Increasing debts, perplexing duns, And nothing for his younger sons. Straight all his thought to gain he turns, Bold thieves, and all the murdering crew; At length he thus the Ghost addrest : FABLE. THE JUGGLERS. A JUGGLER long through all the town Vice heard his fame, she read his bill; "Is this then he so fam'd for sleight? Provok'd, the Juggler cry'd, "Tis done; In science I submit to none.' Thus said, the cups and balls he play'd; His little boxes change the grain: Vice now stept forth, and took the place, With all the forms of his grimace. "This magic looking-glass," she cries, "(There, hand it round) will charm your eyes.' Each eager eye the sight desir'd, And every man himself admir'd. Next, to a senator addressing, A second puff the magic broke; She bids Ambition hold a wand; She shakes the dice, the board she knocks, She next a meagre rake addrest. A guinea with her touch you see "Can I such matchless sleight withstand! FABLE. THE HARE AND MANY FRIENDS. FRIENDSHIP, like love, is but a name, Unless to one you stint the flame. The child, whom many fathers share, Hath seldom known a father's care. 'Tis thus in friendships; who depend On many, rarely find a friend. A Hare who, in a civil way, Comply'd with every thing, like Gay, Was known by all the bestial train Who haunt the wood, or graze the plain; Her care was never to offend; And every creature was her friend. As forth she went at early dawn, To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn, Behind she hears the hunter's cries, And from the deep-mouth'd thunder flies. She starts, she stops, she pants for breath; She hears the near advance of death; She doubles, to mislead the hound, And measures back her mazy round; Till, fainting in the public way, Half-dead with fear she gasping lay. For all your friends are in the rear." She next the stately Bull implor'd; And thus reply'd the mighty lord: "Since every beast alive can tell That I sincerely wish you well, I may, without offence, pretend To take the freedom of a friend. Love calls me hence; a favourite cow Expects me near yon barley-mow; And, when a lady's in the case, You know, all other things give place. To leave you thus might seem unkind; But, see, the Goat is just behind." The Goat remark'd, her pulse was high, "Shall I," says he, "of tender age, "That queen," he said, “to whom we owe At this, in tears was Cicely seen, For me, when as I heard that Death While thus we stood as in a stound, And wet with tears, like dew, the ground, Full soon by bonfire and by bell We learnt our liege was passing well. A skilful leach (so God him speed) They said, had wrought this blessed deed. This leach Arbuthnot was yclept, Who many a night not once had slept ; But watch'd our gracious sovereign still; For who could rest when she was ill? Oh, may'st thou henceforth sweetly sleep! Sheer, swains, oh! sheer your softest sheep, To swell his couch; for, well I ween, He sav'd the realm, who sav'd the queen. Quoth I," Please God, I'll hye with glee To court, this Arbuthnot to sec.' I sold my sheep, and lambkins too, So forth I far'd to court with speed, There saw I ladies all a-row, And blooming Hyde, with eyes so rare; There many a worthy wight I've seen, There saw I St. John, sweet of mien Full steadfast both to church and queen ; With whose fair name I'll deck my strain; St. John, right courteous to the swain. For thus he told me on a day, “Trim are thy sonnets, gentle Gay; And, certes, mirth it were to see Lo, here thou hast mine eclogues fair, Lo, yonder, Cloddipole, the blithsome swain, LOBBIN CLOUT. See this tobacco-pouch, that's lin'd with hair, Made of the skin of sleekest fallow-deer. This pouch, that's ty'd with tape of reddest hue, I'll wager, that the prize shall be my due. CUDDY. Begin thy carols then, thou vaunting slouch! Be thine the oaken staff, or mine the pouch. LOBBIN CLOUT. My Blouzelinda is the blithest lass, Than primrose sweeter, or the clover-grass. Fair is the king-cup that in meadow blows, Fair is the daisie that beside her grows; Fair is the gilliflower, of gardens sweet, Fair is the marygold, for pottage meet: But Blouzelind's than gilliflower more fair, Than daisie, marygold, or king-cup rare. CUDDY. My brown Buxoma is the featest maid, That e'er at wake delightsome gambol play'd. Clean as young lambkins or the goose's down, And like the goldfinch in her Sunday gown. The witless lamb may sport upon the plain, The frisking kid delight the gaping swain, The wanton calf may skip with many a bound, And my cur Tray play deftest feats around; But neither lamb, nor kid, nor calf, nor Tray, Dance like Buxoma on the first of May. 30 40 5) Ne in all the welkin was no cloud. -Sheen, or shine, an old word for shining, or bright. Ver. 5. Scant, used in the ancient British authors for scarce. Ver. 6. Rear, an expression in several counties of England, for early in the morning. Ver. 25. Erst; a contraction of ere this; it signi Ver. 7. To ween, derived from the Saxon, to fies sometime ago, or formerly. think, or conceive. Ver. 56. Deft, an old word, signifying brisk, or nimble. As once I play'd at blindman's buff, it hapt CUDDY. As at hot-cockles once I laid me down, TUESDAY; OR, THE DITTY. MARIAN. 