PROLO

GUE

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE

LORD VISCOUNT BOLINGBROKE.

LO, I who erft beneath a tree

Sung Bumkinet and Bowzybee,
And Blouzelind 'and Marian bright,
In apron blue or apron white,
Now write my fonnets in a book,
For my good lord of Bolingbroke.
As lads and laffes ftood around
To hear my boxen hautboy found,
Our clerk came pofting o'er the green
With doleful tidings of the queen;
That queen, he faid, to whom we owe
Sweet peace that maketh riches flow;
That queen, who eas'd our tax of late,
Was dead, alas!—and lay in ftate.

At this, in tears was Cicely feen,
Buxoma tore her pinners clean,
In doleful dumps ftood every clown,
The parfon rent his band and gown.

For me, when as I heard that death
Had fnatch'd queen Anne to Elzabeth,
I broke my reed, and, fighing, fwore,
I'd weep for Blouzelind no more.

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While

While thus we ftood as in a ftound,

And wet with tears, like dew, the ground,
Full foon by bonefire and by bell

We learnt our Liege was paffing well.
A skilful leach (fo God him speed)

They faid had wrought this bleffed deed.
This leach Arbuthnot was yclept,
Who many a night not once had flept;
But watch'd our gracious Sovereign ftill;
For who could reft when she was ill?
Oh, may'st thou henceforth fweetly fleep!
Sheer, fwains, oh fheer your fofteft fheep,
To fwell his couch; for, well I ween,
He fav'd the realm, who fav'd the Queen.

Quoth I, please God, I'll hye with glee

To court, this Arbuthnot to fee.
I fold my sheep and lambkins too,
For filver loops and garment blue;
My boxen hautboy, fweet of found,
For lace that edg'd mine hat around;
For Lightfoot and my fcrip, I got
A gorgeous, fword, and eke a knot.

So forth I far'd to court with speed,
Of foldier's drum withouten dreed;
For peace allays the fhepherd's fear
Of wearing cap of grenadier.

There faw I ladies all a-row,
Before their Queen in feemly fhow.
No more I'll fing Buxoma brown,
Like goldfinch in her Sunday gown;

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Nor

Nor Clumfilis, nor Marian bright,
Nor damfel that Hobnelia hight.

But Lanfdowne, fresh as flower of May,
And Berkeley, lady blithe and gay;
And Anglefea, whofe fpeech exceeds
The voice of pipe, or oaten reeds;
And blooming Hyde, with eyes fo rare;
And Montague beyond compare :
Such ladies fair would I depaint,

In roundelay or fonnet quaint.

There many a worthy wight I've seen, In ribbon blue and ribbon

green:

As Oxford, who a wand doth bear,
Like Mofes, in our bibles fair;
Who for our traffick forms defigns,

And gives to Britain Indian mines.
Now, fhepherds, clip your fleecy care;
Ye maids, your fpinning-wheels prepare 5
Ye weavers, all your shuttles throw,
And bid broad-cloths and ferges grow;
For trading free shall thrive again,
Nor leafings lewd affright the fwain.

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There faw I St. John, sweet of mien, Full stedfast both to church and queen ; With whofe fair name I'll deck my strain ;

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St. John, right courteous to the fwain.

For thus he told me on a day, Trim are thy fonnets, gentle Gay; And, certes, mirth it were to fee Thy joyous madrigals twice three,

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With

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With preface meet, and notes profound,
Imprinted fair, and well y-bound.
All fuddenly then home I fped,
And did ev'n as my lord had faid.

Lo, here thou haft mine Eclogues fair,

But let not thefe detain thine ear.

Let not th' affairs of ftates and kings

Wait, while our Bowzybeus fings.

Rather than verfe of fimple swain

Should ftay the trade of France or Spain;

Or, for the plaint of Parfon's maid,

Yon' Emperor's packets be delay'd;
In footh, I fwear by holy Paul,

I'd burn book, preface, notes and all.

MON