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Reduce, my Muse, the wandering song : Nor him who through Asia and Europe did roam, A tale should never be too long.
Ulysses by name, who ne'er cry'd to go home, The more he talk'd, the more she burn'd, But rather desir'd to see cities and men, And sigh’d, and tost, and groan'd, and turn'd: Than return to his farms, and converse with old Pen. At last, I wish, said she, my dear(And whisper'd something in his ear)
-Hang Homer and Virgil! their meaning to seek, You wish! wish on, the doctor cries :
A man must have pok’d into Latin and Greek; Lord! when will womankind be wise ?
Those who love their own tongue, we have reason to What, in your waters ? Are you mad ?
hope, Why poison is not half so bad.
Have read them translated by Dryden and Pope. I'll do it-but I give you warning: You'll die before to-morrow morning.
But I sing of exploits that have lately been done "Tis kind, my dear, what you advise ;
By two British heroes, callid Matthew and John; The lady with a sigh replies ;
And how they rid friendly from fine London town, But life, you know, at best is pain ;
Fair Essex to see, and a place they call Down.
Now ere they went out you may rightly suppose For I will die for love of you..
How much they discours'd both in prudence and prose; Let wanton wives by death be scar'd :
For, before this great journey was throughly conBut, to my comfort, I'm prepar'd.
And thus Matthew said, Look you here, my friend
I fairly have travell’d years thirty and one ; As Nancy at her toilet sat,
And, though I still carry'd my sovereign's warrants, Admiring this, and blaming that,
I only have gone upon other folks' errands.
And now in this journey of life I would have What sort of charms does she possess ?
A place where to bait, 'twixt the court and the grave; Absolve me, fair one; I'll confess
Where joyful to live, not unwilling to die-
Gadzooks! I have just such a place in my eye.
There are gardens so stately, and arbours so thick, And, hiding half, adorns the whole.
A portal of stone, and a fabric of brick : In her high forehead's fair half round
The matter next week shall be all in your power; Love sits in open triumph crown'd;
But the money, gadzooks ! must be paid in an hour. He in the dimple of her chin, In private state, by friends is seen.
For things in this world must by law be made Her eyes are neither black nor gray;
certain : Nor fierce nor feeble is their ray:
We both must repair unto Oliver Martin; Their dubious lustre seems to show
For he is a lawyer of worthy renown, Something that speaks nor yes, nor no.
I'll bring you to see: he must fix you at Down. Her lips no living bard, I weet, May say, how red, how round, how sweet:
Quoth Matthew, I know, that, from Berwick to Old Homer only.could indite Their vagrant grace and soft delight:
You've sold all our premises over and over : They stand recorded in his book,
And now, if your buyers and sellers agree, When Helen smild, and Hebe spoke
You may throw all our acres into the South Sea. The gipsy, turning to her glass, Too plainly show'd she knew the face;
But a word to the purpose : to-morrow, dear friend, And which am I most like, she said,
We'll see what to-night you so highly commend; Your Cloe, or your Nut-brown Maid?
And if with a garden and house I am blest,
Then answer'd 'Squire Morley, Pray, get a calash,
I love dirt and dust; and 'tis always my pleasure To the tune of King John and the Abbot of Canterbury. To take with me much of the soil that I measure. 1715.
But Matthew thought better; for Matthew thought I sing not old Jason, who travell’d through Greece, right, To kiss the fair maids, and possess the rich fleece ; And hired a chariot so trim and so tight, Nor sing I Æneas, who led by his mother,
That extremes both of winter and summer might Got rid of one wife, and went far for another,
pass : Derry down, down, hey derry down. For one window was canvas, the other was glass.
Draw up, quoth friend Matthew ; pull down, quoth | But what did they talk of from morning to noon? friend John,
Why, of spots in the sun, and the man in the moon; We shall be both hotter and colder anon,
Of the Czar's gentle temper, the stocks in the city, Thus, talking and scolding, they forward did speed; The wise men of Greece, and the secret committee. And Rolpho pac'd by, under Newman the Swede.
