Comic Tales and Lyrical Fancies including The Chessiad, a Mock-Heroic, in Five Cantos; and The Wreath of Love, in Four Cantos. By C. Dibdin, the Younger |
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PREJUDICE;
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 | Comic Tales and Lyrical Fancies |  |
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PREJUDICE;
OR, THE WITCH.
As twines the thick ivy around the hale oak,Or spreads round the cottage with tangled embrace,
While the cot swarms with vermin that patience provoke,
And the tree's native vigour to sickness gives place:
As the frost binds the stream, and the blight mars the flower;
As the steel is enchain'd by the magnet's charm'd power;
So prejudice man's boasted reason annoys;
Indurates his affections; distempers his joys;
The social distracts; mutual confidence blights;
And holds in a chain half humanity's rights.
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Which, approaching each other, proved creatures akin;
Who was “marvellous poor,” and to muttering prone,
Once lived in a hut, save her cat, all alone;
No acquaintance or gossip would own the poor elf;
None with her would talk, so she talk'd to herself:
Besides, this old woman, who older still grew,
Was wicked enough to be seventy-two.
These significant signs proved the pegs where to hitch
On that reprobate character call'd an old witch.
Not only cross'd straws, as in times heretofore,
But ev'ry cross matter was laid at her door;
If she cross'd people's path they would hoot her or pelt her,
Or, like friends from calamity, run helter skelter.
“Alas!” cried poor Goody, “what harm can I do?
What a sin to be poor, lone, and seventy-two!”
None would pass near her hovel at night, for 'twas said,
The father of witches call'd there for a bed;
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All vow'd that strange noises they'd heard in the hut;
Oft a sound heard like bagpipes; but some would suppose
'Twas her guest singing witch-spells, and sung through his nose.
The villagers, swearing to oust the old lass,
One night (as none durst go alone) went en masse,
The clerk at their head; for the parson was out—
Of the secret, and notions of witchcraft he'd scout;
Which made some suspect that the justice and he
Were not what orthodox Christians should be;
Since (from ducking which saved her) these thought—so may you—
'Twas no sin to be poor, lone, and seventy-two.
Approaching the hovel, they heard the pipes play;
And most were for dancing—that's dancing away;
But one through a crack, having courage, peep'd in,
Saw a piper, and one man in black, tall and thin;
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He in black is old Nick, and the other his piper.”
The door they had burst; but, “there'll then be,” thought they,
“Not the piper alone, but another to pay.”
Some ran to the justice; their zeal begg'd he'd back it;
He humour'd the joke, and then help'd them to crack it;
Walk'd into the hut, when, “His worship,” they said,
“So ventersome, couldn't be right in his head.”
The justice discover'd their sable annoyer,
Though for Lucifer taken, was only a lawyer!—
“A chip of th' old block,” here if prejudice cry,
“There are chips of all sorts—prenez garde,” I reply.
'Twas the lawyer's first visit, not so with the other,
(The piper) for he proved the witch's own brother.
The lawyer (from London) had travell'd miles round,
Ere his object of search (the old woman) he found;
A brother, long lost, from the Indies had come;
Died, through eating ripe peaches, but left half a plum,
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He knew not if either were living or dead.
The crowd heard the tale:—what it is to be rich!
They thought she might possibly not be a witch.
One, who'd seen her broom-riding, and swore to the sight,
Thought it likely he might be mistaken—'twas night,
And so thick was the fog, being past twelve o'clock,
That he ran his own head 'gainst its brother—a block.
In short, a douceur shared among them to drink
Was “a word to the wise,” and the wise always think:
They thought—alias drank—at each draught grew more wise;
And jug after jug wider open'd their eyes;
Till prejudice vanish'd, suspicion turn'd tail,
And conviction came in with the last jug of ale:
Her pardon they begg'd, 'twas the least they could do,
And no more teased a woman of seventy-two.
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