THE ARGUMENT.

Proposition. Invocation addressed to Mr. John Philips, author of the Cider Poem, and Splendid Shilling. Description of the Vale of Evesham. The seat of Hobbinol; Hobbinol a great man in his village, seated in his wicker smoking his pipe, has one only son. Young Hobbinol's education, bred up with Ganderetta his near relation. Young Hobbinol and Ganderetta chosen king and queen of May. Her dress and attendants. The May-games. Twangdillo the fidler, his character. The dancing. Ganderetta's extraordinary performance. Bagpipes good musick in the Highlands. Milonides, master of the ring, disciplines the mob; proclaims the several prizes. His speech. Pastorel takes up the belt. His character, his heroick figure, his confidence. Hobbinol, by permission of Ganderetta, accepts the challenge, vaults into the ring. His honourable behaviour; escapes a scowering. Ganderetta's agony. Pastorel foiled. Ganderetta not a little pleased.

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What old Menalcas at his feast reveal'd,

I sing; strange feats of ancient prowess, deeds Of high renown, while all his listening guests With eager joy received the pleasing tale.

O thou!' who late on Vaga's flowery banks Slumbering secure, with Stirom well bedew'd,

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Fallacious cask, in sacred dreams wert taught
By ancient seers, and Merlin, prophet old,
To raise ignoble themes with strains sublime,
Be thou my guide! while I thy track pursue
With wing unequal, through the wide expanse
Adventurous range, and emulate thy flights.

In that rich vale, where with Dobunian* fields

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Cornavian borders meet, far-famed of old

For Montfort's hapless fate, undaunted earl;
Where from her fruitful urn Avona pours
Her kindly torrent on the thirsty glebe,
And pillages the hills to enrich the plains;
On whose luxuriant banks flowers of all hues
Start up spontaneous; and the teeming soil
With hasty shoots prevents its owner's pray'r;
The pamper'd, wanton steer, of the sharp axe
Regardless, that o'er his devoted head

Hangs menacing, crops his delicious bane,

" Worcestershire.

3 Vale of Evesham. • Glocestershire.
'Simon de Montfort, killed at the battle of Evesham.

Nor knows the price is life; with envious eye
His labouring yoke-fellow beholds his plight,
And deems him blest, while on his languid neck,
In solemn sloth, he tugs the lingering plough.

So blind are mortals, of each other's state
Misjudging, self-deceived. Here, as supreme,
Stern Hobbinol in rural plenty reigns

O'er wide-extended fields, his large domain.
The obsequious villagers, with looks submiss,
Observant of his eye, or when with seed
To impregnate Earth's fat womb, or when to bring,
With clamorous joy, the bearded harvest home.

Here, when the distant sun lengthens the nights,
When the keen frosts the shivering farmer warn
To broach his mellow cask, and frequent blasts
Instruct the crackling billets how to blaze,
In his warm wicker-chair, whose pliant twigs,
In close embraces join'd, with spacious arch
Vault the thick-woven roof, the bloated churl
Loiters in state, each arm reclined is propp'd