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The purple clouds their amber linings shew, Those baits will best reward the fisher's pains, And edg'd with flame rolls every wave below: Whose polish'd tails a shining yellow stains: Here pensive I behold the fading light,

Cleanse them from filth, to give a tempting gloss, And o'er the distant billow lose my sight.

Cherish the sully'd reptile race with moss ; Now night in silent state begins to rise,

Amid the verdant bed they twine, they toil, And twinkling orbs bestrow th' uncloudy skies ; And from their bodies wipe their native soil. Her borrow'd lustre growing Cynthia lends,

But when the sun displays bis gracious beams, And on the main a glittering path extends :

And shallow rivers flow with silver streams, Millions of worlds hang in the spacious air,

Then the deceit the scaly breed survey, Which round their suns their annual circles steer; Bask in the sun, and look into the day: Sweet contemplation elevates my sense,

You now a more delusive art must try, While I survey the works of providence.

And tempt their hunger with the curious fly. O could the Muse in loftier strains rehearse

To frame the little animal, provide The glorious Author of the universe,

All the gay hues that wait on female pride; Who reins the winds, gives the vast ocean bounds, Let nature guide thee; sometimes golden wire And circumscribes the floating worlds their rounds; The shining bellies of the fly requires My soul should overflow in songs of praise, The peacock's plumes thy tackle must not fail, And my Creator's name inspire my lays !

Nor the dear purchase of the sable's tail. As in successive course the seasons roll,

Each gaudy bird some slender tribute brings, So circling pleasures recreate the soul.

And lends the growing insect proper wings. When genial spring a living warmth bestows, Silks of all colours must their aid impart, And o'er the year her verdant mantle throws, And every fur promote the fisher's art. No swelling inundation hides the grounds, So the gay lady, with excessive care, But crystal currents glide within their bounds; Borrows the pride of land, of sea, and air; [plays, The finny brood their wonted haunts forsake, Furs, pearls, and plumes, the glittering thing disFloat in the sun, and skim along the lake;

Dazzles our eyes, and easy hearts betrays. With frequent leap they range the shallow streams, Mark well the various seasons of the year, Their silver coats reflect the dazzling beams. How the succeeding insect race appear; Now let the fisherman his toils prepare,

In this revolving moon one colour reigns, And arm himself with every watery snare;

Which in the next the fickle trout disdains. His hooks, his lines, peruse with careful eye, Oft have I seen the skilful angler try Increase his tackle, and his rod retie.

The various colours of the treacherous fly. When floating clouds their spongy fleeces drain, When he with fruitless pain hath skimm'd the brook, Tronbling the streams with swift-descending rain ; And the coy fish rejects the skipping hook, And waters tumbling down the mountain's side, He shakes the boughs that on the margin grow, Bear the loose soil into the swelling tide;

Which o'er the stream a waving forest throw; Then soon as vernal gales begin to rise,

When, if an insect fall (his certain guide), And drive the liquid burthen through the skies, He gently takes him from the whirling tide; The fisher to the neighbouring current speeds, Examines well his form with curious eyes, Whose rapid surface purls unknown to weeds: His gaudy vest, his wings, his horns, and size; Upon a rising border of the brook

Then round his hook the chosen fur he winds, He sits him down, and ties the treacherous hook; And on the back a speckled feather binds, Now expectation cheers his eager thought,

So just the colours shine through every part, His bosom glows with treasures yet uncaught, That nature seems again to live in art. Before his eyes a banquet seems to stand,

Let not thy wary step advance too near, Where every guest applauds his skilful hand. While all thy hope hangs on a single hair;

Far up the stream the twisted hair he throws, The new-form'd insect on the water moves, Which down the murmuring current gently flows; The speckled trout the curious snare approves ; When, if or chance, or hunger's powerful sway Upon the curling surface let it glide, Directs the roving trout this fatal way,

With natural motion from thy hand supply'd, He greedily sucks in the twining bait,

Against the stream now gently let it play, And tags and nibbles the fallacious meat ;

Now in the rapid eddy roll away. Now, happy fisherman, now twitch the line ! The scaly shoals float by, and, seiz'd with fear, How thy rod bends! behold, the prize is thine ! Behold their fellows tost in thinner air; Cast on the bank, he dies with gasping pains, But soon they leap, and catch the swimming bait, And trickling blood his silver mail distains. Plunge on the hook, and share an equal fate.

