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give full language, and behold their goats at rut | in religion daily arifing, to great clerks only ap in all fimplicity:

Ωπόλος ὅκκ ̓ ἐσορῇ τὰς μηκάδας, οἷα βατεῦνται, Τάκεται ὀφθαλμῶς, ὅτι ἐ τράγος αὐτὸς ἐγέντο. THEOC. Id. i. 87.

Verily, as little pleasance receiveth a true homebred tafte, from all the fine finical new-fangled fooleries of this gay Gothic garniture, wherewith they fo nicely bedeck their court-clowns, or clowncourtiers (for which to call them rightly I wot not), as would a prudent citizen journeying to his country farms, should he find them occupied by people of this motley make, instead of plain downright hearty cleanly folk, fuch as be now tenants to the burgeffes of this realm.

Furthermore, it is my purpofe, gentle reader, to fet before thee, as it were a picture, or rather lively landscape of thy own country, just as thou mighteft fee it, didft thou take a walk into the fields at the proper feafon: even as Maifter Milton hath elegantly fet forth the fame:

"As one who long in populous city pent, "Where houfes thick, and fewers annoy the air, "Forth iffuing on a fummer's morn to breathe Among the pleasant villages and farms Adjoin'd, from each thing met conceives delight;

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"The Imell of grain, or tedded grafs, or kine, "Or dairy, each rural fight, each rural found."

Thou wilt not find my shepherdeffes idly piping on oaten reeds, but milking the kine, tying up the fheaves, or, if the hogs are aftray, driving them to the tyes. My shepherd gathereth none other nofegays but what are the growth of our own fields; he ileepeth not under myrtle fhades, but under a hedge; nor doth he vigilantly defend his flocks from wolves, because there are none, as Mafter Spenfer well obferveth:

"Well is known that, fince the Saxon king,
"Never was wolf feen, many or fome,
"Nor in all Kent nor in Christendom."

pertaining. What liketh me beft are his names' indeed right fimple and meet for the country? fuch as Lobbin Cuddy, Hobbinol, Diggon, and others, fome of which I have made bold to borrow. Moreover, as he called his Eclogues, the

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Shepherd's Calendar," and divided the fame into twelve months, I have chosen (peradventure not week, omitting Sunday, or the Sabbath, ours being over rafhly) to name mine by the days of the fuppofed to be Chriftian fhepherds, and to be then at church-worship. Yet further, of many of Maifmouths they be called, of the laid months therein ter Spenfer's eclogues it may be obferved, though nothing is ipecified; wherein I have alfo esteemed him worthy mine imitation.

That principally, courteous reader, whereof I would have thee to be advertised (seeing I depart from the vulgar ufage), is touching the language of my fhepherds; which is, foothly to say, fuch as is neither fpoken by the country maiden, or the courtly dame; nay, not only fuch as in the prefent times is not uttered, but was never uttered in times paft; and, if I judge aright, will never be uttered in times future: it having too much of the country to be fit for the court, too much of the court to be fit for the country; too much of the language of old times to be fit for the prefent, too much of the prefent to have been fit for the old, and too much of both to be fit for any time to come. Granted alfo it is, that in this my language I feem unto myfelf as a London mafon, who calculateth his work for a term of years, when he buildeth with old materials upon a ground-reat that is not his own, which foon turns to rubbish and ruins For this point no realon can I allege, only deep learned enfamples having led me there

unto.

But here again much comfort arifeth in me, from the hopes, in that I conceive, when the fe words, in the courfe of tranfitory things, fhall decay, it may fo hap, in meet time, that lome lover of fimplicity fhall arife, who fhall have the hardnefs to render thefe mine eclogues into fuch modern dialect as fhall be then understood, to which

teams are annexed.

For as much as I have mentioned Maifler Spen-end gloffes and explications of uncouth paftoral fer, foothly I must acknowledge him a bard of fweetest memorial. Yet hath his thepherd's boy at some times raised his ruftic reed to rhymes more rumbling than rural. Divers grave points alfo hath he handled of churchly matter, and doubts

Gentle reader, turn over the leaf, and entertain thyfelf with the profpect of thine own country, limned by the painful hand of thy loving countryman, JOHN GAY.

