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النشر الإلكتروني

When, 'midst his song, the twinkling glass betrays, No midnight masquerade her beauty wears,
While from each angle flash the glancing rays,
And in the Sun the transient colors blaze,
Pride lures the little warbler from the skies:
The light-enamour'd bird deluded dies.

And health, not paint, the fading bloom repairs.
If love's soft passion in her bosom reign,
An equal passion warms her happy swain;
No homebred jars her quiet state control,
Nor watchful jealousy torments her soul;
With secret joy she sees her little race
Hang on her breast, and her small cottage grace;
The fleecy ball their busy fingers cull,

But still the chase, a pleasing task, remains;
The hound must open in these rural strains.
Soon as Aurora drives away the night,
And edges eastern clouds with rosy light,
The healthy huntsman, with the cheerful horn,
Summons the dogs, and greets the dappled morn;
The jocund thunder wakes th' enliven'd hounds,
They rouse from sleep, and answer sounds for

Or from the spindle draw the lengthening wool:
Thus flow her hours with constant peace of mind
Till age the latest thread of life unwind.

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Wide through the furzy field their route they take,
Their bleeding bosoms force the thorny brake:
The flying game their smoking nostrils trace,
No bounding hedge obstructs their enger pace;
The distant mountains echo from afar,
And hanging woods resound the flying war:
The tuneful noise the sprightly courser hears,
Paws the green turf, and pricks his trembling ears;
The slacken'd rein now gives him all his speed,
Back flies the rapid ground beneath the steed;
Hills, dales, and forests, far behind remain,
While the warm scent draws on the deep-mouth'd


Where shall the trembling hare a shelter find?
Hark! death advances in each gust of wind!
Now stratagems and doubling wiles she tries,
Now circling turns, and now at large she flies;
Till, spent at last, she pants, and heaves for breath,
Then lays her down, and waits devouring death.

But stay, adventurous Muse! hast thou the force
To wind the twisted horn, to guide the horse?
To keep thy seat unmov'd, hast thou the skill,
O'er the high gate, and down the headlong hill ?
Canst thou the stag's laborious chase direct,
Or the strong fox through all his arts detect?
The theme demands a more experienc'd lay:
Ye mighty hunters! spare this weak essay.

O happy plains, remote from war's alarms, And all the ravages of hostile arms! And happy shepherds, who, secure from fear, On open downs preserve your fleecy care! Whose spacious barns groan with increasing store, And whirling flails disjoint the cracking floor! No barbarous soldier, bent on cruel spoil, Spreads desolation o'er your fertile soil; No trampling steed lays waste the ripen'd grain, Nor crackling fires devour the promis'd gain; No flaming beacons cast their blaze afar, The dreadful signal of invasive war; No trumpet's clangour wounds the mother's ear, And calls the lover from his swooning fair.


What happiness the rural maid attends,
In cheerful labor while each day she spends!
She gratefully receives what Heaven has sent,
And, rich in poverty, enjoys co
(Such happiness, and such unblemish'd fame,
Ne'er glad the bosom of the courtly dame) :
She never feels the spleen's imagin'd pains,
Nor melancholy stagnates in her veins;
She never loses life in thoughtless ease,
Nor on the velvet couch invites disease;
Her home-spun dress in simple neatness lies,
And for no glaring equipage she sighs:
Her reputation, which is all her boast,
In a malicious visit ne'er was lost;

Ye happy fields, unknown to noise and strife, The kind rewarders of industrious life; Ye shady woods, where once I us'd to rove, Alike indulgent to the Muse and Love; Ye murmuring streams that in meanders roll, The sweet composers of the pensive soul! Farewell!-The city calls me from your bowers: Farewell, amusing thoughts, and peaceful hours!





Quo te Moeri pedes? an. quo via ducit, in urbem?



Of the Implements for Walking the Streets, and Signs of the Weather.

