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Our farmers.round, well pleased with constant gain,

Like other farmers, flourish and com plain,—

These are our groups; our portraits next appear,

And close our exhibition for the year.

With evil omen we that year begin: A Child of Shame, — stern Justice adds, of

Sin, Is first recorded;—I would hide the deed, Hut vain the wish; I sigh and I proceed: And could I well tli' instructive truth convey, 'Twouldwarn the giddy and awake the gay. Of all the nymphs who gave our village

grace, The Miller's daughter had the fairest face: Proud was the Miller; money was his pride; He rode to market, as our farmers ride, And 'twuB his boast, inspired by spirits, there, His fnvourite Lucy should be rich as fair; But she must meek and still obedient prove, And not presume, without his leave, to love. A youthful Sailor heard him;—Ha! quoth

he, This Miller's maiden is a prize for me; Her ehiirins I love, his riehes I desire. And all his threats but fan the kindling fire; My ebbing purse no more the foe shall fill, Rut Love's kind act and Lucy at the mill. .Thus thought the youth, and soon the chase

began, Stretch'd all his sail, nor thought of pause

or plan: His trusty staff in his bold hand he took. Like him and like his frigate, Heart of Oak; Fresh were his features, his attire was new; Clean was his linen, and his jacket blue: Of finest jean his trowsers, tight and trim, Brush'd the large buckle at the silver rim. He soon arrived, he traced the villagegreen, There saw the maid, and was with pleasure

seen; Then talk'd of love, till Lucy's yielding heart Confess'd 'twas painful, though 'twas right,

to part: For ah! my father has a haughty soul; Whom best he loves, he loves but to control; Me to some churl in bargain he'll consign, And make some tyrant of the parish mine: Cold is his heart, and he with looks severe Has often forced but never shed the tear; Save, when my mother died, some drops

cxpress'd A kind of sorrow for a wife at rest:— To me a master's stern regard is shown, I'm like his steed, prized highly as his own; Stroked but corrected, threaten'd when supplied, His slave and boast, his victim and his

pride.— Cheer up. my lass! I'll to thy father go, The Miller cannot be the Sailor's foe;

Both live by Heaven's free gale, that plays

aloud In the Ktreteh'dcnnvnsand the pipingshrond; The rush of winds, the flapping sails aho\r. And rattling planks within, are sounds ire

love; Calms are our dread; when tempests plough

the deep, We take a reef, and to the rocking sleep. Ha! quoth the Miller, moved at speech

so rash. Art thou like me? then where thy notes

and rash? Away to Wapping, and a wife command. With all thy wealth, a guinea, in thine

hand; There with thy messmates quart* the muddy

cheer, And leave my Lucy for thy betters here. Revenge! revenge! the angry lover cried. Then sought the nymph, and: Be thou now

my bride. ISridc had she been, hut they no priest could

move To hind in Inw the couple bound by Invc. What sought these lovers then by day, by

night t But stolen moments of disturb'd delight; Soft trembling t mini Its,terrors dearly prized. Transports that pain'd , and joys that agonized: Till the fond damsel.pleased with lad so trim. Awed by her parent, and enticed by him. Her lovely form from savage power to save. Gave—not her hand—but All she could, she

gave. Then came the day of shame, the grievous night. The varying look, the wandering appetite; The joy assumed, while sorrow dimm'd the

eyes. The forced sad smiles that follow'd sudden

sighs; And every art, long used, but nsed in vain. To hide thy progress, Natnre, and thy pain. Too eager caution shows some danger's

near. The bully's bluster proves the coward's fear; His sober step the drunkard vainly tries. And nymphs expose the failings they disguise. First, whispering gossips were in parlies

seen; Then louder Scandal walk'd the villagegreen; Next babbling Folly told the growing ill. And busy Malice dropp'd it at the mill. Go! to thy curse and mine, the Father said. Strife and confusion stalk around thy bed; Want and a wailing brat thy portion be. Plague to thy fondness, as thy fault to nte ;— Where skulks the villain ? — On the Ocean

wide My William seeks a portion for his bride.— Vain be his search! but. till the traitor

come. The higgler's cottage he thy future home': Therewith liin ancient shrew and care abide, Ami hide thy head,—thy shame thou canst

not hide. Day after day was pass'd in pains and grief; Wrekfollow'd week,—and still was no relief: Her boy Witt born—no lads nor lasses came Tograce the rite or give the child a name; .Nor grave conceited nurse, of office proud, Bore the young Christian roaring through

the crowd: h a email chamber was my office done, Where Minis through paper'd panes the setting sun; Where noisy sparrows, perch'd on penthouse

near, Chirp tuneless joy, and mock the frequent

tear; Bab on their webby wings in darkness move, And feebly shriek their melancholy love. No Sailor came; the months in terror fled! 'I lira news arrived—He fought, and he was


it the lone cottage Lucy lives, and still Mtlkiforher weekly pittance to the mill; I mean m-raglio there her father keeps, Whose mirth insults her, as she stands and

weeps; ind iee« the plenty, while compel I'd to stay, Met father's pride, become his harlot's prey. Throughout the lanes she glides, at evening's

close, And softly lulls her infant to repose; Then sits and gazes, but with viewless look, Aigildi the moon the rippling of the brook; Aad lings her vespers, but in voice so low, She hears their murmurs as the waters flo w: A*d she too murmurs, and begins to find Theiolemn wanderings of a wounded mind: Visions of terror, views of wo succeed, The mind's impatience, to the body's need; By turns to that, by turns to this a prey, Sot iuows what reason yields, and dreads

what madness may.

Next,with their boy, a decent couple came, i»d ealTd him Robert, 'twas his father's

name; Tone girls preceded, all by time endcar'd, A»d future births were* neither hoped nor

fear'd: Bleat in each other, but to no excess; "faith, quiet, comfort, form'd their happiness; "»ve ill made up of torture and delight, Wat but mere madness in this couple's sight: Sassa could think , though not without a

w i "igh'

"**• were gone, who should her place

supply; A»d Robert, half in earnest, half in jest, Tali of her spouse when he should be at L rest:

Yet strange would either think it to be told, Their love was cooling or their hearts were


Few were their acres, — but, with these

content. They were, each pay-day, ready with their

rent: And few their wishes—what their farm

denied, The neighbouring town, at trilling cost,

supplied. If at the draper's window Susan cast A longing look, as' with her goods she pass'd, And, with the produce of the wheel and

churn, Bought her a Sunday-robe on her return; True to her maxim, she would take no rest, Till enre repaid that portion to the chest: Or if, when loitering at the Whitsun-fair, Her Robert spent some idle shillings there; Up nt the barn, before the break of day, He made his labour forth' indulgence pay: Thus both— that waste itself might work

in vain— Wrought double tides, and all was well again. Yet, though so prudent, there were times

of joy,— The day they wed, the Christening of the

hoy,— When to the wealthier farmers there was

shown Welcome unfeign'd.and plenty like their own; For Susan served the great, and had some

pride Among our topmost people to preside:

Yet in that plenty, in that welcome free,
There was the guiding nice frugality,
That, in the festal as the frugal day,
Has, in a different mode, n sovereign sway;
As tides the same attractive influence know,
In the least ebb and in their proudest flow;
The wise frugality, that does not give
A life to saving, but that saves to live;
Sparing, not pinching, mindful though not

O'er all presiding, yet in nothing seen.

Recorded next a babe of !otc I trace! Of many loves, the mother's fresh disgrace.—■ Again, thou harlot! could not all thy pain. All my reproof,thy wanton thoughts restrain? Alas! your Reverence, wanton thoughts, I

grant. Were once my motive, now the thoughts

of wont; Women, like me, as duels in a decoy, Swim down a stream,and seem to swim in joy; Your sex pursue us, and our own disdain; Return is dreadful, and escape is vain. Would men forsake us, and would women.

strive To help the fall'n, their virtue might revive. For rite of churching soon she made her way, In dread of scandal, should she miss the

day:— Two matrons came! with them she humbly

knelt, Their action copied and their comforts felt. From that great pain and peril to be free, Though stilt in peril of that pain to be; Alas! what numbers, like this amorous dame, Are quick to censure, but are dead to shame!

Twin-infants then appear; a girl, a boy, Th* o'erflowing cup of Gerard Ablett's joy: One had I named in every year that pass'd Since Gerard wed! and twins behold at last! Well pleased, the bridegroom smiled to

hear—A vine Fruitful and spreading round the walls be

thine, And branch-like be thine offspring!—Gerard

then Look'd joyful love, and softly said, Amen. Now of that vine he 'd have no more increase, Those playful branches now disturb his peace: Them he beholds around his table spread, But finds, the more the branch, the less the

bread; And while they run his humble walls about, They keep the sunshine of good-humour out. Cease,mau, to grieve! thy master's lot survey, 'Whom wife and children, thou and thine

obey; A farmer proud, beyond a farmer's pride, Of all around the envy or the guide; Who trots to market on a steed so fine, That when I meet him, I'm ashnmed of

mine: Whose board is high up-heap'd with generous fare, Which five stout sons and three tall daughters share: Cease, man, to grieve, and listen to his care. A few years fled, and all thy boys shall be Lords of a cot, and labourers like thee: Thy girls unportinn'd nciglib'ring youths

shall lead Brides from my church, and thenceforth

thou art freed: But then thy master shall of cares complain, Care after care, a long connected train; His sons for farms shall ask a large supply, For farmers' sons each gentle miss shall sigh; Thy mistress, reasoning well of life's decay, Shall ask a chaise, and hardly brook delay; The smart young cornet who, with so much

grace, Rode in the ranks and betted at the race. While the vex'd parent rails at deed so rash, Shall d—n his luck, and stretch his hand for

cash. Sad troubles, Gerard! now pertain to thee. When thy rich master seems from trouble

free; But 'tis one fate at different times assign'd. And thou shalt lose the cares that he must


Ah ! quoth our village-grocer, rich and old, Would I might one such cause for care behold!

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Aged were both, that Hawkins, Ditehtm

this, Who much of marriage thought, and much

amiss; Both would delay,the one, till—riches gain'd, The son he wish'd might be to honour train's1; His Friend—lest fierce intruding heirs should

come. To waste his hoard and vex his quiet hornr. Dawkins, a dealer once, on burthen'd bsrk Bore his whole substance in a pedlar's pack; To dames discreet, the duties yet unpaid. His stores of lace and hyson he conTey'd: When thus enrich'd,he chose at home to stop. And fleece his neighbours in a new-built shop; Then wuo'd a spinster blithe, and hoped,

when wed. For love's fair favours and a fruitful led Not so his Friend ; — on widow fair and staid He fix'd his eye, but he was much afraid; Yet woo'd; while she his hair of silver hoc Demurely noticed, and her eye withdrew: Doubtful he paused—Ah! were I sure, hr

cried, No craving children would my gains divide; Fair as she is, I would my widow take. And live more largely for my partner's sake With such their views some thoughtful yean

they pass'd. And hoping, dreading, they were bound at

last. And what their fate* Observe them as they (to. Comparing fear with fear and wo with wo. Humphrey! said Dawkins, envy in my breast Sickens to see thee in thy children bleat; They arc thy joys, while 1 go grieving houit To a sad spouse, and our eternal gloom: We look despondency; no infant near. To bless the eye or win the parent's ear; Our sudden heats and quarrels to allay. And soothe the petty sufferings of the day: Alike our want, yet both the want reproit; When: are, I cry, these pledges of our km 1 When she, like Jacob's wife, make* few

reply. Yet fond—Oh! give me children, or I dwi And I return—still childless doom'd to li" Like the vex'd patriarch—Are they mine t<

K'Te* Ah! much I envy thee thy boy*, who no-i

On poplar branch, and canter at thy side:

And girls, whose cheeks thy chin's firm

fondness know. And with fresh beauty at the contact glow Oh! simple friend, said Ditchem. wonld»1

thou gain A father's pleasure by a husband's pain? Alas! what pleasure—when some vig'rsus »«] Should swell thy pride, some rosy girl lk


Ii it to doubt, who grafted this sweet flower,
Or whence arose that spirit and that power '(■
Four years I've wed? not one has pass'd in vain;
Behold the fifth! behold, a babe again!
My wife's gay friends tV unwelcome imp

And fill the room with gratillation dire:
While I in silence sate, revolving all
That influence ancient men, or that befall;
A gay pert guest—Heav'n knows his busi-
A plorinns boy. he cried, and what the name 'i
Angry I growl'd—My spirit cease to teaze,
Name it yourselves,—Cain, Judas, if you

please; His tether's give him,—should you that explore, The devil's or yours: — I said, and sought

the door. My tender partner not a word or sigh Gives to my wrath, nor to my speech reply; Hut lakes her comforts, triumphs in my pain, And looks undaunted for a birth again.— Heirs thus denied afflict the pining heart, And thus afforded, jealous pangs impart; 1't. therefore, none avoid, and none demand These arrows numbcr'd for the giant's hand.

Then with their infants three, the parents

came, And each assign'd—'twas all they had — a

name; Names of no mark or price! of them not one Shall court our view on the sepulchral stone, Or stop the clerk, th* engraven scrolls to spell, Or keep the sexton from the sermon-bell.

An orphan-girl succeeds: ere she was born Her father died, her mother on that morn: The pious mistress of the school sustains Her parents' part, nor their affection feigns, But pitying feels: with due respect and joy, I trace the matron at her lored employ; What time the striplings, wearied e'en with

n. plBy'

TMt at the closing of the summer's day,

And each by different path returns the well-
known way—
Then I behold her at her cottage-door,
F rural of light;—her Bible laid before,
"hen on her doable duty she proceeds,
Of time as frugal—knitting as she reads:
Her idle neighbours, who approach to tell
Some trifling tale, her serions looks compel
Ts hear reluctant,—while the lads who pass,
lo pnre respect, walk silent on the grass:
Then sinks the day, but not to rest she goes,
Till soli inn prayers the daily duties close.

Bot I digress, and lo! an infant-train
Appear, and call me to my task again.
Why Lonicera wilt thou name thy child t
I ask'd the Gardener's wife, in accents mild:

We have a right, replied the sturdy dame;—
And Lonicera was the infant's name.
If next a son shall yield our Gardener joy,
Then Hyacinthus shall be that fair boy;
And if a girl, they will at length agree.
That Belladonna that fair maid shall be.
High-sounding words our worthy Gardener

„ gct»,
And at his club to wondering swains repeats;
He then of Rhus and Rhododendron speaks,
And Allium calls bis onions and his leeks;
Nor weeds are now, for whence arose the

weed, Scarce plants, fair herbs, ami curious

flowers proceed; Where Cuckoo-pints and Dandelions sprung, (Gross names had they our plainer sires

among,) There Arums, there Lcontodons we view, And Artemisia grows, where Wormwood

grew. Bnt though no weed exists his garden round, From Rumex strong our Gardener frees his

ground, Takes soft Senicio from the yielding land, And grasps the arm'd Urtica in his hand. Not Darwin's self had more delight to sing Of floral courtship, in th' awaken'd Spring, Than Peter Pratt, who simpering loves to

tell How rise the Stamens, as the Pistils swell; How bend and curl the moist-top to the

spouse, And give and take the vegetable vows; How those esteem'd of old but tipB and chives, Are tender husbands and obedient wives; Who live and love within the sacred bower,— That bridal bed, the vulgar term a flower. Hear Peter proudly, to some humble friend, A wondrous secret, in his science, lend:— Would you advance the nuptial hour, and

bring The fruit of Aatumn with the flowers of

Spring; View that light frame where Cucumis lies

spread, And trace the husbands in their golden bed, Three powder'd Anthers; — then no more

delay, But to the Stigma's tip their dust convey; Then by thyself, from prying glance secure; Twirl the full tip and make your purpose

sure; A long-abiding race the deed shall pay, Nor one unblest abortion pine away. T' admire their friend's discourse our swains

agree, And call it science and philosophy. 'Tis good, 'tis pleasant, through th' advancing year, To see unnumber'd growing forms appear; What leafy-life from Earth's broad bosom

rise! What insect-myriads seek the summer-skies! What scaly tribes in every streamlet move! What plumy people sing in every grove!

All with the year awaked to life , delight,

, and love. Then names arc good; for how, without

Iln'ir aid, Is knowledge,gain'd hy man,to man convey'd? But from that source shall nil our pleasures

flow? Shall all our knowledge he those names to

know? Then he, with memory hirst, shall hear away The palm from Grew,and Middleton,nnd Kay: No! let us rather seek, in grove and Geld, What food for wonder, what for use they

yield; Some just remark from Nature's people

bring, And some new source of homage for her King.

Pride lives with all; strange names our

rustics give To helpless infants, that their own may live; Pleased to be known, they'll some attention

claim, And find Rome by-way to the house of fame. The straightest furrow lifts the ploughman's

art, The hat he gain'd has warmth for head and

heart; . The bowl that heats the greater number down Of tottering nine-pins gives to fame the

clown; Or, foil'd in these, he opes his ample jaws, And lets a frog leap down, to gain applause; Or grins for hours, or tipples for a week, Or challenges a well-pinch'd pig to squeak: Some idle deed, some child's preposterous

name, Shall make him known, and give his folly


To nnme an infant meet our village-sires, Assembled all, as such event requires: Frequent and full, the rural sages sate, And speakers many urged the long debate,— Some harden'd knaves, who roved the country round, Had left a babe within the parish-bound.— First, of the fact they qucstion'd — Was it

true? The child was brought—What then rcmain'd

to do? Was 't dead or living? This was fairly

proved,— Twaa pinch'd , it roar'd , and every doubt

removed. Then by what name th' ilhwelcomc guest to

call Was long a question, and it posed them all; For he who lent it to a babe unknown, Censorious men might take it for his own: They look'd ahont, they gravely spoke to all. And not one Richard answer'd to the call. Mextthey inquired the day,when, passing hy, Th' unlucky peasant hoard the stranger's cry:

This known, — how food and raiment they

might give, Was next debated—for the rogue would live; At last, with all their words and work content. Back to their homes the prudent Vestry went, And Richard Monday to the workhouse sent. There was he pinch'd and pitied, thump'd

and fed, And duly took his beatings and his bread; Patient in all control, in all abuse, He found contempt and kicking have their use: Sild, silent, supple; bending to the blow, A slave of slaves, the lowest of the low; His pliant soul gave way to all things base. He knew no shame, he dreaded no disgrace. Itseem'd, so well his passions he suppress'd. No feeling stirr'd his ever-torpid breast; Mini might the meanest pauper bruise and

cheat, He was a footstool for the beggar's feet; His were the legs that ran at all commands; They used on all occasions Richard's hands: His very soul was not his own; he stole As others order'd, and without a dole; In all disputes on either part he lied, And freely pledged his oath on either Hide; In all rebellions Richard jnin'd the rest. In all detections Richard first confess'd: Yet, though disgraced, he watch'd his time

so well, He rose in favour, when in fame he fell; Base was his usage, vile his whole employ. And all despised and fed the pliant boy. At length, 'tis time he should abroad be sent Was whisper'd near him, — and abroad he

went; One morn they call'd him, Richard answer'd

not; They deem'd him hanging, and in time forgot,— Yet miss'd him long, as each, throughout

the clan, Found he had better spared a better man. Now Richard's talents for the world were fit. He'd no small cunning,and had some sinull wit; Had that calm look which seem'd to all assent. And that complacent speech which nothing

meant: He'd hut one care, and that he strove to hide. How best for Richard Monday to provide. Steel, through opposing plates, the magnet

draws. And steely atoms culls from dust and straws; And thus our hero, to his interest true. Gold through all bars and from each trifle

drew; But still more surely round the world to go. This fortune's child had neither friend nor foeLong lost to us, at last our man we trace,— Sir Richard Monday died at Monday-pbice: His lady's worth, his daughter's wc peruse. And find his grandsons all as rich as Jews s lie gave reforming charities a sum. And bought the blessings of the blind and dumb;

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