So to Harlow they came ; and, hey! where are you Into an old inn did this equipage roll,
all ? At a town they call Hoddesdon, the sign of the bull, Show us into the parlour, and mind when I call : Near a nymph with an urn that divides the highway, Why, your maids have no motion, your men have no And into a puddle throws mother of tea.
Well, master, I hear you have bury'd your wife. Come here, my sweet landlady, pray how d'ye do? Where is Cicily so cleanly, and Prudence, and Sue ? Come this very instant, take care to provide And where is the widow that dwelt here below? Tea, sugar, and toast, and a horse and a guide. And the hostler that sung about eight years ago ? Are the Harrisons here, both the old and the young ?
And where stands fair Down, the delight of my song? And where is your sister, so mild and so dear? Whose voice to her maids like a trumpet was clear ? O 'squire, to the grief of my heart I may say, By my troth! she replies, you grow younger, I think: I have bury'd two wives since you travelled this way; And pray, sir, what wine does the gentleman drink? And the Harrisons both may be presently here;
And Down stands, I think, where it stood the last Why now let me die, sir, or live upon trust,
year. If I know to which question to answer you first! Why things, since I saw you, most strangely have Then Joan brought the tea-pot, and Caleb the toast, vary'd,
And the wine was froth'd out by the hand of mine host: The hostler is hang'd, and the widow is marry'd. But we clear'd our extempore banquet so fast,
That the Harrisons both were forgot in the haste. And Prue left a child for the parish to nurse : And Cicely went off with a gentleman's purse ;
Now hey for Down-hall! for the guide he was got; And as to my sister, so mild and so dear,
The chariot was mounted; the horses did trot; She has lain in the churchyard full many a year. The guide he did bring us a dozen miles round,
But oh ! all in vain, for no Down could be found. Well, peace to her ashes ! what signifies grief ? She roasted red veal, and she powder'd lean beef : O thou Popish guide, thou hast led us astray. Full nicely she knew to cook up a fine dish; Says he, how the devil should I know the way? For tough were her pullets, and tender her fish. I never yet travell’d this road in my life;
But Down lies on the left, I was told by my wife. For that matter, sir, be you 'squire, knight, or lord,
Thy wife, answer’d Matthew, when she went abroad, I'll give you whate'er a good inn can afford : Ne'er told thee of half the by-ways she had trod : I should look on myself as unhappily sped, Perhaps she met friends, and brought pence to thy Did I yield to a sister, or living or dead.
But thou shalt go home without ever a sous. Of mutton a delicate neck and a breast Shall swim in the water in which they were drest : What is this thing, Morley, and how can you And, because you great folks are with rarities taken, mean it ? Addle-eggs shall be next course, toss'd up with rank We have lost our estate here, before we have seen it. bacon.
Have patience, soft Morley in anger reply'd :
To find out our way, let us send off our guide. Then supper was serv'd, and the sheets they were laid,
O here I spy Down: cast your eye to the west, And Morley most lovingly whisper'd the maid. Where a windmill so stately stands plainly confess'd. The maid I was she handsome ? why truly so so: On the west, reply'd Matthew, no windmill I find : But what Morley whisper'd we never shall know. As well thou may'st tell me, I see the west-wind.
Then up rose these heroes as brisk as the sun, Now pardon me, Morley, the windmill I spy, And their horses, like his, were prepared to run. But, faithful Achates, no house is there nigh. Now when in the morning Matt ask'd for the score, Look again, says mild Morley; gadzooks! you are John kindly had paid it the evening before.
The mill stands before, and the house lies behind. Their breakfast so warm to be sure they did eat, A custom in travellers mighty discreet;
0, now a low ruin'd white shed I discern, And thus with great friendship and glee they went on, Until'd and unglaz’d; I believe 'tis a barn. To find out the place you shall hear of anon, A barn! why you rave: 'tis a house for a 'squire,
Callid Down, down, hey derry down. A justice of peace, or a knight of our shire.