THROUGH Winter streets to steer your course aright,
How to walk clean by day, and safe by night;
How jostling crowds with prudence to decline,
When to assert the wall, and when resign,
I sing: thou, Trivia, goddess, aid my song,
Through spacious streets conduct thy bard along;
By thee transported, I securely stray
Where winding alleys lead the doubtful way,
The silent court and opening square explore,
And long perplexing lanes untrod before.
To pave thy realm, and smooth the broken ways,
Earth from her womb a flinty tribute pays;
For thee the sturdy pavior thumps the ground,
Whilst every stroke his laboring lungs resound;
For thee the scavenger bids kennels glide
Within their bounds, and heaps of dirt subside.
My youthful bosom burns with thirst of fame,
From the great theme to build a glorious name,
To tread in paths to ancient bards unknown,
And bind my temples with a civic crown:
But more my country's love demands my lays;
My country's be the profit, mine the praise!

When the black youth at chosen stands rejoice,
And "clean your shoes" resounds from every voice;
When late their miry sides stage-coaches show,
And their stiff horses through the town move slow,
When all the Mall in leafy ruin lies,
And damsels first renew their oyster-cries:
Then let the prudent walker shoes provide,
Not of the Spanish or Morocco hide ;

The wooden heel may raise the dancer's bound, And with the scallop'd top his step be crown de

Let firm, well-hammer'd soles protect thy feet, O happy streets! to rumbling wheels unknown,
Thro’ freezing snows, and rains, and soaking sleet. No carts, no coaches, shake the floating town!
Should the big last extend the shoe too wide, Thus was of old Britannia's city bless'd,
Each stone will wrench th' unwary step aside ; Ere pride and luxury her sons possessid ;
The sudden turn may stretch the swelling vein, Coaches and chariots yet unfashion'd lay,
Thy cracking joint unhinge, or ancle sprain; Nor late-invented chairs perplex'd the way:
And, when too short the modish shoes are worn, Then the proud lady tripp'd along the town,
You'll judge the seasons by your shooting corn. And tuck’d-up petticoats secur'd her gown;

Nor should it prove thy less important care, Her rosy cheek with distant visits glow'd,
To choose a proper coat for winter's wear.

And exercise unartful charms bestow'd : Now in thy trunk thy D'Oily habit fold,

But since in braided gold her foot is bound,
The silken drugget ill can fence the cold; And a long training mantua sweeps the ground,
The frieze's spongy nap is soak'd with rain, Her shoe disdains the street; the lazy fair,
And showers soon drench the camlet's cockled grain; With narrow step, affects a limping air.
True Witney* broad-cloth, with its shag unshorn, Now gaudy pride corrupts the lavish age,
Unpierc'd is in the lasting tempest worn :

And the streets flame with glaring equipage ;
Be this the horseman's fence, for who would wear The tricking gamester insolently rides,
Amid the town the spoils of Russia's bear? With Loves and Graces on his chariot sides;
Within the roquelaure's clasp thy hands are pent, In saucy state the griping broker sits,
Hands, that, stretch'd forth, invading harms prevent. And laughs at honesty and trudging wits.
Let the loop'd bavaroy the fop embrace,

For you, O honest men! these useful lays
Or his deep cloak bespatter'd o'er with lace. The Muse prepares; I seek no other praise.
That garment best the winter's rage defends, When sleep is first disturb’d by morning cries,
Whose ample form without one plait depends ; From sure prognostics learn to know the skies,
By various namest in various counties known, Lest you of rheums and coughs at night complain
Yet held in all the true surtout alone;

Surpris'd in dreary fogs, or driving rain. Be thine of kersey firm, though small the cost, When suffocating mists obscure the morn, Ther brave unwet the rain, unchill'd the frost. Let thy worst wig, long us'd to storms, be worn ;

If the strong cane support thy walking hand, This knows the powder'd footman, and with care Chairmen no longer shall the wall command ; Beneath his flapping hat secures his hair. Ev'n sturdy carmen shall thy nod obey,

Be thou for every season justly drest, And rattling coaches stop to make thee way : Nor brave the piercing frost with open breast; This shall direct thy cautious tread aright, And, when the bursting clouds a deluge pour, Though not one glaring lamp enliven night. Let thy surtout defend the drenching shower. Let beaux their canes, with amber tipt, produce; The changing weather certain signs reveal. Be theirs for empty show, but thine for use. Ere Winter sheds her snow, or frosts congeal, In gilded chariots while they loll at ease,

