XI.

On the Univerfity Carrier, who ficken'd in the
time of his vacancy, being forbid to go to
London by reason of the plague *.

ERE lies old Hobson; Death hath broke his girt,
And here, alas, hath laid him in the dirt,

HER

Or elfe the ways being foul, twenty to one,
He's here ftuck in a flough, and overthrown.
'Twas such a shifter, that,if truth were known,
Death was half glad,when he had got him down.;
For he had any time this ten years full,
Dodg'd with him, betwixt Cambridge and the Bull.
And furely Death could never have prevail'd,

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,
And that he had ta'en up his latest inn,

In the kind office of a chamberlin

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*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
Pull'd off his boots, and took away the light:
If any afk for him, it fhall be faid,
Hobfon has fupt, and's newly gone to bed.

H

XII.

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,
Made of sphere-metal, never to decay,

Until his revolution was at ftay.

Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime
Gainst old truth) motion number'd out his time:
And like an engin mov'd with wheel and weight,
His principles being ceas'd, he ended strait.
Reft,that gives all men life, gave him his death,
And too much breathing put him out of breath;
Nor were it contradiction to affirm

Too long vacation haften'd on his term.

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Merely to drive the time away he ficken'd,

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Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quicken'd;
Nay, quoth he, on his fooning bed out-ftretch'd,
If I mayn't carry, fure I'll ne'er be fetch'd,
But vow, though the cross doctors all flood hearers,
For one carrier put down to make fix bearers.
Eafe was his chief disease, and to judge right,
He dy'd for heavinefs, that his cart went light:
His leisure told him, that his time was come,
And lack of load made his life burdenfome,

201

That even to his last breath (there be, that say't)
As he were prefs'd to death, he cry'd more weight;
But, had his doings lafted, as they were,

He had been an immortal carrier.
Obedient to the moon he spent his date
In course reciprocal, and had his fate
Link'd to the mutual flowing of the feas,

Yet (ftrange to think) his wain was his increase:
His letters are deliver'd all and gone,

Only remains this fuperfcription.

H'

XIII.

L'ALLEGRO*.

ENCE loathed Melancholy,

Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born In Stygian cave forforn

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'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.

10.

*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

man

beautiful, indeed, when associated with Handel's fine music