the hounds too near he spies, He drops his bushy tail. Then a hunting we will go. Fond Echo seems to like the sport, And join the jovial cry ; The woods, the hills, the sound retort, And music fills the sky ; When a hunting we do go. At last his strength to faintness worn, Poor Reynard ceases flight ; Then hungry, homewards we return, To feast away the night : And a drinking we do go. Ye jovial hunters, in the morn Prepare then for the chase ; Eise at the sounding of the horn And health with sport embrace, When a hunting we do go. 1 1 There are several versions of this song, of various degrees of length and of merit. " This song," says Mr. Chappell, in his Collection of National English Airs, " was originally to the tune of ' A Begging we will go,' (1660). The words by Fielding are contained in his ballad opera of Don Quixote in England, but have since been somewhat altered. THE PEPPER-BOX AND SALT-CELLAR. WILLIAM SIIKXSK'M . HE 'squire hail qnahl>le : 1V||HT he^an. " 1'iay. sir." >n\> he, What husine>s have you here with me? IM 'The Pepper-box and Salt-cellar. Is't fit that spices of my birth Should rank with thee, thou scum of earth ? I'd have you know, sir, I've a spirit Suited to my superior merit Though now, confin'd within this castre, I serve a northern Gothic master ; Yet born in Java's fragrant wood, To warm an eastern monarch's blood, The sun those rich perfections gave me, Which tempted Dutchmen to enslave me. " Nor are* my virtues here unknown, Though old and wrinkled now I'm grown. Black as I am, the fairest maid Invokes my stimulating aid, To give her food the poignant flavour ; And to each sauce, its proper savour. Pasties, ragouts and fricassees, Without my seasoning, fail to please : 'Tis I, like wit, must give a zest, And sprightliness, to every feast. " Physicians too my use confess ; My influence sagest matrons bless : When drams prove vain, and cholics teaze, To me they fly for certain ease. Xay, I fresh vigour can dispense, And cure ev'n age and impotence : And, when of dulness wits complain, I brace the nerves, and clear the brain. " But, to the 'squire here, I appeal He knows my real value well : Who, with one pepper-corn content, Remits the vassal's annual rent " Hence then, Sir Brine, and keep your distance Go lend the scullion your assistance ; 110 The Pepper-box and Salt-cellar. For culinary uses tit ; To suit the moat upon the -pit ; Or just to keep his meat from stinking A ml then a special friend to drinking!" " Your folly moves me with suquize," The silver triinxl thus replies, " Pray, Master Pepper, why so hot? First cousin to the n MI-I;II l -j .1 I " What boots it how our life began ? 'Tis breeding makes the gentleman : Yet would you search my j>edigree, I rose, like Venus, from the sea : The sun, whose influence you boast, Nurs'd me upon the British coast. " The chymists know my rank and place, When nature's principles they trace : And wisest moderns yield to me The elemental monarchy. By me all nature is supplied With all her beauty, all her pride. In vegetation, I ascend ; To animals, their vigour lend : Corruption's foe, I life preserve, And stimulate each slacken'd nerve. I give jonquils their high perfume ; The peach its flavour, rose its bloom : Nay, I'm the cause, when rightly trac'd, Of Pepper's aromatic taste. " Such claims you teach me to produce ; But need I plead my obvious use, In seasoning all terrestrial food ? When heav'n declares, that salt is good. 111 T7ie Pepper-box and Salt-cellar. " Grant then some few thy virtues find ; Yet salt gives health to all mankind : Physicians sure will side with me, While cooks alone shall plead for thee. In short, with all thine airs about thee, The world were happier far without thee." The 'squire, who all this time sat mute, Now put an end to their dispute : He rung the bell bade Tom convey The doughty disputants away. The salt refresh'd by shaking up, At night did with his master sup : The pepper Tom assign'd his lot With vinegar, and mustard-pot : A fop with bites and sharpers join'd, And, to the side-board well confin'd ! MORAL. Thus real genius is respected ! Conceit and folly thus neglected ! And, O my Shenstone ! let the vain, With misbecoming pride, explain Their splendor, influence, wealth, or birth ;- 'Tis men of sense are men of worth. THE HONEST MAX'S LITANY. [FROM THE GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE.] ROM a wife of small fortune, but yet very proud, Who values herself on her family's blood : Who seldom tulks sense, but for ever is loud, Libera me ! From living i' th' parish that has an old kirk. Where the parson would rule like n .lew or a Turk, And keep a poor curate to do all his work, Libera me! From a justice of peace who 'forgives no offence. But construes the law in its most rigid >rn>r. And still to bind over will find some pretcm-f. /./'/ i-n in, .' The Honest Man's Litany. From bailiffs, attorneys, and all common rogues, From Irish nonsense, their bogs and their brogues, From Scots' bonny clabber, their clawing and shrugs, Libera me ! From spiritual courts, citations and libels, From proctors, apparitors, and all the tribe else, Which never were read of yet, in any Bibles, Libera me ! From dealing with great men and taking their word, From waiting whole mornings to speak with my lord, Who puts off his payments, and puts on his sword, Libera me ! From trusting to hypocrites : wretches who trifle With heaven, that on earth more secure they may rifle ; Who conscience and honour and honesty stifle, Libera me ! From Black-coats, who never the gospel yet taught, From Ked-coats, who never a battle yet fought, From Turn-coats, whose inside and outside are naught, Libera me ! 111 THE CHAMELEON. JAMES MRRRICK. FT has it been ray lot to mark A proud, conceited, talking spark. With eyes that hardly served at most To guard their master Vain-t a po-t : Yet round the world the blade has been. To see whatever could be seen. 115 \ The Chameleon. Returning from his finished tour. Grown ten times perter than hefore ; Whatever word you chance to drop, The travelled fool your mouth will stop : " Sir, if my judgment you'll allow I've seen and sure I ought to know."