You'll see the coals in brighter flame aspire, And lazily insure a life's disease ;

And sulphur tinge with blue the rising fire ; While softer chairs the tawdry load convey Your tender shins the scorching heat decline, To court, to White's,f assemblies, or the play ; And at the dearth of coals the poor repine; Rosy.complexion'd Health thy steps attends, Before her kitchen hearth, the nodding dame, And exercise thy lasting youth defends.

In flannel mantle wrapt, enjoys the flame; Imprudent men Heaven's choicest gists profano: Hovering, upon her feeble knees she bends, Thus some beneath their arm support the cane; And all around the grateful warmth ascends. The dirty point oft checks the careless pace, Nor do less certain signs the town advise And miry spots the clean cravat disgrace.

or milder weather and serener skies. Oh! may I never such misfortune meet!

The ladies, gaily dress'd, the Mall adorn May no such vicious walkers crowd the street! With various dyes, and paint the sunny morn: May Providence o'ershade me with her wings, The wanton fawns with frisking pleasure range, While the bold Muse experienc'd danger sings! And chirping sparrows greet the welcome change,

Not that I wander from my native home, Not that their minds with greater skill are fraught," And (tempting perils) foreign cities roam.

Endued by instinct, or by reason taught: Let Paris be the theme of Gallia's Muse,

The seasons operate on every breast; Where slavery treads the streets in wooden shoes. 'Tis hence the fawns are brisk, and ladies drest. Nor do I rove in Belgia's frozen clime,

When on his box the nodding coachman snores, And teach the clumsy boor to skate in rhyme; And dreams of fancied fares; when tavern doors Where, if the warmer clouds in rain descend, The chairmen idly crowd ; then ne'er refuse No miry ways industrious steps offend;

To trust thy busy steps in thinner shoes. The rushing flood from sloping pavements pours, But when the swinging signs your ears offend And blackens the canals with dirty showers. With creaking noise, then rainy floods impend; Let others Naples' smoother streets rehearse, Soon shall the kennels swell with rapid streams, And with proud Roman structures grace their verse, And rush in'muddy torrents to the Thames. Where frequent murders wake the night with groans, The bookseller, whose shop 's an open square, And blood in purple torrents dyes the stones.

Foresees the tempest, and with early care, Nor shall the Muse through narrow Venice stray, of learning strips the rails; the rowing crew, Where gondolas their painted oars display. To tempt a fare, clothe all their tilts in blue;

* A town in Oxfordshire.
| A Joseph, wrap.rascal, &c.
| A chocolate-house in St. James's street.

* Haud equidem credo, quia sit divinitus illis,
Ingenium, aut rerum fato prudentia major.

VIRG. Georg. L

On hosiers' poles depending stockings tied, Her cleanly pail the pretty housewife bears,
Flag with the slacken'd gale from side to side ; And singing to the distant field repairs ;
Church-monuments foretell the changing air, And, when the plains with evening dew's are spread,
Then Niobe dissolves into a tear,

[sounds The milky burthen smokes upon her head,
And sweats with sacred grief; you 'll hear the Deep through a miry lane she pick'd her way,
Of whistling winds, ere kennels break their bounds; Above her ancle rose the chalky clay.
Ungrateful odors common shores diffuse,

Vulcan by chance the bloomy maiden spies,
And dropping vaults distil unwholesome dews, With innocence and beauty in her eyes :
Ere the üles rattle with the smoking shower, He saw, he lovd; for yet he ne'er had known
And spouts on heedless men their torrents pour. Sweet innocence and beauty meet in one.
All superstition from thy breast repel :

Ah, Mulciber! recall thy nuptial vows,
Let credulous boys and prattling nurses tell, Think on the graces of thy Paphian spouse ;
How, if the festival of Paul be clear,

