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473- SOMERVILLE (W.). Hobbinol, Field Sports, and the Bowling Green. Woodcut 
 vignette illustrations by Nesbit and Thurston. 4to, half green calf, gilt back 
 and top, BY MACDONALD. London, 1813 
 
 A fine specimen of British Typography, printed by William Bulmer at the Shakes- 
 peare Press. 
 
HOBBINOL, 
 
 AND THE 
 
 BOWLING GREEN. 
 
 t 
 
HOBBINOL, 
 
 AND THE 
 
 BOWLING GREEN. 
 
 BY 
 
 W SOMERVILE. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM BULMER AND CO. 
 
 FOR R. ACKERMANN, IN THE STRAND. 
 1813. 
 
THE Edition of Mr. SOMERVILE'S Poem of 
 the CHASE, printed by Mr. BULMER at the 
 Shakspeare Press in the year 1796, is univer- 
 sally acknowledged to be among the finest Spe- 
 cimens of British Typography ; and the Sub- 
 scribers to it are now presented with a second 
 and similar volume, including the lesser Poems 
 of the same popular writer on Field and 
 Rural Sports, so as to produce, when united, 
 
ADVERTISEMENT 
 
 a complete Poetical Work on subjects which 
 form so large a portion of the manly amuse- 
 ments of the English Gentleman. Having 
 been printed at the same Press and under the 
 same care, it will be found to possess an equal 
 degree of Typographical Beauty with the 
 former Publication. 
 
 Mr. BULMER'S volume was decorated by that 
 eminent Artist Mr. Bewick^ who, in his manner 
 of engraving the blocks, studiously endea- 
 voured to introduce that determined breadth 
 of light and shade which wood so eminently 
 possesses over copper-plate engraving. That 
 ingenious man completely effected what he 
 undertook to produce ; and his merit is fully 
 acknowledged: but, at the same time, it is 
 presumed, that he could never have equalled. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT 
 
 by his mode of engraving, what Jfestrit and 
 Thurston have done in this Volume, nor 
 what Brans ton, Nesbit, Clennell, &c. have 
 effected in THE RELIGIOUS EMBLEMS; a work of 
 superior interest in itself, and whose numerous, 
 characteristic decorations have been generally 
 allowed to display the best specimens of w r ood 
 engraving, of modern times and in any country. 
 -In that Work, as well as in the Volume I 
 now present to the Publick, my zeal in the 
 service of the Arts will, I trust, be favoured 
 with the approbation which I have endea- 
 voured to deserve. 
 
 RUDOLPH ACKERMANN. 
 
 Strand, 
 May 1813. 
 
HOBBINOL, 
 
 OR 
 
 THE RURAL GAMES. 
 
 A BURLESQUE POEM. 
 
 TO 
 
 MR. HOGARTH. 
 
 PERMIT me, Sir, to make choice of you for my Patron, being the 
 greatest master in the burlesque way. In this indeed you have 
 some advantage of your -poetical brethren, that you paint to the 
 eye; yet, remember, Sir, that we give speech and motion, and a 
 greater variety to our figures. Your province is the Town ; leave 
 me a small out-ride in the Country, and I shall be content. In 
 this, at least, let us both agree, to make Vice and Folly the 
 objects of our ridicule ; and we cannot fail to be of some service 
 to mankind. 
 
 I am, Sir, 
 
 your admirer, and most humble servant, 
 
 W. S. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 .NOTHING is more common than for us poor bards, when we 
 have acquired a little reputation, to print ourselves into disgrace. 
 We climb the Aonian mount with difficulty and toil, we receive 
 the bays for which we languished; till, grasping still at more, we 
 lose our hold, and fall at once to the bottom. 
 
 The Author of this piece would not thus be felo de se, nor 
 would he be murdered by persons unknown. But as he is satis- 
 fied, that there are many imperfect copies of this trifle dispersed 
 abroad, and, as he is credibly informed, that he shall soon be 
 exposed to view in such an attitude, as he would not care to 
 appear in ; he thinks it most prudent in this desperate case to 
 throw himself on the mercy of the publick ; and offer this whim- 
 sical work a voluntary sagrifice, in hope that he stands a better 
 chance for their indulgence, now it has received his last hand, 
 than when curtailed and mangled by others. 
 
 The poets of almost all nations have celebrated the games of 
 their several countries. Homer began, and all the mimick tribe 
 followed the example of that great father of poetry. Even our 
 own Milton, who laid his scene beyond the limits of this sublunary 
 world, has found room for descriptions of this sort, and has per- 
 formed it in a more sublime manner than any who went before 
 him. His, indeed, are sports ; but they are the sports of angels. 
 This gentleman has endeavoured to do justice to his countrymen, 
 the British freeholders, who, when dressed in their holiday clothes, 
 are by no means persons of a despicable figure ; but eat and drink 
 
4 PREFACE. 
 
 as plentifully, and fight as heartily, as the greatest hero in the 
 Iliad. There is also some use in descriptions of this nature, since 
 nothing gives us a clearer idea of the genius of a nation, than 
 their sports and diversions. If we see people dancing even in 
 wooden shoes, and a fiddle always at their heels, we are soon 
 convinced of the levity and volatile spirit of those merry slaves. 
 The famous bull-feasts are an evident token of the quixotism and 
 romantick taste of the Spaniards : and a country-wake is too sad 
 an image of the infirmities of our own people. We see nothing 
 but broken heads, bottles flying about, tables overturned, out- 
 rageous drunkenness, and eternal squabble. 
 
 Thus much of the subject : it may not be improper to touch a 
 little upon the style. One of the greatest poets and most candid 
 criticks of this age, has informed us that there are two sorts of 
 burlesque. Be pleased to take it in his own words. Spectator, 
 No. 242. " Burlesque (says he) is of two kinds. The first repre- 
 sents mean persons in the accoutrements of heroes ; the other, 
 great persons acting and speaking like the basest among the 
 people. Don Quixote is an instance of the first, and Lucian's 
 gods of the second. It is a dispute among the criticks, whether 
 burlesque runs best in heroick, like the Dispensary; or in doggerel, 
 like that of Hudibras. I think, where the low character is to be 
 raised, the heroick is the most proper measure ; but when an hero 
 is to be pulled down and degraded, it is best done in doggerel." 
 Thus far Mr. Addison. If therefore the heroick is the proper 
 measure, where the low character is to be raised, Milton's style 
 must be very proper in the subject here treated of; because it 
 raises the low character more than is possible to be done under 
 the restraint of rhyme ; and the ridicule chiefly consists in raising 
 that low character. I beg leave to add the authority of Mr. 
 Smith, in his poem upon the death of Mr. John Philips. The 
 whole passage is so very fine, and gives so clear an idea of his 
 
. W*^UU y 
 
 vain relies; "^ 
 Jy eyes, 
 use replies : 3 
 
 PREFACE. 5 
 
 manner of writing, that the reader will not think his labour lost 
 in running it over : 
 
 Oh various bard ! you all our pow'rs control, 
 You now disturb, and now divert the soul. 
 Milton and Butler in thy Muse combine ; 
 Above the last thy manly beauties shine. 
 For as I've seen two rival wits contend, 
 One gaily charge, one gravely wise defend ; 
 That on quick turns, and points in vain relies j 
 This with a look demure, and steady 
 With dry rebukes and sneering praise 
 So thy grave lines extort a juster smile, 
 Reach Butler's fancy, but surpass his style. 
 He speaks Scarron's low phrase in humble strains j 
 In thee the solemn air of great Cervantes reigns. 
 What sounding lines his abject themes express ! 
 What shining words the pompous shilling dress ! 
 There, there my cell, immortal made, outvies 
 The frailer piles, that o'er its ruins rise. 
 In her best light the comick Muse appears, 
 When she with borrow'd pride the buskin wears. 
 So when nurse Nokes to act young Ammon tries, 
 With shambling legs, long chin, and foolish eyes, 
 With dangling hands he strokes the imperial robe, 
 And with a cuckold's air commands the globe, 
 The pomp, and sound, the whole buffoon display'd, 
 And Ammon's son more mirth than Gomez made. 
 
 But here it may be objected, that this manner of writing 
 contradicts the rule in Horace : 
 
 Versibus exponi tragicis res comica non vult. 
 
 Monsieur Boileau, in his dissertation upon the Joconde of de 
 la Fontaine, quotes this passage in Horace, and observes, que 
 comme il riy a rien de plus froid, que de confer une chose grande 
 en stile has, aussi ny a-t-il de plus ridicule, que de raconter une 
 histoire comique et absurde en termes graves et serieux. But then 
 

 6 PREFACE. 
 
 he justly adds this exception to the general rule in Horace : & 
 moins que ce serieuoc ne soit affecte tout eocpres pour rendre la 
 chose encore plus burlesque. If the observation of that celebrated 
 critick, Monsieur Dacier, is true ; Horace himself, in the same 
 Epistle to the Pisos, and not far distant from the rule here men- 
 tioned, has aimed to improve the burlesque by the help of the 
 sublime, in his note upon this verse : 
 
 Debemur morti nos nostraque ; sive receptus 
 Terra Neptunus 
 
 And upon the five following verses has this general remark : 
 Toutes ces expressions nobles qu' Horace entasse dans ces six vers 
 servent a rendre plus plaisante cette chute : 
 
 Ne dum verborum stet honos 
 
 car rien ne contribue tant au ridicule que le grand. He indeed 
 would be severe upon himself alone, who should censure this way 
 of writing, when he must plainly see, that it is affected on pur- 
 pose, only to raise the ridicule, and give the reader a more 
 agreeable entertainment. Nothing can improve a merry tale so 
 much, as its being delivered with a grave and serious air : our 
 imaginations are agreeably surprised, and fond of a pleasure so 
 little expected. Whereas he, who would bespeak our laughter by 
 an affected grimace and ridiculous gestures, must play his part very 
 well indeed, or he will fall short of the idea he has raised. It is 
 true, Virgil was very sensible that it was difficult thus to elevate 
 a low and mean subject : 
 
 Nee sum animi dubius, verbis ea vincere magnum 
 Quam sit, et angustis hunc addere rebus honorem ; 
 
 but tells us, for our encouragement, in another place, 
 
 In tenui labor, at tenuis non gloria, si quern 
 Numina laeva sinunt, auditque vocatus Apollo. 
 
PREFACE. 7 
 
 Mr. Addison is of the same opinion, and adds, that the difficulty 
 is very much increased by writing in blank verse. " The English 
 and French (says he), who always use the same words in verse, 
 as in ordinary conversation, are forced to raise their language 
 with metaphors and figures, or by the pompousness of the whole 
 phrase to wear off any littleness, that appears in the particular 
 parts that compose it. This makes our blank verse, where there 
 is no rhyme to support the expression, extremely difficult to such 
 as are not masters of the tongue ; especially when they write 
 upon low subjects." Remarks upon Italy, p. 99. But there is 
 even yet a greater difficulty behind : the writer in this kind of 
 burlesque must not only keep up the pomp and dignity of the 
 style, but an artful sneer should appear through the whole work ; 
 and every man will judge, that it is no easy matter to blend 
 together the Hero and the Harlequin. 
 
 If any person should want a key to this poem, his curiosity 
 shall be gratified : I shall, in plain words, tell him, " It is a 
 satire against the luxury, the pride, the wantonness, and quarrel- 
 some temper of the middling sort of people." As these are the 
 proper and genuine cause of that bare-faced knavery, and almost 
 universal poverty, which reign without control in every place ; 
 and as to these we owe our many bankrupt farmers, our trade 
 decayed, and lands uncultivated ; the author has reason to hope 
 that no honest man, who loves his country, will think this short 
 reproof out of season. For, perhaps, this merry way of bantering 
 men into virtue, may have a better effect, than the most serious 
 admonitions ; since many, who are proud to be thought immoral, 
 are not very fond of being ridiculous. 
 
THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 Proposition. Invocation addressed to Mr. John Philips, 
 author of the Cider Poem, and Splendid Shilling. De- 
 scription of the Vale of Evesham. The seat of Hobbinol ; 
 Hobbinol a great man in his village, seated in his wicker 
 smoking his pipe, has one only son. Young Hobbinol's edu- 
 cation, bred up with Gander etta his near relation. Toung 
 Hobbinol and Gander etta chosen king and queen of May. 
 Her dress and attendants. The May -games. Twangdillo 
 the fidler, his character. The dancing. Gander etta s 
 extraordinary performance. Bagpipes good musick in the 
 Highlands. Milonides, master of the ring, disciplines the 
 mob ; proclaims the several prizes. His speech. Pastor el 
 takes up the belt. His character, his her oick figure, his 
 confidence. Hobbinol, by permission of Gander etta, accepts 
 the challenge, vaults into the ring. His honourable be- 
 haviour ; escapes a scow ering. Gander etta' s agony. Pas- 
 torel foiled. Gander etta not a little pleased. 
 
What old Menalcas at his feast reveal'd, 
 I sing; strange feats of ancient prowess, deeds 
 Of high renown, while all his listening guests 
 With eager joy received the pleasing tale. 
 
 O thou ! l who late on Vaga's flowery banks 
 Slumbering secure, with Stirom 2 well bedew'd, 
 
 Mr. John Philips, author of Cider. 3 Strong Herefordshire cider. 
 
14 CANTO i HOBBINOL v .7 24 
 
 Fallacious cask, in sacred dreams wert taught 
 By ancient seers, and Merlin, prophet old, 
 To raise ignoble themes with strains sublime, 
 Be thou my guide ! while I thy track pursue 
 With wing unequal, through the wide expanse 
 Adventurous range, and emulate thy flights. 
 
 In that rich vale, 3 where with Dobunian 4 fields 
 Cornavian 5 borders meet, far-famed of old 
 For Montfort's 6 hapless fate, undaunted earl; 
 Where from her fruitful urn Avona pours 
 Her kindly torrent on the thirsty glebe, 
 And pillages the hills to enrich the plains ; 
 On whose luxuriant banks flowers of all hues 
 Start up spontaneous ; and the teeming soil 
 With hasty shoots prevents its owner's pray'r; 
 The pamper'd, wanton steer, of the sharp axe 
 Regardless, that o'er his devoted head 
 
 Hangs menacing, crops his delicious bane, 
 
 
 
 1 Vale of Evesham. * Glocestershire. * Worcestershire. 
 6 Simon de Montfort, killed at the battle of Evesham. 
 
CANTO I HOBBINOL v. 25 44 15 
 
 Nor knows the price is life ; with envious eye 
 His labouring yoke -fellow beholds his plight, 
 And deems him blest, while on his languid neck, 
 Jn solemn sloth, he tugs the lingering plough. 
 So blind are mortals, of each other's state 
 Misjudging, self- deceived. Here, as supreme, 
 Stern Hobbinol in rural plenty reigns 
 O'er wide-extended fields, his large domain. 
 The obsequious villagers, with looks sub miss, 
 Observant of his eye, or when with seed 
 To impregnate Earth's fat womb, or when to bring, 
 With clamorous joy, the bearded harvest home. 
 
 Here, when the distant sun lengthens the nights, 
 When the keen frosts the shivering farmer warn 
 To broach his mellow cask, and frequent blasts 
 Instruct the crackling billets how to blaze, 
 In his warm wicker- chair, whose pliant twigs, 
 In close embraces join'd, with spacious arch 
 Vault the thick -woven roof, the bloated churl 
 Loiters in state, each arm reclined is propp'd 
 
16 CANTO I HOBBINOL v. 45 64 
 
 With yielding pillows of the softest down. 
 In mind composed, from short coeval tube 
 He sucks the vapours bland, thick curling clouds 
 Of smoke around his reeking temples play ; 
 Joyous he sits, and, impotent of thought, 
 Puffs away care and sorrow from his heart. 
 How vain the pomp of kings ! Look down, ye great, 
 And view with envious eye the downy nest, 
 Where soft repose, and calm contentment dwell, 
 Unbribed by wealth and unrestrain'd by power. 
 
 One son alone had blest his bridal bed, 
 Whom good Calista bore, nor long survived 
 To share a mother's joy, but left the babe 
 To his paternal care. An orphan niece, 
 Near the same time, his dying brother sent 
 To claim his kind support. The helpless pair 
 In the same cradle slept, nursed up with care 
 By the same tender hand, on the same breasts 
 Alternate hung with joy ; till reason dawn'd, 
 And a new light broke out by slow degrees : 
 
CANTO I HOBBINOL v. 6584 17 
 
 Then on the floor the pretty wantons play'd, 
 Gladding the farmer's heart with growing hopes 
 And pleasures erst unfelt. Whene'er with cares 
 Oppress'd, when wearied, or alone he dozed, 
 Their harmless pratde soothed his troubled soul. 
 Say, Hobbinol, what ecstasies of joy 
 Trill'd through thy veins, when, climbing for a kiss, 
 With little palms they stroked thy grisly beard, 
 Or round thy wicker whirl'd their rattling cars ? 
 Thus from their earliest days bred up and train'd 
 To mutual fondness, with their stature grew 
 The thriving passion. What love can decay 
 That roots so deep ! Now ripening manhood curl'd 
 On the gay stripling's chin ; her panting breasts, 
 And trembling blushes glowing on her cheeks, 
 Her secret wish betray'd. She at each mart 
 All eyes attracted ; but her faithful shade, 
 Young Hobbinol, ne'er wander'd from her side. 
 A frown from him dash'd every rival's hopes ; 
 For he, like Peleus' son, was prone to rage, 
 
18 CANTO I HOBBINOL v. 85 104 
 
 Inexorable, swift like him of foot 
 
 With ease could overtake his dastard foe, 
 
 Nor spared the suppliant wretch. And now approach'd 
 
 Those merry days, when all the nymphs and swains, 
 
 In solemn festivals and rural sports, 
 
 Pay their glad homage to the blooming spring. 
 
 Young Hobbinol, by joint consent, is raised 
 
 To imperial dignity, and, in his hand 
 
 Bright Ganderetta tripp'd, the jovial queen 
 
 Of Maia's gaudy month, profuse of flowers. 
 
 From each enamell'd mead the attendant nymphs, 
 
 Loaded with odorous spoils, from these select 
 
 Each flower of gorgeous die, and garlands weave 
 
 Of party-colour'd sweets ; each busy hand 
 
 Adorns the jocund queen : in her loose hair, 
 
 That to the winds in wanton ringlets plays, 
 
 The tufted cowslips breathe their faint perfumes. 
 
 On her refulgent brow, as crystal clear, 
 
 As Parian marble smooth, Narcissus hangs 
 
 His drooping head, and views his image there, 
 
CANTO i HOBBINOL v. 105124 
 
 Unhappy flower ! Pansies of various hue, 
 Iris, and hyacinth, and asphodel, 
 To deck the nymph, their richest liveries wear 
 And lavish all their pride. Not Flora's self 
 More lovely smiles, when, to the dawning year, 
 Her opening bosom heavenly fragrance breathes. 
 
 See, on yon verdant lawn, the gathering crowd 
 Thickens amain ; the buxom nymphs advance, 
 Usher'd by jolly clowns : distinctions cease, 
 Lost in the common joy, and the bold slave 
 Leans on his wealthy master, unreproved : 
 The sick no pains can feel, no wants the poor : 
 Round his fond mother's neck the smiling babe 
 Exulting clings ; hard by, decrepit age, 
 Propp'd on his staff, with anxious thought revolves 
 His pleasures past, and casts his grave remarks 
 Among the heedless throng. The vigorous youth 
 Strips for the combat, hopeful to subdue 
 The fair- one's long disdain, by valour now 
 Glad to convince her coy, erroneous heart, 
 
 19 
 
20 CANTO i HOBBINOL v. 125 144 
 
 And prove his merit equal to her charms. 
 Soft pity pleads his cause ; blushing she views 
 His brawny limbs, and his undaunted eye 
 That looks a proud defiance on his foes. 
 Resolved and obstinately firm, he stands ; 
 Danger nor death he fears, while the rich prize 
 Is victory and love. On the large bough 
 Of a thick- spreading elm Twangdillo sits : 
 One leg on Ister's banks the hardy swain 
 
 Left, undismay'd ; Bellona's lightning scorch'd 
 
 < 
 
 His manly visage, but in pity left 
 
 One eye secure. He many a painful bruise 
 
 Intrepid felt, and many a gaping wound, 
 
 For brown Kate's sake, and for his country's weal ; 
 
 Yet still the merry bard, without regret 
 
 Bears his own ills, and, with his sounding shell 
 
 And comick phiz, relieves his drooping friends. 
 
 Hark, from aloft his tortured cat-gut squeals, 
 
 He tickles every string, to every note 
 
 He bends his pliant neck, his single eye 
 
CANTO I HOBBINOL v. 145 164 21 
 
 Twinkles with joy, his active stump beats time : 
 Let but this subtle artist softly touch 
 The trembling chords, the faint expiring swain 
 Trembles no less, and the fond yielding maid 
 Is tweedled into love. See with what pomp 
 The gaudy bands advance in trim array ! 
 Love beats in every vein, from every eye 
 Darts his contagious flames. They frisk, they bound, 
 Now to brisk airs, and to the speaking strings 
 Attentive, in mid -way the sexes meet: 
 Joyous their adverse fronts they close, and press 
 To strict embrace, as resolute to force 
 And storm a passage to each other's heart ; 
 Till by the varying notes forewarn'd, back they 
 Recoil disparted : each with longing eyes 
 Pursues his mate retiring, till again 
 The blended sexes mix ; then, hand in hand 
 Fast lock'd, around they fly, or nimbly wheel 
 In mazes intricate. The jocund troop, 
 Pleased with their grateful toil, incessant shake 
 
 D 
 
22 CANTO I HOBBINOL v. 165184 
 
 Their uncouth, brawny limbs, and knock their heels 
 Sonorous ; down each brow the trickling balm 
 In torrents flows, exhaling sweets refresh 
 The gazing crowd, and heavenly fragrance fills 
 The circuit wide. So danced in days of yore, 
 When Orpheus play'd a lesson to the brutes, 
 The listening savages ; the speckled pard 
 Dandled the kid, and with the bounding roe 
 The lion gambol'd. But what heavenly muse 
 With equal lays shall Ganderetta sing, 
 When, goddess-like, she skims the verdant plain, 
 Gracefully gliding? Every ravish'd eye 
 The nymph attracts, and every heart she wounds ; 
 Thee most, transported Hobbinol ! Lo, now, 
 Now to thy opening arms she skuds along, 
 With yielding blushes glowing on her cheeks ; 
 And eyes that sweetly languish ; but too soon, 
 Too soon, alas ! she flies thy vain embrace, 
 But flies to be pursued; nimbly she trips, 
 And darts a glance so tender, as she turns, 
 
CANTO I HOBBINOL v. 185 204 23 
 
 That, with new hopes relieved, thy joys revive, 
 Thy stature's raised, and thou art more than man. 
 Thy stately port, and more majestick air, 
 And every sprightly motion speaks thy love. 
 
 To the loud bag-pipe's solemn voice attend, 
 Whose rising winds proclaim a storm is nigh. 
 Harmonious blasts ! that warm the frozen blood 
 Of Caledonia's sons to love, or war, 
 And cheer their drooping hearts, robb'd of the sun's 
 Enlivening ray, that o'er the snowy Alps 
 Reluctant peeps, and speeds to better climes. 
 
 Forthwith in hoary majesty appears 
 One of gigantick size, but visage wan, 
 Milonides the strong, renown'd of old 
 For feats of arms, but, bending now with years, 
 His trunk unwieldy from the verdant turf 
 He rears deliberate, and with his plant 
 Of toughest virgin oak, in rising, aids 
 His trembling limbs ; his bald and wrinkled front, 
 Entrench'd with many a glorious scar, bespeaks 
 
24 CANTO I HOBBINOL v. 205 224 
 
 Submissive reverence. He with countenance grim 
 
 Boasts his past deeds, and with redoubled strokes 
 
 Marshals the crowd and forms the circle wide. 
 
 Stern arbiter ! like some huge rock he stands, 
 
 That breaks the incumbent waves ; they thronging press 
 
 In troops confused, and rear their foaming heads 
 
 Each above each, but from superiour force 
 
 Shrinking repell'd, compose of stateliest view 
 
 A liquid theatre. With hands uplift, 
 
 And voice Stentorian, he proclaims aloud 
 
 Each rural prize : " To him whose active foot 
 
 Foils his bold foe, and rivets him to earth, 
 
 This pair of gloves, by curious virgin hands 
 
 Embroider'd, seam'd with silk and fringed with gold. 
 
 To him, who best the stubborn hilts can wield, 
 
 And bloody marks of his displeasure leave 
 
 On his opponent's head, this beaver white, 
 
 With silver edging graced, and scarlet plume. 
 
 Ye taper maidens ! whose impetuous speed 
 
 Outflies the roe, nor bends the tender grass, 
 
CANTO i HOBBINOL v. 225 244 25 
 
 See here this prize, this rich laced smock behold, 
 
 White as your bosoms, as your kisses soft : 
 
 Blest nymph! whom bounteous Heaven's peculiar grace 
 
 Allots this pompous vest, and worthy deems 
 
 To win a virgin and to wear a bride." 
 
 The gifts refulgent dazzle all the crowd, 
 In speechless admiration fix'd, unmoved : 
 Ev'n he who now each glorious palm displays, 
 In sullen silence views his batter'd limbs, 
 And sighs his vigour spent. Not so appall'd 
 Young Pastorel, for active strength renown'd : 
 Him Ida bore, a mountain shepherdess ; 
 On the bleak wold the new-born infant lay, 
 Exposed to winter snows, and northern blasts 
 Severe. As heroes old, who from great Jove 
 Derive their proud descent, so might he boast 
 His line paternal : but be thou, my Muse ! 
 No leaky blab, nor painful umbrage give 
 To wealthy 'squire, or doughty knight, or peer 
 Of high degree. Him every shouting ring 
 
26 CANTO i HOBBINOL v. 245263 
 
 In triumph crown'd, him ev'ry champion fear'd, 
 From Kiftsgate T to remotest Henbury. 7 
 High in the midst the brawny wrestler stands, 
 A stately towering object ; the tough belt 
 Measures his ample breast, and shades around 
 His shoulders broad ; proudly secure he kens 
 The tempting prize, in his presumptuous thought 
 Already gain'd ; with partial look the crowd 
 Approve his claim. But Hobbinol, enraged 
 To see the important gift so cheaply won, 
 And uncontested honours tamely lost, 
 With lowly reverence thus accosts his queen : 
 
 " Fair goddess! be propitious to my vows; 
 Smile on thy slave, nor Hercules himself 
 Shall rob us of this palm : that boaster vain 
 Far other port shall learn." She, with a look 
 That pierced his inmost soul, smiling applauds 
 His generous ardour, with aspiring hope 
 Distends his breast, and stirs the man within : 
 
 r Two Hundreds, in Gloucestershire. 
 