- So begs you'd pay a due submission, And acquiesce in his decision. Two travellers of such a cast, As o'er Arabia's wilds they passed, And on their way, in friendly chat, Now talked of this, and then of that ; Discoursed awhile, 'mongst other matter, Of the Chameleon's form and nature. " A stranger animal," cries one, " Sure never lived beneath the sun : A lizard's body lean and long, A fish's head, a serpent's tongue, Its foot with triple claw disjoined ; And what a length of tail behind ! How slow its pace ! and then its hue Who ever saw so fine a blue?" " Hold there," the other quick replies, " 'Tis green, I saw it with these eyes, As late with open mouth it lay, And warmed it in the sunny ray ; Stretched at its ease the beast I viewed, And saw it eat the air for food." " I've seen it, sir, as well as you, And must again affirm it blue ; At leisure I the beast surveyed Extended in the cooling shade." " 'Tis green, 'tis green, sir, I assure ye." " Green ! " cries the other in a fury : 116 The Chameleon. " Why, .sir. d'ye think I'vi- loM my ey. " 'Twere no great loss," tin- frit-mi replies; " For if they always serve you tlm-*. You'll find them but of little n- ." So high at last the mm. From words they almost t-jum- to blows: When luckily came by a third ; To him the question they referred : And begged he'd tell them, it In- knew, Whether the thing was green or blue. " Sirs," cries the umpire, " cease your jiother ; Tlie creature's neither one nor t'other. I caught the animal last night. And view'd it o'er by candle-light : I marked it well, 'twas black as jet You stare but sirs, I've got it yet, And can produce it." " Pray, sir, do ; I'll lay my life the thing is blue." " And I'll be sworn, that when you've seen The reptile, you'll pronounce him green." " Well, then, at once to ease the doubt," Replies the man, " I'll turn him out : And when before your eyes I've set him, If you don't find him black, I'll eat him." He said ; and full before their sight Produced the beast, and lo ! 'twas white. Both stared, the man looked wondrous wise " My children," the Chameleon cries, (Then first the creature found a tongue) " You all are right, and all are wrong : When next you talk of what you vie . Think others see as well as you : Nor wonder if you find that none Prefers your eye-sight to his own." 117 THE JACKDAW. WILLIAM COWPEB. i HERE is a bird, who by his coat, And by the hoarseness of his note, Might be suppos'd a crow ; A great frequenter of the church, Where bishop-like he finds a perch, And dormitory too. Above the steeple shines a plate, That turns and turns, to indicate From what point blows the weather ; Look up your brains begin to swim, 'Tis in the clouds that pleases him, He chooses it the rather. The Jackdaw. Foiul of the H|eculative height. Thither he wings his airy flight, And thence securely MM The bustle and the raree-show, That occupy mankind below, Secure and at his eaae. You think, no doubt, he -it- and muses On future broken bones and bruises, If he should chance to full. No ; not a single thought like that Employs his philosophic pate, Or troubles it at all. He sees, that this great round-about, The World, with all it's motley rout, Church, army, physic, law, Its customs, and its businesses, Is no concern at all of his, And says what says he ? Caw. Thrice happy bird ! I too have seen Much of the vanities of men ; And, sick of having seen 'cm, Would cheerfully these limbs resign For such a pair of wings as thine, And such a head between 'em. 119 THE PAEROT. WILLIAM COWPER. N painted plumes superbly dress'd, A native of the gorgeous east, By many a billow tosa'd ; Poll gains at length the British shore, Part of the captain's precious store, A present to his toast. Belinda's maids are soon preferr'd, To teach him now and then a word, As Poll can master it ; 120 The Parrot. Hut 'tis her own imjKirtant charge, To quality liiin mure at lai^-. And make him quite a wit. " Sweet Poll !" his doating mi*tiv c-ri -. " Sweet Poll !" the mimic hird replies; And calls aloud for sack. She next instructs him in the kiss ; 'Tis now a little one, like Miss, And now a hearty smack. At first he aims at what lie hears ; And, list'ning close with Ixith hi-, ears, Just catches at the sound ; Hut soon articulates aloud, Much to th* amusement of the crowd. And stuns the neightours round. A querulous old woman's voice His hum'rous talent next employs, He scolds, and gives the He. And now he sings, and now is sick, " Here Sally, Susan, come, come quick. Poor Poll is like to die !" Hclinda and her bird ! 'tis rare, To meet with such a well-match'd pair, The language and the tone, Each character in ev'ry part Sustain'd with so much grace and art. And both in unison. When children first begin to spell. And stammer out a syllable, We think them tedious creatures ; But difficulties soon abate, When birds are to be taught to prate, And women are the teachers. 121 GAFFEK GEAY. THOMAS HOLCKOFT. O ! why dost thou shiver and shake, Gaffer Gray ; And why does thy nose look so blue ? " 'Tis the weather that's cold, 'Tis I'm grown very old, And my doublet is not very new, Well-a-day!" Then line thy worn doublet with ale, Gaffer Gray ; Gaffer Gray. And warm thy <>lil In-art with a glaM. " Ka\ . luit nvilit I'\<- none, And my mcmoy's all gone; Then say how may that come to pas* ? Well-a-day!" Hie away to the house on the hrow, Gaffer Gray ; And knock at the jolly priest's door. " The priest often preaches Against worldly riches, But ne'er gives a mite to the poor, Well-a-day!" The lawyer lives under the hill, Gaffer Gray ; Warmly fenced both in hack and in front. " He will fasten his locks, And will threaten the stocks Should he ever more find me in want, Well-a-day!" The squire has fat beeves and brown ale, Gaffer Gray : And the season will welcome you there. " His fat beeves and his beer, And his merry new year, Are all for the flush and the fair, Well-a-day !" M v keg is but low, I confess, Gaffer Gray ; What then ? While it lasts, man, we'll live. " The poor man alone, When he hears the poor moan, Of his morsel a morsel will give, Well-a-day!" 123 CUPID MISTAKEN. WILLIAM THOMPSON. ENUS whipt Cupid t'other day, For having lost his bow and quiver For he had giv'n them both away To Stella, queen of Isis river. " Mamma ! you wrong me while you strike," Cry'd weeping Cupid, " for I vow, Stella and you are so alike, I thought that I had lent them you." 124 CAPTAIN (OF MILITIA) SIB DILBEREY DIDDLE. [GBNT.'S MAO. VOL. xxxvi. p. 233, FOR 1766.J F all the brave captains that ever were seen, Appointed to fight by a king or a queen, By a king or a queen appointed to fight, Sure never a captain was like this brave knight. He pull'd off his slippers and wrapper of silk, And, foaming as furious as whisked new milk, Says he to his lady, " My lady, I'll go : My company calls me ; you must not say no." 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." Says Diddle again to his lady, " My dear," (And a white pocket-handkerchief wiped off a tear) " To fight for thy charms in the hottest of wars Will be joy ! Thou art Venus." Says she, " Thou art Mars.' By a place I can't mention, not knowing it- name, At the head of his company Dilberry came, And the drums to the windows call every r\. To see the defence of the nation pass 1>\ . Captain Sir Dil berry Diddle. 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!" Of all the fair ladies that came to the show Sir Diddle's fair lady stood first in the row ; u O, how charming," says she, " he looks all in red : How he turns out his toes, how he holds up his head ! " Do but see his cockade, and behold his dear gun, Which shines like a looking-glass, held in the sun ! Hear his word of command ! 