You must not every worm promiscuous use, When a brisk gale against the current blows, Judgment will tell the proper bait to choose : And all the watery plain in wrinkles flows, The worm that draws a long immoderate size, Then let the fisherman his art repeat, The trout abhors, and the rank morsel Ajes ; Where bubbling eddies favour the deceit. And, if too small, the naked fraud's in sight, If an enormous salmon chance to spy And fear forbids, while hunger does invite. The wanton errors of the floating fly,

He lifts his silver gills above the flood,

To the wide-gathering hook long furrows yield, And greedily sucks in th' unfaithful food;

And rising sheaves extend through all the field. Then downward plunges with the fraudful prey, Yet, if for sylvan sports thy bosom glow, And bears with joy the little spoil away:

Let thy fleet greyhound urge his flying foe. Soon in smart pain he feels the dire mistake, With what delight the rapid course I view ! Lashes the wave, and beats the foamy lake; How does my eye the circling race pursue ! With sudden rage he now aloft appears,

He snaps deceitful air with empty jaws; And in his eye convulsive anguish bears ;

The subtle hare darts swift beneath his paws; And now again, impatient of the wound,

She flies, she streches, now with nimble bound He rolls and writhes his shining body round; Eager he presses on, but overshoots his ground; Then headlong shoots beneath the dashing tide, She turns, he winds, and soon regains the way, The trembling fins the boiling wave divide. Then tears with gory mouth the screaming prey. Now hope exalts the fisher's beating heart,

What various sport does rural life afford! Now he turns pale, and fears his dubious art ; What unbought dainties heap the wholesome board! He views the tumbling fish with longing eyes, Nor less the spaniel, skilful to betray, While the ling stretches with unwieldy prize ; Rewards the fowler with the feather'd prey. Each motion humours with his steady hands, Soon as the labouring horse, with swelling veins, And one slight hair the mighty bulk commands: Hath safely hous’d the farmer's doubtful gains, Till, tir'd at last, despoil'd of all his strength, To sweet repast th' unwary partridge flies, The game athwart the stream unfolds his length.

With joy amid the scatter'd harvest lies; He now, with pleasure, views the gasping prize Wandering in plenty, danger he forgets, Gnash his sharp teeth, and roll his blood-shot eyes; Nor dreads the slavery of entangling nets. Then draws him to the shore, with artful care,

The subtle dog scours with sagacious nose And lifts his nostrils in the sickening air;

Along the field, and snuffs each breeze that blows; Upon the burthen'd stream he floating lies,

Against the wind he takes his prudent way, Stretches his quivering fins, and gasping dies. While the strong gale directs him to the prey;

Would you preserve a numerous finny race, Now the warm scent assures the covey near, Let your fierce dogs the ravenous otter chase

He treads with caution, and he points with fear; (Th’amphibious monster ranges all the shores, Then (lest some sentry-fowl the fraud descry, Darts through the waves, and every hauntexplores): And bid his fellows from the danger fly) Or let the gin his roving steps betray,

Close to the ground in expectation lies, And save from hostile jaws the scaly prey.

Till in the snare the fluttering covey rise. I never wander where the bordering reeds Soon as the blushing light begins to spread, O'erlook the muddy stream, whose tangling weeds And glancing Phæbus gilds the mountain's head Perplex the fisher; I nor choose to bear

His early flight th’ ill-fated partridge takes, The thievish nightly net, nor barbed spear; And quits the friendly shelter of the brakes. Nor drain I ponds, the golden carp to take,

Or, when the sun casts a declining ray, Nor troll for pikes, dispeoplers of the lake;

And drives his chariot down the western way, Around the steel no tortur'd worm shall twine, Let your obsequious ranger search around, No blood of living insect stain my line.