CANTO I HOBBINOL v. 264 282 27 
 
 Yet much, alas ! she fears, for much she loves. 
 So from her arms the Paphian queen dismiss'd 
 The warriour god, on glorious slaughter bent, 
 Provoked his rage, and with her eyes inflamed 
 Her haughty paramour. Swift as the winds 
 
 
 
 Dispel the fleeting mists, at once he strips 
 His royal robes ; and with a frown that chill'd 
 The blood of the proud youth, active he bounds 
 High o'er the heads of multitudes reclined : 
 But as beseem'd one, whose plain honest heart, 
 Nor passion foul, nor malice dark as hell, 
 But honour pure and love divine had fired, 
 His hand presenting, on his sturdy foe 
 Disdainfully he smiles ; then, quick as thought, 
 With his left hand the belt, and with his right 
 His shoulder seized, fast griping ; his right foot 
 Essay'd the champion's strength, but firm he stood, 
 Fix'd as a mountain-ash, and in his turn 
 Repaid the bold affront : his horny fist 
 
28 CANTO I HOBBINOL v. 283 301 
 
 Fast on his back he closed, and shook in air 
 
 The cumb'rous load. Nor rest nor pause allow'd, 
 
 Their watchful eyes instruct their busy feet ; 
 
 They pant, they heave ; each nerve, each sinew's strain'd ; 
 
 Grasping they close ; beneath each painful gripe 
 
 The livid tumours rise ; in briny streams 
 
 The sweat distils, and from their batter'd shins 
 
 The clotted glore distains the beaten ground. 
 
 Each swain his wish, each trembling nymph conceals 
 
 Her secret dread ; while every panting breast 
 
 Alternate fears and hopes depress or raise. 
 
 Thus long in dubious scale the contest hung. 
 
 Till Pastorel, impatient of delay, 
 
 Collecting all his force, a furious stroke 
 
 At his left ancle aim'd ; 'twas death to fall, 
 
 To stand impossible. O Ganderetta! 
 
 What horrours seize thy soul ! on thy pale cheeks 
 
 The roses fade. But wav'ring long in air, 
 
 Nor firm on foot, nor as yet wholly fall'n. 
 
CANTO i HOBBINOL v. 302 320 
 
 On his right knee he slipp'd, and nimbly scaped 
 
 The foul disgrace. Thus on the slacken'd rope 
 
 The wingy- footed artist, frail support ! 
 
 Stands tottering ; now in dreadful shrieks the crowd 
 
 Lament his sudden fate, and yield him lost : 
 
 He on his hams, or on his brawny rump, 
 
 Sliding secure, derides their vain distress. 
 
 Up starts the vigorous Hobbinol undismay'd, 
 
 From mother earth like old Antaeus raised, 
 
 With might redoubled. Clamour and applause 
 
 Shake all the neighbouring hills, Avona's banks 
 
 Return him loud acclaim ; with ardent eyes, 
 
 Fierce as a tiger rushing from his lair, 
 
 He grasp'd the wrist of his insulting foe. 
 
 Then with quick wheel oblique, his shoulder- point 
 
 Beneath his breast he frx'd, and, whirl'd aloft, 
 
 High o'er his head the sprawling youth he flung : 
 
 The hollow ground rebellow'd as he fell. 
 
 The crowd press forward with tumultuous din ; 
 
30 
 
 CANTO i ROBBING L v. 321 334 
 
 Those to relieve their faint expiring friend, 
 With gratulations these : hands, tongues and caps 
 Outrageous joy proclaim, shrill fiddles squeak, 
 Hoarse bag -pipes roar, and Ganderetta smiles. 
 
THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 The fray. Tonsorio, Colin, Hildebrand, Cuddy, Cindaraxa, 
 Talgol, Avaro, Cubbin, Gollakin, Mundungo. Sir Rha- 
 damanth the justice, attended with his guards, comes to 
 quell the fray. Rhadamanth's speech. Tumult appeased. 
 Gorgonius the butcher takes up the kilts ; his character. 
 The Kiftsgatians* consternation, look wistfully on Hobbinol ; 
 his speech . The cudgel-playing. Gorgonius knocked down , 
 falls upon Twangdillo ; his distress, lamentation over his 
 brokenfiddle. 
 

Long while an universal hubbub loud, 
 
 Deafening each ear, had drown'd each accent mild ; 
 
 Till biting taunts, and harsh opprobrious words 
 
 Vile utterance found. How weak are human minds ! 
 
 How impotent to stem the swelling tide, 
 
 And without insolence enjoy success ! 
 
 The vale -inhabitants, proud and elate 
 
3 CANTO ii HOBBINOL v. s 27 
 
 With victory, know no restraint, but give 
 
 A loose to joy. Their champion Hobbinol 
 
 Vaunting they raise above that earth-born race 
 
 Of giants old, who, piling hills on hills, 
 
 Pelion on Ossa, with rebellious aim 
 
 Made war on Jove. The sturdy mountaineers, 
 
 Who saw their mightiest fallen, and in his fall 
 
 Their honours past impaired, their trophies, won 
 
 By their proud fathers, who with scorn look'd down 
 
 Upon the subject vale, sullied, despoil' d 
 
 And levell'd with the dust, no longer bear 
 
 The keen reproach. But, as when sudden fire 
 
 Seizes the ripen'd grain, whose bending ears 
 
 Invite the reaper's hand, the furious god 
 
 In sooty triumph dreadful rides, upborne 
 
 On wings of wind, that with destructive breath 
 
 Feed the tierce flames ; from ridge to ridge he bounds, 
 
 Wide -wasting, and pernicious ruin spreads : 
 
 So through the crowd, from breast to breast, $wift flew 
 
 The propagated rage ; loud-vollied oaths, 
 
CANTO II HOBBINOL v. 28 47 37 
 
 Like thunder bursting from a cloud, gave signs 
 Of wrath awaked. Prompt fury soon supplied 
 With arms uncouth; tough well-season'd plants, 
 Weighty with lead infused, on either host 
 Fall thick and heavy ; stools in pieces rent, 
 And chairs and forms and batter'd bowls are hurl'd 
 With fell intent ; like bombs the bottles fly 
 Hissing in air, their sharp -edged fragments drench'd 
 In the warm spouting gore ; heaps driven on heaps 
 Promiscuous lie. Tonsorio now advanced 
 On the rough edge of battle : his broad front 
 Beneath his shining helm secure, as erst 
 Was thine, Mambrino, stout Iberian knight ! 
 Defied the rattling storm, that on his head 
 Fell innocent. A table's ragged frame 
 In his right hand he bore, Herculean club ! 
 Crowds, push'd on crowds, before his potent arm 
 Fled ignominious ; havock and dismay 
 Hung on their rear. Colin, a merry swain, 
 Blithe as the soaring lark, as sweet the strains 
 
38 CANTO II HOBBINOL v. 48 67 
 
 Of his soft warbling lips that whistling cheer 
 His labouring team, who toss their heads well pleased, 
 In gaudy plumage deck'd, with stern disdain 
 Beheld this victor proud ; his generous soul 
 Brook'd not the foul disgrace. High o'er his head 
 His ponderous plough -staff in both hands he raised; 
 Erect he stood, and stretching every nerve, 
 As from a forceful engine, down it fell 
 Upon his hollow'd helm, that yielding sunk 
 Beneath the blow, and with its sharpen'd edge 
 Shear'd both his ears ; they on his shoulders broad 
 Hung ragged. Quick as thought the vigorous youth, 
 Shortening his staff, the other end he darts 
 Into his gaping jaws. Tonsorio fled 
 Sore maim'd ; with pounded teeth and clotted gore 
 Half- choked, he fled ; with him the host retired, 
 Companions of his shame ; all but the stout, 
 And erst unconquer'd Hildebrand, brave man ! 
 Bold champion of the hills ! thy weighty blows 
 Our fathers felt dismay'd ; to keep thy post 
 
CANTO ii HOBBINOL v. es-sr 39 
 
 Unmoved, whilom thy valour's choice, now sad 
 Necessity compels ; decrepit now 
 With age, and stiff with honourable wounds, 
 He stands unterrified ; one crutch sustains 
 His frame majestick, the other in his hand 
 He wields tremendous ; like a mountain boar 
 In toils enclosed, he dares his circling foes. 
 They shrink aloof, or soon with shame repent 
 The rash assault ; the rustick heroes fall 
 In heaps around. Cuddy, a dextrous youth, 
 When force was vain, on fraudful art relied : 
 Close to the ground low-cowering, unperceived, 
 Cautious he crept, and with his crooked bill 
 Cut sheer the frail support, prop of his age : 
 Reeling a while he stood, and menaced fierce 
 The insidious swain ; reluctant now at length 
 Fell prone, and ploughed the dust. So the tall oak, 
 Old monarch of the groves, that long had stood 
 The shock of warring winds, and the red bolts 
 Of angry Jove, shorn of his leafy shade 
 
40 CANTO ii HOBBINOL v. 88107 
 
 At last, and inwardly decay'd, if chance 
 The cruel woodman spy the friendly spur, 
 His only hold ; that sever'd, soon he nods, 
 And shakes the incumber'd mountain as he falls. 
 
 When manly valour fail'd, a female arm 
 Restored the fight. As in the adjacent booth 
 Black Cindaraxa's busy hand prepared 
 The smoky viands, she beheld, abash'd, 
 The routed host, and all her dastard friends 
 Far scatter'd o'er the plain : their shameful flight 
 Grieved her proud heart, for, hurried with the stream, 
 E'en Talgol too had fled, her darling boy. 
 A flaming brand from off the glowing hearth 
 The greasy heroine snatch'd ; o'er her pale foes 
 The threatening meteor shone, brandish'd in air, 
 Or round their heads in ruddy circles play'd. 
 Across the prostrate Hildebrand she strode, 
 Dreadfully bright : the multitude appall'd 
 Fled different ways, their beards, their hair in flames. 
 Imprudent she pursued, till on the brink 
 
CANTO ii HOBBINOL v. 108127 41 
 
 Of the next pool, with force united press'd, 
 And waving round with huge two-handed sway 
 Her blazing arms, into the muddy lake 
 The bold virago fell. Dire was the fray 
 Between the warring elements ; of old 
 Thus Mulciber and Xanthus, Dardan stream, 
 In hideous battle join'd. Just sinking now 
 Into the boiling deep, with suppliant hands 
 She begg'd for life ; black ooze and filth obscene 
 Hung in her matted hair ; the shouting crowd 
 Insult her woes, and, proud of their success, 
 The dripping Amazon in triumph lead. 
 Now, like a gathering storm, the rallied troops 
 Blacken'd the plain. Young Talgol from their front, 
 With a fond lover's haste, swift as the hind 
 That, by the huntsman's voice alarrn'd, had fled, 
 Panting returns, and seeks the gloomy brake, 
 Where her dear fawn lay hid, into the booth 
 Impatient rush'd. But when the fatal tale 
 He heard, the dearest treasure of his soul 
 
42 CANTO II HOBBINOL v. 129148 
 
 Purloin'd, his Cindy lost ; stiffen'd and pale 
 Awhile he stood, his kindling ire at length 
 Burst forth implacable, and injured love 
 Shot lightning from his eyes : a spit he seized, 
 Just reeking from the fat sirloin, a long, 
 Unwieldy spear ; then with impetuous rage 
 Press'd forward on the embattled host, that shrunk 
 At his approach. The rich Avaro first, 
 His fleshy rump bored with dishonest wounds, 
 Fled bellowing ; nor could his num'rous flocks, 
 Nor all the aspiring pyramids, that grace 
 His yard well- stored, save the penurious clown. 
 Here Cubbin fell, and there young Collakin, 
 Nor his fond mother's prayers, nor ardent vows 
 Of love-sick maids, could move relentless Fate. 
 Where'er he raged, with his far- beaming lance 
 He thinn'd their ranks, and all their battle swerved 
 With many an inroad gored. Then cast around 
 His furious eyes, if haply he might find 
 The captive fair ; her in the dust he spied 
 
CANTO II HOBBINOL v. 149 168 43 
 
 Groveling, disconsolate ; those locks, that erst 
 So bright, shone like the polish'd jet, defiled 
 With mire impure ; thither, with eager haste, 
 He ran, he flew. But when the wretched maid 
 Prostrate he view'd, deform'd with gaping wounds, 
 And weltering in her blood, his trembling hand 
 Soon dropp'd the dreaded lance ; on her pale cheeks 
 Ghastly he gazed, nor felt the pealing storm, 
 That on his bare defenceless brow fell thick 
 From every arm : o'erpower'd at last, down sunk 
 His drooping head, on her cold breast reclined. 
 Hail, faithful pair ! if aught my verse avail, 
 Nor envy's spite, nor time shall e'er efface 
 The records of your fame : blind British bards, 
 In ages yet to come, on festal days 
 Shall chant this mournful tale, while listening nymphs 
 Lament around, and every generous heart 
 With active valour glows, and virtuous love. 
 How blind is popular fury! how perverse, 
 When broils, intestine rage, and force controls 
 
 F 
 

 44 CANTO II HOBBINOL v. 169 188 
 
 Reason and law ! As the torn vessel sinks 
 Between the burst of adverse waves o'erwhelm'd ; 
 So fares it with the neutral head, between 
 Contending parties bruised, incessant peal'd 
 With random strokes that undiscerning fall : 
 Guiltless he suffers most, who least offends. 
 Mundungo, from the bloody field retired, 
 Close in a corner plied the peaceful bowl ; 
 Incurious he and thoughtless of events, 
 Now deem'd himself conceal'd, wrapt in the cloud 
 That issued from his mouth, and the thick fogs 
 That hung upon his brows ; but hostile rage 
 Inquisitive, found out the rusty swain. 
 His short black tube down his furr'd throat impell'd, 
 Staggering he reel'd, and with tenacious gripe 
 The bulky Jordan, that before him stood, 
 Seized falling, that its liquid freight disgorged 
 Upon the prostrate clown ; floundering he lay 
 Beneath the muddy beverage whelm'd, so late 
 His prime delight. Thus the luxurious wasp, 
 
CANTO II HOBBINOL v. 1S9208 45 
 
 Voracious insect, by the fragrant dregs 
 Allured, and in the viscous nectar plunged, 
 His filmy pennons struggling flaps in vain, 
 Lost in a flood of sweets. Still o'er the plain 
 Fierce onset and tumultuous battle spread ; 
 And now they fall, and now they rise, incensed 
 With animated rage, while nought around 
 Is heard, but clamour, shout and female cries, 
 And curses mix'd with groans. Discord on high 
 Shook her infernal scourge, and o'er their heads 
 Scream'd with malignant joy ; when, lo ! between 
 The warring hosts appear'd sage Rhadamanth, 
 A knight of high renown. Nor Quixote bold, 
 Nor Amadis of Gaul, nor Hudibras, 
 Mirrour of knighthood, e'er could vie with thee. 
 Great sultan of the vale ! thy front severe, 
 As humble Indians to their pagods bow, 
 The clowns submiss approach. Themis to thee 
 Commits her golden balance, where she weighs 
 The abandon'd orphan's sighs, the widow's tears ; 
 
46 CANTO II HOBBINOL v. 209 22 
 
 By thee give sure redress, comforts the heart 
 Oppressed with woe and rears the suppliant knee. 
 Each bold offender hides his guilty head, 
 Astonish'd, when thy delegated arm 
 Draws her vindictive sword ; at thy command, 
 Stern minister of power supreme ! each ward 
 Sends forth her brawny myrmidons, their clubs 
 Blazon'd with royal arms ; dispatchful haste 
 Sits earnest on each brow, and publick care. 
 Encompass'd round with these his dreadful guards, 
 He spurr'd his sober steed, grizzled with age 
 And venerably dull ; his stirrups stretch'd 
 Beneath the knightly load ; one hand he fix'd 
 Upon his saddle-bow, the other palm 
 Before him spread, like some grave orator 
 In Athens, or free Rome, when eloquence 
 Subdued mankind, and all the listening crowd 
 Hung by their ears on his persuasive tongue. 
 He thus the jarring multitude address'd. 
 
