Reaums fhall daunce honde in honde*, And it shall be merye in old Inglonde, Then old Inglonde fhall be no more, And no man fhall be forie therefore. Geryon + shall have three hedes agayne, Till Hapfburge‡ makyth them but twayne.
MORN IN G. 1709.
NOW hardly here and there an hackney coach Appearing, fhew'd the ruddy morn's approach. Now Betty from her master's bed had flown, And foftly stole to discompose her own; The flipfhod 'prentice from his master's door Had par'd the dirt, and fprinkled round the floor. Now Moll had whirl'd her mop with dextrous airs, Prepar'd to fcrub the entry and the stairs.
The youth with broomy stumps began to trace The kennel's edge, where wheels had worn the place. The small-coal-man was heard with cadence deep Till drown'd in shriller notes of chimney-sweep: Duns at his Lordship's gate began to meet;
And brick-duft Moll had scream'd through half the street. The turnkey now his flock returning fees,
Duly let out a-nights to steal for fees:
The watchful bailiffs take their filent ftands, And school-boys lag with fatchels in their hands.
By the Union. + A king of Spain flain by Hercules. The Archduke Charles was of the Hapfburg family.
A DESCRIPTION OF
A CITY-SHOWER In Imitation of Virgil's Georgics. 1710.
AREFUL obfervers may foretel the hour
(By fure prognoftics) when to dread a shower. While rain depends, the penfive cat gives o'er Her frolicks, and pursues her tail no more. Returning home at night, you 'll find the fink Strike your offended sense with double stink. If you be wife, then go not far to dine;
You'll fpend in coach-hire more than fave in wine. A coming fhower your shooting corns presage, Old aches will throb, your hollow tooth will rage; Sauntering in coffee-houfe is Dulman feen; He damns the climate, and complains of spleen. Meanwhile the fouth, rifing with dabbled wings, A fable cloud athwart the welkin flings,
That fwill'd more liquor than it could contain, And, like a drunkard, gives it up again. Brifk Sufan whips her linen from the rope, While the first drizzling shower is borne aflope : Such is that fprinkling which fome careless quea■ Flirts on you from her mop, but not fo clean: You fly, invoke the gods; then, turning, ftop To rail; fhe, finging, fill whirls on her mop. Not yet the duft had tbunn'd th' unequal ftrife, But, aided by the wind, fought ftill for life,
And, wafted with its foe by violent gust,
'Twas doubtful which was rain, and which was dust. Ah! where must needy poet feek for aid,
When duft and rain at once his coat invade ? Sole coat! where duft cemented by the rain Erects the nap, and leaves a cloudy ftain! Now in contiguous drops the flood comes down, Threatening with deluge this devoted town. To fhops in crouds the daggled females fly, Pretend to cheapen goods, but nothing buy. The templar fpruce, while every spout 's abroach, Stays till 'tis fair, yet feems to call a coach. The tuck'd-up femftress walks with hasty strides, While streams run down her oil'd umbrella's fides. Here various kinds, by various fortunes led, Commence acquaintance underneath a shed. Triumphant Tories and defponding Whigs Forget their feuds, and join to fave their wigs. Box'd in a chair, the beau impatient fits, While fpouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits, And ever and anon with frightful din
The leather founds; he trembles from within. So when Troy chairmen bore the wooden steed, Pregnant with Greeks impatient to be freed, (Those bully Greeks, who, as the moderns do, Inftead of paying chairmen, ran them through), › Laocoon ftruck the outfide with his fpear, And each imprison'd hero quak'd for fear. Now from all parts the fwelling kennels flow, And bear their trophies with them as they go :
Filths of all hues and odours feem to tell
What street they fail'd from by their fight and smell. They, as each torrent drives, with rapid force, From Smithfield or St 'Pulchre's fhape their course, And in huge confluence join'd at snowhill ridge, Fall from the conduit prone to Holbourn bridge. Sweepings from butchers' ftalls, dung, guts, and blood,
Drown'd puppies, ftinking fprats, all drench'd in mud,
Dead cats, and turnip-tops, come tumbling down the flood.
ON THE LITTLE HOUSE BY THE CHURCH-YARD OF CASTLENOCK. 1710.
WHOEVER pleafeth to enquire
Why yonder fteeple wants a fpire, grey old fellow poet * Joe
The philofophic caufe will show. Once on time a western blaft
At least twelve inches overcaft,
Reckoning roof, weathercock, and all, Which came with a prodigious fall; And tumbling topfy-turvy round Light with its bottom on the ground. For, by the laws of gravitation, It fell into its proper station.
*Mr. Beaumont of Trim.
THE LITTLE HOUSE AT CASTLENOCK. 63
This is the little strutting pile,
You fee juft by the church-yard file;
The walls in tumbling gave a knock;
And thus the freeple got a fhock;
From whence the neighbouring farmer calls, The fteeple, Kaock; the vicar,* Walls.
The vicar once a week creeps in,
Sits with his knees up to his chin; Here conns his notes, and takes a whet, Till the fmall ragged flock is met. A traveller, who by did pass, Obferv'd the roof behind the grass; On tiptoe stood, and rear'd his fnout, And faw the parfon creeping out ; Was much furpriz'd to see a crow Venture to build his neft so low.
A school-boy ran unto 't, and thought, The crib was down, the blackbird caught. A third, who loft his way by night, Was forc'd for fafety to alight, And, stepping o'er the fabric-roof, His horfe had like to spoil his hoof.
Warburton + took it in his noddle, This building was defign'd a model Or of a pigeon-house or oven, To bake one loaf, and keep one dove in. Then Mrs Johnson ‡ gave her verdict, And every one was pleas'd that heard it :
* Archdeacon Wall, a correfpondent of Swift's. + Dr. Swift's curate at Laracor.
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