Where yellow stubble withers on the ground: Let me, less cruel, cast the feather'd hook,

Nor will the roving spy direct in vain, With pliant rod athwart the pebbled brook, But numerous coveys gratify thy pain. Silent along the mazy margin stray,

When the meridian sun contracts the shade, And with the fur,wrouglit ily delude the prey. And frisking heifers seek the cooling glade;

Or when the country floats with sudden rains,

Or driving mists deface the moisten'd plains; Now, sporting Muse, draw in the flowing reins, In vain his toils th' unskilful fowler tries, Leave the clear streams awhile for sunny plains. While in thick woods the feeding partridge lies. Should you the various arms and toils rehearse, Nor must the sporting verse the gun forbear, And all the fisherman adorn thy verse;

But what's the fowler's be the Muse's care. Should you the wide-encircling net display, See how the well-taught pointer leads the way: And in its spacious arch inclose the sea;

The scent grows warm; he stops ; he springs the Then haul the plunging load upon the land, The fluttering coveys from the stubble rise, (prey; And with the sole and turbot hide the sand; And on swift wing divide the sounding skies; It would extend the growing theme too long, The scattering lead pursues the certain sight, And tire the reader with the watery song.

And death in thunder overtakes their flight. Let the keen hunter from the chace refrain, Cool breathes the morning air, and winter's hand Nor render all the ploughman's labour vain, Spreads wide her hoary mantle o'er the land; When Ceres pours out plenty from her horn, Now to the copse thy lesser spaniel take, And clothes the fields with golden ears of corn, Teach him to range the ditch, and force the brake; Now, now, ye reapers, to your task repair,

Not closest coverts can protect the game: Huste! save the product of the bounteous year: Hark! the dog opens; take thy certain aim.

CANTO II.

The woodcock flutters; how he wavering flies! In cheerful labour while each day she spends! The wood resounds; he wheels, he drops, he dies. She gratefully receives what Heaven has sent, The towering hawk let future poets sing,

And, rich in poverty, enjoys content. Who terror bears upon his soaring wing:

(Such happiness, and such unblemish'd fame, Let them on high the frighted hern survey,

Ne'er glad the bosom of the courtly dame) : And lofty numbers paint their airy fray.

She never feels the spleen's imagin'd pains, Nor shall the mounting lark the Muse detain, Nor melancholy stagnates in her veins ; That greets the morning with his early strain; She never loses life in thoughtless ease, When, midst his song, the twinkling glass betrays, Nor on the velvet couch invites disease; While from each angle flash the glancing rays, Her homespun dress in simple neatness lies, And in the sun the transient colours blaze,

And for no glaring equipage she sighs:
Pride lures the little warbler from the skies: Her reputation, which is all her boast,
The light-enamour'd bird deluded dies.

In a malicious visit ne'er was lost;
But still the chace, a pleasant task, remains ; No midnight masquerade her beauty wears,
The bound must open in these rural strains.

And health, not paint, the fading bloom repairs. Soon as Aurora drives away the night,

If love's soft passion in her bosom reign, And edges eastern clouds with rosy light,

An equal passion warms her happy swain ; The healthy huntsman, with the cheerful horn, No homebred jars her quiet state control, Summons the dogs, and greets the dappled morn; Nor watchful jealousy torments her soul; The jocund thunder wakes th' enliven'd hounds, With secret joy she sees her little race They rouse from sleep, and answersounds for sounds; Hang on her breast, and her small cottage grace; Wide through the furzy field their route they take, The fleecy ball their busy fingers cull, Their bleeding bosoms force the thorny brake: Or from the spindle draw the lengthening wool; The flying game their smoking nostrils trace, Thus flow her hours with constant peace of mind, No bounding hedge obstructs their eager pace; Till

age

the latest thread of life unwind. The distant mountains echo from afar,

Ye happy fields, unknown to noise and strife, And hanging woods resound the flying war: The kind rewarders of industrious life; The tuneful noise the sprightly courser hears, Ye shady woods, where once I us’d to rove, Paws the green turf, and pricks his trembling ears; Alike indulgent to the Muse and love; The slacken'd rein now gives him all his speed,