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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 stood every clown,
The parfon rent his band and gown.

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

While thus we ftood as in a found,
And wet with tears, like dew the ground,
Full foon by bonefire and by bell
We learnt our liege was pafling well.
A fkilful leach (fo God him speed)
They faid had wrought this bleffed deed.
This leach Arbuthnot was yclept,
Who many a night not once had slept ;
But watch'd our gracious fovereign ftill;
For who could reft when she was ill?
Oh, may'st thou henceforth fweetly fleep!
Sheer, fwains, ch. fheer your foftest sheep,
To fwell his couch; for well I ween,
Heav'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 fheep 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 ferip, I got
A gorgeous fword, and eke a knot.

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

There faw ladies all a-row, Before their queen in feemly fhow. No more I'll fing Buxoma brown, Like goldfinch in her Sunday gown; Nor Clumfilis, nor Marian bright, Nor damfel that Hobnelia hight.

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But Lansdowne, fresh as flower of May,
And Berkeley, lady blithe and gay;
And Anglefea, whose speech 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 traffic forms defigns, And gives to Britain Indian mines. Now, fhepherds, clip your fleecy care; Ye maids, your fpinning-wheels prepare; Ye weavers, all your shuttles throw, 30 And bid broad cloths and ferges grow; For trading free fhall thrive again, Nor leafings lewd affright the fwain.

There faw I St. John, fweet of mien,
Full stedfaft both to church and queen;
With whofe fair name I'll deck my ftrain;
St John, right courteous to the swain.
For thus he told me on a day,
Trim are thy fonnets, gentle Gay;
And, certes, mirth it were to fee
40 Thy joyous madrigals twice three,
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 cclogues fair,
But let not these detain thine ear.
Let not th' affairs of states and kings
Wait, while our Bowzybeus fings.
Rather than verfe of fimple fwain

50 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.

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99

MONDAY; OR THE SQUABBLE.

LOBBIN CLOUT, CUDDY, CLODDIPOLE.

Lobbin Clout.

THY younglings, Cuddy, are but just awake,
No thruftles fhrill the bramble-bush forfake,
No chirping lark the welkin fheen invokes,
No damfel yet the swelling udder strokes;

Ver. 3. Welkin, the fame as welken, an old Saxon word, fignifying a cloud; by poetical licence it is frequently taken for the element or sky, as may appear by this verfe in the dream of Chaucer,

Ne in all the welkin was no cloud."
-Sheen or fhine, an old word for fhining or bright.

O'er yonder hill does feant the dawn appear
Then why does Cuddy leave his cot fo rear?
Cuddy.
Ah Lobbin Clout! I ween my plight is gueft,
For he that loves, a ftranger is to reft;
If fwains belie not, thou haft prov'd the smart,
And Blouzelinda's miftrefs of thy heart. 10
[fcarce.

Ver. 5. Scant, ufed in the ancient Britife authors for Ver. 6. Rear, an expression in several counties of England, for early in the morning.

Ver. 7. To ween, derived from the Saxen, to think er conceive.

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This rifing rear betokeneth well thy mind,
Those arms are folded for thy Blouzelind.
And well, I trow, our piteous plights agree:
Thee Blouzelinda fmites, Buxoma me.
Lobbin Clout.

Ah, Blouzelind! I love thee more by half, Than does their fawns, or cows the newn-fall'n calf:

Woe worth the tongue! may blifters fore it gall, That names Buxoma Blouzelind withal.

Cuddy.