Think how her eyes dart inexhausted charms,
Plenty from liberal horn shall strew the year; And canst thou leave her bed for Patty's arms?
When the dark skies dissolve in snow or rain, The Lemnian power forsakes the realms above,
The laboring hind shall yoke the steer in vain ; His bosom glowing with terrestrial love :
But, is the threatening winds in tempests roar, Far in the lane a lonely hut he found;
Then War shall bathe her wasteful sword in gore. No tenant ventur'd on ih' unwholesome ground.
How, if on Swithin's feast the welkin lours, Here smokes his forge, he bares his sinewy arm,
And every penthouse streams with hasty showers, And early strokes the sounding anvil warm :
Twice twenty days shall clouds their fleeces drain, Around his shop the steely sparkles flew,
And wash the pavements with incessant rain. As for the steed he shap'd the bending shoe.
Lei noi such vulgar tales debase thy mind;

When blue-ey'd Patty near his window came, Nor Paul nor Swithin rule the clouds and wind. His anvil rests, his forge forgets to flame.

If you the precepts of the Muse despise, To hear his soothing tales, she feigns delays ; And slight the faithful warning of the skies, What woman can resist the force of praise ? Others you'll see, when all the town's afloat, At first she coyly every kiss withstood, Wrapt in th' embraces of a kersey coat,

And all her cheek was flush'd with modest blood , Or double-bottom'd frieze ; their guarded feet With headless nails he now surrounds her shoes, Defy the muddy dangers of the street;

'To save her steps from rains and piercing dews. While you, with hat unloop'd, the fury dread She lik'd his soothing tales, his presents wore, Of spouts high streaming, and with cautious tread And granted kisses, but would grant no more. Shun erery dashing pool, or idly stop,

Yet Winter chilld her feet, with cold she pines, To seek the kind protection of a shop.

And on her cheek the fading rose declines; But business summons; now with hasty scud No more her humid eyes their lustre boast, You jostle for the wall; the spatter'd mud

And in hoarse sounds her melting voice is lost. Hides all thy hose behind ; in vain you scour,

Thus Vulcan saw, and in his heavenly thought Thy wig, alas! uncurld, admits the shower. A new machine mechanic fancy wrought, Su fierce Aleclo's snaky tresses fell,

Above the mire her shelter'd steps to raise, When Orpheus charm'd the rigorous powers of Hell; And bear her safely through the wintery ways. Or thus hung Glaucus' beard, with briny dew Straight the new engine on his anvil glows, Clotted and straight, when first his amorous view And the pale virgin on the patten rose. Surpris'd the bathing fair; the frighted maid No more her lungs are shook with dropping rheums, Now stands a rock, transform'd by Circe's aid. And on her cheek reviving beauty blooms.

Guod housewives all the winter's rage despise, The god obtain'd his suit: though flattery fail, Defended by the riding-hood's disguise;

Presents with female virtue must prevail. Or, underneath th' umbrella's oily shed,

The patten now supports each frugal dame,
Safe through the wet on clinking patiens tread. Which from the blue-ey'd Patty takes the name.
Let Persian dames th' umbrella's ribs display,
To guard their beauties from the sunny ray;
Or sweating slaves support the shady load,

Воок ІІ.
When eastern monarchs show their state abroad :
Britain in winter only knows its aid,

Of walking the Streets by Day.
To guard from chilly showers the walking maid.
Bui, O! forget not, Muse, the patten's praise, Thus far the Muse has trac'd, in useful lays,
Thai semale implement shall grace thy lays; The proper implements for wintery ways;
Say from what art divine th' invention came, Has taught the walker, with judicious eyes'
And from its origin deduce its name.

To read the various warnings of the skies : Where Lincoln wide extends her fenny soil, Now venture, Muse, from home to range the town, A goodly yeoman liv'd, grown white with toil; And for the public safety risk thy own. One only daughter bless'd his nuptial bed,

For ease and for dispatch, the morning 's best ; Who from her infant hand the poultry fed : No tides of passengers the streets molest. Martha (her careful mother's name) sbe bore, You 'll see a draggled damsel here and there, But now her careful mother was no more.

From Billingsgate her fishy traffic bear; Whilst on her father's knee the damsel play'd, On doors the sallow milk-maid chalks her gains; Patty he fondly call'd the smiling maid ;

Ah! how unlike the milk-maid of the plains ! As years increas'd, her ruddy beanty grew, Before proud gates attending asses bray, And Patty's fame o'er all the village few. Or arrogate with solemn pace the way;

Soon as the grey.ey'd morning streaks the skies, These grave physicians with their milky cheer And in the doubtful day the woodcock flies, The love-sick maid and dwindling beau repair;

Here rows of drummers stand in martial file,
And with their vellum thunder shake the pile,
To greet the new-made bride. Are sounds like these
The proper prelude to a state of peace?
Now Industry awakes her busy sons;
Full-charg'd with news the breathless hawker runs:
Shops open, coaches roll, carts shake the ground,
And all the streets with passing cries resound.

If cloth'd in black you tread the busy town,
Or if distinguish'd by the reverend gown,
Three trades avoid: oft in the mingling press
The barber's apron soils the sable dress;
Shun the perfumer's touch with cautious eye,
Nor let the baker's step advance too nigh.
Ye walkers too, that youthful colors wear,
Three sullying trades avoid with equal care:
The little chimney-sweeper skulks along,
And marks with sooty stains the heedless throng;
When small-coal murmurs in the hoarser throat,
From smutty dangers guard thy threaten'd coat;
The dustman's cart offends thy clothes and eyes,
When through the street a cloud of ashes flies;
But, whether black or lighter dyes are worn,
The chandler's basket, on his shoulder borne,
With tallow spots thy coat; resign the way,
To shun the surly butcher's greasy tray,

Butchers, whose hands are dyed with blood's foul To seek amours; the vice the monarch lov'd,

And always foremost in the hangman's train.
Let due civilities be strictly paid:
The wall surrender to the hooded maid;
Nor let thy sturdy elbow's hasty rage
Jostle the feeble steps of trembling age:
And when the porter bends beneath his load,
And pants for breath, clear thou the crowded road.
But, above all, the groping blind direct;
And from the pressing throng the lame protect.

Soon through the wide ethereal court improv'd:
And ev'n the proudest goddess, now and then,
Would lodge a night among the sons of men;
To vulgar deities descends the fashion,
Each, like her betters, had her earthly passion.
Then Cloacina* (goddess of the tide,
Whose sable streams beneath the city glide,)
Indulg'd the modish flame; the town she rov'd,
A mortal scavenger she saw, she lov'd;
The muddy spots that dried upon his face,
Like female patches, heighten'd every grace:
She gaz'd; she sigh'd; (for love can beauties spy
In what seem faults to every common eye.)

You'll sometimes meet a fop, of nicest tread,
Whose mantling peruke veils his empty head;
At every step he dreads the wall to lose,
And risks, to save a coach, his red-heel'd shoes;
Him, like the miller, pass with caution by,
Lest from his shoulder clouds of powder fly.
But, when the bully, with assuming pace,
Cocks his broad hat, edg'd round with tarnish'd

Now had the watchman walk'd his second round
When Cloacina hears the rumbling sound

Of her brown lover's cart (for well she knows
That pleasing thunder): swift the goddess rose,
And through the streets pursu'd the distant noise,
Her bosom panting with expected joys.
With the night-wandering harlot's airs she past,
Brush'd near his side, and wanton glances cast;
In the black form of cinder-wench she came,
When love, the hour, the place, had banish'd shame,
To the dark alley arm in arm they move:
O may no link-boy interrupt their love!

When the pale Moon had nine times fill'd her


Yield not the way, defy his strutting pride,
And thrust him to the muddy kennel's side;
He never turns again, nor dares oppose,
But mutters coward curses as he goes.

But still the wandering passes forc'd his stay,
Till Ariadne's clue unwinds the way.
But do not thou, like that bold chief, confide
Thy venturous footsteps to a female guide:
She'll lead thee with delusive smiles along,
Dive thy fob, and drop thee in the throng.

If drawn by business to a street unknown,
Let the sworn porter point thee through the town;
Be sure observe the signs, for signs remain,
Like faithful landmarks, to the walking train.
Seek not from prentices to learn the way,
Those fabling boys will turn thy steps astray;
Ask the grave tradesman to direct thee right,
He ne'er deceives-but when he profits by 't.

Where fam'd St. Giles's ancient limits spread,
An enrail'd column rears its lofty head;
Here to seven streets seven dials count the day,
And from each other catch the circling ray.
Here oft the peasant, with inquiring face,
Bewilder'd, trudges on from place to place;
He dwells on every sign with stupid gaze,
Enters the narrow alley's doubtful maze,
Tries every winding court and street in vain,
And doubles o'er his weary steps again.
Thus hardly Theseus with intrepid feet
Travers'd the dangerous labyrinth of Crete;

When waggish boys the stunted besom ply,
To rid the slabby pavement, pass not by
Ere thou hast held their hands; some heedless flirt
Will overspread thy calves with spattering dirt.
Where porters' hogsheads roll from carts aslope,
Or brewers down steep cellars stretch the rope,
Where counted billets are by carmen tost,
Stay thy rash step, and walk without the post.
What though the gathering mire thy feet be-


The voice of Industry is always near.
Hark! the boy calls thee to his destin'd stand,
And the shoe shines beneath his oily hand.
Here let the Muse, fatigued amid the throng,
Adorn her precepts with digressive song;
Of shirtless youths the secret rise to trace,
And show the parent of the sable race.

Like mortal man, great Jove (grown fond of


Of old was wont this nether world to range,

The pregnant goddess (cautious of disgrace)
Descends to Earth; but sought no midwife's aid,
Nor 'midst her anguish to Lucina pray'd;
No cheerful gossip wish'd the mother joy,
Alone, beneath a bulk, she dropt the boy.


The child, through various risks in years im-
At first, a beggar's brat, compassion mov'd;
His infant tongue soon learnt the canting art.
Knew all the prayers and whines to touch the

* Cloacina was a goddess, whose image Tatius (a king of the Sabines) found in the common sewer; and, not knowing what goddess it was, he called it Cloacina, from the place in which it was found, and paid to it divino honors.-Lactant. 1. 20, Minue, Fel. Oct. p. 232.

Oh, happy unown'd youths ! your limbs can bear His treble voice resounds along the Meuse,
The scorching dog-star, and the winter's air; And Whitehall echoes—"Clean your honor's
While the rich infant, nurs'd with care and pain,

shoes !"
Thirsts with each heat, and coughs with every rain! Like the sweet ballad, this amusing lay

The goddess long had mark'd the child's distress, Too long detains the walker on his way;
And long had sought his sufferings to redress. While he attends, new dangers round him throng :
She prays the gods to take the fondling's part, The busy city asks instructive song.
To teach his hands some beneficial art

Where, elevated o'er the gaping crowd,
Practis'd in streets: the gods her suit allow'd, Clasp'd in the board the perjur'd head is bow'd,
And made him useful to the walking crowd ; Betimes retreat; here, thick as hailstones pour,
To cleanse the miry feet, and o'er the shoe, Turnips and half-hatch'd eggs (a mingled shower)
With nimble skill, the glossy black renew. Among the rabble rain : some random throw
Each power contributes to relieve the poor : May with the trickling yolk thy cheek o'erflow.
With the strong bristles of the mighty boar

Though expedition bids, yet never stray Diana forms his brush; the god of day

Where no rang'd posts defend the rugged way. A tripod gives, amid the crowded way

Here laden carts with thundering wagons meet, To raise the dirty foot, and ease his toil;

Wheels clash with wheels, and bar the narrow Kind Neptune fills his vase with fetid oil

Prest from th' enormous whale; the god of fire, The lashing whip resounds, the horses strain,
From whose dominions smoky clouds aspire, And blood in anguish bursts the swelling vein.
Among these generous presents joins his part, O barbarous men! your cruel breasts assuage;
And aids with soot the new japanning art. Why vent ye on the generous steed your rage?
Pleas'd she receives the gifts ; she downward glides, Does not his service earn your daily bread ?
Lights in Fleet-ditch, and shoots beneath the tides. Your wives, your children, by his labors fed !

Now dawns the morn, the sturdy lad awakes, If, as the Samian taught, the soul revives,
Leaps from his stall, his tangled hair he shakes; And, shifting seats, in other bodies lives;
Then, leaning o'er the rails, he musing stood, Severe shall be the brutal coachman's change,
And view'd below the black canal of mud, Doom'd in a hackney-horse the town to range;
Where common shores a lulling murmur keep, Carmen, transform’d, the groaning load shall draw
Whose torrents rush from Holborn's fatal steep : Whom other tyrants with the lash shall awe.
Pensive through idleness, tears flow'd apace, Who would of Watling-street the dangers share,
Which eas'd his loaded heart, and wash'd his face! When the broad pavement of Cheapside is near?
At length he sighing cried, “ That boy was blest, Or who that rugged street* would traverse d'er,
Whose infant lips have drain'd a mother's breast ; That stretches, O Fleel-ditch, from thy black shore
But happier far are those (if such be known) To the Tower's moated walls? Here steams ascend
Whom both a father and a mother own :

That, in mix'd fumes, the wrinkled nose offend. But I, alas ! hard Fortune's utmost scorn,

Where chandlers' caldrons boil ; where fishy prey Who ne'er knew parent, was an orphan born! Hide the wet stall, long absent from the sea ; Some boys are rich by birth beyond all wants, And where the cleaver chops the heifer's spoil, Belov'd by uncles, and kind good old aunts; And where huge hogsheads sweat with trainy oil ; When time comes round, a Christmas-box they bear, Thy breathing nostril hold: but how shall I And one day makes them rich for all the year. Pass, where in piles Carnaviant cheeses lie; Had I the precepts of a father learn'd,

Cheese, that the table's closing rites denies, Perhaps I then the coachman's fare had earn'd, And bids me with th' unwilling chaplain rise ? For lesser boys can drive; I thirsty stand,

O bear me to the paths of fair Pall-Mall! And see the double flagon charge their hand, Safe are thy pavements, grateful is thy smell! See them puff off the froth, and gulp amain, At distance rolls along the gilded coach, While with dry tongue I lick my lips in vain.” Nor sturdy carmen on thy walks encroach ;

While thus he fervent prays, the heaving tide, No lets would bar thy ways were chairs denied, In widen'd circles, beats on either side ;

The soft supports of laziness and pride : The goddess rose amid the inmost round,

Shops breathe perfumes, through sashes ribbons glow, With wither'd turnip-tops her temples crown'd; The mutual arms of ladies and the beau. Low reach'd her dripping tresses, lank, and black Yet still ev'n here, when rains the passage hide, As the smooth jet, or glossy raven's back; Oft the loose stone spirts up a muddy tide Around her waist a circling eel was twin'd, Beneath thy careless foot; and from on high, Which bound her robe that hung in rags behind. Where masons mount the ladder, fragments fly, Now, beckoning to the boy, she thus begun: Mortar and crumbled lime in showers descend, " Thy prayers are granted; weep no more, my son : And o'er thy head destructive tiles impend. Go thrive. At some frequented corner stand ; But sometimes let me leave the noisy roads, This brush I give thee, grasp it in thy hand; And silent wander in the close abodes, Temper the soot within this vase of oil,

Where wheels ne'er shake the ground; there pensive And let the little tripod aid thy toil.

stray, On this, methinks, I see the walking crew, In studious thought, the long uncrowded way. At thy request, support the miry shoe;

Here I remark each walker's different face, The foot grows black that was with dirt embrown'd, And in their look their various business trace. And in thy pocket gingling half-pence sound.” The broker here his spacious beaver wears, The goddess plunges swift beneath the flood, Upon his brow sit jealousies and cares; And dashes all around her showers of mud : The youth straight chose his post; the labor plied * Thames-street. Where branching streets from Charing-Cross divide; | Cheshire, anciently so called.

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