Ye murm

armuring streams that in meanders roll,
Back flies the rapid ground beneath the steed; The sweet composers of the pensive soul ;
Hills, dales, and forests, far behind remain, (train. Farewell !—The city calls me from your bowers:
While the warm scent draws on the deep-mouth'd Farewell, amusing thoughts and peaceful hours !
Where shall the trembling hare a shelter find?
Hark! death advances in each gust of wind!
Now stratagems and doubling wiles she tries, TRIVIA; OR THE ART OF WALKING
Now circling turns, and now at large she flies;

THE STREETS OF LONDON.
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 "Quo te Mæri pedes ? an, quo via ducit, in urbem?"-VIRG.
To wind the twisted horn, to guide the horse ?
To keep the seat unmov’d, hast thou the skill,

Of the Implements for Walking the Streets, and O'er the high gate, and down the headtong hill? Canst thou the stag's laborious chace direct,

Signs of the Weather. Or the strong fox through all his arts detect ? Through winter streets to steer your course aright, The theme demands a more experienc'd lay : How to walk clean by day, and safe by night; Ye mighty hunters ! spare this weak essay.

How jostling crowds with prudence to decline, O happy plains, remote from war's alarms, When to assert the wall, and when resign, And all the ravages of hostile arms!

I sing: thou, Trivia, goddess, aid my song, And happy shepherds, who, secure from fear, Through spacious streets conduct thy bard along ; On open downs preserve your fleecy care !

By thee transported, I securely stray Whose spacious barns groan with increasing store, Where winding alleys lead the doubtful way, And whirling flails disjoint the cracking floor! The silent court and opening square explore, No barbarous soldier, bent on cruel spoil,

And long perplexing lanes untrod before. Spreads desolation o'er your fertile soil;

To pave thy realm, and smooth the broken ways, No trampling steed lays waste the ripen'd grain, Earth from her womb a flinty tribute pays; Nor crackling fires devour the promis'd gain: For thee the sturdy pavior thumps the ground, No flaming beacons cast their blaze afar,

Whilst every stroke his labouring lungs resound; The dreadful signal of invasive war:

For thee the scavenger bids kennels glide No trumpet's clangour wounds the mother's ear, Within their bounds, and heaps of dirt subside. And calls the lover from his swooning fair.

My youthful bosom burns with thirst of fame, What happiness the rural maid attends,

From the great theme to build a glorious name,

IN THREE BOOKS.

BOOK I.

To tread in paths to ancient bards unknown, May Providence o'ershade me with her wings, And hind my temples with a civic crown :

While the bold Muse experienc'd danger sings! But more my country's love demands my lays ; Not that I wander from my native home, My country's be the profit, mine the praise ! And (tempting perils) foreign cities roam.

When the black youth at chosen stands rejoice, Let Paris be the theme of Gallia's Muse, And “clean your shoes” resounds from every voice; Where slavery treads the streets in wooden shoes. When late their miry sides stage-coaches show, Nor do I rove in Belgia's frozen clime, And their stiff horses through the town move slow; And teach the clumsy poor to skate in rhyme: When all the Mall in leafy ruin lies,

Where, if the warmer clouds in rain descend, And damsels first renew their oyster-cries : No miry ways industrious steps offend : Then let the prudent walker shoes provide, The rushing flood from sloping pavements pours, Not of the Spanish or Morocco hide ;

And blackens the canals with dirty showers. The wooden heel may raise the dancer's bound, Let others Naples' smoother streets rehearse, And with the scallop'd top his step be crown'd: And with proud Roman structures grace their verse, Let firm, well-hammer'd soles protect thy feet Where frequent murders wake the night with groans, Through freezing snows, and rains, and soaking And blood in purple torrents dies the stones. Should the big last extend the shoe too wide, (sleet. Nor shall the Muse through narrow Venice stray, Each stone will wrench th’unwary step aside; Where gondolas their painted oars display: The sudden turn may stretch the swelling vein, O happy streets ! to rumbling wheels unknown, Thy cracking joint unhinge, or ancle sprain ; No carts, no coaches, shake the floating town. And, when too short the modest shoes are worn, Thus was of old Britannia's city bless'd, You'll judge the seasons by your shooting corn. Ere pride and luxury her sons possess'd;

Nor should it prove thy less important care, Coaches and chariots yet unfashion'd lay, To choose a proper coat for winter's wear.

