University of Virginia Library

Now Syntax did his way pursue As other lonely trav'llers do:
But he did this old maxim own, Ne'er to be lonely when alone:
For he could call from ev'ry age, The Bard, the Hero and the Sage,
From annals of recording fame, He could disclose each fav'rite name,
And whether in his easy chair He sat with comtemplative air,
Or did, in solemn musings rove Beside the stream or in the grove;
Or mounted on his palfrey gay He journeyed onward through the day,
He could call forth to his mind's eye, That bright, select society,
Who never, when he ask'd their aid, The pleasing summons disobey'd,
But did the lengthen'd way beguile
Full many an hour and many a mile.
Whether the heroes of the age That lived in Homer's splendid page,
Or th'awak'ning names that shine In Virgil's every feeling line:
Whether the men of later times In story told or sung in rhymes;
Whether the Romans or the Gauls
Who pull'd down towns or built up walls;
Or who, in far posterior days Call'd forth his censure or his praise:
Whether Aristotelian sense Or Greek or Roman eloquence
Awoke his mind or turn'd his eye, With critic perspicuity,
To con their various beauties o'er,
And find out charms unknown before;
As Syntax chose not to unfold,
'Twould be but guess-work were it told:—
Suffice it then at once to say, That in the ev'ning of the day,
He reach'd an inn in country town,
Which might have boasted of renown
In times of yore, long past and gone:
But now a straggling street display'd,
With little sign of bustling trade:
While in the midst a building stood Of stone, of plaster, and of wood,
Where sometimes Justice did resort,
To deck its bench, and hold her court.
This inn, as quite a thing of course,
Provided food for man and horse.
The room which was the Doctor's lot,
Was the best place the inn had got:
No carpet grac'd it, but the floor Was all with sand besprinkled o'er,
And almanacks hung on the door;
One for the present year, and one
For that which now was past and gone.
Prints deck'd the wall of ev'ry hue,
Yellow and red, and green and blue,
Churches and horses, heads and towers,
With ballad histories and flowers;
The humblest specimens of art Did all their gaiety impart;’
While in the chimney roses bloom
To breathe their fragrance round the room,
And flaunting peony so red Did on the hearth its foliage shed.
Then on the mantel-shelf above, There was the plaster form of Love;
And on each side of Cupid shone The shapes of Mars and Wellington.
—He with a curious smiling eye, View'd all this mural pageantry:
Then, in arm'd chair in corner plac'd
With a soft, well-clad cushion grac'd,
He bade his host, who told the fare, A speedy supper to prepare.
The cloth was clean, the chop well drest,
The home-brew'd ale was of the best,
And Syntax 'joy'd the humble feast.
The damsel, who, with rosy look, Curtsied at every word she spoke,
And might be thought a rural beauty,
Perform'd with care th'attendant duty.
The pipe was on the table laid, Where Maro's Georgics were display'd;
So thus he smok'd and thus he read, Till nature bade him seek his bed.
The Doctor now was seen to clamber
Up a rude stair-case to his chamber,
Where by the day's fatigue oppress'd,
He said his prayer and sunk to rest:
But ere an hour or two were gone, About the time the clock struck one,
A bustling noise his slumbers broke, He snorted, started and awoke.
Recov'ring then from his surprise,
He shook his head and rubb'd his eyes.
The cloudless Cynthia, glist'ning bright,
Cast o'er the room its borrow'd light;
And, as her silver beams she threw, Expos'd all round him to his view,
He thought he saw a troop of cats, But it appear'd that they were rats,
Who seem'd all frisking, quite at home,
In playing gambols round the room.
If they were fighting or were wooing,
He could not tell what they were doing,
But now it was his serious aim, To terminate this noisy game;
For to these rav'nous creatures, he Had a deep-felt antipathy:
Nor would he dare to venture forth Unclad, for half that he was worth.
He hiss'd and hooted, though in vain;
They fled, but soon return'd again.
To drive away this daring crew, He with great force, his pillow threw;
But soon he saw them mock and scout it,
Running around and all about it.
The bolster follow'd, and a stool Was sent their furious feats to cool,
And as a kinsman aids his brother,
The shoes, soon follow'd one another.
The night-cap too now left his head; In vain the missile weapon fled;
In short the Muse's tongue is tied To tell all that he threw beside.
—At length his wonted courage came,
Resentment did his blood inflame;
Nay he resolv'd to cut all short, And in his shirt to spoil the sport:
But that the vermin might not wound him,
He strove to wrap the curtain round him.
The curtain which by time was worn, Soon in a mighty rent was torn;
By his main force the tester shook, And boxes fill'd with caps, forsook
The place where through the week they slept,
And were for Sunday fin'ry kept;
With hats and ribbons and such geer,
As make folks gay throughout the year.
Some fell upon the Doctor's head, His figure grac'd, or strew'd the bed;
While some in millinery shower Were scatter'd all around the floor;
And as they in confusion lay, Seem'd to give spirit to the fray.
Now Molly hearing all this clatter,
Cried, through the key-hole, “what's the matter?
If you are ill, I recommend That we should for the Doctor send.”
“—Send some one,” Syntax said, “I pray,
To drive these vermin far away,
Send me the Doctor, or I'm undone,
Who made a poor boy May'r of London.
Send me a cat whose claws will cure The noisome evil I endure.
With half-a-crown I will reward
The beast who comes to be my guard.”
Molly ran off, and soon there came The Ostler, Benedict by name,
To ease the Doctor of alarm, With a fierce puss beneath each arm;
They soon compos'd this scene of riot,
And Syntax then repos'd in quiet.
The morning came, th'unconscious sun,
Display'd what mischief had been done;
The rats it seems had play'd the rig In tearing up the Doctor's wig.
All discompos'd awhile he strutted, To see his peruke thus begutted;
Yet when at length in arm-chair seated,
He saw how his head-dress was treated,
When his cool thoughts became intent On this unrivall'd accident,
A laugh, that foe to transient cares,
Seem'd to burst from him unawares;
And laughing, as his best friends knew, He was not very apt to do.
Pat, who had heard of the disaster,
Came to hold council with his master;
The host too bow'd and bade good-morrow,
And with down looks express'd his sorrow:
For though, the master of the inn, He for so many years had been,
He loudly vow'd he ne'er had heard Such a complaint as this preferr'd:
For none before who sought his house,
E'er heard a rat or saw a mouse.
Pat long'd full sore to say,—he lied; But he refrain'd, and thus replied:
“This is most strange, for where I slept,
They I am sure their councils kept:
There are these vermin beasts in plenty,
If I saw one, faith, I saw twenty.
But I don't mind them no not I.— I've had them oft for company.
I've been where rats and all their cousins,
Have run across my bed by dozens.”