'tis so sweet, I am sure, Each time I am tempted to call out encore ! " The battle now over, without any blows, The heroes unharness and strip off their clothes ; The dame gives her captain a sip of rose-water, Then he, handing her into her coach, steps in after. John's 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. He dreamt, Fame reports, that he cut all the throats Of the French, as they landed in flat-bottom boats. In his sleep if such dreadful destruction he makes, What havock, ye gods ! we shah 1 have when he wakes ! 12H THE ASS AND THE FLUTE. TOMAS DK YBIAHTK. OU must know that this ditty, This little romance, Be it dull, be it witty, Arose from mere chance. Near a certain inclosure, Not far from my manse. An ass, with composure, Was passing by chance. 127 'The Ass and the Flute. As he went along prying, With sober advance, A shepherd's flute lying, He found there by chance. Our amateur started And eyed it askance, Drew nearer, and snorted Upon it by chance. The breath of the brute, Sir, Drew music for once ; It enter'd the flute, Sir, And blew it by chance. " Ah ! " cried he, in wonder, " How comes this to pass ? Who will now dare to slander The skill of an ass?" And asses in plenty I see at a glance, Who, one time in twenty, Succeed by mere chance. 128 THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION. OLIVER GOLDSMITH. ECLUDED from domestic strife, Jack Book-worm led a college life ; A fellowship at twenty-five Made him the happiest man alive ; 1 Ie drank his glass, and crack'd his joke, And freshmen wonder'd as he spoke. Such pleasures unalla3"'d with care, uld an accident imair ? Could any accident impair The Double Transformation. Could Cupid's shaft at length transfix Our swain, arriv'd at thirty-six ? O had the archer ne'er come down To ravage in a country town ! Or Flavia been content to stop At triumphs in a Fleet-street shop ; O had her eyes forgot to blaze ! Or Jack had wanted eyes to gaze ; Oh ! But let exclamation cease, Her presence banish'd all his peace. So with decorum all things carry'd, Miss frown'd, and blush'd, and then was married. The honey-moon like lightning flew, The second brought its transports too ; A third, a fourth, were not amiss ; The fifth was friendship mix'd with bliss ; But when a twelvemonth pass'd away Jack found his goddess made of clay ; Found half the charms that deck'd her face Arose from powder, shreds, or lace ; But still the worst remain'd behind ; That very face had robb'd her mind. Skill'd in no other arts was she, But dressing, patching, repartee ; And, just as humour rose or fell, By turns a slattern or a belle. 'Tis true she dress'd with modern grace, Half naked at a ball or race ; But when at home, at board or bed, Five greasy night-caps wrap'd her head. Could so much beauty condescend To be a dull domestic friend ? Could any curtain lectures bring To decency so fine a thing? 130 T/ie Double Transformation. In short, by nighf. 'i\\;i- tit- <>r 1'ivttin^ ; By day, 'twas gadding ut demand them pray, do ! " Accommodate you ?" Without doubt ; Though, just now, I'm unable to lend ; With money I never come out, But rely on the purse of a friend. Could you see me at home, you would find That my house is a model of taste ; Silk tapestries, embroider'd and lined, Dresden vases on buhl tables placed, And walls with gilt cornices graced. But the crowds, whom it used to attract, Have induced me to let it on lease ; And I lodge in a lane 'tis a fact For the sake of a month or two's peace. I'd advise you, my friend, not to doubt, For you know what a fencer I am ; Provoke me too much, and one 'bout Will show I'm by no means a lamb, And that fighting with me is no sham. Were my passion not easily ruled, I should average a victim a-day : Yet, insulted, my anger's soon cool'd ; I forgive, and walk bravely away. You're aware, as an author I shine ; The Academic Royale Franchise Acknowledged my writings were fine, To my genius they gave every praise : Sublime, they declared, were my lavs. 135 The Gascon. " Their titles?" Alas ! 'twas my fate To be robb'd of my justly-earn'd fame, Himself, a false friend, to elate, Stole, and publish'd them under his name. For composing love-songs, I am bless'd With a skill to which few can compare, My brain is for ever possess'd With many a beautiful air, Join'd to couplets exceedingly rare. You may judge for yourself when you hear Though the merit I never have sought That as Favart's and Panard's appear, The songs I had previously thought. " Can I dance?" What a question to ask ! You will find that at every ball In the sunshine of plaudits I bask, My minuet steps are quite gall To the eyes of both Vestris and Paul. " A specimen ?" Dreadful mischance ! I am lame, you may easily see ; Last night, at the countess's dance, I tumbled and damaged my knee. As a patriot, I glory in arms, My country has witness'd my zeal ; And, amidst battle's fiercest alarms, My life has been risk'd for her weal : To the honours I've gain'd I appeal. But my crosses and orders to wear, My modesty never allows ; For with envy they make equals stare, And inferiors fatigue me with bows. I am popular, too, 'mongst the fair ; But a marriage I never have risk'd, 136 The Gascon. Though very large fortune to share. .Many excellent matches I've miss'd I have fifty, at least, on my list. You ask for my proofs? They're denied, For most of the fair ones, you see, Hroken-hearted or jealous, have died, Overwhelm'cl by their passion for ine. There are Gascons, I'm told, not a few, Whose tongues ore so glib, That they fib Every day ; But, Pnrblieu, You may always believe what / say. 137 PROLOGUE TO BARBAEOSSA. GAEBICK. . EASTEB! measter! Is not my measter here among you, pray ? Nay speak my measter wrote this fine new play- The actor-folks ai'e making such a clatter ! They want the pro-log I know nought o' the matter : He must be there among you look about A wezen pale-faced mon do find him out. Pray, measter, come, or all will fall to sheame ; Call Mister hold I must not tell his neame. La ! what a crowd is here ! what noise and pother ! Fine lads and lasses ! one atop o' t'other. 138 Prologue to Bar bar oss a. I could for ever here with wonder gaze ! I ne'er saw church no full in all my '-\il my -infill -mil iuu>t go. For hang me if I ha'n't lost every toe. " But, brother sinner, do explain How 'tis that you are not in pain ? What power hath workM a wonder for your toes ? Whilst I, just like a simil, am crawling, Xow swearing, now on saints devoutly bawling, Whilst not a rascal comes to ease my woes ? " How is't that you can like u greyhound go, Merry, as if nought had happen'd, burn ye?" " Why," cried the other, grinning, " you must know. That, just before I ventured on my journey, To walk a little more at ease, I took the liberty to boil my peas." ADDRESS TO THE TOOTHACHE. ROBERT BURNS. Y curse upon thy venom' d stang, 1 That shoots my tortured gums alang ; And through my lugs gies mony a twang, Wi' gnawing vengeance ; Tearing my nerves wi' bitter pang, Like racking engines ! When fevers burn, or ague freezes, Rheumatics gnaw, or cholic squeezes ; Our neighbour's sympathy may ease us, Wi' pitying moan ; But thee thou hell o' a' diseases, Aye mocks our groan ! O' a' the num'rous human dools, 2 111 har'sts, 3 daft bargains, cutty-stools, Or worthy friends raked i' the mools, 4 Sad sight to see ! The tricks o' knaves, or fash 5 o' fools Thou bear'st the gree. 6 Where'er that place be priests ca' hell, Whence a' the tones o' misery yell, And ranked plagues their numbers tell, In dreadfu' raw, Thou, Toothache, surely bear'st the bell Amang them a' ! Pain. 2 Sorrows. 