The English Dance of Death from the designs of Thomas Rowlandson, with metrical illustrations, by the author of "Doctor Syntax" [i.e. William Combe] |
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 | The English Dance of Death |  |
One evening in the month of May,
When all was blooming, sweet and gay,
As Joan wound, on the turning reel,
The labours of the spinning wheel,
She listened to the Blackbird's song,
Who tun'd his notes the Groves among;
And carroll'd with her voice so shrill
Of black-ey'd Sue and constant Will.
At length Joe's daily labour o'er,
They eat their supper at the door,
And spar'd a morsel to the poor;
A part they never fail'd to give,
Of what Heav'n pleas'd they should receive;
And, having bent in grateful prayer,
To him who makes the good their care,
Happy and in each other blest
The faithful pair retir'd to rest,
In hope to wake as free from sorrow,
When the Sun shone upon to-morrow:
But e'er the Sun in splendour rose
They 'rose to view a scene of woes.
For, e'er the midnight hour was past,
They woke, and thought that hour their last.
Around appear'd the blazing flames;
The Mother, with incessant screams,
And almost mad from her alarms,
Seizing the children in her arms,
Fled from her home and sat her down
Beside the Brook upon a stone.
While Joe, and many a neighbour's care,
Brought all the Flames were found to spare.
—The Villagers ran to and fro
To save what could be sav'd for Joe;
And women, screaming with affright,
Encreas'd the horrors of the night.
The slumb'ring sheep by fear made bold,
Tumultuous grew and forc'd the fold;
And bellowing loud, the herds were seen
Scouring in fury o'er the Green.
When all was blooming, sweet and gay,
As Joan wound, on the turning reel,
The labours of the spinning wheel,
She listened to the Blackbird's song,
Who tun'd his notes the Groves among;
And carroll'd with her voice so shrill
Of black-ey'd Sue and constant Will.
At length Joe's daily labour o'er,
They eat their supper at the door,
And spar'd a morsel to the poor;
111
Of what Heav'n pleas'd they should receive;
And, having bent in grateful prayer,
To him who makes the good their care,
Happy and in each other blest
The faithful pair retir'd to rest,
In hope to wake as free from sorrow,
When the Sun shone upon to-morrow:
But e'er the Sun in splendour rose
They 'rose to view a scene of woes.
For, e'er the midnight hour was past,
They woke, and thought that hour their last.
Around appear'd the blazing flames;
The Mother, with incessant screams,
And almost mad from her alarms,
Seizing the children in her arms,
Fled from her home and sat her down
Beside the Brook upon a stone.
While Joe, and many a neighbour's care,
Brought all the Flames were found to spare.
—The Villagers ran to and fro
To save what could be sav'd for Joe;
112
Encreas'd the horrors of the night.
The slumb'ring sheep by fear made bold,
Tumultuous grew and forc'd the fold;
And bellowing loud, the herds were seen
Scouring in fury o'er the Green.
| The English Dance of Death | |