Nor late-invented chairs perplex'd the way; Now in thy trunk thy D'Oyley habit fold,

Then the proud lady tripp'd along the town, The silken drugget ill can fence the cold;

And tuck'd-up petticoats secur’d her gown; The frieze's spongy nap is soak'd with rain, Her rosy cheek with distant visits glow'd, And showers soon drench the camlet's cockled grain; And exercise unartful charms bestow'd : True Witney broad-cloth, with its shag unshorn, But since in braided gold her foot is bound, Unpierc'd is in the lasting tempest worn :

And a long training mantua sweeps the ground, Be this the horseman's fence, for who would wear Her shoe disdains the street; the lazy fair Amid the town the spoils of Russia's bear?

With narrow step affects a limping air. Within the roquelaure's clasp thy hands are pent, Now gaudy pride corrupts the lavish age, Hands, that stretch'd forth invading harms prevent. And the streets flame with glaring equipage; Let the loop'd bavaroy the fop embrace,

The tricking gamester insolently rides, Or his deep cloke bespatter'd o'er with lace. With Loves and Graces on his chariot sides; That garment best the winter's rage defends, In saucy state the griping broker sits, Whose ample form without one plait depends, And laughs at honesty and trudging wits. By various names in various countries known, For you, O honest men, these useful lays Yet held in all the true surtout alone;

The Muse prepares ! I seek no other praise. Be thine of kersey firm, though small the cost, When sleep is first disturb'd by morning cries, Then brave unwet the rain, unchill'd the frost. From sure prognostics learn to know the skies,

If the strong cane support thy walking hand, Lest you of rheums and coughs at night complain, Chairmen no longer shall the wall command; Surpris'd in dreary fogs, or driving rain. Ev'n sturdy carmen shall thy nod obey,

When suffocating mists obscure the morn, And rattling coaches stop to make thee way: Let thy worst wig, long us'd to storms, be word: This shall direct thy cautious tread aright,

This knows the powder'd footman, and with care Though not one glaring lamp enliven night. Beneath his flapping hat secures his hair. Let beaux their canes with amber tipt produce; Be thou for every season justly drest, Be their’s for empty show, but thine for use. Nor brave the piercing frost with open breast; In gilded chariots while they loll at ease,

And, when the bursting clouds a deluge pour, And lazily ensure a life's disease ;

Let thy surtout defend the drenching shower. While softer chairs the tawdry load convey

The changing weather certain signs reveal. To court, to White's, assemblies, or the play; Ere winter sheds her snow, or frosts congeal, Rosy-complexion'd health thy steps attends, You'll see the coals in brighter flame aspire, And exercise thy lasting youth defends.

And sulphur tinge with blue the rising fire; Imprudent men Heaven's choicest gifts profane: Your tender shins the scorching heat decline, Thus some beneath their arm support the cane ; And at the dearth of coals the poor repine ; The dirty point-oft checks the careless pace, Before her kitchen hearth, the podding dame, The miry spots the clean cravat disgrace.

In flannel mantle wrapt, enjoys the flame; Oh! may I never such misfortune meet !

Hovering, upon her feeble knees she bends, May no such vicious walkers crowd the street! And all around the grateful warmth ascends.

The wantion fawns with Frisking pleasure range,

Nor do less certain signs the town advise

Or thus hung Glaucus' beard, with briny dew Of milder weather and serener skies.

Clotted and stait, when first his amorous view
The ladies, gaily dress'd, the Mall adorn

Surpris’d the bathing fair ; the frighted maid
Now stands a rock, transform'd by Circe's aid.

Good housewives all the winter's rage despise,
And chirping sparrows greet the welcome change ; Defended by the riding-hood's disguise ;
Not that their minds with greater skill are fraught, Or, underneath th' umbrella's oily shed,
Endued by instinct, or by reason taught:

Safe through the wet on clinking pattens tread. The seasons operate in every breast ;

Let Persian dames th' umbrella's ribs display, 'Tis hence the fawns are brisk, and ladies drest. To guard their beauties from the sunny ray; When on his box the nodding coachman snores, Or sweating slaves support the shady load, And dreams of fancy'd fares; when tavern doors When eastern monarchs show their state abroad: The chairmen idly crowd; then ne'er refuse Britain in winter only knows its aid, To trust thy busy steps in thinner shoes.