'Harvests. 4 Buried. 5 Trouble. 6 Palm. 168 Address to the Toothache. O i In MI -rim mi.schief-mnkiiig clue), Thut gars 7 the notes* of ditKrurd squeel, Till daft iiuiiikind uft dunce a reel In gore a nhoe-thiek, (fie u' the faes 8 o' Scotland's weul A tomnond's* toothaohe ! M.ik. s. Koea. " Year. EPIGRAM. JOHN DOXXE. [ HY flattering picture, Phryne, 's like to thee \ Only in this, that you both painted be. NOTHING. GOETHE. TRANSLATED BY J. S. DWIGHT. ^OT^. 'VE set my heart upon nothing, you see ; Hurrah! fi And so the world goes well with me. Hurrah ! And who has a mind to be fellow of mine, Why, let him take hold and help me drain These mouldy lees of wine. I set my heart at first upon wealth ; Hurrah ! And barter'd away my peace and health ; But, ah ! Not /ling. The slippery change wont about like air : And when I had dutch'd mo n liundful here. Away it wont there. 1 set my heart upon woman next ; Hurrah ! Fur her sweet sake was oft pcrplex'd : But. nh ! The false one look'd for a daintier lot, The constant one wearied me out and out, The l>est was not easily got. I set my heart upon travels grand, Hurrah ! And spurn 'd our plain old fatherland ; But, ah ! Nought seem'd to be just the thing it should. Most comfortless beds and indifferent food, My tastes misunderstood. I set my heart upon sounding fame ; Hurrah ! And, lo ! I'm eclipsed by some upstart's name : And, ah ! When in public life I loom'd quite high, The folks that pass'd me would look awry : Their very worst friend was I. And then I set my heart upon war, Hurrah ! We gain'd some battles with eclat. Hurrah ! We troubled the foe with sword and flame, And some of our friends fared quite the same. I lost a leg for fame. 171 Nothing. Now I've set my heart upon nothing, you see ; Hurrah ! And the whole wide world belongs to me. Hurrah ! The feast begins to run low, no doubt ; But at the old cask we'll have one good bout : Come, drink the lees all out ! EPIGKAM. O win the maid the Poet tries, And sometimes writes to Julia's eyes ;- She likes a verse but, cruel whim, She still appears a-verse to him. 172 THE DEVIL'S WALK. IM HARD PORSOX. ^M ROM his brimstone bod, at break of day, A-walking the Devil is gone, To visit his snug little farm of the earth. And see how his stock goes on. 173 The Devil's Walk. And over the hill, and over the dale, He walk'd, and over the plain ; And backwards and forwards he switch'd his long tail, As a gentleman switches his cane. And pray how was the Devil drest ? O ! he was in his Sunday's best ; His coat was red, and his breeches were blue, With a little hole behind, where his tail came through. He saw a lawyer killing a viper, On a dunghill, beside his own stable ; And the Devil smiled, for it put him in mind Of Cain and his brother Abel. An apothecary, on a white horse, Rode by on his avocations " Oh !" says the Devil, " there's my old friend Death in the revelations ! " He saw a cottage, with a double coach-house ; A cottage of gentility ! And the Devil was pleased, for his darling vice Is the pride that apes humility. He stepp'd into a rich bookseller's shop ; Says he, " We ai'e both of one college ; For I, myself, sat, like a cormorant, once, Hard by, on the Tree of Knowledge." As he pass'd through Cold-Bath-Fields, he saw A solitary cell : And the Devil was charm'd, for it gave him a hint For improving the prisons of hell. He saw a turnkey in a trice Fetter a troublesome jade ; " Ah ! nimble," quoth he, " do the fingers move When they're used to their trade." 174 The Doit's Walk. He saw the snme turnkey unfutter Uie game, I '-i;i with little expedition ; And the Devil thought on the long debates On the Slave Trade Abolition. Down the river did glide, with wind and with tide, A pig, with vast celerity ! And the Devil grinn'd, for he saw all the while How it cut its own throat, and he thought, with a smile, Of " England's commercial prosperity ! " He saw a certain minister (A minister to his mind) Go up into a certain house, With a majority behind. The Devil quoted Genesis, Like a very learned clerk, How " Noah, and his creeping things. Went up into the ark !" ^ General Gascoigne's burning face He saw with consternation, And back to Hell his way did take ; For the Devil thought, by a slight mistake, 'Twas the General Conflagration !' 1 One evening, at the house of the late Dr. Vincent, Professor Person, being cut out at a whist table, was about to take his leave. Mrs. Vincent pressed him to stay, saying, " I know you will not stay, if you are doing nothing ; but the rubber will soon be over, when you may go in ; and, in the meantime, take a pen and ink at another table, and write us some verses." Dr. Vincent, in the midst of the game, seconded this request, and added, " I will give a subject. You shall suppose that the Devil is come up among us, to see what we are doing, and you shall tell us what observations he makes." Porson obeyed these injunctions, and this amusing fm- (Tesprit was the result. The Devil's Walk, with additions, has been claimed also fur Coleridge and Southey. DELIA'S POCKET HANDKERCHIEF. 1 KOBF.RT SOUTHEY. IS mine ! what accents can my joy declare ? Blest be the pressure of the thronging rout ! Blest be the hand so hasty of my fair, That left the tempting corner hanging out. I envy not the joy the pilgrim feels After long travel to some distant shrine, When at the relic of his saint he kneels For Delia's pocket-handkerchief is mine. When first with filching fingers I drew near, Keen hope shot tremulous through every vein ; And when the finish'd deed removed my fear, Scarce could my bounding heart its joy contain. What tho' the eighth commandment rose to mind, It only served a moment's qualm to move ; For thefts like this it could not be design'd The eighth commandment was not made for love ! Here when she took the macaroons from me, She wiped her mouth to clean the crumbs so sweet ; Dear napkin ! yes, she wiped her lips in thee ! Lips sweeter than the macaroons she eat. 1 This is one of the " Love Elegies of Abel Shufflebottom." 