10 YOUNG Colin Clout, a lad of peerless meed, Ver. 69. Eftsoons, from eft, an ancient British word, signifying soon. So that eftsoons is a doubling of the word soon; which is, as it were, to say twice soon, or very soon. Ver. 79. Queint has various significations in the ancient English authors. I have used it in this place in the same sense as Chaucer hath done in his Miller's Tale. "As clerkes being full subtle and queint," (by which he means arch, or waggish); and not in that obscene sense wherein he useth it in the line immediately following. Ver. 85. Populus Alcidæ gratissima, vitis Iaccho, VIRG. 20 Cicely, the western lass, that tends the kee, 30 "Ah, Colin! canst thou leave thy sweetheart true? What I have done for thee, will Cicely do? And knit thee gloves made of her own spun yarn? 40 50 "Where'er I gad, I cannot hide my care, My new disasters in my look appear. White as the curd my ruddy cheek is grown, So thin my features, that I'm hardly known. Our neighbours tell me oft, in joking talk, Of ashes, leather, oatmeal, bran, and chalk; Unwittingly of Marian they divine, And wist not that with thoughtful love I pine. Yet Colin Clout, untoward shepherd swain, Walks whistling blithe, while pitiful I plain. "Whilom with thee 'twas Marian's dear delight To moil all day, and merry-make at night. If in the soil you guide the crooked share, Your early breakfast is my constant care; And when with even hand you strow the grain, I fright the thievish rooks from off the plain. In misling days, when I my thresher heard, With nappy beer I to the barn repair'd; Lost in the music of the whirling flail, To gaze on thee I left the smoking pail : In harvest, when the Sun was mounted high, My leathern bottle did thy draught supply; Whene'er you mow'd, I follow'd with the rake, And have full oft been sun-burnt for thy sake: When in the welkin gathering showers were seen, I lagg'd the last with Colin on the green; And when at eve returning with thy car, Awaiting heard the jingling bells from far, Straight on the fire the sooty pot I plac'd, To warm thy broth I burnt my hands for haste. When hungry thou stood'st staring, like an oaf, I slic'd the luncheon from the barley-loaf ; With crumbled bread I thicken'd well thy mess. Ah, love me more, or love thy pottage less! "Last Friday's eve, when as the Sun was set, I, near yon stile, three sallow gypsies met. Upon my hand they cast a poring look, 60 70 80 Bid me beware, and thrice their heads they shook : "Have I not sat with thee full many a night, When dying embers were our only light, When every creature did in slumbers lie, Besides our cat, my Colin Clout, and I? No troublous thoughts the cat or Colin move, While I alone am kept awake by love. "Remember, Colin, when at last year's wake I bought the costly present for thy sake; Could'st thou spell o'er the posy on thy knife, And with another change thy state of life? If thou forgett'st, I wot, I can repeat, My memory can tell the verse so sweet: 'As this is grav'd upon this knife of thine, So is thy image on this heart of mine.' But woe is me! such presents luckless prove, For knives, they tell me, always sever love.” 90 100 Thus Marian wail'd, her eyes with tears brimful, When Goody Dobbins brought her cow to bull. With apron blue to dry her tears she sought, Then saw the cow well serv'd, and took a groat. WEDNESDAY; OR, THE DUMPS.• SPARABELLA. THE wailings of a me'den I recite, Such strains ne'er warble in the linnet's throat, A while, O D'Urfey! lend an ear or twain, * Dumps, or dumbs, made use of to express a fit of the sullens. Some have pretended that it is derived from Dumops, a king of Egypt, that built a pyramid, and died of melancholy. So mopes, after the same manner, is thought to have come from Merops, another Egyptian king, that died of the same distemper. But our English antiquaries have conjectured that dumps, which is a grievous heaviness of spirits, comes from the word dumplin, the heaviest kind of pudding that is eaten in this country, much used in Norfolk, and other counties of England. Tu mihi, seu magni superas jam saxa Timavi, Sive oram Illyrici legis æquoris VIRG. Ver. 11. An opera written by this author, called The World in the Sun, or the Kingdom of Birds; he is also famous for his song on the Newmarket Ver. 21. Kee, a west-country word for kine, or horse-race, and several others that are sung by the COTEL British swains. |