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On the Univerfity Carrier, who ficken'd in the
ERE lies old Hobson; Death hath broke his girt,
Or elfe the ways being foul, twenty to one,
Had not his weekly course of carriage fail'd;
But lately finding him so long at home,
And thinking now his journey's end was come,
In the kind office of a chamberlin
*We have the following account of this extraordinary man in the Spectator, No. 509. Mr. Tobias Hobfon was a carrier, and the fift man in this ifland, who let out hackney-horfes. He lived in Cambridge; and obferving that the scholars rid hard, his manner was, to keep a large stable of horses, with boots, bridles, and whips, to furnish the gentlemen at once, without going from college to college to borrow, as they have done fince the death of this worthy man: I fay, Mr. Hobfon kept a ftable of forty good cattle, always ready and fit for travelling: but, when a man came for a horfe, he was led into the ftable, where there was great choice; but he obliged him to take the horfe, which ftood next to the ftable-door: fo that every customer was alike well ferved, according to his chance, and every horfe ridden with the fame juftice. From whence it became a proverb, when what ought to be your election was forced upon you, to fay, Hobfon's choice. This memorable man ftands drawn in fresco at an inn (which he used) in Bishopfgate-street, with an hundred pound bag under his arm, with this infcription upon the faid bag,
The fruitful mother of an hundred more.
Show'd him his room,where he must lodge that night, 15
Another on the fame.
ERE lieth one, who did most truly prove,
That he could never die, while he could move;
So hung his destiny, never to rot,
While he might still jogg on and keep his trot,
Until his revolution was at ftay.
Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime
Too long vacation haften'd on his term.
Merely to drive the time away he ficken'd,
Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quicken'd;
That even to his last breath (there be, that say't)
He had been an immortal carrier.
Yet (ftrange to think) his wain was his increase:
Only remains this fuperfcription.
ENCE loathed Melancholy,
Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born In Stygian cave forforn
'Mongft horrid shapes, and fhrieks, and fights unholy, Find out fome uncouth cell,
Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous wings, And the night raven fings;
There under ebon-fhades and low-brow'd rocks, As ragged as thy locks,
In dark Cimmerian defert ever dwell.
*This and the following poem are exquifitely beautiful in themfelves, but appear much more beautiful, when they are confider'd, as they were written, in contraft to each other. There is a great variety of pleafing images in each of them, and it is remarkable, that the Poet reprefents feveral of the fame objects as exciting both mirth and melancholy, and affecting us differently according to the different difpofitions and affections of the foul. This is nature and experience. He derives the title of both poems from the Italian, which language was then principally in vogue. L'Allegra is the chearful merry man; and in this poem he describes the courfe of mirth in the country and in the city from morning to noon, and from noon till night.
appear much more
beautiful, indeed, when associated with Handel's fine music