176 Delia s Pocket-handkerchief '. And when she took that pim-h --I That uuule my lovo so dcli You're so like my Sister Sally, Both in valk and face and size ; Miss, that dang my old lee scuppers, It brings tears into my heyes ! " I'm a mate on board a wessel, I'm a sailor bold and true ; Shiver up my poor old timbers, Let me be a mate for you ! " What's your name, my beauty, tell me?" And she faintly hansers, " Lore, Sir, my name's Eliza Davis, And I live at tventy-four." Hofttinies came this British seaman, This deluded gal to meet : And at tyenty-four was welcome, Tventy-four in Guilford Street. And Eliza told her Master. (Kinder they than Missuses are), How in marridge he had ast her, Like a galliant British Tar. And he brought his landlady vith him, (Vich vas all his artful plan), And she told how Charley Thompson Keely vas a good young man. And how she herself had lived in Many years of union sweet, Yith a gent she met promiskous, Yalkin in the public street. The Ballad of Eliza Davis, And Eliza listen'd to them, And she thought that soon their bands Vould he publish'd at the Fondlin, Hand the clergyman jine their amis. And he ?st about the lodgers, (Yich her master let some rooms.) Likevise vere they kep their things, and Yere her master kep his spoons. Hand this vicked Charley Thompson Came on Sundy veek to see her, And he sent Eliza Davis Hout to fetch a pint of birr. Hand while pore Eliza vent to Fetch the beer, dewoid of sin, This etrocious Charley Thompson Let his \vi!e accomplish hin. To the lodgers, their apartm-onis, This abandingd female goes, Prigs their shirts and uniberellaa : Prigs their boots, and hats, and clo'iluv Vile the scoundrle Charley Thompson, Lest his wictim should escape, Hocust her vith rum and vater, Like a fiend in limning shape. ]>ut a hi was Hxt upon Ym Yich the raskles little sore ; Namely, Mr. Hide, the landlord Of the house at tvcnty-fcur. He vas valkin in his garden, Just afore he vent to sup ; 259 The Ballad of Eliza Davis. And on looking up he sor the Lodger's vinders lighted hup. Hup the stairs the landlord tumbled : Something's going wrong, he said ; And he caught the vicked voman Underneath the lodger's bed. And he call'd a brother Pleaseman, Vich vas passing on his beat, Like a true and galliant feller, Hup and down in Guilford Street. And that Pleaseman, able-bodied, Took this voman to the cell ; To the cell vere she was quodded, In the Close of Clerkenwell. And though vicked Charley Thompson Boulted, like a miscrant base, Presently another Pleaseman Took him to the self-same place. And this precious pair of raskles Tuesday last came up for doom ; By the beak they was committed, Vich his name was Mr. Combe. Has for poor Eliza Davis, Simple gurl of treaty-four, She, I ope, vill never listen In the streets to sailors moar. But if she must ave a sweet-art, (Vich most every gurl expex,) Let her take a jolly pleaseman ; Vich is name peraps is X. 260 THE BEAUTY AND THE BEE. CHARLES MACKAY. ANNY, array'd in the bloom of her beauty, Stood at the mirror and toy'd with her hair. Viewing her charms, till she felt it a duty To own that like Fanny no woman was fair. A Bee from the garden oh, what could mislead him ? Stray'd through the lattice new dainties to seek, And lighting on Fanny, too busy to heed him, Stung the sweet maid on her delicate cheek. Smarting with pain, round the chamber she sought him. Tears in her eyes, and revenge in her heart, 261 The Beauty and the Bee. And angrily cried, when at last she had caught him, " Die for the deed, little wretch that thou art!" Stooping to crush him, the hapless offender Pray'd her for mercy, to hear and forgive : " Oh, spare me !" he cried, " by those eyes in their splendour Oh, pity my fault, and allow me to live ! " Am I to blame that your cheeks are like roses, Whose hues all the pride of the garden eclipse ? Lilies are hid in your mouth when it closes, % And odours of Araby breathe from your lips." Sweet Fanny relented : " 'Twere cruel to hurt you ; Small is the fault, pretty bee, you deplore ; And e'en were it greater, forgiveness is virtue ; Go forth and be happy I blame you no more." o THE ANNUITY. GEOBGK OTTRAM. GAED to spend a week in Fife- An unco week it proved to be For there I met a waesome wife Lamenti n' her viduity. Her grief brak out sae fierce and fell, I thought her heart wad burst the shell And, I was sae left to mysel',- I sell't her an annuity. 263 The Annuity. The bargain lookit fair enough She just was turn'd o' saxty-three I couklna guess'd she'd prove sae teugh, 1 By human ingenuity. But years have come, and years have gane, And there she's yet as stieve's 2 a stane The limtner's growin' young again, Since she got her annuity. She's crined 3 awa' to bane an' skin. But that it seems is nought to me. She's like to live although she's in The last stage o' tenuity. She munches wi' her wizen'd gums, An' stumps about on legs o' thrums,* But comes as sure as Christmas comes To ca' for her annuity. I read the tables drawn wi' care For an Insurance Company ; Her chance o' life was stated there, Wi' perfect perspicuity. But tables here or tables there, She's lived ten years beyond her share, An's like to live a dozen mair, To ca' for her annuity. Last Yule she had a fearfu' hoast 5 I thought a kink 6 might set me free I led her out, 'rnang snaw and frost, Wi' constant assiduity. But Diel ma' care the blast gaed by, And miss'd the auld anatomy It just cost me a tooth, forbye 7 Discharging her annuity. 1 Tough. 2 Firm. 3 Shrunk. 4 Threads. " Cough. 6 Paroxysm. 7 Besides. 9M The Annuity. If there's a sough B o' cholera Or typhus \vha sae gleg 9 as she ! She buys up baths, au' drugs, an a', In siccan superfluity ! She doesua need she's fever proof The pest walk'd o'er her very roof She tauld me sae an' then her loof 10 Held out for her annuity. Ae day she fell her arm she brak A compound fracture as could be Nae Leech the cure wad undertak, Whate'er was the gratuity. It's cured ! She handles't like a flail It does as weel in bits as hale But I'm a broken man mysel' Wi' her and her annuity. Her broozled 11 flesh and broken banes, Are weel as flesh an' banes can be. She beats the taeds 12 that live in stanes, An' fatten in vacuity ! They die when they're exposed to air They canna thole 13 the atmosphere But her ! expose her onywhere She lives for her annuity. If mortal means could nick her thread, Sma' crime it wad appear to me- Ca't murder or ca't homicide I'd justify't au' do it tae. But how to fell a wither'd wife That's carved out o' the tree o' life The timmer limmer daurs 14 the knife To settle her annuity. 8 Whisper. 9 Sharp. "' Hand. " Bruised. '* Toads. la Endure. u The wooden hussy dares. 265 51 M The Annuity. I'd try a shot. But whar's the mark ? Her vital parts are hid frae me. Her back-bane wanders through her sark In an unkenn'd corkscrewity. She's palsified an' shakes her head Sae fast about, ye scarce can see't It's past the power o' steel or lead To settle her annuity. She might be drown'd ; but go she'll not Within a mile o' loch or sea ; Or hanged if cord could grip a throat O' siccan exiguity. It's fitter far to hang the rope It draws out like a telescope 'Twad tak a dreadfu' length o' drop To settle her annuity. Will puzion 15 do't? It has been tried. But, be't in hash or fricassee, That's just the dish she can't abide, Whatever kind o' gout it hae. It's needless to assail her doubts She gangs by instinct, like the brutes, An' only eats an' drinks what suits Hersel' and her annuity. The Bible says the age o' man Threescore and ten perchance may be. She's ninety-four. Let them wha can Explain the incongruity. She should hae lived afore the flood She's come o' Patriarchal blood She's some auld Pagan mummified Alive for her annuity. 