To guard from chilly showers the walking maid. But when the swinging signs your ears offend But, O! forget not, Muse, the patten's praise, With creaking noise, then rainy floods impend; That female implement shall grace thy lays; Soon shall the kennels swell with rapid streams, Say from what art divine th’invention came, And rush in muddy torrents to the Thames.

And from its origin deduce its name. The bookseller, whose shop's an open square, Where Lincoln wide extends her fenny soil, Foresees the tempest, and with early care

A goodly yeoman liv'd, grown white with toil: Of learning strips the rails; the rowing crew, One only daughter bless'd his nuptial bed, To tempt a fare, clothe all their tilts in blue;

Who from her infant hand the poultry fed : On hosiers' poles depending stockings ty’d,

Martha (her careful mother's name) she bore, Flag with the slacken'd gale from side to side ; But now her careful mother was no more. Church-monuments foretel the changing air, Whilst on her father's knee the damsel play'd, Then Niobe dissolves into a tear,

Patty he fondly call'd the smiling maid ; And sweats with sacred grief; you'll hear the sounds As years increas'd, her ruddy beauty grew, Of whistling winds, ere kennels break their bounds; And Patty's fame o'er all the village flew. Ungrateful odours common-shores diffuse,

Soon as the gray-ey'd morning streaks the skies, And dropping vaults distil unwholesome dews, And in the doubtful day the woodcock flies, Ere the tiles rattle with the smoking shower, Her cleanly pail the pretty housewife bears, And spouts on heedless men their torrents pour. And singing to the distant field repairs ; All superstition from thy breast repel:

And, when the plains with evening dews are spread, Let credulous boys and prattling nurses tell, The milky burden smokes upon her head, How, if the festival of Paul be clear,

Deep through a miry lane she pick'd her way, Plenty from liberal horn shall strew the year; Above her ancle rose the chalky clay, When the dark skies dissolve in snow or rain,

Vulcan by chance the bloomy maiden spies, The labouring hind shall yoke the steer in vain; With innocence and beauty in her eyes : But, if the threatening winds in tempests roar, He saw, he lov'd ; for yet he ne'er had known Then war shall bathe her wasteful sword in gore: Sweet innocence and beauty meet in one. How, if on Swithin's feast the welkin lours,

Ah, Mulciber! recal thy nuptual vows, And every penthouse streams with hasty showers, Think on the graces of thy Paphian spouse, Twice twenty days shall clouds their fleeces drain, Think how her eyes dart inexhausted charms; And wash the pavements with incessant rain. And canst thou leave her bed for Patty's arms? Let not such vulgar tales debase thy mind;

The Lemnian power forsakes the realms above, Nor Paul nor Swithin rule the clouds and wind. His bosom glowing with terrestrial love: If you the precepts of the Muse despise,

Far in the lane a lonely hut he found; And slight the faithful warning of the skies, No tenant ventur'd on th' unwholesome ground. Others you'll see, when all the town's afloat, Here smokes his forge, he bares his sinewy arm, Wrapt in th' embraces of a kersey coat,

And early strokes the sounding anvil warm : Or double-bottom'd frieze ; their guarded feet Around his shop the steely sparkles flew, Defy the muddy dangers of the street;

As for the steed he shap'd the bending shoe. While you, with hat unloop'd, the fury dread

When blue-ey'd Patty near his window came, Of spouts high streaming, and with cautious tread

His anvil rests, his forge forgets to flame. Shun every dashing pool, or idly stop,

To hear his soothing tales, she feigns delays; To seek the kind protection of a shop..

What woman can resist the force of praise ? But business summons; now with hasty scud

At first she coyly every kiss withstood, You jostle for the wall; the spatter'd mud

And all her cheek was flush'd with modest blood : Hides all thy hose behind; in vain you scower, With headless nails he now surrounds her shoes, Thy wig, alas! uncurl'd, admits the shower. To save her steps from rains and piercing dews. So fierce Alecto's snaky tresses fell,

She lik’d his soothing tales, his presents wore, When Orpheus charm’d the rigorous powers of hell; And granted kisses, but would grant no more.

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