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Hold, witless Lobbin Clout, I thee advise,
Left blifters fore on thy own tongue arise.
Lo, yonder, Cloddipole, the blithsome swain,
The wifeft lout of all the neighbouring plain!
From Cloddipole we learn to read the skies,
To know when hail will fall, or winds arise.
He taught us erft the heifer's tail to view, [fue:
When stuck aloft, that showers would straight en-
He first that useful fecret did explain,

That pricking corns foretold the gathering rain.
When fwallows fleet foar high, and sport in air,
He told us that the welkin would be clear.
Let Cloddipole then hear us twain rehearse,
And praise his sweetheart in alternate verfe.
I'll wager this fame oaken staff with thee,
That Cloddipole fhall give the prize to me.
Lobbin Clout.

See this tobacco-pouch, that's lin’d with hair,
Made of the skin of fleekeft fallow-deer.
This pouch, that's ty'd with tape of reddest hue,
I'll wager that the prize shall be my due.

Cuddy.

Begin thy carols then, thou vaunting flouch! Be thine the oaken staff, or mine the pouch. Lobbin Clout.

My Blouzelinda is the blithest lass,
Than primrose fweeter, or the clover-glass.
Fair is the king-cup that in meadow blows,
Fair is the daizy that befide her grows;
Fair is the gilliflower, of gardens sweet,
Fair is the marygold, for pottage meet:
But Blouzelind's than gilliflower more fair,
Than daizy, marygold, or king-cup rare.
Cuddy.

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My brown Buxoma is the featest maid,
That e'er at wake delightsome gambol play'd. 50
Clean as young lambkins or the goofe's down,
And like the goldfinch in her Sunday gown.
The witlefs lamb may sport upon the plain,
The frifking kid delight the gaping swain,
The wanton calf may fkip with many a bound,
And my cur Tray play defteft feats around;
But neither lamb, nor kid, nor calf, nor Tray,
Dance like Buxoma on the first of May.
Lobbin Clout.

Sweet is my toil when Blouzelind is near;
Of her bereft, 'tis winter all the year.
With her no fultry fummer's heat I know;
In winter, when the's nigh, with love I glow.

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Ver. 25. Erft, a contraction of ere this; it fignifies fome time ago, or formerly.

Ver. 56. Deft, an old word, fignifying brisk or simble.

Come, Blouzelinda, ease thy fwain's defire, My fummer's fhadow, and my winter's fire! Cuddy.

As with Buxoma once I work'd at hay, Ev'n noon-tide labour feem'd an holiday; And holidays, if haply fhe were gone, Like worky-days I wifh'd would foon be done. Eftfoons, O fweetheart kind my love repay, And all the year shall then he holiday. Lobbin Clout.

As Blouzelínda, in a gamesome mood, Behind a haycock loudly laughing stood, I flily ran, and snatch'd a hafty kiss;

She wip'd her lips, nor took it much amifs. Believe me, Cuddy, while I'm bold to say, Her breath was fweeter than the ripen'd hay. Cuddy.

As my Buxoma, in a morning fair, With gentle finger ftrok'd her milky care, I queintly stole a kiss; at first, 'tis true, She frown'd, yet after granted one or two. Lobbin, I fwear, believe who will my vows, Her breath by far excell'd the breathing cows.

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Leek to the Welch, to Dutchmen butter's dear, Of irish fwains potatoe is the cheer; Oats for their feafts the Scottish shepherds grind, Sweet turnips are the food of Blouzelind. While the loves turnips, butter I'll defpife, Nor leeks, nor oatmeal, nor potatoe, prize. Cuddy.

In good roaft-beef my landlord sticks his knife, The capon fat delights his dainty wife, 90 Pudding our parfon eats, the fquire loves hare, But white-pot thick is my Buxoma's fare. While the loves white-pot, capon ne'er shall be, Nor hare, nor beef, nor pudding, food for nie. Lobbin Clout.

As once I play'd at blindman's buff, it hapt About my eyes the towel thick was wrapt.

I mifs'd the fwains, and feiz'd on Blouzelind. True speaks that ancient proverb," Love is blind." Cuddy.

As at hot-cockles once I laid me down, And felt the weighty hand of many a clown; 100 Buxoma gave a gentle tap, and I

Quick rofe, and read foft mischief in her eye.

Ver. 69. Eftfoons, from eft, an ancient Briti word, figifying foon. So that eftfoons is a doubling of the word foon; which is, as it were, to say, twice foon or very foon.

Ver. 79. Queint bas various fignifications in the ancient English authors. I have used it in this place in the fame fenfe as Chaucer bath done in his Miller's Tale. "As Clerkes being full subtle and queint" (by which he means arch or waggifh); and not in that obfcene fenfe wherein be useth it in the fine immediatelly following.

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Forbear, contending louts, give o'er your strains!
An oaken itaff each merits for his pains.
But fee the fun-beams bright to labour warn,
And gild the thatch of goodman Hodge's barn.
Your herds for want of water stand a-dry,
They're weary of your fongs-and so am I.

TUESDAY; OR, THE DITTY.
Marian.

ΙΟ

YOUNG Colin Clout, a lad of peerless meed,
Full well could dance, and deftly tune the reed;
In every wood his carols fweet were known,
At every wake his nimble feats were shown.
When in the ring the ruftic routs he threw,
The damfels' picafures with his conquefts grew;
Or when aflant the cudgel threats his head,
His danger fmites the breaft of every maid,
But chief of Marian. Marian lov'd the fwain,
The parfon's maid, and neatest of the plain;
Marian, that foft could ftroke the udder'd cow,
Or leffen with her fieve the barley-mow;
Marbled with fage the hardening cheese the prefs'd,
And yellow butter Marian's fkill confefs'd;
But Marian now, devoid of country cares,
Nor yellow butter, nor fage cheese, prepares;
For yearning love the witlefs maid employs,
And love, fay fwains," all buty heed deftroys."
Colin makes mock at all her piteous fmart;
A lafs that Cicely hight had won his heart,
Cicely the western lals that tends the kee,
The rival of the parfon's maid was fhe.
In dreary fhade now Marian lies along,
And, mixt with fighs, thus wails in plaining fong:

Ver. 103-110 were not in the early editions.
Ver. 113. Marygold.

Ver. 117. Rofemury.

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Ah, Colin? canft thou leave thy sweetheart true?
What I have done for thee, will Cicely do?
Will the thy linen wafh, or hosen darn,
And knit thee gloves made of her own spun yarn?
Will the with hufwife's hand provide thy meat?
And every Sunday morn thy neckcloth plait,
Which o'er thy kerfey doublet fpreading wide,
In fervice-time drew Cicely's eyes afi k?

Where'er I gad, I cannot hide my care,
My new difafters in my look appear.
White as the curd my ruddy check is grown,
So thin my features that I'm hardly known.
Qur neighbours tell me oft, in joking talk,
Of afhes, leather, oatmeal, bran, and chalk;
Unwittingly of Marian they divine,
And wist not that with thoughtful love I pine.
Yet Colin Clout, untoward fhepherd fwain,
Walks whiftling blithe, while pitiful I plain.

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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,
Your early breakfast is my constant care;
And when with even hand you ftrow the grain,
I fright the thievifh rooks from off the plain.
In mifling days, when I my thresher heard,
With nappy beer I to the barn repair'd;
Loft in the mufic of the whirling flail,
To gaze on thee I left the fmoking pail :
In harvest when the fun was mounted high,
My leathern bottle did thy draught fupply;
Whene'er you mow'd, I follow'd with the fake,
And have full oft been fun-burnt for thy fake:
When in the welkin gathering fhowers were teen,
I lagg'd the laft with Calin on the green;
And when at eve returning with thy car,
Awaiting heard the jingling bells from far,
Straight on the fire the footy pot I plac'd,
To warm thy broth I burnt my hands for hafte.
When hungry thou flood'st staring, like an oaf,
I flic'd the luncheon from the barley-loaf;
With crumbled bread I thicken'd well thy mefs.
Ah, love me more, or love thy pottage lefs!
Laft Friday's eve, when as the fun was fet,
I, near yon ftile, three fallow gypfies met.
Upon my hand they caft a poring look,
Bid me beware, and thrice their heads they fhook:
They faid that many cruffes I must prove;
Some in my wordly gain, but most in love.
Next morn I mifs'd three hens and our old cock,
And off the hedge two pinners and a smock; 80
I bore thefe loffes with a Chriftian mind,
And no mifhaps could feel while thou wert kind.
But fince, alas! I grew my Colin's fcorn,
I've known no pleasure, night, or noon, or more.

"Dic quibus in terris infcripti nomina Regum Help me, ye gypfies; bring him home again,

"Nafcantur Flores."--VIRG.

Ver. 120. "Et vitula tu dignus et hic."-VIRG.
Ver. 21. Kee, a well country word for kine or cows.

And to a conitant lafs give back her fwain.
Have I not fat with thee full many a night,
When dying embers were our only light,

When every creature did in flumbers lie,
Befides our cat, my Colin Clout, and I?
No troubious thoughts the cat or Colin move,
While I alone am kept awake by love.

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Remember, Colin, when at last year's wake I bought the coftly prefent for thy fake; Could't thou fpell o'er the pofy on thy knife, And with another change thy state of life? If thou forget't, I wot, I can repeat, My memory can tell the verse so sweet: "As this is grav'd upon this knife of thine, "So is thy image on this heart of mine." But woe is me! fuch prefents luckless prove, For knives, they tell me, always fever love, Thus Marian wail'd, her eyes with tears brimfull,

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When Goody Dobbins brought her cow to bull. With apron blue to dry her tears she fought; Then faw the cow well ferv'd, and took a groat.

WEDNESDAY; OR, THE DUMPS *.

Sparabella.

THE wailings of a maiden I recite,
A maiden fair that Sparabella hight.
Such ftrains ne'er warble in the linnet's throat,
Nor the gay goldfinch chaunts fo fweet a note.
No magpye chatter'd, nor the painted jay,
No ox was heard to low, nor afs to bray;
No ruftling breezes play'd the leaves among,
While thus her madrigal the damfel fung.

A while, O d'Urfey, lend an ear or twain
Nor, though in homely guise, my verse disdain ; 10
Whether thou feek'ft new kingdoms in the fun,
Whether thy mufe does at Newmarket run,
Or does with gollips at a feaft regale,

And heighten her conceits with fack and ale,
Or elfe at wakes with Joan and Hodge rejoice,
Where d'Urfey's lyrics fwell in every voice;

Dumps, or dumbs, made ufe of to exprefs a fit of the fullens. Seme bave pretended that it is derived from Dumops, a king of Egypt, that built a pyramid, and died of melancholy. So mopes, after the fame manner, is thought to have come from Merops, another Egyptian king, that died of the fame diflemper. But our Englifb antiquaries have conjectured that dumps, which is a grievous heaviness of fpirits, comes from the word dumplin, the heaviest kind of pudding that is eaten in this ountry; much used in Norfolk, and other counties of England.

Ver. 5.

"Immemor herbarum quos eft mirata juvenca

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Certantes, quorum ftupefact carmine lynces, "Et mutata fuos requiérunt flumina curfus."

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"My plaint, ye laffes,

wer; re knew;

d the fhrew. Durthen aid,

"'Tis hard fo true a dandel de a maid."

I've often seen my ifage in yon lake, Nor are my features of the homelieft make: Though Clumfilis may boat a whiter dye, Yet the black floe turns in my rolling eye; And fairest bloffoms drop with every blast, But the brown beauty will like hollies laft. Her wan complexion's like the wither'd leek, While Katherine pears adorn my ruddy check. Yet fhe, alas: the witlefs lout hath won, And by her gain poor Sparabell's undone! Let hares and hounds in coupling ftraps unite, 59 The clucking hen make friendhip with the kite;

Ver. 17. Meed, an old word for fame or renown," Ver. 18.

-"Hanc fine tempora circum "Inter victrices ederam tibi ferpere lauros."

VIRG.

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"Mopfo Nifa datur, quid non fperemus amantes?"-- -VIRG.

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"Jungentur jam gryphes equis; ævoque fequenti "Cum canibus timidi venient ad pocula dame."

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