15 Poison. The Annuity. She's been cmbalm'd inside and out She's sauted to the last degree There's pickle in her very snout Sae caper-like an' cruety, Lot's wife was fresh compared to her They've Kyanized the useless knir l6 She canna decompose nae mair Than her accursed annuity. The water-drap wears out the rock As this eternal jaud wears me. I could withstand the single shock, But not the continuity. It's pay me here an' pay me there An' pay me, pay me, evermair I'll gang demented wi' despair I'm charged for her annuity. 16 Witch. 267 ASK AND HAVE. SAMUEL LOVER. H, 'tis time I should talk to your mother, Sweet Mary," says I ; " Oh, don't talk to my mother," says Mary, Beginning to cry : " For my mother says men are deceivers, And never, I know, will consent ; She says girls in a hurry who marry, At leisure repent." " Then, suppose I would talk to your father, Sweet Mary," says I ; " Oh, don't talk to my father," says Mary, Beginning to cry : 268 Ask and Have. " For my father, he loves me so dearly, He'll never consent I should go If you talk to my father," gays Mary, " He'll surely say ' ]So.' " " Then how shall I get you, my jewel ? Sweet Mary," says I ; " If your father and mother's so cruel, Most surely I'll die!" " Oh, never say die, dear," says Mary ; " A way now to save you I see : Since my parents are both so contrary You'd better ask me." 269 A LYRIC FOR LOVERS. W. H. AVILLS. OVE launch'd a gallant little craft, Complete with every rope ; In golden words was painted aft, " The Cupid, Captain Hope." Pleasure was rated second mate, And Passion made to steer ; The guns were handed o'er to Fate, To Impulse sailing gear. 270 A Lyric for Lovers. Merrily roved the thoughtless crew Amid the billows' strife ; But soon a sail bore down : all knew 'Twas Captain Reason's " Life." And Pleasure left, though Passion said He'd guard her safe from all harms : 'Twas vain ; for Fate ramm'd home the lead, While Love prepared the small arms. A storm arose. The canvass now Escaped from Impulse' hand, While headstrong Passion dash'd the prow Swift on a rocky strand. " All's lost !" each trembling sailor cried ; " Bid Captain Hope adieu !" But, in his life-boat, Reason hied To save the silly crew. Impulse the torrents overwhelm, But Pleasure 'scaped from wreck ; Love, making Reason take the helm, Chain'd Passion to the deck. " I thought you were my foe ; but now," Said Love, " we'll sail together ; Reason, henceforth through life shalt thou My pilot be for ever ! " 271 ODE TO BIG BEN. w. H. WILLS. (FROM " PUNCH.") BEN! Ten Times more deafening than old Tom of Lincoln Prodigious cone Big monotone Huge Upper Benjamin ! When I think on How thy E natural sonorous tonic, Booming distinctly out, each clear harmonic, Will wrap in sound all London, and, three million ears Strike with one common chord, it, in good sooth, appears To me, O loud pedometer for the Grim Old Runner, That you are a stunner. Monstrous memento ! Has thy tongue been sent to Memorialise " my Lords" from your tall steeple To tell the borers, And tired-out snorers, Who dream, forsooth, they represent the people, 272 Ode to Big Ben. That Time, winch they so waste in clubs and " pairs," Is, in reality, the Public's, and not theirs? Wilt thou, O giant Captain Cuttle ! When hourly " making a note on't," rouse the subtle Barnacles to a sense of " how to do it ?" Or, if you can't, to a dread of how they'll rue it ? Tremendous Larum ! If, at each great stroke Of your enormous hammer, Your trembling clamour Purges the air of all the lies and smoke That seethe and vibrate at thy base, (And which for very shame Will make thy clock, good dame, For ever hold her hands before her face), Then, O immense Percussion Cap ! I need Not say you'll prove a public benefit, indeed. 27:! A SEASONABLE STORY. MARK LEMON. HERE is the man at twenty-eight That never to himself hath said, Whilst tumbling in his lonely bed, " All marriages are made by fate !" At least with me the saw holds good, Fate doom'd me unto bach'lorhood, For Bella Brown is Mrs. More ! There never was a tidier body She should have borne the name I bore, A Seasonable Story. Mix'd every mixture that I swallow'd, Wliether 'twas gruel or gin -toddy, For me perform'd all household duties, Nursed each sweet babe my home that hallow'd. And Mrs. More has four such beauties ! Bella as Bailey's " Eve" was fair, Save that her face was slightly freckled ; And, for her sake, with tenderest care, I keep a bantam-hen that's speckled. She had a dimple on her chin, Where you must long to lay your linger ; Her pouting rosy lips would win A true St. Anthony to linger. Her voice ! O could you hear her sing, You'd think within her pretty throat A nightingale had closed its wing, And lent her every thrilling note ! Her nose was slightly pugg'd, her eyes Were like twin stars of equal size ; But why recount her beauties o'er, She's not my wife she's Mrs. More ! 'Twas " on a raw and gusty day" I placed myself and trunk in charge Of Margate's Nelson, Captain Large , Just as the boat got under weigh Bella (she was my Bella then !) Bella was there, (ah, weep, my pen, Thine inkiest tears !) for Margate bound, " To get a blow," her mother said ; But I I got the blow instead, As in the sequel 'twill be found. The Pool was past, Gravesend, the Nore, The sea was frothing up like yeast, 275 A Seasonable Story. The wind was blowing Nor.-Xor.-East ; I never felt so queer before. My sight each moment grew more dim, My head began around to swim, My legs went any way they pleased, As though the steamer's deck were greased ; I strove to cry aloud, but no, The words stuck in my throat, and so I threw me madly on my trunk, Like one (I blush to write it) drunk. I knew not then I know not now, How long I lay in that distress, Which mocks all other forms of woe ; Which even love cannot make less Its memory even now doth harrow ; But, when I woke to consciousness, Myself and trunk were in a barrow, Bump, bumping over Margate Jetty, The while the rain in torrents fell. At length I reach'd the Pier Hotel O, very cold and very wetty. " This way, sir, if you please." I went, Following my trunk, the boots, and maid. " Send me some brandy/' It was sent ; And, when I drank the aforesaid, I drew a key from out my pocket, I knelt down by that trunk of leather : But vainly sought I to unlock it, The lock was damaged by the weather. All shiveringly I rang the bell ; The chamber-maid came in a minute. I told my tale, she said, " O well, Sir, blow the key ; there's something in it/' A Seasonable Story. I blew a note both loud and shrill Replied ! " There,'' said the joker, "As you can't open it, I will ; I'll pick the lock, sir, with the poker/' The deed was done, and she withdrew ; I doff 'd my saturated clothes ; I raised