The three tours of Doctor Syntax In search of 1. The picturesque, 2. Of consolation, 3. Of a wife. The text complete. [By William Combe] With four illustrations |
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 | The three tours of Doctor Syntax |  |
What active cause his slumbers broke Or why at early hour he woke
It would be needless to enquire; But ere the neighb'ring parish spire
Receiv'd the sun's first golden ray
And told the bright approach of day,
Syntax had left his downy rest; When, all bewigg'd and fully drest,
He to the window turn'd his eye, And view'd with sudden extasy
A scene of nature that combin'd Whate'er could fill the painter's mind.
—Through a deep verdant vale below, A crystal stream was seen to flow,
While swelling hills with forests crown'd,
Did all the nearer prospect bound,
And mountains clad in airy blue Clos'd with their tops the distant view:
Nor did there want the mantled tower,
Or pointed spire or village bower;
Besides the morning's moisture threw O'er woody dells a misty hue,
That form'd a dusky base below, To heighten the ascending glow,
Which the horizon's golden ray Did on the summit's peak display.
Struck with the beauty of the view, He brush'd away the morning dew,
To make a hasty sketch or two.
Pat follow'd quick, when, having seen His master seated on the green,
And with attentive care employ'd, On the gay work he so enjoy'd,
He rov'd about, now here, now there,
He scarce knew why, he scarce knew where:
When, as beside a hedge he stray'd,
From the sweet voice of village maid,
He heard a simple strain prolong
From tender heart this piteous song:
Form'd of wild flowers and branches green,
A lass slow pacing on was seen.
A russet gown the maiden wore, And on her arm a basket bore;
The rosy blush was on her cheek,
And dark brown locks hung o'er her neck,
While eyes of blue seem'd to impart The symptoms of a melting heart.
—Pat took a peep and quite delighted,
Thought that the time should not be slighted,
And that the means he might improve To try and make a little love.
—Though, thought he, I'm not so clever
To leap across a flowing river,
I think at least I have the sense To get me o'er a quickset fence:
No sooner said than done: the rover Took a long run and soon was over:
The damsel started at the sight, But soon recover'd from the fright;
When he with smile and gentle talk, Begg'd to attend her on her walk,
To bear her eggs and while the thrush
Sung sweetly from the neighb'ring bush,
In pleasing courtesy confer, And mention all he thought of her.—
—Susan, poor girl, at first was coy, But there's a certain am'rous boy,
Who cares not how he wastes his darts,
Nor whether high or vulgar hearts
Receive their points, so he can play And thus amuse his time away.—
Thus ere Pat's tongue for half an hour
Had exercis'd its flatt'ring power,
She had withdrawn her look severe, And seem'd to give a list'ning ear.
It would be needless to enquire; But ere the neighb'ring parish spire
Receiv'd the sun's first golden ray
And told the bright approach of day,
Syntax had left his downy rest; When, all bewigg'd and fully drest,
He to the window turn'd his eye, And view'd with sudden extasy
A scene of nature that combin'd Whate'er could fill the painter's mind.
—Through a deep verdant vale below, A crystal stream was seen to flow,
While swelling hills with forests crown'd,
Did all the nearer prospect bound,
And mountains clad in airy blue Clos'd with their tops the distant view:
230
Or pointed spire or village bower;
Besides the morning's moisture threw O'er woody dells a misty hue,
That form'd a dusky base below, To heighten the ascending glow,
Which the horizon's golden ray Did on the summit's peak display.
Struck with the beauty of the view, He brush'd away the morning dew,
To make a hasty sketch or two.
Pat follow'd quick, when, having seen His master seated on the green,
And with attentive care employ'd, On the gay work he so enjoy'd,
He rov'd about, now here, now there,
He scarce knew why, he scarce knew where:
When, as beside a hedge he stray'd,
From the sweet voice of village maid,
He heard a simple strain prolong
From tender heart this piteous song:
“Tho' the rain it did pour, and the winds they did blow,
When we were borne over the Ferry,
Tho' the rain it did pour, yes Henry, you know
That my heart it was blithesome and merry.
When we were borne over the Ferry,
Tho' the rain it did pour, yes Henry, you know
That my heart it was blithesome and merry.
“But ah! tho' the sun so sweetly did shine
As I did return o'er the Ferry,
I wept—for then Henry no longer was mine,
And my heart knew not how to be merry.
As I did return o'er the Ferry,
I wept—for then Henry no longer was mine,
And my heart knew not how to be merry.
“The sun now will shine and the winds blow in vain,
For I've bid adieu to the Ferry;—
I ne'er with dear Henry shall pass it again,
And my heart has forgot to be merry.”
Pat listen'd and soon made reply In his own native minstrelsy.
For I've bid adieu to the Ferry;—
I ne'er with dear Henry shall pass it again,
And my heart has forgot to be merry.”
“My dear Meg liv'd with her mother,
I on one side and she on t'other,
For a deep river ran between Me and the Beauty of the Green.
But the banks were steep and the river wide,
And I had no horse and I could not ride,
So I wish'd myself a pretty little boat, To take me o'er to t'other side.
I on one side and she on t'other,
For a deep river ran between Me and the Beauty of the Green.
But the banks were steep and the river wide,
And I had no horse and I could not ride,
So I wish'd myself a pretty little boat, To take me o'er to t'other side.
“And many a month and many a day
And half a year had past away;
And still the river flood was seen 'Twixt me and Marg'ry of the Green.
But the banks were steep, &c.
And half a year had past away;
And still the river flood was seen 'Twixt me and Marg'ry of the Green.
But the banks were steep, &c.
“At length she did a youth prefer
Who liv'd on the same bank with her.
So now the river may flow on: My hope is fled, my love is gone,
I care not though the banks are wide,
That I have no horse and cannot ride;
And I wish no more to be a little boat, To take me o'er to t'other side.’
He clos'd his strain and through the screen
Who liv'd on the same bank with her.
So now the river may flow on: My hope is fled, my love is gone,
I care not though the banks are wide,
That I have no horse and cannot ride;
And I wish no more to be a little boat, To take me o'er to t'other side.’
Form'd of wild flowers and branches green,
A lass slow pacing on was seen.
A russet gown the maiden wore, And on her arm a basket bore;
231
And dark brown locks hung o'er her neck,
While eyes of blue seem'd to impart The symptoms of a melting heart.
—Pat took a peep and quite delighted,
Thought that the time should not be slighted,
And that the means he might improve To try and make a little love.
—Though, thought he, I'm not so clever
To leap across a flowing river,
I think at least I have the sense To get me o'er a quickset fence:
No sooner said than done: the rover Took a long run and soon was over:
The damsel started at the sight, But soon recover'd from the fright;
When he with smile and gentle talk, Begg'd to attend her on her walk,
To bear her eggs and while the thrush
Sung sweetly from the neighb'ring bush,
In pleasing courtesy confer, And mention all he thought of her.—
—Susan, poor girl, at first was coy, But there's a certain am'rous boy,
Who cares not how he wastes his darts,
Nor whether high or vulgar hearts
Receive their points, so he can play And thus amuse his time away.—
Thus ere Pat's tongue for half an hour
Had exercis'd its flatt'ring power,
She had withdrawn her look severe, And seem'd to give a list'ning ear.
| The three tours of Doctor Syntax | |