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DONE BY THE AUTHOR IN HIS YOUTH. 3!
Yet swinken not sans secresie.
“ Te-hee !” cry'd Ladies : Clerke nought
spake : Miss star'd, and gray Ducke crieth Quake. “O Moder, Moder!” (quoth the daughter), “Be thilke same thing Maids longen a'ter ? Bette is to pine on coals and chalke, 25 Then trust on Mon, whose yerde can talke.”
N ev'ry town where Thamis rolls his
shriller Squall : How can ye, Mothers, vex your Children so ? Some play, some eat, some cack against the
wall, And as they crouchen low, for bread and
And on the broken pavement, here and there,
10 Doth many a stinking sprat and herring lie; A brandy and tobacco shop is near,
And hens, and dogs, and hogs are feeding by;
Now singing shrill, and scolding eft between; Scolds answer foul-mouth'd scolds ; bad neigh
bourhood I ween.
The snappish cur (the passengers' annoy) Close at my heel with yelping treble flies ; 20 The whimp'ring girl, and hoarser-screaming
boy, Join to the yelping treble shrilling cries ; The scolding Quean to louder notes doth rise, And her full pipes those shrilling cries con
found; To her full pipes the grunting hog replies: 25 The grunting hogs alarm the neighbours
round, And curs, girls, boys, and scolds, in the deep
base are drown'd.
IV. Hard by a Sty, beneath a roof of thatch, Dwelt Obloquy, who in her early days Baskets of fish at Billingsgate did watch, 30 Cod, whiting, oyster, mackrel, sprat, or
plaice : There learn'd she speech from tongues that
never cease. Slander beside her, like a Mag-pie, chatters, With Envy (spitting Cat), dread foe to
peace; Like a curs'd Cur, Malice before her clatters, And, vexing ev'ry wight, tears clothes and all
Her dugs were mark'd by ev'ry Collier's
hand; Her mouth was black as bull-dog's, at the
stall: She scratched, bit, and spar'd ne lace ne
band, And bitch and rogue her answer was to all; 40 Nay, e'en the parts of shame by name would
call : Yea, when she passed by or lane or nook, Would greet the man who turn'd him to the
Wall, And by his hand obscene the porter took, Nor ever did askance like modest Virgin look. 45
Such place hath Deptford, navy-building
town, Woolwich and Wapping, smelling strong of
pitch; Such Lambeth, envy of each band and gown, And Twick’nam such, which fairer scenes
enrich, Grots, statues, urns, and Jo—n's? Dog and Bitch,
50 Ne village is without, on either side, All up the silver Thames, or all adown; Ne Richmond's self, from whose tall front
are ey'd Vales, spires, meand'ring streams, and Wind
sor's tow'ry pride.
i Old Mr. Johnston, the retired Scotch Secretary of State, who lived at Twickenham.-Carruthers.
ON A LADY SINGING TO HER LUTE.
BANCAIR Charmer, cease, nor make your
Ja voice's prize,
a your eyes : Well might, alas ! that threaten'd vessel fail, Which winds and light’ning both at once
- assail. We were too blest with these enchanting lays, 5 Which must be heav'nly when an Angel plays : But killing charms your lover's death contrive, Lest heav'nly music should be heard alive. Orpheus could charm the trees, but thus a tree, Taught by your hand, can charm no less than he:
10 A poet made the silent wood pursue, This vocal wood had drawn the Poet too.
ON A FAN OF THE AUTHOR'S DESIGN, In which was painted the story of Cephalus and Procris,
with the motto, * Aura veni.” “Come, gentle Air!” th' Æolian shepherd
said, While Procris panted in the secret shade; “ Come, gentle Air," the fairer Delia cries, While at her feet her swain expiring lies. Lo the glad gales o'er all her beauties stray, 5
Breathe on her lips, and in her bosom play! · In Delia's hand this toy is fatal found, Nor could that fabled dart more surely wound: