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And Anglesea, whose speech exceeds
SHEPHERD'S WEEK,

The voice of pipe, or oaten reeds ;

And blooming Hyde, with eyes so rare ;
SIX PASTORALS. 1714.

And Montague beyond compare :

Such ladies fair would I depaint,
THE AUTHOR'S NOTES.

In roundelay or sonnet quaint.
"_Libeat mihi sordida rura,

There many a worthy wight I've seen,
Atque humiles habitare casas. -" Virg.

la ribbon blue and ribbon green:
PROLOGUE

As Oxford, who a wand doth bear,

Like Mofes, in our bibles fair;
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLZ TH:

Who for our traffick forms designs,
LORD VISCOUNT BOLINGBROKE.

And gives to Britain Indian mincs. 0, I who erit beneath a trec

Now, shepherds, clip your fleecy care;

Ye maids, your spinning wheels prepare ; And Blouzelind and Marian bright,

Ye weavers, all your shuttles throw, In apron blue or apron white,

And bid broad-cloths and serges grow; Now write my sonacts in a book,

5 For trading free shall thrive again, For my good lurd of Boling broke.

Nor leafings lewd affright the Twain. As lads and laffes food around

There saw í St. Joha, sweet of mien,

75 To hcar my boxen hautboy Cound,

Full fledfait both to church and queen ; Our clerk came posting o'er the greca

With whose fair name I'll deck my strain ; With doleful tidings of the queen ;

10 St. John, right courteous to the fwain. That queen, he said, to whom we owe

For thus he told me on a day, Sweet peace that maketh riches flow;

Trim are thy fonnets, gentle Gay;

80 That queen, who eas'd our tax of late,

And, certes, mirth it were to see Was dead, alas !_and lay in ftate.

Thy joyous madrigals twice three, At this, in tears was Cicely fecn,

15 With preface meet, and notes profound, Buxoma tore her pioners clean,

Imprinted fair, and well y-bound. Indoleful dumps stood cvery clown,

All suddenly then home i sped, The parfon rent his band and gown.

And did ev'r as my lord had said. For me, when as I heard that death

Lo, here thou hast mine Eclogues fair, Had snatch'd queen Anne to Elzabeth,

20 But let not these detain thine ear. I broke my reed, and, fighing, swore,

Let not th' affairs of states and kings I'd weep for Blouzelind no morc.

Wait, while our Bowzybeus fings.

96 Whilc thus we ftood as in a stound,

Rather than verse of simple swain And wet with tears, like dew, the ground,

Should stay the trade of France or Spain ; Full soon by bonofire and by bell

Or, for the plaint of Parson's maid, We learnt our Liege was passing well.

Yon' Emperor's packets be delay'd ; A skilful leach (so God him fpeed)

In sooth, I swear by holy Paul,
They said had wrought this blessed deed.

I'd burn book, preface, notes and all.
This leach Arbuthnot was yelept,
Who many a night not once had slept ;

30

MO N D A Y ;
But watch'd our gracious Sovereign fill;

OR,
For who could rest when she was ill?
Oh, may'st thou henceforth fweetly Nicep!

THE SQU A B B L E.
Sheer, swains, oh sheer your softelt seep,

LOBBIN CLOUT, CUDDY, CLODDIPOLE. To swell his couch; for, well I ween,

35

LOBBIN Clour. He lav'd the realm, who sav'd the Queen.

“HY younglings, Cuddy, are but just awake, Quoth I, please God, I'll hye with glee

No thrustles thrill the bramble bush forfake, To court, this Arbuthnot to see.

No chirping lark the welkin sheeriavokce, I sold my sheep a:d lambkins too,

No damsel yet the swelling udder strokes; For silver loops and garment blue ;

40 | O'er yonder hill does Scant the dawn appear $ My boxen hautboy, sweet of sound,

Then why does Cuddy leave his cott so rear ? For lace that edg'd nine hat around;

Cundy. For Lightfoot and my scrip, I got

Ah Lobbin Clou:! I ween, my plight is guet, A gorgeous sword, and cke a koot.

For be that loves, a Aranger is to ref: So forth I far'd to court with speed,

45 Ver. 3. Welkin, the same as Welken, an old Saron Of foldier's drum withouten dreed;

word signifying a cloud; by poetical licence it is free For peace allays the shepherd's fear

quently taken for the element or fly, as may appear by Of wearing cap of grenadier.

this verse in the Dream of Chaucer, There faw i ladies all a-row,

“ Ne in all the welkin was no cloud." Before their Queen in seemly low.

-Sbeen or joine, an old word for faining or bright. No more l'll fing Buxoma brown,

Ver. 5. Scant, used in the ancient Britih authors Like goldfinch in her Sunday gowo ;

for foarce. Nor Clumfilis nor Marian bright,

Ver. 6. Rear, an expression in several counties of Nor damfc) thae Hobnelia highe.

England, for sarly in the morning. But Lansdowne, freíh as flower of May, 35 Ver. 7. To woen, derived from the Saxon, to think And Birkeley, lady blithe and gayi.

or conrrive.

TH

50

30

If íwains belye not, thou hast prov'd the smart, Eftfoons, O sweetheart kind, my love repay,
And Blouzclinda's mistress of thy heart. 10 And all the year shall then be holiday.
This rising rear betokeneth well thy mind,

LOBBIN CLOU'T.
Those arms are folded for thy Blouzelind.

As Blouzelinda, in a gamesome mood, And well, I trow, our piteous plights agrec Behind a haycock loudly laughing stood, Thee Blouzclinda smites, Buxoma me.

1 dlily ran, and snatch'd a hatty kiss ; LOBBIN CLOUT.

She wip'd her lips, nor took it much amiss. Ah, Bloazelind! I love thee more by hall, 15 Believe me, Cuddy, while I'm bold to say, 75 Than does their fawns, or cows the now-fall’n calf : Her breath was sweeter than the ripen'd hay. Woe worth the tongue ! may blisters fore it gall,

CUDDY.
That names Buxoma Blouzelind withal,

As my Buxoma, in a morning fair,
CUDDY.

With gentle finger strok'd her milky care,
Hold, witless Lobbin Clout, I thee advise, I queintly Role a kiss ; at first, 'tis true,
Lest blisters fore on thy own tongue arise. 20 She frown'd, yet after granted one or two.

8 La, yonder, Cloddipole, the blithsome fwain, Lobbin, I swear, believe who will my vows, The wisest lout of all the neighbouring plain! Her breath by far excell’d the Breathing cows, From Cloddipole we learnt to read the skies,

LOBLIN CLOUT. To know when hail will fall, or winds arise.

Leck to the Welch, to Dutchmen butter's dear, He taught us erit the heifer's tail to view, 25 Of Irish swains potatoe is the chear; When fuck aloft, that showers would itraight en- Oats for their feasts the Scottish shepherds grind, 85 fuc:

Sweet turnips are the food of Blouzelind. He first that useful fecrct did explain,

While she loves turnips, butter I'll despise, That pricking corns foretold the gathering rain. Nor lecks, nor oatmeal, nor potatoe, prize. When swallows fleet soar high and sport in air,

CUDDY he told us that the welkin wonld be clear,

In good roast beef my landlord sticks his knife, Let Cloddipole then hear us twain rehearse, The capon fat delights his dainty wife, 90 And praiseshis fweetheart in alternate verse. Pudding our parson eats, the squire loves hare, I'll wager this fame oaken staff with thee,

But white-pot thick is my Buxoma's fare. That Cloddipole fall give the prize to me. While she loves white-pot, capon ne'er shall be, LOBBIN CLOUT.

Nor hare, nor beef, nor pudding, food for me. See this tobacco-pouch, that's lin'd with hair, 35

LOBBIN CLOUT. Made of the skin of deepest fallow.deer.

As once I play'd at blindman's buff, it hapt 95 This pouch that's ty'd with tape of reddest hue, About my eyes the towel thick was wșapt. I'll wager, chat the prize shall be my due.

I miss'd the Swains, and seiz'd on Blouzelind. CUDDY.

True speaks that ancicri: proverb,"! Love is blind." Begin thy carols then, thou vaunting slouch!

CUDDY: Bc thine the vaken itals, or mine the pouch.

40

As at hot-cocklos once I laid me down,
LOEBIN CLOUT.

And felt the weighty hand of many a clown; FCR My Blouzelínda is the blitheft lafs,

Buxoma gave a gentle tap, and I
Than primrose sweeter, or the clover-grass. Quick rose, and read soft mischief in her eye.
Fair is the king-cup that in meadow blows,

LOBBIN CLOUT.
Fair is the daisie that befide her

grows;

On two near elms the flackeu'd cord I hung, Fair is the gilliflower, of gardens sweet, 45 Now high, now low, my Blouzelinda swung. Fair is the marygold, for pottage meet:

With the rude wind her rumpled garment rose, ros But Blouzelina's than gilliflower more fair,

And show'd her taper leg, and scarlet hose.
Than daisie, marygold, or king-cup rare.

CWDDY.
CUDDY.

Across the fallen oak the plank I laid,
My brown Buxoma is the featest maid,

And myself pois'd ayainst the tottering maid. That'e'er at wake delightsome gambol play'd. 50 Ver. 25. Ers, a contraction of ere this ; it ligaiClean is young lambkirs or the goose's dowo, fies fome time ago, or formerly. And like the goldfinch in her Sunday gown. Ver. 56. Deft, an old word, fignifying brisk or 'The Witlefs lamb may sport upon the plain,

nimble. The frikking kid delight the gaping fwain,

Ver. 69. . Eftfoons, from eft, an ancient British The wanton calf may lip with many a bound, 55 word, signifying foon. So that efifoons is a doubling And my cur Tray play deftest feats around; of the word foon ; which is, as it were, to say twice But neither lamb, nor kid, nor calf, nor Tray, foon, or very soon. Dance like Buxoma on the first of May.

Ver. 79. Queint has various significations in the LOBBIN CLOUT.

ancient English authors. I have used it in this place Sweet is my toil when Blouzelind is ocar ; in the same fevíc as Chaucer hath done in his Mil. Of her bereft, 'tis winter all the year.

60ler's Talc, “ As Clerkes being full subtle " and
With her nu fulcry summer's heat I know; qucine” (by which he means arch or waggifh); and
In winter, when she's nigh, with love i glow. not in that obscenc fenfe wherein he ulich it in the
Come, Blouzelinda, ease thy swain's desire, line immediately following.
My summer's shadow, and my winter's fire !

Ver. 85.
CUDDY.

“ Populus Alcidæ gratilima, Vitis laccho, As with Buxoma once I work'd at hay, 65 “ Formofæ Myrtus Veneri, sua Laurea Præbo, Ev'o noon-tide labour feem'd an holiday ;

“ Phillis amat Curybos. Wlas dum Phillis amabit, And holidays, it haply the were gone,

“ Nec Myrtus vincet Corylos, nec Laurea Phabi." Like worky-days I wil'd would soon be done.

&c.

3 A 2

Virg.

OR

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High leap'd the plank ; adown Buxoma fell; Ah, Colin! eant thou leave thysweetheart true ?
I spy'd but faithíul sweethearts never tell. 110 | What I have done for thee, will Cicely do ?
LOBBIN' Clour.

Will she thy linen wash, or hosen darn,
This riddle, Cuddy, if thou canst, explain, And knit thee gloves made of her own spun yarn
This wily riddle puzzles every (wain.

Will she with huswife's hand provide thy incat ? 35 " What Gower is that which bears the virgin's name, i And every Sunday morn thy neckcloth plait, The richest metal joined with the same ?" Which o'er thy kersey doublet spreading wide, Cuddy.

service-time drew Cicely's eyes aside ? Answer, thou carle, and judge thisriddle right, 115 Where'er 1 gad, I cannot hide my care, I'll frankly own thee for a cunning wight.

My new disasters in my look appear.
" What flower is that which royal honour craves, White as the curd my ruddy check is grown,
Adjoin the virgin, and 'tis ftrown on graves?" So thin my features that I'm hardly known.
CLODDIPOLE.

Our neighbours tell me oft', in joking talk, Forbear, contending louts, give o'er your strains ! Of ashes, leather. oatmeal, bran, and chall; 'An oaken staff each merits for his pains. 120 Unwittingly of Marian they divine,

45 But see the sun-beams bright to labour warn, And will not that with thoughtful love l pine. And gild the thatch of goodman Hodge's barn. Yet Colin Clout, untoward shepherd Swain, Your herds for want of water stand a dry,

Walks whistling blithe, wbile pitiful I plain. They're weary of your songs--and so am l.

Whilom with thee 'twas Marian's dear delight
To moil all day, and merry make at night.

If in the foil you guide the crooked share,
T U ES DA Y:

Your early breakfast is my conftant care;

And when with even hand you strow the grain, THE DITT Y.

I frigbt the thievith rooks from off the plain.

In mising days, when I my thresher heard,
MARIAN.

With nappy beer I to the barn repair'd;
OUNG Colin Clout, a lad of peerless meed,

Loft in the music of the whirling fail,
Full well could dance, and deftly tune the reed; in harvest when the sun was mcunted high,

To gaze on thee I left the smoking pail :
In every wood his carols sweet were known,
At every wake his nimble feats were shown.

My leathern bottle did thy draught supply :

60 When in the ring the ruftic routs he threw, 5

Whene'er you mow'd, 1 follow'd with the rake, The damsels' pleasures with his conquests grew;

And have full oft' been fun burnt for thy fake : Or when allant the cudgel threats his head,

When in the welkin gathering showers were seen, His danger (mices the breast of every maid,

I lagg'd the last with Colin on the green; But chief of Marian. Marian lov'd the swain,

And when at eve returning with thy car,

65 The parson's maid, and neatest of the plain ; 10 Awaiting heard the jingling bells from far, Marian, that soft could stroke the udder'd cow,

Straight on the fire the sooty pot I plac'd, Or leffen with her sieve the harley-mow;

To warm thy broth I burnt my hands for haste. Marbled with sage the hardening checse she press'd, When hungry thou stood'It faring, like an oaf, And yellow butter Marian's skill confess'd;

I flie'd the luncheon from the barley-loaf ; But Marian' now, devoid of country cares, 15

With crumbled bread I thicken'd well thy mcfo. Nor yellow butter, nor sage-cheese, prepares ;

Ah, love me more, or love thy pottage lets! For yearning love the witless maid employs,

Last Friday's eve, when as the sun was fet, And Love, fay fwains, “ all busy heed deltrys.". 1, near yon file, three fallow gyplies niet. Colin makes mock at all her piteous smart ;

Upon my hand they cast a poring look,

73 A lass that Cicely hight had won his heart,

Bid me beware, and thrice their heads they fhook : Cicely the western lass that tends the kee,

They said that

many

crosses I must prove; The rival of the parson's maid was he.

Some in my worldly gain, but most in love. In dreiry shade now Marian lies along,

Next morn I miss'd three hens and our old cock, And, mixt with fighs, thus wails in plaining song :

And off the hedge two pinners and a smock ; 80 Ah woeful day ! ah woeful noon and morn! 25! bore these lofles with a christian mind, When first by thee my younglings white were shorn; And no mishaps could fcel, while thou wert kind. Then first, I ween, I cast a lover's eye,

But since, alas! I grew my Colin's scorn, My sheep were filly, but morc filly l.

I've known vo pleasure, night, or noon, or morn. Beneath the thears they felt nio laiting smart,

Help me, yi gypfits; bring him home again, 89 They lost but fleeces, while I loft a heart,

30

and to 3 conttarit lafs give back her fwain

Have I not fat with thee full many a night,
Ver. 103-110 were not in the early editions. N. When dying embers were our only light,
Ver. 113. Marygold.

When every creature did in slumbers lie,
Ver. 117. Rosemary.

Besides our cat, my Colin Clout, and !? « Dic quibus in terris infcripti nomina Regum No troubluus thoughts the cat or Colin move, " Nafcantur Flores."

VIRG. While I alone am kept awake by love. Ver. 120. “Et vitula tu dignus,& hic."

Virg.

Remember, Colin, when at last year's wake

I borglie toe conly prescue for thy fake; Ver. 21. Kee, a west-country word for kine or Couli'd thou jullo'er the posy on thy kwise, 95

And with another change thy late of lite?

20

90

COWS.

OR,

THA

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if thou forget'st, I wot, I can repeat,

When Sparabella, pensive and forlorn, My memory can tell the verse so sweet :

Alike with yearning love and labonr worn, " As this is gravid upon this knife of thine, Lean'd on her rake, and Itrait with doleful guise “ So is thy image on this heart of mine,” 100 Did this sad plaint in mournful notes devise. Bot woe is me! such presents lucklefs prove,

Come night as dark as pitch, surround my head; For knives, they tell nie, always fever love.

From Sparaballa Bumkinet is fled;
Thus Marian wail'd, her eyes with tears brimfull, The ribbon that his valorous cudgel won,
When Goody Dobbins brought her cow to bull. Last Sunday happier Clumsilis put on.

30 With apron blue to dry her tears she fought; 105 Sure if he'd cyes (but love, they say, bas none} Then saw the cow well serv'd, and took a groat. I whilom by that ribhon had been known.

Ah, well-a-day! I'm shent with baneful smart, 1 WEDNESDAY:

For with the ribbon he beftow'd his heart.

My plaint, ye lasses, with this burthen aid, 35 THE DUMPS*.

“ 'T'is hard so true a damsel dies a maid.” SPARABELLA.

Shall heavy Clumsilis with me compare ? 'HE wailings of a maiden 1 recite,

View this, ye lovers, and like me despair.
A maiden fair that Sparabella hight.

Her blubber'd lip by smutty pipes is worn,
Such strains ne'er warble in the linnet's throat, And in her breath tobacco whiffs are borne !

40 Nor the gay goldfinch chaunts so sweet a note. The cleanly cheese-press the could never turn, No mag-pye chatter'd, nor the painted jay,

5

Her aukward fift did ne'er employ the churn; No ux was heard to low, nor ass to bray;

If e'er fhe brew'd, the drink would straight grow No rustling breezes play'd the leaves among,

sour, While thus her madrigal the damselsung.

Before it ever felt the thunder's power : A while, O D'Urfey, lend an ear or twain, No huswifry the dowdy creature knew; 45 Nor, though in hemely guife, my verse disdain ; 10 To fum up all, her tongue confess’d the fhrew. Whether chou feck'it new kingdoms in the sun, My plaint, ye lasses, with this burthen aid, Whether thy Mufe does at Newmarket run, « 'Tis hard so true a damfel dies a maid.” Or does with goslips at a feast regale,

I've often feen my visage in yon lake, And heighten her conceits with lack and ale, Nor are my features of the homeliest make : 50 Or else at wakes with Joan and Hodge rejoice, 15 Though Clumsilis may boast a whiter dye, Where D'Urfey's lyricks swell in every voice;

Yet the black soe turns in my rolling eye; Yet suffer me, thou bard of wondrous meed,

And faireft blossoms drop with every blast, Amid thy bays to weave this rural weed.

But the brown beauty will like hollies last. Now the sun drove adown the western road, Her wan complexion's like the wither'd leek, 55 And oxen laid at rest forgot the goad,

20 | While Katherine pears adorn my ruddy cheek. The clown fatigued trudg’d homeward with his Yet she, alas! the witless lout hath won, Ipade,

And by her gain poor Sparabell's undone! Across the meadows ftretch'd the lengthen'd shade; Let hares and hounds in coupling straps unite,

The clucking hen make friendship with the kite; 60 * Dumps, or dumbs, made use of to express a Let the fox simply wear the nuptial noose, fit of the fullens. Some have pretended that it is and join in wedlock with the waddling goose; derived from Dumops, a king of Egypt, that built for love hath brought a stranger thing to pass, a pyramid, and died of melancholy. so mopes after The fairest shepherd weds the fouleft lacs. the same manner is thought to have come from Me- “ My plaint, ye laffes, with this burthen aid, rops, another Egyptian king that died of the fame “ 'Tis hard fu true a damfel dies a maid." distemper. But our English antiquaries have conjectured that dumps, which is a grievous beavinefs of " incumbens tereci Damon fic cæpit olivæ."V:. Spirits, comes from the word dumplin, the heavieit - Ver. 33. Shent, an old word, fignifying burt on kind of pudding that is eaten in this country, much barmed. used in Norfolk, and other counties of England.

“ Mopso Nisa datur, quid non fperemus amat.« Immemor herbarum quos est mirata juvenca

VIRG. “ Certantes, quorum ftupefactæ carmine lynces, “ Et mutata suos requiêrunt fumina cursus." " Nec fum adeo informis, nuper nie in littore

vidi."

Virg. “ Tu mihi, feu magni superas jam faxa Timavi, " Sive oram Illyrici legis æquorism" Virg. “ Alba ligustra cadunt, vaccinia nigra leguntur." Ver. 11. An opera written by this author, called,

VIRG. “ The World in the Sun, or The Kingdom of Birds;" he is also famous for his song on the New- “ Jungentur jam gryphes equis; ævoque fcquenti market horse-race, and several others that are sung “ Cum canibus timidi venient ad pocula danæ." by the British swains.

VIRG. Ver. 17. Meed, ap old word for fame or renown. Ver. 67. Ver, 18.

“ Ante leves ergo pascentur in æthere cervi, " -" Hanc fine tempora circum

“ Et freta deftituent nudos in littore pisces " Incer vidrices cdcram tibi ferpere lauros.” Quàm noftro illiuslabatur pectore vultus." Vir.

Ver. 25.

Ver. 37.

Ver. 5.

tes?"

Ver. 49.

Ver. 9

Ver. 53

Ver. 59.

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JO

Sooner shall cats disport in waters clear,

THURSDAY; And speckled mackrel graze the meadows fair :

OR,
Sooner shall screech-owls bask in sunny day,

THE SPELL.
And the flow ass on trees, like squirrels, play; 70
Sooner shall snails on insect pinions rove;
Than I forget my thepherd's wonted love.

In pensive mood rehears'd her piteous tale; “My plaint, ye laffes, with this burthen aid, Her piteous tale the winds in fighs bemoan, “ 'Tis hard so true a damsel dies a maid."

And pining Echo answers groan for groan.
Ah! didst thou know what proffers I withstood I rue the day, a rueful day 1 trow,
When late I met the Squire in yonder wood! The woeful day, a day indeed of woe!
To me he sped, regardlefs of his game,

When Lubberkin to town his cattle drove,
While all my check was glowing red with shame; maiden fine bedight he hapt to love;
My lip he kiss’d, and prais'd my healthful look, The maiden fine bedight his love retains,
Then from his purse of filk a guinea took, 80 And for the village he forsakes the plains.
Into my hand he forc'd the tempting gold, Return, my Lubberkin, thefe ditties hear ;
While I with modest struggling broke his hold. Spells will I try, and spells shall cafe my care.
He fwore that Dick, in livery striped with lace, " With my sharp heel I three times mark the
Should wed me soon, to keep me from disgrace;

ground, But I for footman priz'd, nor golden fee ; 85 “ And turn me thrice around, around, around.”. For what is lace or gold compar'd to thee.?

When first the year I heard the cuckow fing, 15 My plaint, ye laffes, with this burthen aid, And call with welcome note the budding spring, « 'Tis hard so true a damsel dies a maid."

I straightway fet a-running with such hafte, Now plain I ken whence Love his rise begun; Deborah that won the smock scarce ran fo fast ; Sure he was born some bloody butcher's fon, 90 Till spent for lack of breath, quite weary growni, Bred up in shambles, where our younglings flain Upon a riling bank I fat adown, Erst taught him mischief, and to sport with pain. Then doff'd my shoe, and by my troth, I swear, The father only silly freep annoys,

Therein 1 spy'd this yellow frizzled hair, The son the fillier Thepherdefs destroys.

As like to Lubberkin's in curl and hue, Does fon or father greater mischief do? 95 As if upon his comely pate it grew. The fire is cruel, so the son is too.

“ With my fharp heel I three times mark the “ My plaint, ye lafses, with this burthen aid,

ground, of 'Tis hard so true a damsel dies a maid."

“ And turn me thrice around, around, around." Farewell, ye woods, ye meads, ye treams that At eve last Midsummer no fleep I fought, flow;

But to the field a bag of hemp-feed brought ; A sudden death shall rid me of my woe. 300 I scatter'd round the feed on every fide, This penknife keen my windpipe shall divide. And three times in a trembling accent cry'd, 30 What! shall I fall as squeaking pigs have dy'd? * This hemp-feed with my virgin hand I low, No-To some tree this carcafe I'll suspend. “ Who fhall my true-love be, the crop shall now." But worrying curs find such untimely end ! I straight look'd back, and, if my eyes speak truth, l'll speed me to the pond, where the high ftool 105 With his keen seythe behind me came the youth, On the long plank hangs o'er the muddy pool, “ With my sharp heel I three times mark the That stool, the dread of every scolding quean;

ground, Yet, sure a lover should not die so mean!

" And turn me thrice around, around, around." There plac'd aloft, I'll rave and rail by fits,

Last Valentine, the day when birds of kind Though all the parish say I've lost my wits; 110 Their paramours with niutual chirpings find; And thence, if courage holds, myself I'll throw, I rearly rose, just at the break of day, And quench ny passion in the lake below.. Before the sun had chas'd the stars away;

“ Ye laíses, cease your burthen, cease to moan, A-field I went, amid the morning dow “ And, hy my case forcwarn’d, go mind your own." To milk my kine (for so should huswives do);

The fun was fet; the night came on apace, 115 Thee filft I spy'd; and the first swain we fee, And falling dews bewet around the place ; In spite of fortune, shall our true-love be. The bat takes airy rounds on leathern wings, See, Lubberkin, each bird' his partner take ; 45 And the hoarse owl his woeful dirges sings; And canst thou then thy sweetheart dear forfake? The prudent maiden deems it now' too late,

“ With my sharp heel I three times mark the And till to-morrow comes defers her fate.

ground, Ver. 89. To ken. Scire. Chaucer, lo ken and“ And turn me thrice around, around, around." kende ; notus A. S. cunnan. Goth. kunnan, Ger- Last May-day fair I fearch'd to find a snail, manis kennen. Dauis kiende. lflandis kunna. Bel. That might my secret lover's name reveal. gis kennen. This word is of general use, but not Upon a gooseberry-push a snail I found very common, though not unknown to the vulgar. (For always snails near sweetest fruit abound). Ken for prospicere is well known and used to discover I seiz'd the vermine, whom I quickly sped, by the eye. RAY, F. R. S.

And on the earth the milk-white embers spread! “ Nunc scio quid fit amor, &c.

Slow crawlid the snail, and, if I right can fpell, 55 “ Crudelis mater magis an puer improbus ille ? In the soft ashes mark'd a curious L; Improbus ille puer, crudelis tu quoque mater."

Ver. 8. Dight, or bodight, from the Saxon word

VIRG. digilan, which signifies to set in order. Ver.99.

“ vivite sylvæ : Ver.21. Doff and dor, contracted from the words Præcess aerii peculâ de montis in undas

do off and do on. “ Deferar."

VIRG.

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