CANTO ii HOBBINOL v. 229248 47 
 
 " Neighbours, and friends, and countrymen, the flower 
 Of Kiftsgate ! ah ! what means this impious broil ? 
 Is then the haughty Gaul no more your care ? 
 Are Landen's plains so soon forgot, that thus 
 Ye spill that blood inglorious, waste that strength, 
 Which, well employed, once more might have compell'd 
 The stripling Anjou to a shameful flight? 
 Or, by your great forefathers taught, have fix'd 
 The British standard on Lutetian tow'rs? 
 
 sight odious, detestable ! O times 
 Degenerate, of ancient honour void ! 
 This fact so foul, so riotous, insults 
 
 All law, all sovereign pow'r, and calls aloud 
 
 For vengeance ; but, my friends ! too well ye know, 
 
 How slow this arm to punish, and how bleeds 
 
 This heart, when forced on rigorous extremes. 
 
 O, countrymen ! all, all can testify 
 
 My vigilance, my care for publick good. 
 
 1 am the man, who by your own free choice 
 Select from all the tribes, in senates ruled 
 
48 CANTO II HOBBINOL v. 249 268 
 
 Each warm debate, and emptied all my stores 
 
 Of ancient science in my country's cause. 
 
 Wise Tacitus, of penetration deep, 
 
 Each secret spring reveaFd ; Thuanus bold 
 
 Breathed liberty, and all the mighty dead, 
 
 Raised at my call, the British rights confirm'd ; 
 
 While Musgrave, How, and Seymour, sneer'd in vain. 
 
 I am the man, who from the bench exalt 
 
 This voice, still grateful to your ears, this voice 
 
 Which breathes for you alone. Where is the wretch 
 
 Distress'd, who in the cobwebs of the law 
 
 Entangled, and in subtle problems lost, 
 
 Seeks not to me for aid ? In shoals they come, 
 
 Neglected, feeless clients, nor return 
 
 Unedified; scarce greater multitudes 
 
 At Delphi sought the god, to learn their fate 
 
 From his dark oracles. I am the man, 
 
 Whose watchful providence, beyond the date 
 
 Of this frail life extends, to future times 
 
 Beneficent ; my useful schemes shall steer 
 
CANTO II HOBBINOL v. 269 283 49 
 
 The commonweal in ages yet to come. 
 
 Your children's children, taught by me, shall keep 
 
 Their rights inviolable ; and as Rome 
 
 The Sibyls' sacred books, though wrote on leaves 
 
 And scatter'd o'er the ground, with pious awe 
 
 Collected ; so your sons shall glean with care 
 
 My hallo w'd fragments, every scrip divine 
 
 Consult intent, of more intrinsick worth 
 
 Than half a Vatican. Hear me, my friends ! 
 
 Hear me, my countrymen ! Oh suffer not 
 
 This hoary head, employ'd for you alone, 
 
 To sink with sorrow to the grave." He spake, 
 
 And vail'd his bonnet to the crowd. As when 
 
 The sovereign of the floods o'er the rough deep 
 
 His awful trident shakes, its fury falls, 
 
 The warring billows on each hand retire, 
 
 And foam and rage no more. All now is hush'd ; 
 
 The multitude appeased, a cheerful dawn 
 
 Smiles on the fields, the waving throng subsides, 
 
 And the loud tempest sinks, becalm'd in peace. 
 
5 <> CANTO II HOBBINOL v. 289 308 
 
 Gorgonius now with haughty strides advanced, 
 A gauntlet seized, firm on his guard he stood, 
 A formidable foe, and dealt in air 
 His empty blows, a prelude to the fight. 
 Slaughter his trade, full many a pamper'd ox 
 Fell by his fatal hand ; the bulky beast 
 Dragg'd by his horns, oft at one deadly blow, 
 His iron fist descending crushed his skull, 
 And left him spurning on the bloody floor, 
 While at his feet the guiltless axe was laid. 
 In dubious fight of late one eye he lost, 
 Bored from its orb, and the next glancing stroke 
 Bruised sore the rising arch, and bent his nose : 
 Nathless he triumph'd on the well -fought stage, 
 Hockleian hero ! nor was more deform'd 
 The Cyclops blind, nor of more monstrous size, 
 Nor his void orb more dreadful to behold, 
 Weeping the putrid gore, severe revenge 
 Of subtile Ithacus. Terribly gay 
 In his buff doublet, larded o'er with fat 
 
CANTO ii HOBBINOL v. 309 328 si 
 
 Of slaughtered brutes, the well-oil'd champion shone. 
 Sternly he gazed around, with many a frown 
 Fierce menacing, provoked the tardy foe. 
 For now each combatant, that erst so bold 
 Vaunted his manly deeds, in pensive mood 
 Hung down his head, and fix'd on earth his eyes, 
 Pale and dismay'd. On Hobbinol at last 
 Intent they gaze, in him alone their hope ; 
 Each eye solicits him, each panting heart 
 Joins in the silent suit. Soon he perceived 
 Their secret wish, and eased their doubting minds. 
 
 " Ye men of Kiftsgate ! whose wide spreading fame 
 In ancient days was sung from shore to shore, 
 To British bards of old a copious theme ; 
 Too well, alas ! in your pale cheeks I view 
 Your dastard souls. O mean, degenerate race ! 
 But since on me ye call, each suppliant eye 
 Invites my sovereign aid, lo ! here I come, 
 The bulwark of your fame, though scarce my brows 
 Are dry from glorious toils just now achieved, 
 
 G 
 
52 CANTO II HOBBINOL v. 329 348 
 
 To vindicate your worth. Lo ! here I swear, 
 By all my great forefathers' fair renown, 
 By that illustrious wicker, where they sate 
 In comely pride, and in triumphant sloth 
 Gave law to passive clowns ; or on this spot, 
 In glory's prime, young Hobbinol expires, 
 And from his dearest Ganderetta's arms 
 Sinks to death's cold embrace ; or by this hand 
 That stranger, big with insolence, shall fall 
 Prone on the ground, and do your honour right." 
 
 Forthwith the hilts he seized; but on his arm 
 Fond Ganderetta hung, and round his neck 
 Curl'd in a soft embrace. Honour and love 
 A doubtful contest waged, but from her soon 
 He sprung relentless, all her tears were vain, 
 Yet oft he turn'd, oft sigh'd, thus pleading mild : 
 
 " 111 should I merit these imperial robes, 
 Ensigns of majesty, by general voice 
 Conferr'd, should pain, or death itself avail 
 To shake the steady purpose of my soul. 
 
CANTO ii HOBBINOL v. 349 scs 53 
 
 Peace, fair one ! Heaven will protect the man 
 By thee held dear, and crown thy generous love." 
 
 Her from the listed field the matrons sage 
 Reluctant drew, and with fair speeches soothed. 
 
 Now front to front the fearless champions meet : 
 Gorgonius, like a tower whose cloudy top 
 Invades the skies, stood lowering ; far beneath 
 The strippling Hobbinol, with careful eye 
 Each opening scans, and each unguarded space 
 Measures intent. While negligently bold, 
 The bulky combatant, whose heart elate 
 Disdain'd his puny foe, now fondly deem'd 
 At one decisive stroke to win, unhurt, 
 An easy victory ; down came at once 
 The ponderous plant, with fell malicious rage, 
 Aim'd at his head direct ; but the tough hilts, 
 Swift interposed, elude his effort vain. 
 The cautious Hobbinol, with ready feet 
 Now shifts his ground, retreating; then again 
 Advances bold, and his unguarded shins 
 
54 CANTO II H O B B I N O L v. 369388 
 
 Batters secure; each well-directed blow 
 Bites to the quick ; thick as the falling hail, 
 The strokes redoubled peal his hollow sides. 
 The multitude amazed with horrour view 
 The rattling storm, shrink back at every blow, 
 And seem to feel his wounds ; inly he groan'd, 
 And griash'd his teeth, and from his blood -shot eye 
 Red lightning flash' d ; the fierce tumultuous rage 
 Shook all his mighty fabrick ; once again 
 Erect he stands, collected, and resolved 
 To conquer or to die. Swift as the bolt 
 Of angry Jove, the weighty plant descends; 
 But wary Hobbinol, whose watchful eye 
 Perceived his kind intent, slipp'd on one side 
 Declining ; the vain stroke from such an height, 
 With such a force impell'd, headlong drew down 
 The unwieldy champion : on the solid ground 
 He fell rebounding, breathless and astunn'd 
 His trunk extended lay : sore maim'd, from out 
 His heaving breast he belch'd a crimson flood. 
 
CANTO ii HOBBINOL v. 339 4os 55 
 
 Full leisurely he rose, but conscious shame 
 Of honour lost his failing strength renew'd. 
 Rage and revenge and ever -during hate 
 Blacken'd his stormy front ; rash, furious, blind, 
 And lavish of his blood, of random strokes 
 He laid on load ; without design or art 
 Onward he press'd outrageous, while his foe 
 Encircling wheels, or inch by inch retires, 
 Wise niggard of his strength. Yet all thy care, 
 O Hobbinol ! avail'd not to prevent 
 One hapless blow ; o'er his strong guard the plant 
 Lapp'd pliant, and its knotty point impress'd 
 His nervous chine ; he wreathed him to and fro 
 
 * 
 
 Convolved, yet thus distress'd, intrepid bore 
 His hilts aloft, and guarded well his head. 
 So when the unwary clown with hasty step 
 Crushes the folded snake, her wounded parts 
 Groveling she trails along, but her high crest 
 Erect she bears in all its speckled pride, 
 She swells inflamed, and with her forky tongue 
 

 56 CANTO II HOBBINOL v. 409428 
 
 Threatens destruction. With like eager haste, 
 The impatient Hobbinol, whose excessive pain 
 Stung, to his heart, a speedy vengeance vow'd, 
 Nor wanted long the means ; a feint he made 
 With well- dissembled guile, his batter'd shins 
 Mark'd with his eyes, and menaced with his plant. 
 Gorgonius, whose long -suffering legs scarce bore 
 His cumbrous bulk, to his supporters frail 
 Indulgent, soon the friendly hilts opposed ; 
 Betray'd, deceived, on his unguarded crest 
 The stroke delusive fell ; a dismal groan 
 Burst from his hollow chest, his trembling hands 
 Forsook the hilts, across the spacious ring 
 Backward he reel'd, the crowd affrighted fly 
 To escape the falling ruin. But, alas ! 
 'Twas thy hard fate, Twangdillo ! to receive 
 His ponderous trunk ; on thee, on helpless thee, 
 Headlong and heavy the foul monster fell. 
 Beneath a mountain's weight, the unhappy bard 
 Lay prostrate, rior was more renown'd thy song, 
 
CANTO II HOBBINOL v. 429 448 57 
 
 O seer of Thrace ! nor more severe thy fate. 
 
 His vocal shell, the solace and support 
 
 Of wretched age, gave one melodious scream, 
 
 And in a thousand fragments strew'd the plain. 
 
 The nymphs, sure friends to his harmonious mirth, 
 
 Fly to his aid, his hairy breast expose 
 
 To each refreshing gale, and with soft hands 
 
 His temples chafe ; at their persuasive touch 
 
 His fleeting soul returns ; upon his rump 
 
 He sate disconsolate ; but when, alas ! 
 
 He view'd the shatter'd fragments, down again 
 
 He sunk expiring ; by their friendly care 
 
 Once more revived, he thrice essay'd to speak, 
 
 And thrice the rising sobs his voice subdued ; 
 
 Till thus at last his wretched plight he mourn'd : 
 
 " Sweet instrument of mirth ! sole comfort left 
 To my declining years ! whose sprightly notes 
 Restored my vigour and renew'd my bloom, 
 Soft healing balm to every wounded heart ! 
 Despairing, dying swains, from the cold ground 
 
58 CANTO II HOBBINOL v. 449 468 
 
 Upraised by thee, at thy melodious call, 
 With ravish'd ears received the flowing joy. 
 Gay pleasantry, and care -beguiling joke, 
 Thy sure attendants were, and at thy voice 
 All nature smiled. But, oh ! this hand no more 
 Shall touch thy wanton strings, no more with lays 
 Alternate from oblivion dark redeem 
 The mighty dead, and vindicate their fame. 
 Vain are thy toils, O Hobbinol ! and all 
 Thy triumphs vain. Who shall record, brave man ! 
 Thy bold exploits ? Who shall thy grandeur tell, 
 Supreme of Kiftsgate ? See thy faithful bard, 
 Despoil'd, undone. O cover me, ye hills ! 
 Whose vocal clifts were taught my joyous song ; 
 Or thou, fair nymph, Avona, on whose banks 
 The frolick crowd, led by my numerous strains, 
 Their orgies kept, and frisk'd it o'er the green, 
 Jocund and gay, while thy remurmuring streams 
 Danced by, well pleased. Oh ! let thy friendly waves 
 O'erwhelm a wretch, and hide this head accursed." 
 
CANTO II HOBBINOL v. 469 473 
 
 So plains the restless Philomel her nest 
 And callow young, the tender growing hope 
 Of future harmony, and frail return 
 For all her cares, to barbarous churls a prey : 
 Darkling she sings, the woods repeat her moan. 
 

THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 Good eating expedient for heroes. Homer praised for keeping 
 a table. Hobbinol triumphant. Gander etta 3 bill of fare. 
 Panegyric upon ale. Gossipping over a bottle. Compli- 
 ment to Mr. John Philips. Gander etta s perplexity dis- 
 covered by Hobbinol; his consolatory speech, compares 
 himself to Guy Earl of Warwick. Gander etta encouraged, 
 strips for the race; her amiable figure. Fusca the gipsy, 
 her dirty Jigure. Tabitha, her great reputation for speed; 
 hired to the dissenting academy at Tewksbury. A short 
 account of Gamaliel the master, and his hopeful scholars. 
 Tabitha carries weight. The smock-race. Tabitha's 
 fall. Fusca s short triumph, her humiliation. Gander etta s 
 matchless speed. Hobbinol lays the prize at her Jeet. 
 Their mutual triumph. The vicissitude of human affairs, 
 experienced by Hobbinol. Mopsa, formerly his servant, 
 with her two children appears to him. Mopsa s speech ; 
 assaults Gander etta ; her flight. Hobbinol' s prodigious 
 fright, is taken into custody by constables, and dragged to 
 Sir Rhadamanth's. 
 

Though some of old, and some of modern date, 
 Penurious, their victorious heroes fed 
 With barren praise alone, yet thou, my Muse ! 
 Benevolent, with more indulgent eyes 
 Behold the immortal Hobbinol ; reward 
 With due regalement his triumphant toils. 
 Let Quixote's hardy courage and renown 
 With Sancho's prudent care be meetly join'd. 
 
66 CANTO III HOBBINOL v. 9 28 
 
 O thou of bards supreme, Maeonides ! 
 What well-fed heroes grace thy hallo w'd page ! 
 Laden with glorious spoils, and gay with blood 
 Of slaughtered hosts, the victor chief returns. 
 Whole Troy before him fled, and men and gods 
 Opposed in vain. For the brave man, whose arm 
 Repell'd his country's wrong, even he, the great 
 Atrides, king of kings, even he prepares 
 With his own royal hand the sumptuous feast. 
 Full to the brim the brazen cauldrons smoke, 
 Through all the busy camp the rising blaze 
 Attests their joy ; heroes and kings forego 
 Their state and pride, and at his elbow wait 
 Obsequious. On a polish'd charger placed, 
 The bulky chine, with plenteous fat inlaid, 
 Of golden hue, magnificently shines. 
 The choicest morsels sever' d to the gods, 
 The hero next, well paid for all his wounds, 
 The rich repast divides with Jove; from out 
 The sparkling bowl he draws the generous wine, 
 
CANTO in HOBBINOL v. 29 48 
 
 Unmix'd, unmeasured ; with unstinted joy 
 His heart o'erflows. In like triumphant port 
 Sate the victorious Hobbinol; the crowd 
 Transported view and bless their glorious chief: 
 All Kiftsgate sounds his praise with joint acclaim. 
 Him every voice, him every knee confess'd, 
 In merit as in right their king. Upon 
 The flowery turf, earth's painted lap, are spread 
 The rural dainties ; such as nature boon 
 Presents with lavish hand, or such as owe 
 To Ganderetta's care their grateful taste, 
 Delicious. For she long since prepared 
 To celebrate this day, and with good cheer 
 To grace his triumphs. Crystal gooseberries 
 Are piled on heaps ; in vain the parent tree 
 Defends her luscious fruit with pointed spears. 
 The ruby -tinctured corinth clustering hangs, 
 And emulates the grape ; green codlings float 
 In dulcet creams ; nor wants the last year's store. 
 The hardy nut, in solid mail secure, 
 
as CANTO m HOBBINOL v. 49 68 
 
 Impregnable to winter frosts, repays 
 
 Its hoarder's care. The custard's gelid flood 
 
 Impatient youth, with greedy joy, devours. 
 
 Cheesecakes and pies, in various forms upraised, 
 
 In well-built pyramids, aspiring stand. 
 
 Black hams, and tongues, that speechless can persuade 
 
 To ply the brisk carouse, and cheer the soul 
 
 With jovial draughts. Nor does the jolly god 
 
 Deny his precious gifts ; here jocund swains, 
 
 In uncouth mirth delighted, sporting quaff 
 
 Their native beverage ; in the brimming glass 
 
 The liquid amber smiles. Britons, no more 
 
 Dread your invading foes ; let the false Gaul, 
 
 Of rule insatiate, potent to deceive, 
 
 And great by subtile wiles, from the adverse shore 
 
 Pour forth his numerous hosts ; Iberia ! join 
 
 Thy towering fleets, once more aloft display 
 
 Thy consecrated banners, fill thy sails 
 
 With prayers and vows, most formidably strong 
 
 In holy trumpery, let old Ocean groan 
 
CANTO HI HOBBINOL Y. 69 88 69 
 
 Beneath the proud Armada, vainly deem'd 
 
 Invincible ; yet fruitless all their toils, 
 
 Vain every rash effort, while our fat glebe, 
 
 Of barley grain productive, still supplies 
 
 The flowing treasure, and with sums immense 
 
 Supports the throne ; while this rich cordial warms 
 
 The farmer's courage, arms his stubborn soul 
 
 With native honour, and resistless rage. 
 
 Thus vaunt the crowd, each freeborn heart o'erflows 
 
 With Britain's glory, and his country's love. 
 
 Here, in a merry knot combined, the nymphs 
 Pour out mellifluous streams, the balmy spoils 
 Of the laborious bee. The modest maid 
 But coyly sips, and blushing drinks, abash'd : 
 Each lover, with observant eye beholds 
 Her graceful shame, and at her glowing cheeks 
 Rekindles all his fires ; but matrons sage, 
 Better experienced, and instructed well 
 In midnight mysteries, and feast-rites old, 
 Grasp the capacious bowl ; nor cease to draw 
 
ro CANTO m HOBBINOL v. so ios 
 
 The spumy nectar. Healths of gay import 
 Fly merrily about : now Scandal sly 
 Insinuating gilds the specious tale 
 With treacherous praise, and with a double face 
 Ambiguous wantonness demurely sneers, 
 Till circling brimmers every veil withdraw, 
 And dauntless impudence appears unmask'd. 
 Others apart, in the cool shade retired, 
 Silurian cyder quaff, by that great bard 
 Ennobled, who first taught my groveling Muse 
 To mount aerial. O ! could I but raise 
 My feeble voice to his exalted strains, 
 Or " to the height of this great argument," 
 The generous liquid in each line should bounce 
 Spiritous, nor oppressive cork subdue 
 Its foaming rage ; but to the lofty theme 
 Unequal, Muse decline the pleasing task. 
 Thus they luxurious on the grassy turf 
 RevelTd at large ; while nought around was heard 
 But mirth confused, and undistinguish'd joy, 
 
CANTO in HOBBINOL v. 109128 71 
 
 And laughter far resounding ; serious care 
 Found here no place, to Ganderetta's breast 
 Retiring; there with hopes and fears perplex'd 
 Her fluctuating mind. Hence the soft sigh 
 Escapes unheeded, spite of all her art ; 
 The trembling blushes on her lovely cheeks 
 Alternate ebb and flow; from the full glass 
 She flies abstemious, shuns the untasted feast: 
 But careful Hobbinol, whose amorous eye 
 From her's ne'er wander'd, haunting still the place 
 Where his dear treasure lay, discovered soon 
 Her secret woe, and bore a lover's part. 
 Compassion melts his soul, her glowing cheeks 
 He kiss'd, enamour'd, and her panting heart 
 He press'd to his ; then, with these soothing words, 
 Tenderly smiling, her faint hopes revived. 
 
 " Courage, my Fair! the splendid prize is thine; 
 Indulgent Fortune will not damp our joys, 
 Nor blast the glories of this happy day. 
 Hear me, ye swains ! ye men of Kiftsgate ! hear : 
 
72 CANTO III HOBBINOL v. 129 148 
 
 Though great the honours by your hands conferred, 
 
 These royal ornaments, though great the force 
 
 Of this puissant arm, as all must own, 
 
 Who saw this day the bold Gorgonius fall ; 
 
 Yet were I more renown'd for feats of arms, 
 
 And knightly prowess, than that mighty Guy, 
 
 So famed in antique song, Warwick's great earl, 
 
 Who slew the giant Colbrand, in fierce fight 
 
 Maintain'd a summer's day, and freed this realm 
 
 From Danish vassalage; his ponderous sword 
 
 And massy spear attest the glorious deed ; 
 
 Nor less his hospitable soul is seen 
 
 In that capacious cauldron, whose large freight 
 
 Might feast a province : yet were I like him 
 
 The nation's pride, like him I could forego 
 
 All earthly grandeur, wander through the world 
 
 A jocund pilgrim, in the lonesome den, 
 
 And rocky cave, with these my royal hands 
 
 Scoop the cold streams, with herbs and roots content, 
 
 Mean sustenance ! could I by this but gain 
 
CANTO in HOBBINOL v. 149 lea 73 
 
 For the dear Fair, the prize her heart desires. 
 
 Believe me, charming maid ! I'd be a worm, 
 
 The meanest insect, and the lowest thing 
 
 The world despises, to enhance thy fame." 
 
 So cheer'd he his fair queen, and she was cheer'd. 
 
 Now with a noble confidence inspired, 
 Her looks assure success, now stripp'd of all 
 Her cumbrous vestments, beauty's vain disguise, 
 She shines unclouded in her native charms. 
 Her plaited hair behind her in a brede 
 Hung careless, with becoming grace each blush 
 Varied her cheeks, than the gay rising dawn 
 More lovely, when the new-born light salutes 
 The joyful earth, impurpling half the skies. 
 Her heaving breast, through the thin cov'ring view'd, 
 Fix'd each beholder's eye ; her taper thighs, 
 And lineaments exact, would mock the skill 
 Of Phidias ; Nature alone can form 
 Such due proportion. To compare with her 
 Oread, or Dryad, or of Delia's train, 
 
 i 
 
74 CANTO III HOBBINOL v. 169 188 
 
 Fair virgin huntress, for the chase array'd 
 With painted quiver and unerring bow, 
 Were but to lessen her superior mien, 
 And goddess -like deport. The master's hand, 
 Rare artisan ! with proper shades improves 
 His lively colouring ; so here, to grace 
 Her brighter charms, next her upon the plain 
 Fusca the brown appears, with greedy eye 
 Views the rich prize, her tawny front erects 
 Audacious, and with her legs unclean, 
 Booted with grime, and with her freckled skin 
 Offends the crowd. She of the gipsy train 
 Had wander'd long, and the sun's scorching rays 
 Imbrown'd her visage grim ; artful to view 
 The spreading palm, and with vile cant deceive 
 The love -sick maid, who barters all her store 
 For airy visions and fallacious hope. 
 Gorgonius, if the current fame say true, 
 Her comrade once, they many a merry prank 
 Together play'd, and many a mile had stroll'd, 
 
CANTO in HOBBINOL v. 139207 75 
 
 For him fit mate. Next Tabitha the tall 
 
 Strode o'er the plain, with huge gigantick pace, 
 
 And overlook'd the crowd, known far and near 
 
 For matchless speed ; she many a prize had won, 
 
 Pride of that neighbouring mart, 1 for mustard famed, 
 
 Sharp-biting grain, where amicably join 
 
 The sister floods, and with their liquid arms 
 
 Greeting embrace. Here Gamaliel sage, 
 
 Of Cameronian brood, with ruling rod 
 
 Trains up his babes of grace, instructed well 
 
 In all the gainful discipline of prayer ; 
 
 To point the holy leer, by just degrees 
 
 To close the twinkling eye, to expand the palms, 
 
 To expose the whites, and with the sightless ball 
 
 To glare upon the crowd ; to raise or sink 
 
 The docile voice, now murmuring soft and low 
 
 With inward accent calm, and then again 
 
 In foaming floods of rapturous eloquence 
 
 Let loose the storm, and thunder through the nose 
 
 Tewksbury in the vale of Eveshara, where the Avon runs into the Severn. 
 
76 CANTO in HOBBINOL v. 208 227 
 
 The threatened vengeance : every muse profane 
 Is banish'd hence, and Heliconian streams 
 Deserted, the famed Leman lake supplies 
 More plenteous draughts, of more divine import. 
 Hail, happy youths ! on whom indulgent Heaven 
 Each grace divine bestows, nor yet denies 
 
 Carnal beatitudes, sweet privilege 
 Of saints elect ! royal prerogative ! 
 Here in domestick cares employed and bound 
 To annual servitude, frail Tabitha, 
 Her pristine vigour lost, now mourns in vain 
 Her sharpen'd visage, and the sickly qualms 
 That grieve her soul ; a prey to love, while grace 
 Slept heedless by : yet her undaunted mind 
 Still meditates the prize, and still she hopes, 
 Beneath the unwieldy load, her wonted speed. 
 Others of meaner fame the stately Muse 
 Records not, on more lofty flights intent 
 She spurns the ground, and mounts her native skies, 
 Room for the master of the ring ; ye swains ! 
 
CANTO in HOBBINOL v. 228 247 77 
 
 Divide your crowded ranks. See ! there on high 
 The glittering prize, on the tall standard borne, 
 Waving in air ; before him march in files 
 The rural minstrelsy, the rattling drum 
 Of solemn sound, and the animating horn, 
 Each huntsman's joy ; the tabour and the pipe, 
 Companion dear at feasts, whose cheerful notes 
 Give life and motion to the unwieldy clown. 
 Even age revives ; and the pale puking maid 
 Feels ruddy health rekindling on her cheeks, 
 And with new vigour trips it o'er the plain. 
 Counting each careful step, he paces o'er 
 The allotted ground, and fixes at the goal 
 His standard, there himself majestick swells. 
 Stretch'd in a line, the panting rivals wait 
 The expected signal, with impatient eyes 
 Measure the space between, and in conceit 
 Already grasp the warm -contested prize. 
 Now all at once rush forward to the goal, 
 And step by step, and side by side, they ply 
 
78 CANTO III HOBBINOL v. 248 36r 
 
 Their busy feet, and leave the crowd behind. 
 Quick heaves each breast, and quick they shoot along 
 Through the divided air, and bound it o'er the plain. 
 To this, to that, capricious Fortune deals 
 Short hopes, short fears, and momentary joy. 
 The breathless throng, with open throats pursue, 
 And broken accents shout imperfect praise. 
 Such noise confused is heard, such wild uproar, 
 When on the main the swelling surges rise, 
 Dash o'er the rocks, and, hurrying through the flood, 
 Drive on each other's backs, and crowd the strand. 
 Before the rest tall Tabitha was seen, 
 Stretching amain, and whirling o'er the field ; 
 Swift as the shooting star that gilds the night 
 With rapid transient blaze, she runs, she flies ; 
 Sudden she stops, nor longer can endure 
 The painful course, but drooping sinks away, 
 And, like that falling meteor, there she lies 
 A jelly cold on earth. Fusca with joy 
 Beheld her wretched plight ; o'er the pale corse 
 
CANTO III HOBBINOL v. 268 287 79 
 
 Insulting bounds ; hope gave her wings, and now 
 Exerting all her speed, step after step 
 At Ganderetta's elbow urged her way, 
 Her shoulder pressing, and with poisonous breath 
 Tainting her ivory neck. Long while had held 
 The sharp contest, had not propitious Heaven 
 With partial hands to such transcendant charms 
 Dispensed its favours. For as o'er the green 
 The careless gipsy, with incautious speed, 
 Push'd forward, and her rival Fair had reach'd 
 With equal pace, and only not o'erpass'd ; 
 Haply she treads, where late the merry train, 
 In wasteful luxury and wanton joy, 
 Lavish had spilt the cider's frothy flood, 
 And mead with custard mix'd. Surprised, appall'd, 
 And in the treacherous puddle struggling long, 
 She slipp'd, she fell, upon her back supine 
 Extended lay ; the laughing multitude 
 With noisy scorn approved her just disgrace. 
 As the sleek leveret skims before the pack, 
 
so CANTO in HOBBINOL v. sss 307 
 
 So flies the nymph, and so the crowd pursue. 
 
 Borne on the wings of wind the dear one flies, 
 
 Swift as the various goddess, nor less bright 
 
 In beauty's prime ; when through the yielding air 
 
 She darts along, and with refracted rays 
 
 Paints the gay clouds, celestial messenger, 
 
 Charged with the high behests of Heaven's great queen ! 
 
 Her at the goal with open arms received 
 
 Fond Hobbinol ; with active leap he seized 
 
 The costly prize, and laid it at her feet. 
 
 Then pausing stood, dumb with excess of joy, 
 
 Expressive silence ! for each tender glance 
 
 Betray'd the raptures that his tongue conceal'd. 
 
 Less mute, the crowd in echoing shouts applaud 
 
 Her speed, her beauty, his obsequious love. 
 
 Upon a little eminence, whose top 
 O'erlook'd the plain, a steep, but short ascent, 
 Placed in a chair of state, with garlands crown'd, 
 And loaded with the fragrance of the spring, 
 Fair Ganderetta shone ; like mother Eve 
 
CANTO in HOBBINOL v. sos 327 si 
 
 In her gay silvan lodge, delicious bower ! 
 Where Nature's wanton hand, above the reach 
 Of rule, or art, had lavish'd all her store, 
 To deck the flowery roof; and at her side, 
 Imperial Hobbinol, with front sublime, 
 Great as a Roman consul just return'd 
 From cities sack'd and provinces laid waste, 
 In his paternal wicker sate enthroned ; 
 With eager eyes the crowd about them press, 
 Ambitious to behold the happy pair. 
 Each voice, each instrument, proclaims their joy 
 With loudest vehemence : such noise is heard, 
 Such a tumultuous din, when, at the call 
 Of Britain's sovereign, the rustick bands 
 O'erspread the fields ; the subtile candidates 
 Dissembled homage pay, and court the fools 
 Whom they despise ; each proud majestick clown 
 Looks big, and shouts amain, mad with the taste 
 Of power supreme, frail empire of a day, 
 That with the setting sun extinct is lost. 
 
 K 
 
s CANTO in HOBBINOL v. 328347 
 
 Nor is thy grandeur, mighty Hobbiriol ! 
 Of longer date. Short is, alas ! the reign 
 Of mortal pride : we play our parts awhile, 
 And strut upon the stage; the scene "is changed, 
 And offers us a dungeon for a throne. 
 Wretched vicissitude ! for after all 
 His tinsel dreams of empire and renown, 
 Fortune, capricious dame, withdraws at once 
 The goodly prospect, to his eyes presents 
 Her, whom his conscious soul abhorr'd and fear'd. 
 Lo ! pushing through the crowd, a meagre form, 
 With hasty step and visage incomposed, 
 Wildly she stared ; rage sparkled in her eyes, 
 And poverty sate shrinking on her cheeks, 
 Yet through the cloud that hung upon her brows 
 A faded lustre broke, that dimly shone 
 Shorn of its beams ; the ruins of a face 
 Impair'd by time and shatter d by misfortunes. 
 A froward babe hung at her flabby breast, 
 And tugg'd for life ; but wept, with hideous moan, 
 
CANTO III HOBBINOL v. 348 367 83 
 
 His frustrate hopes and unavailing pains ; 
 Another o'er her bending shoulder peep'd, 
 Swaddled around with rags of various hue. 
 He kens his comrade -twin with envious eye, 
 As of his share defrauded ; then amain 
 He also screams, and to his brother's cries, 
 In doleful concert joins his loud laments. 
 O dire effect of lawless love ! O sting 
 Of pleasures past ! As when a full- freight ship, 
 Blest in a rich return of pearl, or gold, 
 Or fragrant spice, or silks of costly die, 
 Makes to the wish'd-for port with swelling sails, 
 And all her gaudy trim display'd ; o'erjoy'd 
 The master smiles ; but if from some small creek 
 A lurking corsair the rich quarry spies, 
 With all her sails bears down upon her prey, 
 And peals of thunder from her hollow sides 
 Check his triumphant course, aghast he stands, 
 Stiffen'd with fear, unable to resist 
 And impotent to fly ; all his fond hopes 
 
84 CANTO III HOBBINOL v. 368 387 
 
 Are dash'd at once ; nought now, alas ! remains 
 
 But the sad choice of slavery or death. 
 
 So fared it with the hapless Hobbinol, 
 
 In the full blaze of his triumphant joy 
 
 Surprised by her, whose dreadful face alone 
 
 Could shake his stedfast soul. In vain he turns, 
 
 And shifts his -place averse ; she haunts him still, 
 
 And glares upon him with her haggard eyes, 
 
 That fiercely spoke her wrongs. Words swell'd with sighs 
 
 At length burst forth, and thus she storms, enraged : 
 
 " Know'st thou not me? false man! not to know me 
 Argues thyself unknowing of thyself, 
 PufFd up with pride, and bloated with success. 
 Is injured Mopsa then so soon forgot? 
 Thou knew'st me once, ah ! woe is me ! thou didst. 
 But if laborious days, and sleepless nights, 
 If hunger, cold, contempt, and penury, 
 Inseparable guests, have thus disguised 
 Thy once beloved, thy handmaid dear ; if thine 
 And Fortune's frowns have blasted all my charms ; 
 
CANTO in HOBBINOL v. 388407 
 
 If here no roses grow, no lilies bloom, 
 
 Nor rear their heads on this neglected face ; 
 
 If through the world I range a slighted shade, 
 
 The ghost of what I was, forlorn, unknown ; 
 
 At least know these. See! this sweet- simpering babe, 
 
 Dear image of thyself; see ! how it sprunts 
 
 With joy at thy approach ! see, how it gilds 
 
 Its soft smooth face, with false paternal smiles ! 
 
 Native deceit, from thee, base man, derived ! 
 
 Or view this other self, in every art 
 
 Of smiling fraud, in every treacherous leer, 
 
 The very Hobbinol ! ah ! cruel man ! 
 
 Wicked, ingrate ! And couldst thou then so soon, 
 
 So soon forget that pleasing fatal night, 
 
 When me, beneath the flowery thorn surprised, 
 
 Thy artful wiles betray'd? Was there a star, 
 
 By which thou didst not swear? Was there a curse, 
 
 A plague on earth, thou didst not then invoke 
 
 On that devoted head ; if e'er thy heart 
 
 Proved haggard to my love, if e'er thy hand 
 
86 CANTO III HOBBINOL v. 408 427 
 
 Declined the nuptial bond ? But, oh ! too well, 
 Too well, alas ! my throbbing breast perceived 
 The black impending storm ; the conscious moon 
 Veil'd in a sable cloud her modest face, 
 And boding owls proclaim'd the dire event. 
 And yet I love thee. Oh ! couldst thou behold 
 That image dwelling in my heart ! But why ? 
 Why waste I here these unavailing tears ? 
 On this thy minion, on this tawdry thing, 
 On this gay victim, thus with garlands crown'd, 
 All, all my vengeance fall ! Ye lightnings blast 
 That face accursed, the source of all my woe ! 
 Arm, arm, ye Furies ! arm ; all hell break loose ! 
 While thus I lead you to my just revenge, 
 And thus" Up starts the astonish'd Hobbinol 
 To save his better half: " Fly, fly," he cries, 
 " Fly, my dear life, the fiend's malicious rage." 
 Borne on the wings of fear away she bounds, 
 And in the neighbouring village pants forlorn : 
 So the coursed hare to the close covert flies, 
 
CANTO III HOBBINOL v. 428 439 87 
 
 Still trembling, though secure. Poor Hobbinol 
 More grievous ills attend; around him press 
 
 
 
 A multitude, with huge Herculean clubs, 
 
 Terrifick band ! the royal mandate these 
 
 Insulting show : arrested, and amazed, 
 
 Half dead he stands ; no friends dare interpose, 
 
 But bow dejected to the imperial scroll : 
 
 Such is the force of law. While conscious shame 
 
 Sits heavy on his brow, they view the wretch 
 
 To Rhadamanth's august tribunal dragg'd : 
 
 Good Rhadamanth ! to every wanton clown 
 
 Severe, indulgent to himself alone. 
 
FIELD SPORTS. 
 
 TO 
 
 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE. 
 
 Hsec incondite solus 
 Montibus, et sylvis, studio jactabat inani. VIRG. Eel. ii. 
 
 FIRST PRINTED IN 1742. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT, 
 
 1 HE several acts of parliament in favour of Falconry are an 
 evident proof of that high esteem our ancestors had conceived for 
 this noble diversion. Our neighbours, France, Germany, and 
 Italy, and all the rest of Europe, have seemed to vie with one 
 another who should pay the greatest honours to the courageous 
 falcon. Princes and states were her protectors, and men of the 
 greatest genius, and most accomplished in all sorts of literature, 
 with pleasure carried the hawk on their fists : but the princes of 
 Asia, Turks, Tartars, Persians, Indians, &c. have greatly outdone 
 us Europeans in the splendour and magnificence of their field 
 parades, both as huntsmen and falconers: for though the descrip- 
 tion of flying at the stag and other wild beasts, with eagles, may 
 be thought a little incredible, yet permit me to assure the reader 
 that it is no fiction, but a real fact. All the ancient books of 
 falconry give us an account of it, and the relations of travellers 
 confirm it: but what I think puts it out of all dispute, is the 
 description the famous Monsieur de Thou has given us in his 
 Latin poem, De Re ^.ccipitrarid, reprinted at Venice, in 1735, 
 with an Italian translation and notes. 
 
 Hoc studio Haemonii circumsonat aula tyranni, 
 Tercentum illi equites, quoties venabula poscit, 
 Tot pedites adsunt : longo nemus omne remugit 
 
 L, 
 
90 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 Latrantum occursu, venatorumque repulsis 
 
 Vocibus ; huic gemini, neque enim satis esse ferendo 
 
 Unus tanto oneri possit, cedente petauro 
 
 Circum aquilam gestant, aliam totidem inde ministri 
 
 Impositam subeunt : quarum minor ilia volucri 
 
 Ore canum voces fingit, nemora avia complens 
 
 Terrore ingenti : latebris turn excita repente 
 
 Infelix fera prorumpit : ruit altera demum 
 
 Sublimis compar magno stridore per auras ; 
 
 Involat inque oculos et provolat atque capaces 
 
 Expandens per inane sinus caligine densa, 
 
 Horribilique supervolitans ccelum obruit umbra. 
 
