Chapter XI

Long, long, thy stone, and pointed clay
Shall melt the musing Briton's eyes,
O! vales, and wild woods, shall He say
In yonder grave Your Druid lies!

FOOTNOTES:

[15] The harp of ÆOLUS, of which see a description in the CASTLE OF INDOLENCE.

[16] RICHMOND Church.

THE CHILD BIRTH.

IN THE MANNER OF GAY.

The doleful dumps I sing, and tearful woes,
Of MARIAN teeming with unlawful throes:
The sheenest lass in Berkshire was she known,
Of all that butter sell to Reading town:
Not the seven sisters could o'er her prevail,
The golden farmer's daughters of the vale,
Tho' every Oxford muse their charms has sung
And gravest doctors[17] join'd the tuneful throng.

Ye peers! who careless of ambition, chuse
To court the labours of the past'ral muse;
And all the wond'rous bards who try the lay
Where black Cam rolls, or Isis' eddies play,
Assist the labours of an humble swain,
Rude to the pipe, and novice on the plain.

Nine months successive now had rolled round,
Since MARIAN first the pleasing mischief found;
In vain her hands had cull'd th' abortive weed,
Nor aught avail'd the 'pothecary's aid.
Her womb began with fatal size to swell,
And sick'ning qualms the blushful secret tell:
Then all in sad despair she made her moan,
Lodona's waters echoed groan for groan.
"Ah! faithless COLIN CLOUT! ah, luckless I!
"And canst thou, cruel! from thy MARIAN fly?
"How often hast thou suck'd my panting breath?
"How often swore to love me true till death?
"But to the Justice I'll reveal my plight,
"And with a constable pursue thy flight.
"Ah! how unequal, as our parson preaches,
"Are this world's goods! and sure he rightly teaches;
"For what to maidens brings eternal stain,
"(Sad management!) gives honour to the swain.
"'Twas on the blithest morn of all the year,
"When new-born May bids every shepherd chear;
"When artful maids their rival fancies shew,
"And well-wrought garlands bloom on ev'ry bough;
"When gaudy fairs bespangle every street,
"And lowing cows the novel pasture greet;
"Fresh rose I, MARIAN hight, from rustic bed,
"The morning dream still hov'ring o'er my head;
"Gay shews and sweethearts had employ'd my thought,
"The kiss imprinted, and the fairing bought!
"From lavander I drew the tucker'd smock,
"And hosen boastful of a various clock;
"The silver'd knot well scollop'd on my head,
"And donn'd the sunday gown berob'd with red.
"Thus all bedight, and ready for the fair,
"I sat impatient with a wistful air,
"Expecting COLIN CLOUT, my perjur'd swain,
"Who always follow'd MARIAN on the plain:
"With him the moon-light walk I us'd to tread,
"With him I danc'd upon the sportive mead;
"That very morn had taught the snails to crawl,
"And print mysterious letters on the wall.
"At length he came, and I with joyous meed
"Mounted behind him on the pillion'd steed:
"Sweetly I sung, he whistled to the lay,
"Sweetly I sung the song, and sung the day:
"_What beauteous scenes_ began the tuneful tale!
"And next I humm'd _the sweets of Arno's vale_;
"Then MOLLY MOGG, fair damsel of the Rose,
"And _lovely_ PEGGY, taste of London beaux.
"And now in view gay Reading strikes our eyes,
"And all the dainties of the fair arise:
"Here Birmingham its boasted ware displays,
"There leather breeches hight, and bodice stays;
"Here posied garters flutter'd in the way,
"There painted hobby-horses seem to neigh;
"Here belles in gingerbread all gilded over,
"And little gew-gaw H----YS act the lover.
"Shepherds and nymphs from every part repair,
"All who from Oxford hills direct the share,
"Who fell the forest, or who mow the mead,
"Or drag in little boats the finny breed:
"Her wide-mouth'd sons low-seated Henley sends,
"And smoky Okingham it's tribute lends.
"But far did MARIAN all the rest outvie,
"No cheek so ruddy, nor so black an eye;
"Scarce DOLLY C----K the daughter of the may'r,
"With all the flaxen ringlets of her hair,
"With all the snowy fulness of her breast,
"In blithsome features might with me contest.
"All youths ambitiously around me strove,
"Each gave some chosen emblem of his love;
"One queintly bought the garters for my thighs,
"While simple archness sparkled in his eyes.
"But all their fairings unsuccessful prove,
"Still true to COLIN CLOUT I held my love.
"----Ah! sly deceiver! you enclasp'd my arm,
"And seem'd my saviour, while you meant my harm;
"Far too unequal was the high reward,
"My maidenhead must pay thee for thy guard;
"Already warm'd with joy you win my heart,
"And stamp a little COLIN e'er we part.
"--Yet now, when nature fills my womb, to fly--
"Nor yet one tear to issue from thine eye--
"My slighted love to quick resentment turns;
"Lo my blood rises, and my cheek all burns!
"O I could tear thee as I tear this glove--
"Go, horrid monster! I despise thy love,
"Thy oaths I quit, thy fairings I resign,
"Forget, renounce thee, hate whate'er was thine.
"[18]No christian mother bound thy infant head,
"Some Turk begat thee, or some Papist bred;
"Or dropt on Cambrian hills, a squalid brat,
"Some she-goat suckled thee with savage teat.
"[19]--Go to thy drab, whoe'er has won thy heart,
"And may the pox devouring make thee smart;
"[20]My vengeful ghost shall haunt thee o'er the plain,
"Yes, thou shalt suffer, villain, for my pain.
"--But ah! my rage relents, my sorrow flows;
"Come COLIN! faithless shepherd! ease my woes.
"And must I in the sheet opprobrious stand?
"Thy plight is troth'd, ah! come and give thy hand:
"My conscience starts, whene'er I hear a knell,
"And is a little love deserving hell?
"Too hard a penance for a sin so slight!
"Ah how my heart misgives me every night!
"When sleep has clos'd my sorrow-streaming eyes,
"Then ghastly dreams, and hateful thoughts arise:
"[21]All unaccompany'd methinks I go
"O'er Irish bogs, a wilderness of woe!
"Ah! my wits turn! strange phantoms round me fly!
"Lo! I am chang'd into a goosb'ry pye!
"Forbear to eat me up, inhuman rabble!
"Cocks crow, ducks quake, hens cackle, turkies gabble."