the lid, what met my view My blushing pen shall now disclose : A roomy gown of bombazine Upon the top was laid, A pair of boots of faded green, Of shape call'd Adelaide. " What have they done?" I cried aloud ; " This trunk it is not mine : For everything within it stow'd, 13y Gemini ! is feminine." "JVas so the trunk was not mine own ; 0, what was I to do ? I could not stand there cold as stone, Nor go to bed, could you ? There was no choice, but Hobson's choice,- Nothing to pause between ; 1, listening to compulsion's voice, Put on the bombazine. I had not sat scarce half an hour, When upstairs came the maid ; Happing my door with wondrous power, Thus screamingly she said : " Here is Miss Brown and her mam -mar, Which wishes, sir, to know If you will go to Kan-nel-ar? Send word, sir, Yes or No ! "' 277 A Seasonable Story. Here was a fix ! I was not fit By Bella to be seen. Go down ? I couldn't think of it, Dress'd out in bombazine ; I answer'd, " No!" * * * * * * * * That fatal word I still deplore, It stung ray Bella's pride. That night she met with Mr. More ; Next week she was his bride. My heart is breaking ! soon my bed Will be in churchyard green ; And, should my ghost walk, cruel maid, 'Twill walk in bombazine. CHISWJCK PRESS: PRINTK1) BY WHITTINGUAM AND WIJ.KINS, TOOKS COURT. CHANCERY LANK. ADDITIONAL NOTES. PAGE 1. HE Miller of Trompington is so much of the Reeves' contribution to Chaucer's "Canterbury Tales" as can be ventured in a modern reprint; but presents, nevertheless, a complete little story. The line, " His name was hoten Denious Simekin, (called ' Disdainful Simekin') gives us to understand that the Miller's accomplishments, mentioned in an earlier passage, made their owner intolerant of his less gifted neighbours, and leads us to the origin of a not uncommon surname, much in favour with comic writers of a later date. Simpkin appears to be a slight transmutation of Simekin, or sometimes Simkin, which is a diminutive of Simon. Soler Hall was one of the lodging-houses of Cambridge University, in which the students lived before they were incorporated. This hall had an open gallery, called a Soler, where the rays of Sol could be enjoyed. Some of the halls and colleges retain the names then existing. Oriel College, at Oxford, for example, replaces a large messuage called, in Chaucer's day, L'Oriele, or the Hall with the Porch. PAGE 7. Poor and Sure. A quaint version of " The City and the Country Mouse," frequently versified by the writers of fables, from ^Esop downwards. PAGE 10. The Old and Young Courtier. The authorship of this admirable comparison of the merry and bountiful life under Elizabeth, with the coarser and gloomier manners in vogue under the Stuarts, is unknown. The text is that of Dr. Percy, who collated and corrected a black-letter copy of the song in the Pepys' collection, by means of another copy in a miscellany of poems and songs, published in 1660, called " Le Prince d' Amour." PAGE 14. The Duke and the Tinker is one of the " Ballads that Illustrate Shakespeare " in Dr. Percy's " Relics," originally derived from the Pepys' collection. The story on which both it, and the introduction to Shakespeare's " Taming of the Shrew" were founded, is thus related in Burton's " Anatomy of Melancholy : " " The Duke of Burgundy, at the marriage of Eleonora, sister to the king of Portugall, at Bruges in Flanders, which was solemnized in the deepe of winter; when as by reason of unseasonable weather he could neither hawke nor hunt, and was now tired with cards, dice, &c., and such other domestick sports, or to see ladies dance ; with some of his courtiers he would in the evening walke disguised all about the towne. It so fortuned, as he was walking late one night, he found a countrey fellow dead drunke, snorting on a bulke ; he caused his followers to bring him to his palace, and there stripping him of his old clothes, and attyring him after the court fashion, when he wakened, he and they were all ready to attend upon his excellency, and persuade him that he was some great duke. The poor fellow admiring how he came there, was served in state all day long ; after supper he saw them dance, heard musicke, and all the rest of those court- like pleasures; but late at night, when he was well tipled, and again faste asleepe, they put on his old robes, and so conveyed him to the place where they first found him. Now the fellow had not made them so good sport the day before, as he did now, when he returned to himself; all the jest was to see howhelooked upon it. In conclusion, after some little admiration, the poore man told his friends he had seen a vision, constantly believed it, and would not otherwise be persuaded, and so the jest ended." 281 O Additional Notes. PAGE 20. Jolly Good.Ale and Old. This song opens the second act of the quaint comedy of " Gammer Gurton's Needle ;" the author of which, deigning only to give his initials, has remained unknown. The title-page of the first edition of the play (1575) states it to have been " made by Mr. S., master of art," and to have been first performed at Christ Church College, Oxford. From an entry in the Bursar's books of that college, under the year 1560, it has been inferred, but not conclusively, that the author of " Gammer Gurton's Needle" was Bishop Still. PAGE 55. Good Wine a Gentleman. Francisco Redi, the author of this trifle, was a learned court physician, under Prince Leopold and Cosmo the Third, Dukes of Tuscany. As a poet he appears to have prescribed wine to his readers quite as copiously as Dr. Sangrado prescribed water to his patients. Nearly all his verses are bacchanalian ; yet, true to the traditions of his profession, he took his own prescriptions very moderate!}' ; never himself drinking wine without diluting it. Temperance, however, did not preserve him beyond the age of 68, and in March, 1694, he was found dead in his bed. His most famous poem is " Bacco in Toscana" from which the present piece is an extract and has been well translated by Leigh Hunt. PAGE 58. Saint Anthony's Sermon to the Fishes. Ulrich Megerle, a bare -footed Augustine friar of the seventeenth century adopted the affectation about names then in fashion, and called himself Abraham a Sancta Clara. He was a preacher of the dramatic and picturesque order, enlivening his pulpit scenes with such bursts of humour as are found attractive even in the present day. The poem here quoted is from Megerle's " Judas, the Arch Rogue," and was translated by an anonymous writer in " The Knickerbocker Magazine." PAGE 61. A Journey to Exeter. This journey was described in an Epistle to the Earl of Burling- ton, printed in the second volume of the trade edition of Gay's Works, dated 1767. Mr. Gay, adopting the quickest route practicable in his time, took, to reach Exeter from London, six days. It may be out of place to quote, in contrast, a modern authority, who is neither a poet, a wit, nor a humourist ; but Mr. Bradshaw shows, in his " Railway Guide," that the same distance is now darted over several times daily in less than six hours. PAGE 67. Bad Authors. A portion of the prologue to Pope's Satires. " Good John," peremptorily ordered to tie up the knocker, was John Searle, Pope's footman ; to whom he left a legacy. The prologue, written in the form of an epistle, was inscribed to Dr. Arbuthnot, whom Pope addresses as " the friend of my life." PAGE 88. A Lady'* Diary forms part of " The Journal of a Modern Lady," published in Swift's " Miscellanies," PAGE 127. The Ass and the Flute. Tomas De Yriarte owes his literary fame chiefly to a poem entitled " Musica," and to the " Fabulas Literarias," of which the " Ass and the Flute" is one. He fell under the censure of the Inquisition at Madrid, on a charge of inculcating infidel principles, and was obliged to perform a secret penance to obtain absolution. He died in 1791. Mr. Thomas Roscoe translated this fable into English. 