 Nee minor interea obsistit : sublimis ut ilia, 
 
 Haec humilis sic terga volans premit jt latus urget : 
 
 Neve gradum referat retro, et vestigia vertat, 
 
 Seu caprea aut cervus sese tulit obvius illis, 
 
 Rostro atque ungue minax vetat, et cum compare vires 
 
 Alternat socias, artemque remunerat arte. 
 
 Nee mora, nee requies : furiis exterrita tantis 
 
 Donee in insidias coeca convalle locatas 
 
 Precipitet rabidis fera mox lanianda Molossis. 
 
 I am very much obliged to those gentlemen who have read with 
 favour my poem upon Hunting: their goodness has encouraged 
 me to make this short supplement to the Chase, and in this poem 
 to give them some account of all the more polite entertainments 
 of the field. 
 
THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 Introduction. Description of flying at the stag with eagles, after the manner of the Asiatick 
 princes. Description of hern hawking. Of flying at the river. Partridge hawking. Daring 
 the lark with an hobby just mentioned. Shooting flying. Setting. Angling. Conclusion. 
 
 Once more, great Prince ! permit an humble bard 
 Prostrate to pay his homage at your feet ; 
 Then, like the morning lark from the low ground 
 Towering aloft, sublime, to soar and sing ; 
 Sing the heart- cheering pleasure of the fields, 
 The choice delight of heroes and of kings. 
 
93 v.7 FIELD SPORTS. v. 25 
 
 In earlier times monarchs of Eastern race, 
 In their full blaze of pride, as story tells, 
 Train'd up the imperial eagle, sacred bird ! 
 Hooded, with jingling bells she perch'd on high ; 
 Not as when erst on golden wings she led 
 The Roman legions o'er the conquer' d globe, 
 Mankind her quarry ; but a docile slave, 
 Tamed to the lure, and careful to attend 
 Her master's voice. Behold the man renown'd, 
 Abbas the Great, (whom all his fawning slaves 
 Deem'd king of kings, vain fools ! they sure forgot 
 Greater Leonidas, and those fatal straits l 
 Blood -stain'd, where slaughter'd Persians fell on heaps, 
 A dreadful carnage !) see his numerous hosts 
 Spread wide the plains, and in their front upborne 
 Each on her perch, that bends beneath her weight, 
 Two sister eagles, stately ponderous birds ! 
 The air's a desert, and the feather'd race 
 Fly to the neighbouring covert's dark retreats. 
 
 * Straits of Thermopylae. See The Story of Xerxes, 
 
v.26 FIELD SPORTS v.45 93 
 
 The royal pair on wing, this whirls around 
 In circles wide, or like the swallow skims 
 The russet plain, and mimicks as she flies 
 (By many a sleepless night instructed well) 
 The hound's loud openings, or the spaniel's quest. 
 What cannot wakeful industry subdue ! 
 Meanwhile that mounts on high, and seems to view 
 A black ascending cloud, when pierced the gloom 
 Of vapours dank condensed, the sun's bright beams 
 Pain not her sight : she with expanded sails 
 Works through the ethereal fluid, then perhaps 
 Sees through a break of clouds this self- poised orb 
 Hard by her handmaid moon. She looks beneath 
 Contemptuous, and beholds from far this earth, 
 This molehill earth, and all its busy arts 
 Labouring for life, which lasts so short a day, 
 Just blazing and extinct. So thou, my soul ! 
 That breath of life which all men must perceive, 
 But none distinctly know, when once escaped 
 From this poor helpless corse, and when on high 
 
94 v.4G FIELD SPORTS v.es 
 
 Borne on angelick wings, look down with scorn 
 
 On this mean, lessening world, and knaves grown rich 
 
 By chance, or fraud, or insolence of power. 
 
 Now from her highest pitch, by quick degrees, 
 
 With less ambition, nearer earth she tends, 
 
 As yet scarce visible, and high in air, 
 
 Poised on extended wings, with sharper ken 
 
 Attentive marks whate'er is done below. 
 
 Thus some wise general, from a rising ground, 
 
 Observes the embattled foe, where serried ranks 
 
 Forbid access, or where their order loose 
 
 Invites the attack, and points the way to fate. 
 
 All now is tumult; each heart swells with joy; 
 
 The falconers shout, and the wide concave rings : 
 
 Tremble the forests round ; the joyous cries 
 
 Float through the vales ; and rocks and woods and hills 
 
 Return the varied sounds. Forth bursts the stag, 
 
 Nor trusts the mazes of his deep recess ; 
 
 Fear hid him close, strange inconsistent guide ! 
 
 Now hurries him aghast, with busy feet, 
 
T.66 FIELD SPORTS v.85 95 
 
 Far o'er the spacious plain : he pants to reach 
 The mountain's brow, or with unsteady step 
 To climb the craggy cliff; the greyhounds strain 
 Behind to pinch his haunch, who scarce evades 
 Their gaping jaws. One eagle, wheeling, flies 
 In airy labyrinths, or with easier wing 
 Skims by his side, and stuns his patient ear 
 With hideous cries, then peals his forehead broad, 
 Or at his eyes her fatal malice aims : 
 The other, like the bolt of angry Heaven, 
 Darts down at once, and fixes on his back 
 Her griping talons, ploughing with her beak 
 His pamper'd chine : the blood and sweat distill'd, 
 From many a dripping furrow, stains the soil. 
 Who pities not this fury -hunted wretch, 
 Embarrass'd thus, on every side distress'd? 
 Death will relieve him ; for the greyhounds fierce, 
 Seizing their prey, soon drag him to the ground ; 
 Groaning he falls ; with eyes that swim in tears 
 He looks on man, chief author of his woe, 
 

 96 v.86 FIELD SPORTS v. 104 
 
 And weeps, and dies ! The grandees press around, 
 
 To dip their sabres in his boiling blood : 
 
 Unseemly joy ! 'tis barbarous to insult 
 
 A fallen foe. The dogs, and birds of prey, 
 
 Insatiate, on his reeking bowels feast, 
 
 But the stern falconer claims the lion's share. 
 
 Such are the sports of kings ; and better far 
 Than royal robbery, and the bloody jaws 
 Of all- devouring war ! Each animal, 
 By natural instinct taught, spares his own kind ; 
 But man, the tyrant man ! revels at large, 
 Free-booter unrestrain'd, destroys at will 
 The whole creation, men and beasts his prey; 
 These for his pleasure, for his glory those. 
 
 Next will I sing the valiant falcon's fame, 
 Aerial fights, where no confederate brute 
 Joins in the bloody fray, but bird with bird 
 Justs in mid air. Lo ! at his siege, 2 the hern, 
 Upon the bank of some small purling brook, 
 
 The place where the hern takes his stand, watching his prey. 
 
v.io5 FIELD SPORTS v. 124 97 
 
 Observant stands to take his scaly prize, 
 Himself another's game ; for mark, behind 
 The wily falconer creeps ; his grazing horse 
 Conceals the treacherous foe, and on his fist 
 The unhooded falcon sits : with eager eyes 
 She meditates her prey, and, in her wild 
 Conceit, already plumes the dying bird. 
 Up springs the hern, redoubling every stroke, 
 Conscious of danger, stretches far away, 
 With busy pennons and projected beak, 
 Piercing the opponent clouds : the falcon swift 
 Follows at speed, mounts as he mounts, for hope 
 Gives vigour to her wings : another soon 
 Strains after to support the bold attack ; 
 Perhaps a third. As in some winding creek 
 On proud Iberia's shore, the corsairs sly 
 Lurk waiting to surprise a British sail, 
 Full- freighted from Hetruria's friendly ports, 
 Or rich Byzantium ; after her they scud, 
 Dashing the spumy waves with equal oars, 
 
SB- v. 125 FIELD SPORTS v. u4 
 
 And spreading all their shrouds ; she makes the main, 
 
 Inviting every gale, nor yet forgets 
 
 To clear her deck, and tell the insulting foe, 
 
 In peals of thunder, Britons cannot fear. 
 
 So flies the hern pursued, but fighting flies. 
 
 Warm grows the conflict ; every nerve's employ'd : 
 
 Now through the yielding element they soar, 
 
 Aspiring high, then sink at once, and rove 
 
 In trackless mazes through the troubled sky. 
 
 No rest ; no peace. The falcon hovering flies 
 
 Balanced in air, and confidently bold 
 
 Hangs o'er him like a cloud, then aims her blow 
 
 Full at his destined head. The watchful hern 
 
 Shoots from her like a blazing meteor swift 
 
 That gilds the night, eludes her talons keen 
 
 And pointed beak, and gains a length of way. 
 
 Observe the attentive crowd ; all hearts are fix'd 
 
 On this important war, and pleasing hope 
 
 Glows in each breast. The vulgar and the great 
 
 Equally happy now, with freedom share 
 
v. 145 FIELD SPORTS v. 164 
 
 The common joy : the shepherd-boy forgets 
 His bleating care ; the labouring hind lets fall 
 His grain unsown ; in transport lost, he robs 
 The expecting furrow, and in wild amaze 
 The gazing village point their eyes to Heaven. 
 Where is the tongue can speak the falconer's cares, 
 'Twixt hopes and fears, as in a tempest toss'd? 
 His fluttering heart, his varying cheeks confess 
 His inward woe. Now, like a wearied stag, 
 That stands at bay, the hern provokes their rage ; 
 Close by his languid wing, in downy plumes, 
 Covers his fatal beak, and cautious hides 
 The well- dissembled fraud. The falcon darts 
 Like lightning from above, and in her breast 
 Receives the latent death ; down plumb she falls 
 Bounding from earth, and with her trickling gore 
 Defiles her gaudy plumage. See, alas ! 
 The falconer in despair ; his favourite bird 
 Dead at his feet, as of his dearest friend 
 He weeps her fate ; he meditates revenge, 
 
 M 
 
 99 
 
ioo v. 165 FIELD SPORTS v. 179 
 
 He storms, he foams, he gives a loose to rage ; 
 Nor wants he long the means : the hern fatigued, 
 Borne down by numbers, yields, and prone on earth 
 He drops ; his cruel foes, wheeling around, 
 Insult at will. The vengeful falconer flies, 
 Swift as an arrow shooting, to their aid, 
 Then muttering inward curses, breaks his wings, 
 And fixes in the ground his hated beak ; 3 
 Sees with malignant joy, the victors proud 
 Smear'd with his blood, and on his marrow feast. 4 
 
 Unhappy bird ! our fathers' prime delight ! 
 Who fenced thine eyry round with sacred laws ; 5 
 Nor mighty princes now disdain to wear 
 Thy waving crest, the mark of high command, 
 With gold, and pearl, and brilliant gems adorn'd. 6 
 
 This is done to prevent his hurting the hawk ; they generally also break 
 their legs. 
 
 4 The reward of the hawk, made of the brains, marrow, and blood, which 
 they call in Italian Soppa. 
 
 5 No man was permitted to shoot within 600 yards of the eyry, or nest of 
 an hern, under great penalties. 
 
 The hern's top worn at coronations here, and by the great men in Asia 
 in their turbans. 
 
v. 180 FIELD SPORTS v. 199 101 
 
 Now, if the crystal stream delight thee more, 
 Sportsman! lead on, where through the reedy bank 
 The insinuating waters, filter'd, stray 
 
 In many a winding maze. The wild -duck there 
 
 
 
 Gluts on the fattening ooze, or steals the spawn 
 Of teeming shoals, her more delicious feast. 
 How do the sunbeams on the glassy plain 
 Sport wanton, and amuse our wandering eyes 
 With variously -reflected changing rays ! 
 The murmuring stream salutes the flowery mead 
 That glows with fragrance ; Nature all around 
 Consents to bless. What sluggard now would sink 
 In beds of down ? What miser would not leave 
 His bags untold for this transporting scene ? 
 Falconer, take care, oppose thy well-train'd steed, 
 And slily stalk ; unhood thy falcon bold, 
 Observe at feed the unsuspecting team 
 Paddling with oary feet ; he's seen ; they fly. 
 Now at full speed the falconer spurs away 
 To assist his favourite hawk ; she from the rest 
 
102 r.2oo FIELD SPORTS v. 219 
 
 Has singled out the mallard young and gay, 
 Whose green and azure brightens in the sun. 
 Swift as the wind that sweeps the desert plain, 
 With feet, wings, beak, he cuts the liquid sky : 
 Behoves him now both oar and sail ; for see 
 The unequal foe gains on him as he flies. 
 Long holds the aerial course ; they rise, they fall, 
 Now skim in circling rings, then stretch away 
 With all their force, till at one fatal stroke 
 The vigorous hawk, exerting every nerve, 
 Truss'd in mid air bears down her captive prey. 
 Tis well on earth they fall ; for oft the duck 
 Mistrusts her coward wings, and seeks again 
 The kind protecting flood : if haply then 
 The falcon rash aim a decisive blow, 
 And spring to gripe her floating prey, at once 
 She dives beneath, and near some osier's root 
 Pops up her head secure ; then views her foe 
 Just in the grasping of her fond desires, 
 And in full pride of triumph whelm'd beneath 
 
r.220 FIELD SPORTS v. 239 103 
 
 The gliding stream. Ah ! where are now, proud bird ! 
 Thy stately trappings, and thy silver bells, 
 Thy glossy plumage, and thy silken crest? 
 Say, tyrant of the skies ! wouldst thou not now 
 Exchange with thy but late desponding foe 
 Thy dreadful talons, and thy polish'd beak, 
 For her web -feet despised? How happy they 
 Who, when gay pleasure courts, and fortune smiles, 
 Fear the reverse, with caution tread those paths 
 Where roses grow, but wily vipers creep ! 
 
 These are expensive joys, fit for the great, 
 Of large domains possessed : enough for me 
 To boast the gentle spar- hawk on my fist, 
 Or fly the partridge from the bristly field, 
 Retrieve the covey with my busy train, 
 Or with my soaring hobby dare the lark. 
 