A house should be built, or with brick or with And now, sir, a word to the wise is enough ; stone.
You'll make very little of all your old stuff: Why 'tis plaster and lath ; and I think that's all one; And to build at your age, by my troth, you grow And such as it is, it has stood with great fame,
simple ! Been called a hall, and has given its name
Are you young and rich, like the master of Wimple? To Down, down, hey derry down.
If you have these whims of apartments and gardens, O Morley! O Morley! if that be a hall,
From twice fifty acres you'll ne'er see five farthings : The fame with the building will suddenly fall And in yours I shall find the true gentleman's fate; With your friend Jemmy Gibbs about buildings agree; Ere you finish your house, you'll have spent your My business is land, and it matters not me.
I wish you could tell what a deuce your head ails : Now let us touch thumbs, and be friends ere we I show'd you Down-hall; did you look for Ver- part.
Here, John, is my thumb; and, here, Matt, is my Then take house and farm as John Ballet will let you, To Halstead I speed, and you go back to town. For better for worse, as I took my dame Betty. Thus ends the first part of the ballad of Down.
Derry down, down, hey derry down.
POPE-A. D. 1688-1744.
With heads declin'd, ye cedars homage pay; Ye nymphs of Solyma ! begin the song:
Be smooth, ye rocks: ye rapid floods, give way! To heavenly themes sublimer strains belong. The Saviour comes ! by ancient bards foretold: The mossy fountains and the sylvan shades, Hear him, ye deaf : and all ye blind, behold ! The dreams of Pindus and th’ Aonian maids, He from thick films shall purge the visual ray, Delight no more-0 thou my voice inspire
And on the sightless eye-ball pour the day: Who touch'd Isaiah's hallow'd lips with fire ! 'Tis he th’ obstructed paths of sound shall clear, Rapt into future times, the bard begun !
And bid new music charm th' unfolding ear : A Virgin shall conceive, a Virgin bear a Son! The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego, From Jesse's root behold a branch arise,
And leap exulting like the bounding roe. Whose sacred flower with fragrance fills the skies : No sigh, no murmur, the wide world shall hear; Th' Æthereal spirit o'er its leaves shall move, From every face he wipes off every tear. And on its top descends the mystic Dove.
In adamantine chains shall death be bound, Ye Heavens ! from high the dewy nectar pour, And hell's grim tyrant feel th' eternal wound. And in soft silence shed the kindly shower!
As the good shepherd tends his fleecy care, The sick and weak the healing plant shall aid, Seeks freshest pasture, and the purest air ; From storms a shelter, and from heat a shade. Explores the lost, the wandering sheep directs, All crimes shall cease, and ancient frauds shall fail; By day o'ersees them, and by night protects ; Returning Justice lift aloft her scale;
The tender lambs he raises in his arms, Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend,
Feeds from his hand and in his bosom warms; And white-rob'd Innocence from Heaven descend. Thus shall mankind his guardian care engage, Swift fly the years, and rise th' expected morn! The promis'd father of the future age. Oh, spring to light, auspicious babe, be born! No more shall nation against nation rise, See, nature hastes her earliest wreaths to bring, Nor ardent warriors meet with hateful eyes, With all the incense of the breathing spring : Nor fields with gleaming steel be cover'd o'er, See lofty Lebanon his head advance,
The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more:
And the broad falchion in a ploughshare end.
Their vines a shadow to their race shall yield,
And the same hand that sow'd, shall reap the field, The rocks proclaim th' approaching Deity.
The swain in barren deserts with surprise Lo, earth receives him from the bending skies ; Sees lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise ; Sink down, ye mountains ; and ye valleys rise ; And starts, amidst the thirsty wilds to hear
New falls of water murmuring in his ear.