Thus as she rav'd, her womb with rueful throes
Did to the light a lusty babe disclose:
Long while she doubted of the smirking boy,
Or on her knee to dandle, or destroy;
Love prompted her to save, and Pride to drown,
At length Pride conquer'd, and she dropt her son.

FOOTNOTES:

[17] The Rev. Dr. WILKES wrote a poem upon them.

[18] _Nec tibi diva parens, generis nec Dardanus auctor,
Perfide, sed duris genuit te cautibus horrens
Caucasus, Hyrcanæque admorunt ubera tigres._

[19] _I, sequere Italiam ventis, &c.
Spero equidem mediis, siquid pia numina, &c._

[20] _Omnibus umbra locis adero, dabis, improbe, poenas._
Æn. 4.

[21] _----Semperque relinqui
Sola sibi, semper longam_ incomitata _videtur
Ire viam, & Tyrios desertâ quærere terrâ,
Eumenidum veluti demens videt agmina Pentheus, &c._
Æn. 4.

ON A

LADY'S

PRESENTING A SPRIG OF MYRTLE

TO A

GENTLEMAN.

BY MR. HAMMOND.

What fears, what terrors does thy gift create!
Ambiguous emblem of uncertain fate!
The myrtle, ensign of supreme command,
(Consign'd by VENUS to MELISSA'S hand)
Not less capricious than a reigning fair,
Oft favours, oft rejects the lover's care.
In myrtle groves oft sings the happy swain,
In myrtle shades despairing ghosts complain;
The myrtle crowns the happy lovers heads,
Th' unhappy lovers graves the myrtle spreads;
Oh! then the meaning of thy gift impart,
And cure the throbbings of an anxious heart;
Soon must this bough, as you shall fix his doom,
Adorn PHILANDER'S head, or grace his tomb.

TO

A YOUNG LADY

WITH

FONTENELLE'S PLURALITY OF WORLDS.

In this small work all nature's wonders see,
The soften'd features of philosophy.
In truth by easy steps you here advance,
Truth, as diverting as the best romance.
Long had these arts to sages been confin'd,
None saw their beauty, till by poring blind;
By studying spent, like men that cram too full,
From Wisdom's feast they rose not chear'd, but dull:
The gay and airy smil'd to see 'em grave,
And fled such wisdom like TROPHONIUS' cave.
Justly they thought they might those arts despise,
Which made men sullen, ere they could be wise.
Brought down to sight, with ease you view 'em here;
Tho' deep the bottom, yet the stream is clear.
Your flutt'ring sex still valued science less;
Careless of any, but the arts of dress.
Their useless time was idly thrown away
On empty novels, or some new-born play.
The best, perhaps, a few loose hours might spare
For some unmeaning thing, miscall'd a pray'r.
In vain the glittering orbs, each starry night,
With mingling blazes shed a flood of light:
Each nymph with cold indiff'rence saw 'em rise;
And, taught by fops, to them preferr'd her eyes.
None thought the stars were suns so widely sown,
None dreamt of other worlds, besides our own.
Well might they boast their charms, when ev'ry fair
Thought this world all, and hers the brightest here.
Ah! quit not the large thoughts this book inspires,
For those thin trifles which your sex admires;
Assert your claim to sense, and shew mankind,
That reason is not to themselves confin'd.
The haughty belle, whose beauty's awful shrine.
'Twere sacrilege t' imagine not divine,
Who thought so greatly of her eyes before,
Bid her read this, and then be vain no more.
How poor ev'n You, who reign without controul,
If we except the beauties of your soul!
Should all beholders feel the same surprize;
Should all who see you, see you with my eyes;
Were no such blasts to make that beauty less;
Should you be what I think, what all confess:
'Tis but a narrow space those charms engage;
One Island only, and not half an Age.

ODE

ON THE FIFTH OF DECEMBER,

Being the BIRTH-DAY of a very beautiful YOUNG LADY.

BY MR. CHRISTOPHER SMART.

I.

Hail eldest of the monthly train,
Sire of the winter drear,
DECEMBER, in whose iron reign
Expires the chequer'd year:
Hush all the blust'ring blasts that blow,
And proudly plum'd in silver snow
Smile gladly on this blest of days;
The livery'd clouds shall on thee wait,
And PHOEBUS shine in all his state,
With more than summer rays.

II.

Tho' jocund JUNE may justly boast
Long days and happy hours;
Tho' AUGUST be POMONA'S host,
And MAY be crown'd with flow'rs;
Tell JUNE his fire and crimson dyes
By HARRIOT'S blush, and HARRIOT'S eyes
Eclips'd and vanquish'd fade away;
Tell AUGUST, thou canst let him see
A richer, riper fruit than He,
A sweeter flow'r than MAY.

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