 But if the shady woods my cares employ 
 In quest of feather d game, my spaniels beat 
 Puzzling the entangled copse, and from the brake 
 Push forth the whirring pheasant ; high in air 
 
104 r.240 FIELD SPORTS v.259 
 
 He waves his varied plumes, stretching away 
 With hasty wing. Soon from the uplifted tube . 
 The mimick thunder bursts, the leaden death 
 O'ertakes him, and with many a giddy whirl 
 To earth he falls, and at my feet expires. 
 
 When autumn smiles, all beauteous in decay, 
 And paints each chequer'd grove with various hues, 
 My setter ranges in the new- shorn fields, 
 His nose in air erect ; from ridge to ridge 
 Panting he bounds, his quartered ground divides 
 In equal intervals, nor careless leaves 
 One inch untried. At length the tainted gales 
 His nostrils wide inhale ; quick joy elates 
 His beating heart, which, awed by discipline 
 Severe, he dares not own, but cautious creeps 
 Low-cowering, step by step ; at last attains 
 His proper distance ; there he stops at once, 
 And points with his instructive nose upon 
 The trembling prey. On wings of wind upborne 
 The floating net unfolded flies, then drops, 
 
v.26o FIELD SPORTS v.279 105 
 
 And the poor fluttering captives rise in vain. 
 
 Or haply on some river's cooling bank, 
 
 Patiently musing, all intent I stand 
 
 To hook the scaly glutton. See ! down sinks 
 
 My cork, that faithful monitor ; his weight 
 
 My taper angle bends ; surprised, amazed, 
 
 He glitters in the sun, and struggling, pants 
 
 For liberty, till in the purer air 
 
 He breathes no more. Such are our pleasing cares 
 
 And sweet amusements ; such each busy drudge 
 
 Envious must wish, and all the wise enjoy. 
 
 Thus, most illustrious Prince ! have I presumed, 
 In my obscure sojourn, to sing at ease 
 Rural delights, the joy and sweet repast 
 Of every noble mind ; and now, perchance, 
 Untimely sing, since from yon neighbouring shore 
 The grumbling thunder rolls, calm Peace alarm'd 
 Starts from her couch, and the rude din of war 
 Sounds harsh in every ear. But, righteous Heaven! 
 Britain deserted, friendless and alone, 
 

 106 
 
 v.280 FIELD SPORTS 
 
 Will not as yet despair : shine but in arms, 
 
 O Prince ! beloved by all ; patron profess'd 
 
 Of liberty ! with every virtue crown'd ! 
 
 Millions shall crowd her strand, arid her white cliffs, 
 
 As Teneriffe or Adas firm, defy 
 
 The break of seas, and malice of her foes, 
 
 Nor the proud Gaul prevail where Caesar fail'd. 
 
THE 
 
 BOWLING GREEN. 
 
108 T. ii THE BOWLING GREEN v.so 
 
 With curious eye then the press'd turf he views, 
 
 o 
 
 And every rising prominence subdues. 
 
 Now when each craving stomach was well stored, 
 And church and king had travell'd round the board, 
 Hither at Fortune's shrine to pay their court 
 With eager hopes the motley tribe resort ; 
 Attornies spruce, in their plate -button'd frocks, 
 And rosy parsons, fat and orthodox : 
 Of every sect, whigs, papists, and highflyers, 
 Cornuted aldermen and hen-peck'd squires ; 
 Fox -hunters, quacks, scribblers in verse and prose, 
 And half- pay captains, and half-witted beaus ; 
 On the green cirque the ready racers stand, 
 Disposed in pairs, and tempt the bowler's hand ; 
 Eeach polish'd sphere does his round brother own, 
 The twins distinguish'd by their marks are known. 
 As the strong rein guides the well- managed horse, 
 Here weighty lead infused directs their course : 
 These in the ready road drive on with speed, 
 But those in crooked paths more artfully succeed, 
 
v.3i THE BOWLING GREEN v 49 109 
 
 So the tall ship that makes some dangerous bay, 
 With a side wind obliquely slopes her way. 
 Lo ! there the silver tumbler fix'd on high, 
 The victor's prize inviting every eye ! 
 
 The champions or consent or chance divide, 
 
 
 
 While each man thinks his own the surer side, 
 And the jack leads, the skilful bowler's guide. 
 
 Bendo stripp'd first : from foreign coasts he brought 
 A chaos of receipts, and anarchy of thought ; ' 
 Where the tumultuous whims to faction prone, 
 Still justled monarch Reason from her throne : 
 More dangerous than the porcupine's his quill, 
 Inured to slaughter, and secure to kill. 
 Let loose, just Heaven ! each virulent disease, 
 But save us from such murderers as these. 
 Might Bendo live but half a patriarch's age, 
 The unpeopled world would sink beneath his rage ; 
 Nor need to appease the just Creator's ire 
 A second deluge or consuming fire. 
 
 N 
 
no v.so THE BOWLING GREEN v. 69 
 
 He winks one eye, and knits his brow severe, 
 Then from his hand launches the flying sphere ; 
 Out of the green the guiltless w r ood he hurl'd, 
 Swift as his patients from this nether world ; 
 
 Then grinn'd malignant, but the jocund crowd 
 
 
 Deride his senseless rage, and shout aloud. 
 
 Next, Zadock, 'tis thy turn, imperious priest! 
 Still late at church, but early at a feast, 
 No turkey-cock appears with better grace, 
 His garments black, vermilion paints his face : 
 His wattles hang upon his stiffen'd band, 
 His platter feet upon the trigger stand, 
 He grasps the bowl in his rough brawny hand : 
 Then squatting down, with his grey goggle -eyes 
 He takes his aim, and at the mark it flies ; 
 Zadock pursues, and wabbles o'er the plain, 
 But shakes his strutting paunch, and ambles on in vain ; 
 For, oh! wide-erring to the left it glides, 
 The inmate lead the lighter wood misguides. 
 He, sharp reproofs with kind entreaties joins, 
 
T.ro THE BOWLING GREEN v. 89 111 
 
 Then on the counter side with pain reclines, 
 As if he meant to regulate its course, 
 By power attractive and magnetick force ; 
 Now almost in despair, he raves, he storms, 
 Writhes his unwieldy trunk in various forms. 
 Unhappy Proteus ! still in vain he tries 
 A thousand shapes, the bowl erroneous flies, 
 Deaf to his prayers, regardless of his cries : 
 His puffing cheeks with rising rage inflame, 
 And all his sparkling rubies glow with shame. 
 
 Bendo's proud heart, proof against Fortune's frown, 
 Resolves once more to make the prize his own : 
 Cautious he plods, surveying all the green, 
 And measures with his eye the space between: 
 But as on him 'twas a peculiar curse 
 To fall from one extreme into a worse, 
 Conscious of too much vigour, now, for fear 
 He should exceed, at hand he checks the sphere. 
 Soon as he found its languid force decay, 
 And the too weak impression die away, 
 
112 v. 90 THE BOWLING GREEN v. 109 
 
 Quick after it he scuds, urges behind, 
 Step after step, and now, with anxious mind, 
 Hangs o'er the bowl, slow -creeping on the plain, 
 And chides its faint efforts, and bawls amain : 
 Then on the guiltless green the blame to lay, 
 Curses the mountains that obstruct his way ; 
 Brazens it out with an audacious face, 
 His insolence improving by disgrace. 
 
 Zadock, who now with three black mugs had cheer'd 
 His drooping heart, and his sunk spirits rear'd, 
 Advances to the trigg with solemn pace, 
 And ruddy hope sits blooming on his face. 
 The bowl he poised, with pain his hams he bends, 
 On well chose ground unto the mark it tends : 
 Each adverse heart pants with unusual fear, 
 With joy he follows the propitious sphere : 
 Alas ! how frail is every mortal scheme ! 
 We build on sand, our happiness a dream ! 
 Bendo's short bowl stops the proud victor's course, 
 Purloins his fame, and deadens all its force. 
 
v. no THE BOWLING GREEN v. 129 113 
 
 At Bendo, from each corner of his eyes, 
 He darts malignant rays, then muttering flies 
 Into the bower ; there, panting and half dead, 
 In thick mundungus clouds he hides his head. 
 
 Muse ! raise thy voice : to win the glorious prize, 
 Bid all the fury of the battle rise. 
 These but the light-arm'd champions of the field, 
 See Griper there ! a veteran well skill'd : 
 This able pilot knows to steer a cause 
 Through all the rocks and shallows of the laws ; 
 Or, if 'tis wreck'd, his trembling client saves 
 On the next plank, and disappoints the waves. 
 In this, at least, all histories agree, 
 That though he lost his cause he saved his fee. 
 When the fat client looks in jovial plight, 
 How complaisant the man ! each point how right ! 
 But if the abandon'd orphan puts his case, 
 And poverty sits shrinking on his face, 
 How like a cur he snarls ! when at the door 
 For broken scraps he quarrels with the poor. 
 
114 r. 130 THE BOWLING GREEN v. 149 
 
 The farmer's oracle, when rent- day's near, 
 And landlords, by forbearance, are severe ; 
 When huntsmen trespass, or his neighbour's swine, 
 Or tatter'd Crape extorts by right divine. 
 Him all the rich their contributions pay, 
 Him all the poor with aching hearts obey 
 He in his swanskin doublet struts along, 
 Now begs, and now rebukes, the pressing throng, 
 A passage clear'd, he takes his aim with care, 
 And gently from his hand lets loose the sphere : 
 Smooth as a swallow o'er the plain it flies, 
 While he pursues its track with eager eyes ; 
 Its hopeful course approved, he shouts aloud, 
 Claps both his hands, and justles through the crowd. 
 Hovering awhile, soon at the mark it stood, 
 Hung o'er inclined, and fondly kiss'd the wood ; 
 Loud is the applause of every betting friend, 
 And peals of clamorous joy the concave rend. 
 But in each hostile face a dismal gloom 
 Appears, the sad presage of loss to come, 
 
v. 150 THE BOWLING GREEN v. 169 us 
 
 'Mong these Trebellius, with a mournful air 
 Of livid hue, just dying with despair, 
 Shuffles about, screws his chop -fallen face, 
 And no whipp'd gig so often shifts his place ; 
 Then gives his sage advice with wondrous skill, 
 Which no man ever heeds, or ever will : 
 Yet he persists, instructing to confound, 
 And with his cane points out the dubious ground. 
 
 Strong Nimrod now, fresh as the rising dawn, 
 Appears ; his sinewy limbs and solid brawn 
 The gazing crowd admires. He nor in courts 
 Delights, nor pompous balls, but rural sports 
 Are his soul's joy. At the horn's brisk alarms 
 He shakes the unwilling Phillis from his arms ; 
 Mounts with the sun, begins his bold career, 
 To chase the wily fox or rambling deer. 
 So Hercules, by Juno's dread command, 
 From savage beasts and monsters freed the land. 
 Hark ! from the covert of yon gloomy brake 
 Harmonious thunder rolls, the forests shake ; 
 
116 v. iro THE BOWLING GREEN v. 189 
 
 Men, boys, and dogs, impatient for the chase, 
 
 Tumultuous transports flush in every face ; 
 
 With ears erect the courser paws the ground, 
 
 Hills, vales, and hollow rocks, with cheering cries resound ; 
 
 Drive down the precipice (brave youths!) with speed, 
 
 Bound o'er the river banks, and smoke along the mead. 
 
 But whither would the devious Muse pursue 
 
 The pleasing theme, and my past joys renew? 
 
 Another labour now demands thy song. 
 
 Stretch'd in two ranks, behold the expecting throng 
 
 As Nimrod poised the sphere : his arms he drew 
 
 Back like an arrow in the Parthian yew, 
 
 Then launch'd the whirling globe, and full as swift it flew : 
 
 Bowls dash'd on bowls confounded all the plain; 
 
 Safe stood the foe, well cover'd by his train. 
 
 Assaulted tyrants thus their guard defends, 
 
 Escaping by the ruin of their friends. 
 
 But now he stands exposed, their order broke, 
 
 And seems to dread the next decisive stroke. 
 
 So at some bloody siege, the ponderous ball 
 
v. 190 THE BOWLING GREEN v.so9 117 
 
 Batters with ceaseless rage the crumbling wall, 
 (A breach once made) soon galls the naked town, 
 Riots in blood, and heaps on heaps are thrown. 
 
 Each avenue thus clear'd, with aching heart 
 Griper beheld, exerting all his art ; 
 Once more resolves to check his furious foe, 
 Block up the passage, and elude the blow. 
 With cautious hand, and with less force, he threw 
 The well-poised sphere, that gently circling flew, 
 But stopping short, cover'd the mark from view. 
 So little Teucer on the well- fought field 
 Securely skulk'd behind his brother's shield. 
 
 Nimrod, in dangers bold, whose heart elate 
 Nor courted Fortune's smiles nor fear'd her hate, 
 Perplex'd, but not discouraged, walk'd around, 
 With curious eye examined all the ground ; 
 Not the least opening in the front was found. 
 Sideway he leans, declining to the right, 
 And marks his way, and moderates his might. 
 Smooth -gliding o'er the plain the obedient sphere 
 
118 v.2io THE BOWLING GREEN v.sso 
 
 Held on its dubious road, while hope and fear 
 
 Alternate ebb'd and flow'd in every breast : 
 
 Now rolling nearer to the mark it press'd ; 
 
 Then changed its course, by the strong bias reiii'd, 
 
 And on the foe discharged the force that yet remained 
 
 Smart was the stroke, away the rival fled, 
 
 The bold intruder triurnph'd in his stead. 
 
 Victorious Nimrod seized the glittering prize, 
 Shouts of outrageous joy invade the skies ; 
 Hands, tongues, and caps, exalt the victor's fame ; 
 Sabrina's banks return him loud acclaim. 
 
 London : Printed by W. Bulmer and Co. 
 Cleveland-row, St. James's. 
 

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