Here in full light the russet plains extend; On rifted rocks, the dragon's late abodes,
There, wrapt in clouds, the bluish hills ascend. The green reed trembles, and the bulrush nods. Ev'n the wild heath displays her purple dyes, Waste sandy valleys, once perplex'd with thorn, And ’midst the desert fruitful fields arise; The spiry fir and shapely box adorn :
That, crown'd with tufted trees and springing corn, To leafless shrubs the flowery palms succeed, Like verdant isles the sable waste adorn. And odorous myrtle to the noisome weed.
Let India boast her plants, nor envy we The lambs with wolves shall graze the verdant mead, The weeping amber, or the balmy tree, And boys in flowery bands the tiger lead :
While by our oaks the precious loads are borne, The steer and lion at one crib shall meet,
And realms commanded which those trees adorn. And harmless serpents lick the pilgrim's feet. Nor proud Olympus yields a nobler sight, The smiling infant in his hand shall take
Though gods assembled grace his towering height, The crested basilisk and speckled snake;
Than what more humble mountains offer here, Pleas'd, the green lustre of the scales survey, Where, in their blessings, all those gods appear. And with their forky tongue shall innocently play. See Pan with flocks, with fruits Pomona crown'd; Rise, crown'd with light, imperial Salem, rise! Here blushing Flora paints th' enamellid ground; Exalt thy towery head, and lift thy eyes !
Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand, See a long race thy spacious courts adorn;
And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's hand; See future sons, and daughters yet unborn,
Rich industry sits smiling on the plains, In crowding ranks on every side arise,
And peace and plenty tell a Stuart reigns. Demanding life, impatient for the skies !
Not thus the land appear’d in ages past, See barbarous nations at they gates atten.
A dreary desert, and a gloomy waste, Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend ;
To savage beasts and savage laws a prey, See thy bright altars throng'd with prostrate kings, And kings more furious and severe than they; And heap'd with products of Sabean springs. Who claim'd the skies, dispeopled air and floods, For thee Idume's spicy forests blow,
The lonely lords of empty wilds and woods : And seeds of gold in Ophir’s mountains glow. Cities laid waste, they storm'd the dens and caves See Heaven its sparkling portals wide display, (For wiser brutes were backward to be slaves). And break upon thee in a flood of day!
What could be free, when lawless beasts obey'd, No more the rising sun shall gild the morn,
And ev'n the elements a tyrant sway'd ? Nor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn;
In vain kind seasons swell’d the teeming grain, But lost, dissolv'd in thy superior rays,
Soft showers distill'd, and suns grew warın in vain; One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze
The swain with tears his frustrate labour yields, O'erflow thy courts: the Light himself shall shine And famish'd dies amidst his ripen'd fields. Reveal'd, and God's eternal day be thine !
What wonder then, a beast or subject slain
A mighty hunter, and his prey was man :
And makes his trembling slaves the royal game.
The fields are ravish'd from th' industrious swains,
From men their cities, and from gods their fanes: The forests, Windsor ! and thy green retreats,
The leveli'd towns with weeds lie cover'd o'er;
The groves of Eden, vanish'd now so long, Aw'd by his nobles, by his commons curst,
The wanton victims of his sport remain.
But see, the man who spacious regions gave But, as the world, harmoniously confused ;
A waste for beasts, himself deny'à a grave!
Stretch'd on the lawn his second hope survey,
Bleeds in the forest like a wounded hart.
Nor saw displeas'd the peaceful cottage rise. There, interspers'd in lawns and opening glades, Then gathering flocks on unknown mountains fed, Thin trees arise that shun each other's shades. O'er sandy wilds were yellow barvests spread;
The forests wonder'd at th' unusual grain,
See the bold youth strain up the threat’ning steep, And seur transport touch'd the conscious swain. Rush through the thickets, down the valleys sweep, Fair Liberty, Britannia's goddess, rears
Hang o'er their coursers' heads with eager speed, Her cheerful head, and leads the golden years. And earth rolls back bencath the flying steed.