282 Additional Notes. PAGE 145. Monsieur Tonson. Before this Recitation grew into the Monopologue, Monsieur Tonson was for many years the favourite entertainment at every spouting-club and school breaking- up. Its authorship was attributed to John Taylor, who commenced life as an oculist, con- tinued it as a theatrical prologue and epilogue writer, and ended it as editor of the " Sun Newspaper." That he wrote " Monsieur Tonson " is very doubtful ; but no doubt seems to be entertained as to the hero of the poem. Tom King was a distinguished scholar at Eton in the days of Addison and Steele, matriculated at King's College, Oxford, ran through his patrimony and then ran away to London, in apprehension of losing his fellowship. He set up a coffee-house in Covent Garden if the shed beneath the portico of St. Paul's Church in Hogarth's print of " Morning," where Tom King's coffee-house is represented, deserves to be called a house of any kind. He was the father of Gentleman King the comedian, Garrick's contemporary. "A gentleman told me," says Genest, in his " History of the Stage," " that King's father kept a coffee-house, and that King, when a boy, had often brought him a dish of coffee." King the elder was for years a kind of professional joker, practical and verbal. PAGE 173. The Devil's Walk. In 1830 a sharp controversy was raised about the authorship of this jeu d'esprit. Mr. Coleridge had owned to having partly divulged in rhyme " The Devil's Thoughts ; " but " The Devil's Walk " was preremptorily claimed for Mr. Southey. Although Mr. R. C. Person vainly assured the editor of " The Morning Ppst" that he possessed the identical MS. copy of verses written by his uncle during an evening party, the fashionable oracle insisted that the idea had seized Mr. Southey one morning while shaving, and that he had thrown off the lines (" Poem they can scarcely be called ! " pro- nounced the Della-Cruscan critic) before breakfast. The editor of Southey's collected Works also thinks the following bantering lines, added by Southey to answer a friend who had urged him to put the question beyond doubt, to be conclusive : " And whoever shall say that to Person These best of all verses belong. He is an untruth-telling whoreson, And so shall be call'd in the song. And if seeking an illicit connection with fame, Any one else should put in a claim. In this comical competition ; That excellent poem will prove A man-trAp for such foolish ambition. Where the silly rogue shall be caught by the leg. And exposed in a second edition." The great probability of Professor Person having originated the trifle, and of its having been amplified by the poets for whom it was afterwards claimed, wholly escaped these critics. There is, however, a little book, illustrated by R. Cruikshank, entitled, " The Devil's Walk, a Poem by Professor Person, with additions and variations by Southey and Coleridge," the editor of which appears to have taken a common-sense view of this great literary question. PAGE 194. Malbroock. This burlesque lament on the death of the Duke of Marlborough was written on a false rumour of that event after the battle of Malplaquet. For years it was only known traditionally, and does not appear among the innumerable anecdotic songs printed in France during the middle of the last century. But, all of a sudden, in 1781, it burst out afresh and became the rage. It happened that, when Maria Antoinette gave to the throne of France an heir, he was nursed by a peasant nicknamed Madame Poitrine. The nurse, while rocking the royal cradle, sung Malbroock, and the dauphin, it is said, opened its eyes at the name of the great general. The name, the simplicity of the words, the singularity of the burthen, and the melodiousness of the air, interested the queen, and she frequently sang it. 2 S3 Additional Notes. Everybody repeated it after her, and even the king condescended to quaver out the words, Malborough s'en va-t-en guerre, Malbroock was sung in the state apartments of Versailles ; in the kitchens, in the stables it became quite the rage. From the court it was adopted by the tradespeople of Paris, and passed thence from town to town, and country to country : it was wafted across the sea to England, where it soon became as popular as in France. It is said that a French gentleman wishing, when in London, to be driven to Marlborough Street, had totally forgotten its name ; but, on singing the air of Malbroock, the coachman drove him to the proper address with no other direction. Goethe, who travelled in France about the same time, was so teased with the universal concert of Malborough, that he took a hatred to the duke, who was the innocent cause of the musical epidemic. Malbroock made itself heard, without ceasing, apropos of everything, and apropos of nothing ; it gave its name to the fashions, to silks, head-dresses, carriages, and soups. The subject of the song was painted on fire-screens, on fans, and on china ; it was embroidered on tapestries, engraven on toys and keepsakes was reproduced in all manner of ways and forms. The rage for Malbroock endured for many years, and nothing short of the Revolution, the fall of the Bastile, and the Marselloise hymn, could smother the sounds of that never-ceasing song. PAGE 218. The Country House Party. This passage is selected from the thirteenth canto of " Don Juan." PAGES 248, 261, AND 274. Sir Wilkins et sa Dinah, The Beauty and the Bee, and A Seasonable Story, have never before been printed. PAGE 263. The Annuity. The little work from which " The Annuity" has been selected was printed, for private distribution only, by the late Mr. George Outram. It bears the unpromising title of " Legal Lyrics, and Metrical Illustrations of the Scottish Forms of Pro- cess ;" but abounds in keen wit and rich humour, which force themselves on the appreciation even of readers whose misfortune it is to be born south of the Tweed, and to be unacquainted with the exquisitely simple forms and phrases of Scottish Law. CHISWICK PRESS ! PRINTED BY WHITTINGHAM AND WILKINS, TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE,