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Bequeathed to missions money from the But him our drunkards as their champion stocks,

raised, And Bibles issued from his private box; Their bishop call’d, and as their hero praised; But to his native place severely just, Though most, when sober, and the rest, when He left a pittance bound in rigid trust;

sick, Two paltry pounds, on every quarter's-day, Had little question whence his bishoprick. (At church produced) for forty loaves should But he, triumphant spirit! all things dared,


He poach'd the wood, and on the warren A stinted gift, that to the parish shows

snared; He kept in inind their bounty and their blows! 'Twas his, at cards, ench novice to trepan,

And call the wants of rogues the rights of

man; To farmers three, the year has given a son, Wild as the winds, he let his offspring rove, Finch on the Moor,and French,and Middleton. And decni'd the marriage-bond the bane of Twice in this year a female Giles I see,

love. A Spalding once, and once a Barnaby :- What age and sickness, for a man so bold, A humble man is he, and, when they meet, Had done, we know not;-none beheld him old: Oar farmers find him on a distant seat; By night, as business urged, he sought the There for their wit he serves a constant

wood, theme,

The ditch was deep,—the rain had caused a They praise his dairy, they extol his team,

flood, They ask the price of each unrivali'd steed, The foot-bridge fail'd–he plunged beneath And whence his sheep, that admirable breed?

the deep, His thriving arts they beg he would explain, And slept, if truth were his, th' eternal sleep. And where he puts the money he must gain. They have their daughters, but they fear their friend

These have we named; on life's rough sea Would think his sons too much would con

they sail, descend;

With many a prosperous, many an adverse They have their sons who would their for

gale! tunes try, Where passions soon, like powerful winds, But fear his daughters will their suit deny.

will rage, . So runs the joke, while James, with sigh And prudence, wearied, with their strength profound,

engage: And face of care, looks moveless on the ground, Then each, in aid, shall some companion ask, His cares, his sighs, provoke the insult more, For help or comfort in the tedious task; And point the jest- for Barnaby is poor. And what that help—what joys from union


What good or ill, we next prepare to show; Last in my list, five untaught lads appear; And row, meantine, our weary bark ashore, Their father dead, compassion sent them As Spenser his—but not with Spenser's oar.

For still that rustic infidel denied
To have their names with solemn rite applied:
Hin, a lone house, by Deadman's Dyke-way

And his, a nightly haunt, in Lonely-wood:

Each village-inn has heard the ruffian boast,
That he believed in neither God nor ghost ;

That, when the sod upon the sinner press'd
He, like the saint, had everlasting rest; | Nubere si quà voles, quamvis properabitis ambo,
That never briest believed his doctrines true. | Differ; habent parvæ commoda magna mora
But would, for profit, own himself a Jew,
Orworship wood and stone,as honest heathens

DISPOSED to wed, e'en while you hasten, That fools alone on future worlds rely,

stay ; And all who die for faith, deserve to die. There's great advantage in a small delay :These maxims, – part th' attorney's clerk Thus Ovid sang, and much the wise approve


This prudent maxim of the priest of Love: His own transcendent genius found the rért; If poor, delay for future want prepares, Our pious matrons heard, and, much amazed, And eases humble life of half its cares; Gazed on the man, and trembled as they If rich, delay shall brace the thoughtful mind,


T' endure the ills that e'en the happiest And yow his face explored, and now his

find: feet,

Delay shall knowledge yield on either part, Man's dreaded foe, in this bad man, to meet : And show the value of the vanquish'd heart;

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The humonre, passions, merits, failings |Thus, with example sad, our year began,


A wanton vixen and a weary man; And gently raise the veil that's worn. by But had. this tale in other guise been told,


Young let the lover be, the lady old, Love, that impatient guide!--too proud to And that disparity of years shail prove


No bane of peace, although some bar to love: Of vulgar wants, of clothing, meat and drink, / "Tis not the worst, our nuptial ties among, Urges our amorous swains their joys to That joins the ancient bride and bridegroom seize,

young;And then, at rags and hunger frighten’d, Young wives, like changing winds, their flees :

power display, Yet not too long in cold debate remain; By shifting points and varying day by day; Till age refrain not—but if old, refrain. Now zephyrs mild, now whirlwinds in their


They sometimes speed, but often thwart By no such rule would Gaffer Kirk be

our course; tried;

| And much experienced should that pilot be, First in the year he led a blooming bride, Who sails with them on life's tempestuous sea. And stood a wither'd elder at her side. But like a trade-wind is the ancient dame, Oh! Nathan! Nathan! at thy years, tre- Mild to your wish, and every day the same; . pann'd,

Steady as time, no sudden squalls you fear, To take a wanton harlot by the hand!. But set full sail and with assurance steer; Thou, who wert used so tartly to express Till every danger in your way be past, Thy sense of matrimonial happiness, And then she gently, mildly breathes her last; Till every youth, whose bans at church were Rich you arrive, in port awhile remain,


And for a second venture sail again. Strove not to meet, or meeting, hung his

head; And every lass forbore at thee to look, For this blithe Donald southward made A sly old fish, too cunning for the hook ;-

his way, And now at sixty, that pert dame to see And left the lasses on the banks of Tay; Of all thy savings mistress, and of thee; Him to a neighbouring garden fortune sent, Now will the lads, remem'bring insults past, Whom we beheld, aspiringly content: Cry, What, the wise-one in the trap at last! Patient and mild he sought the dame to Fie! Nathan! fie! to let an artful jade

please, The close recesses of thy heart invade; Who ruled the kitchen and who bore the keys. What grievous pangs! what suffering she'll Fair Lucy first, the laundry's grace and pride,


With smiles and gracious looks her fortune And fill with anguish that rebellious heart;

tried; For thou wilt strive incessantly, in vain, But all in vain she praised his pawky cyne, By threatening speech, thy freedom to re- Where never fondness was for Lucy seen:

gain :

Him the mild Susan, boast of dairies, loved, But she for conquest married, nor will prove And found him civil, cautious, and unmoved: A dupe to thee, thine anger, or thy love; From many a fragrant simple, Catharine's Clamorous her tongue will be ;-of either sex,

skill She'll gather friends around thee and perplex Drew oil and essence from the boiling stills Thy doubtful soul;- thy money she will But nor her warmth, nor all her winning waste,

ways, In the vain ramblings of a vulgar taste; From his cool phlegm could Donald's spiAnd will be happy to exert her power,

rit raise: In every eye, in thine, at every hour. of beauty heedless, with the merry mute. Then wilt thou bluster-No! I will not rest, To Mistress Dobson he preferr'd his suit: And see consumed each shilling of my chest: There proved his service, there addressd Thou wilt be valiant:- When thy cousins call,

his vows, I will abuse and shut my door on all: And saw her mistress, - friend, - protectThou wilt be cruel :- What the law allows, |

re88,-sponse; That he thy portion, my ungrateful spouse! A butler now, he thanks his powerful bride. Nor other shillings shalt thou then receive, And, like her keys, keeps constant at her side. And when I die- What! may I this believe? Are these true tender tears ? and does my

Kitty grieve? Next at our altar stood a luckless pair. Ah! crafty vixen, thine old man has fears ; | Brought by strong passions and a warrant But weep no more! I'm melted by thy tears;

there; Spare bat my money ; thou shalt rule me still, By long rent cloak, hung loosely, strove And see thy cousins - there! I burn the

the bride, will.

|From ev'ry eye what all perceived to hide


While the boy-bridegroom, shuffling in his Loud though in love, and confident though pace,

young ; Now hid awhile and then exposed his face; Fierce in his air, and voluble of tongue; As shame alternately with anger strove, By trade a tailor, though, in scorn of trade, The brain confused with muddy ale to move: He served the 'Squire, and brush'd the In haste and stammering he perform'd his

coat he made : part,

Yet now, would Phæbe her consent afford, And look'd the rage that rankled in his Her slave alone, again he'd mount the board;


With her should years of growing love be (So will each lover inly curse his fate,

spent, Too soon made happy and made wise too And growing wealth:-she sigh'd and look'd late :)

consent. I saw his features take a savage gloom, Now, through the lane, up hill, and 'cross And deeply threaten for the days to come.

the green, Low spake the lass, and lisp'd and minced (Seen by but few, and blushing to be seen

the while,

Dejected, thoughtful, anxious, and afraid,) Look'd on the lad, and faintly tried to smile; Led by the lover, walk'd the silent maid : With soften'd speech and humbled tone Slow through the meadows roved they, she strove

many a mile To stir the embers of departed love: Toy'd by each bank and trifled at each While he, a tyrant, frowning walk'd before,

stile; Felt the poor purse and sought the public Where, as he painted every blissful view,


And highly colour'd what he strongly drew, She sadly following in submission went, | The pensive damsel, prone to tender fears, And saw the final shilling foully spent; Dimm'd the false prospect with prophetic Then to her father's hut the pair withdrew,

tears.And bade to love and comfort long adieu! Thus pass'd th' allotted hours, till lingering Ah! fly temptation, youth, refrain! refrain! I preach for ever; but I preach in vain. The lover loiter'd at the master's gate;

There he pronounced adieu! and yet would

stay, Two summers since, I saw, at Lammas- Till chidden — 800thed –entreated - forced Fair,

away ; The sweetest flower that ever blossom’d He would of coldness, though indulged, there,

complain, When Phæbe Dawson gaily cross'd the Green, And oft retire and oft return again; In haste to see and happy to be seen : When, if his teazing vex'd her gentle mind, Her air, her manners, all who saw, admired; The grief assumed compellid her to be kind! Courteous though coy, and gentle though For he would proof of plighted kindness retired;

crave, The joy of youth and health her eyes dis- That she resented first and then forgave,

play'd, . And to his grief and penance yielded more And ease of heart her every look convey'd; Than his presumption had required before.A native skill her simple robes express'd, Ah! fly temptation, youth ; refrain! refrain, As with untutor'd elegance she dress'd; Each yielding maid and each presumning The lads around admired so fair a sight,

swain! And Phæbe felt, and felt she gave, delight. Admirers soon of every age she gain'd, Her beanty won them and her worth re- | Lo! now with red rent cloak and bonnet tain'd;

black, Lavy itself could no contempt display, And torn green gown loose hanging at her They wish d her well, whom yet they wish'd

back, away.

One who an infant in her arms sustains, Correet in thought, she judged a servant's And seems in patience striving with her place

pains ; Preserved a rustic beanty from disgrace; Pinch'd are her looks, as one who pines for But yet on Sunday-eve, in freedom's hour,

bread, With secret joy she felt that beauty's power, Whose cares are growing and whose hopes When some proud bliss upon the heart

are fled; would steal, Pale her parch'd lips, her heavy eyes sunk That, poor or rich, a beauty still must feel.

low, At length, the youth, ordain'd to move her And tears unnoticed from their channels breast,

flow; Before the swains with bolder spirit press'd; Serene her manner, till some sudden pain With looke less timid made his passion known, Frets the meek soul, and then she's calm And pleased by manners most unlike her own;


Her broken pitcher to the pool she takes, For this gay bride had many a female friend, And every step with cautions terror makes; And youths were there, this favour'd youth For not alone that infant in her arms,

t' attend : But nearer cause, her anxious soul alarms. Silent, nor wanting due respect, the crowd With water burthen'd then she picks her way, Stood humbly round, and gratulation bow'd; Slowly and cautious, in the clinging clay ; But not that silent crowd, in wonder fix'd, Till, in mid - green, she trusts a place Not numerous friends, who praise and envy unsound,

mix'd, And deeply plunges in th' adhesive ground; Nor nymphs attending near to swell the Thence, but with pain, her slender foot

pride she takes,

Of one more fair, the ever-smiling bride; While hope the mind as strength the frame Nor that gay bride, adornd with every forsakes;

grace, For when so full the cup of sorrow grows, Nor love nor joy triumphant in her face, Add but a drop, it instantly o'erflows. Could from the youth's sad signs of sorrow And now her path but not her peace she

chase: gains,

Why didst thou grieve? wealth, pleasure, Safe from her task, but shivering with her

freedom thine ; pains ;

| Vex'd it thy soul, that freedom to resign? Her home she reaches, open leaves the door, Spake Scandal truth? Thou didst not then And placing first her infant on the floor,

intend She bares her bosom to the wind, and sits, So soon to bring thy wooing to an end ? And sobbing struggles with the rising fits : Or, was it, as our prating rustics say, In vain, they come, she feels th' inflating To end as soon, but in a different way?


'Tis told thy Phillis is a skilful dame, That shuts the swelling bosom from relief; Who play'd uninjured with the dangerous That speaks in feeble cries a soul distrerad,

flame: Or the sad laugh that cannot be repress'd. That, while, like Lovelace, thou thy coat The neighbour-matron leaves her wheel and

display'd, flies

And hid the snare for her affection laid, With all the aid her poverty supplies; Thee, with her net, she found the means Unfee'd, the calls of Nature she obeys,

to catch, Not led by profit, not allured by praise; And at the amorous see-saw won the match: And waiting long, till these contentions cease, Yet others tell, the Captain fix'd thy doubt, She speaks of comfort, and departs in peace. | He'd call tlree brother, or he'd call thee Friend of distress! the mourner feels thy aid,

out:She cannot pay thee, but thou wilt be paid. But rest the motive-all retreat too late,

Joy like thy bride's should on thy brow

have sate; But who this child of weakness, want, The deed had then appear'd thine own intent,

and care ?

A glorious day, by gracious fortune sent, 'Tis Phæbe Dawson, pride of Lammas-Fair; In each revolving year to be in triumph Who took her lover for his sparkling eyes,

spent. Expressions warm, and love-inspiring lies: Then in few weeks that cloudy brow had Compassion first assail'd her gentle heart,

been For all his suffering, all his bosom's smart : Without a wonder or a whisper seen; And then his prayers! they would a savage And none had been so weak as to inquire:


Why pouts my Lady? or : why frowns the And win the coldest of the sox to love :But ah! too soon his looks success declared, Too late her loss the marriage-rite repaired; The faithless flatterer then his vows forgot, How fair these names, how much unlike A captious tyrant or a noisy sot:

they look If present, railing, till he saw her pain'd; To all the blurr'd subscriptions in my book: If absent, spending what their labours The bridegroom's letters stand in row above,

gain'd; .