Ye vigorous swains ! while youth ferments your Let old Arcadia boast her ample plain, And purer spirits swell the sprightly flood, [blood, Th' immortal huntress, and her virgin train ; Now range the hills, the gameful woods beset, Nor envy, Windsor ! since thy shades have seen W'ind the shrill horn, or spread the waving net. As bright a goddess, and as chaste a queen; When milder autumn summer's heat succeeds, Whose care, like hers, protects the sylvan reign, And in the new-shorn field the partridge feeds; The earth's fair light, and empress of the main. Before his lord the ready spaniel bounds,
Here too, 'tis sung, of old Diana stray'd, Panting with hope, he tries the furrow'd grounds; And Cynthus' top forsook for Windsor shade ; But when the tainted gales the game betray,
Here was she seen o'er airy wastes to rove, Couch'd close he lies, and meditates the prey :
Seek the clear spring, or haunt the pathless grove; Secure the trust, th' unfaithful field beset,
Here arm'd with silver bows, in early dawn,
Thy offspring, Thames ! the fair Lodona nam'd
The Muse shall sing, and what she sings shall last). Sudden they seize th' amaz'd defenceless prize, Scarce could the goddess from her nymphs be known, And high in air Britannia's standard flies.
But by the crescent and the golden zone.
A painted quiver on her shoulder sounds,
It chanc'd, as eager of the chase, the maid
Beyond the forest's verdant limits stray'd,
Nor yet when moist Arcturus clouds the sky, Not half so swift the trembling doves can fly,
When through the clouds he drives the trembling (Beasts, urg'd by us, their fellow beasts pursuc, As from the god she flew with furious pace, And learn of man each other to undo).
Or as the god, more furious, urg'd the chase. With slaughtering guns th' unweary'd fowler roves, Now fainting, sinking, pale, the nymph appears; When frosts have whiten'd all the naked groves ; Now close behind, his sounding steps she hears ; Where doves in flocks the leafless trees o'ershade,
And now his shadow reach'd her as she run, And lonely woodcocks haunt the watery glade. His shadow lengthen’d by the setting sun ; He lifts the tube, and levels with his eye;
And now his shorter breath, with sultry air, Straight a short thunder breaks the frozen sky: Pants on her neck, and fans her parting hair. Oft, as in airy rings they skim the heath,
In vain on father Thames she calls for aid, The clamorous lapwings feel the leaden death ; Nor could Diana help her injur'd maid. Oft, as the mounting larks their notes prepare, Faint, breathless, thus she pray'd, nor pray'd in vain; They fall, and leave their little lives in air.
“Ah, Cynthia ! ah—though banish'd from thy train, In genial spring, beneath the quivering shade, Let me, let me, to the shades repair, Where cooling vapours breathe along the mead, My native shades !- there weep and murmur there !” The patient fisher takes his silent stand,
She said, and melting as in tears she lay,
In a soft silver stream dissolv'd away.
In her chaste current oft the goddess laves,
Oft in her glass the musing shepherd spies And pikes, the tyrants of the watery plains.
The headlong mountains and the downward skies, Now Cancer glows with Phoebus' fiery car: The watery landscape of the pendant woods, The youth rush eager to the sylvan war,
And absent trees that tremble in the floods; Swarm o'er the lawns, the forest walks surround, In the clear azure gleam the flocks are seen, Rouse the fleet hart, and cheer the opening hound. And floating forests paint the waves with green; Th' impatient courser pants in every vein,
Through the fair scene roll slow the lingering streams, And, pawing, seems to beat the distant plain : Then foaming pour along, and rush unto the Thames. Hills, vales, and floods, appear already cross'd, Thou too, great father of the British floods ! And, ere he starts, a thousand steps are lost. With joyful pride survey'st our lofty woods ;