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But hark! Distress, with screaming voice, draws nigher,
SWEET WILLIAM'S FAREWELL TO And wakes the slumbering street with cries of fire.
All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd,
The streamers waving in the wind,
When Black-ey'd Susan came aboard. Through the burst sash a blazing deluge pours,
“Oh! where shall I my true-love find ? And splitting tiles descend in rattling showers.
Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tel me true, Now with thick crowds th' enlighten'd pavement
If my sweet William sails among the crew.” stvarms,
William, who high upon the yard The fireman sweats beneath his crooked arms;
Rock'd with the billow to and fro, A leathern casque his venturous head defends,
Soon as her well-known voice he heard,
He sigh'd, and cast his eyes below:
And (quick as lightning) on the deck he stands. The Dardan hero bore his aged sire.
So the sweet lark, high pois'd in air, See, forceful engines spout their levell'd streams,
Shuts close his pinions to his breast, To quench the blaze that runs along the beams;
(If chance his mate's shrill call he hear) The grappling hook plucks rafters from the walls,
And drops at once into her nest.
The noblest captain in the British fleet Bears down new walls, and pours along the floors; Might envy William's lip those kisses sweet. 'The Heavens are all a-blaze, the face of Night
“O Susan, Susan, lovely dear, Is cover'd with a sanguine dreadful light.
My vows shall ever true remain ; 'Twas such a light involv'd thy towers, O Rome!
Let me kiss off that falling tear;
We only part to meet again.
Change, as ye list, ye winds ; 'my heart shall be Hark! the drum thunders! far, ye crowds, retire :
The faithful compass that still points to thee.
“ Believe not what the landmen say With running blaze, awakes the barrel'd grain;
Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind.
They'll tell thee, sailors, when away,
In every port a mistress find :
Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so, So, when the years shall have revolv'd the date, Th' inevitable hour of Naples' fate,
For thou art present wheresoe'er I go. Her sapp'd foundations shall with thunders shake,
“If to fair India's coast we sail, And heave and toss upon the sulphurous lake ; Earth's womb at once the fiery flood shall rend;
Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright;
Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale,
Thy skin is ivory so white.
Thus every beauteous object that I view,
Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue. What riots seen, what bustling crowds I bore, How oft I cross'd where carts and coaches roar;
“Though battle call me from thy arms, Yet shall I bless my labors, if mankind 'Their future safety from my dangers find.
Let not my pretty Susan mourn; Thus the bold traveller (inur'd to toil,
Though cannons roar, yet, safe from harms,
William shall to his dear return.
Love turns aside the balls that round me fly,
Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye.” Whom Providence, in length of years, restores To the wish'd harbor of his native shores)
The boatswain gave the dreadful word, Sets forth his journals to the public view,
The sails their swelling bosom spread; To caution, by his woes, the wandering crew.
No longer must she stay aboard : And now complete my generous labors lie,
They kiss'd, she sigh’d, he hung his head. Finish'd, and ripe for immortality.
Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land : Death shall entomb in dust this mouldering frame,
“ Adieu !" she cries; and wav'd her lily hand. But never reach th' eternal part, my fame. When W— and G-, mighty names !* are dead; Or but at Chelsea under custards read; When critics crazy band boxes repair;
FROM THE WHAT-D'YE-CALL-IT.
'Twas when the seas were roaring
With hollow blasts of wind,
A damsel lay deploring, • Probably Ward and Gildon.-N.
All on a rock reclin'd. 39
2 A 2
Wide o'er the foaming billows
She cast a wistful look ; Her head was crown'd with willows,
That trembled o'er the brook.
“Twelve months are gone and over,
And nine long tedious days; Why didst thou, venturous lover,
Why didst thou trust the seas?
And let my lover rest :
To that within my breast ?
"The merchant, robb’d of pleasure,
Sees tempests in despair ;
To losing of my dear?
Where gold and diamonds grow, You'd find a richer maiden,
But none that loves you so. “How can they say that Nature
Has nothing made in vain ? Why then beneath the water
Should hideous rocks remain ? No eyes the rocks discover,
That lurk beneath the deep, To wreck the wandering lover,
And leave the maid to weep.”
Rang'd cupe, that in the window stood,
The Goat he welcomes with an air,
“ I hope your custom, sir,” says Pug. “Sure never face was half so smug ""
The Goat, impatient for applause, Swift to the neighboring hill withdraws. The shaggy people grinn'd and star'd. “ Heigh-day! what's here? without a beard' Say, brother, whence the dire disgrace? What envious hand hath robb'd your face ?" When thus the fop, with smiles of scorn, “Are beards by civil nations worn ? Ev'n Muscovites have mow'd their chins. Shall we, like formal Capuchins, Stubborn in pride, retain the mode, And bear about the hairy load ? Whene'er we through the village stray, Are we not mock'd along the way, Insulted with loud shouts of scorn, By boys our beards disgrac'd and torn ?"
"Were you no more with Goats to dwell, Brother, I grant you reason well," Replies a bearded chief. “Beside, If boys can mortify thy pride, How wilt thou stand the ridicule Of our whole flock? Affected fool!"
Coxcombs, distinguish'd from the rest, To all but coxcombs are a jest.
"Tis certain that the modish passions
A Goat (as vain as Goat can be)
“I hate my frowzy beard,” he cries,
Resolv'd to smooth his shaggy face,
As, twing’d with pain, he pensive sits,
My name, perhaps, hath reach'd your ear;
Thus said, the Phantom disappears.
But now again the Sprite ascends,
Increasing debts, perplexing duns,
Straight all his thought to gain he turns,
The court he quits, to fly from Care,
At length he thus the Ghost addrest :
Next, to a senator addressing,
Twelve bottles rang'd upon the board,
A purse she to a thief expos'd;
She bids Ambition hold a wand; He grasps a hatchet in his hand.
A box of charity she shows. " Blow here ;" and a church-warden blows. 'Tis vanish'd with conveyance neat, And on the table smokes a treat.
She shakes the dice, the board she knocks, And from all pockets fills her box.
She next a meagre rake addrest.
A counter, in a miser's hand,
A guinea with her touch you see,
The Juggler now, in grief of heart,
"Can I such matchless sleight withstand ? How practice hath improv'd your hand! But now and then I cheat the throng; You every day, and all day long."
FABLE. THE JUGGLERS.
THE HARE AND MANY FRIENDS.
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 cried, “ 'Tis done ;
Thus said, the cups and balls he play'd;
Vice now stept forth, and took the place,
“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.
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 friendship; who depend On many, rarely find a friend.
A Hare who, in a civil way, Complied 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 starte, 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.
What transport in her bosom grew, When first the Horse appear'd in view!
· Let me," says she, “your back ascend, And owe my safety to a friend. You know my feet betray my flight: To friendship every burthen's light."
The Horse replied, “ Poor honest Puss,
She next the stately Bull implor'd ;
The Goat remark’d, her pulse was high, Her languid head, her heavy eye:
My back," says he, “may do you harm; The Sheep's at hand, and wool is warm.'
The Sheep was feeble, and complain'd, His sides a load of wool sustain'd; Said he was slow, confess'd his fears; For Hounds eat Sheep as well as Hares.
She now the trotting Calf address'd, To save from Death a friend distress'd.
“Shall I,” says he, “ of tender age, In this important care engage ? Older and abler pass'd you by ; How strong are those ! how weak am I! Should I presume to bear you hence, Those friends of mine may take offence. Excuse me, then; you know my heart; But dearest friends, alas! must part. How shall we all lament! Adieu ; For, sec, the Hounds are just in view.”
“ 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 yelept, 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! Shear, swains, oh! shear 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 hie with glee To court, this Arbuthnot to see." I sold my sheep, and lambkins too, For silver loops and garment blue; My boxen hautboy, sweet of sound, For lace that edg'd mine hat around; For Lightfoot, and my scrip, I got A gorgeous sword, and eke a knot.
So forth I far'd to court with speed,
There saw I ladies all a-row,
There many a worthy wight I've seen,
There saw I St. John, sweet of mien Full stedfast 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;
THE SHEPHERD'S WEEK,
IN SIX PASTORALS.
WITH THE AUTHOR'S NOTES.
-Libeat mihi sordida rura, Atquo humiles habitare casas.-Virg.
PROLOGUE, TO THE RIGHT HON.
THE LORD VISCOUNT BOLINGBROKE.
Lo, I, who erst beneath a tree
As lads and lasses stood around
And, certes, mirth it were to see
Lo, here thou hast mine eclogues fair,
Lo, yonder, Cloddipole, the blithesome swain,
See this tobacco-pouch, that's lin'd with hair,
MONDAY; OR, THE SQUABBLE.
Lobbin Clout, Cuddy, Cloddipole.
Begin thy carols then, thou vaunting slouch!
Tuy younglings, Cuddy, are but just awake,
My Blouzelinda is the blithest lass,
Than primrose sweeter, or the clover-grass. O'er yonder hill does scant the dawn appear;
Fair is the king-cup that in meadow blows,
Fair is the daisy that beside her grows;
Fair is the marigold, for pottage meet :
But Blouzelind's than gilliflower more fair,
My brown Buxoma is the featest maid,
That e'er at wake delightsome gambol play'd. 50 And well, I trow, our piteous plights agree :
Clean as young lambkins or the goose's down, Thee Blouzelinda smites, Buxoma me.
And like the goldfinch in her Sunday gown.
The wanton calf may skip with many a bound, Ah, Blouzelind! I love thee more by half, And my cur Tray play deftest feats around; Than does their fawns, or cows the new-fall’n calf; But neither lamb, nor kid, nor calf, nor Tray, Woe worth the tongue! may blisters sore it gall,
Dance like Buxoma on the first of May. That names Buxoma Blouzelind withal.
Sweet is my toil when Blouzelind is near; Hold, witless Lobbin Clout, I thee advise,
of her bereft, 'tis winter all the year. Lest blisters sore on thy oyn tongue arise.
20 With her no sultry summer's heat I know;
In winter, when she's nigh, with love I glow.
Come, Blouzelinda, ease thy swain's desire,
As with Buxoma once I work'd at hay,
Ev'n noontide labor seem'd an holiday ;
Ver. 6. Rear, an expression, in several counties of Eng. land, for early in the morning.
Ver. 25. Erst; a contraction of ere this: it signifies Ver. 7. To ween, derived from the Saxon, to think, or sometime ago, or formerly. conceive.
Ver. 56. Deft, an old word, signifying brisk, or nimble.