Tapering yet stout, like pine-trees in his Till that fair form in want and sickness

grove; pined,

While free and fine the bride's appear And hope and comfort fled that gentle mind.

below, Then fly temptation, youth; resist, refrain ! As light and slender as her jasmines grow. Nor let me preach for ever and in vain! Mark now in what confusion, stoop or stand.

The crooked scrawls of many a clownish

hand; Next came a well dress’d pair, who left Now out, now in, they droop, they fall, their coach,

they rise, And made, in long procession, slow approach: Like raw recruits drawn forth for exercise :

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Ere yet reform’d and modell’d by the drill Join’d with these powers, he could so T'he free-born legs stand striding as they

sweetly sing, will.

Talk with such tons, and saunter with such Much have I tried to guide the fist along,

swing; But still the blunderers placed their blot- Laugh with such glec,and trifle with such art,

tings wrong: That Lucy's promise fail'd to shield her Behold these marks uncouth! how strange

heart. that men,

Stephen, meantime, to ease his amorous Who guide the plough, should fail to guide

cares, the pen:

Fix'd his full mind upon his farm's affairs; For half a mile the furrows even lie; Two pigs, a cow, and wethers half a score, For half an inch the letters stand awry ;- Increased his stock, and still he look'd for Our peasants, strong and sturdy in the field,

more. Cannot these arms of idle students wield: He, for his acres few, so duly paid, Like them, in feudal days, their valiant That yet more acres to his lot were laid ;


Till our chaste nymphs no longer felt disdain, Resign'd the pen and grasp'd their conqu'r-And prudent matrons praised the frugal ing swords;

swain; They to robed clerks and poor dependent men who thriving well, through many a fruitful Left the light duties of the peaceful pen;

year, Nor to their ladies wrote, but sought to Now clothed himself anew, and acted Overproye,

seer. By deeds of death, their hearts were filla Just then poor Lucy, from her friend in with love.

- town, Bat yet, small arts have charms for female Fled in pure fear, and came a beggar down;

eyes ;

| Trembling at Stephen's door she knock'd Our rustic nymphs the beau and scholar

for bread, prize;

| Was chidden first, next pitied, and then fed; Coletter'd swains and ploughmen coarse they Then sat at Stephen's board, then shared slight,

in Stephen's bed: For those who dress, and amorous scrolls All hope of marriage lost in her disgrace,

He mourns a flame revived, and she a love

of lace.

For Lucy Collins happier days had been,
Had Footman Daniel scorn'd his native green; Now to be wed a well-match'd couple
Or when he came an idle coxcomb down,

came; Had he his love reserved for lass in town; Twice had old Lodge been tied, and twice To Stephen Hill she then had pledged her

the dame; truth,

Tottering they came and toying, (odious A sturdy, sober, kind, unpolish'd youth;

scene!) But from the day, that fatal day she spied And fond and simple, as they'd always been. The pride of Daniel, Daniel was her pride. Children from wedlock we by laws restrain; In all concerns was Stephen just and true; Why not prevent them, when they're such But coarse his doublet was and patch'd in

again? view,

Why not forbid the doting souls, to prove And felt his stockings were, and blacker Th’indecent fondling of preposterous love?

than his shoe; In spite of prudence, uncontrollid by shamo, While Daniel's linen all was fine and fair, The amorous senior woos the toothless dame, His master wore it, and he deign'd to wear: Relating idly, at the closing eve, (To wear his livery, some respect might The youthful follies he disdains to leave;


Till youthful follies wake a transient fire, To wear his linen, must be sign of love:) When arm in arm they totter and retire. Blae was his coat, unsoil'd by spot or stain; So a fond pair of solemn birds all day His hose were silk, his shoes of Spanish- Blink in their seat and doze the hours away;


Then, by the moon awaken'd, forth they A silver knot his breadth of sboulder bore;

move, A diamond-buckle blazed his breast before- And fright the songsters with their cheerless Diamond he swore it was! and show'd it as

love. he swore;

So two sear trees, dry, stunted, and unsound, Ringa on his fingers shone; his milk-white Each other catch, when dropping to the hand

ground; Could pick-tooth-case and box for snuff Entwine their wither'd arms 'gainst wind command:

and weather, And thus, with clouded cane, a fop complete, And shake their leafless heads and drop He stalk'd, the jest and glory of the street.


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