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 |  |
“It is upon the upper row, So mount, and bring it here below,
And I'll refresh it as I stand With a full wat'ring-pot in hand.”
Careful and step by step he mov'd, But just as he successful prov'd,
A shelf gave way, another follow'd,
Ma'am Tulip scream'd, the gard'ner hallooed,
While Syntax join'd the gen'ral bawling,
And soon upon the ground was sprawling;
When, scatter'd round upon the green,
Pots, flowers and hat and wig were seen.
The lady trembling, from the spout Let the cool, sprinkling water out,
Which did in various streamlets play On Syntax as he struggling lay.
“O cease,” he cried, “these rills to pour,
My head is neither pot nor flower,
And for the flowers my brains produce,
They're not for Lady Tulip's use:
If with these dripping favours crown'd,
Have mercy, or they'll all be drown'd.”
He roll'd away and then uprose His moisten'd drap'ry to compose;
But when she saw on looking round
The fragments scatter'd o'er the ground,
O never did the realms of Drury Display a more decided fury.
“See,” she exclaim'd, “you horrid Bruin,
The matchless mischief you've been doing!
These plants, I tell you, cost me more
Than a year's tithes could e'er restore.
Ill-luck in its worst guise, is seen, In that beshrivell'd face and mien!
Be gone, you old, ill-boding fright,
Haste, leave my house, and quit my sight!
The lemon-scented moss that came
From—I've forgot the frightful name,
And my conundrum tulip's gone, A flower so rare, that's scarcely known
In any hot-house but my own.
It makes my blood with vengeance boil,
That you this Eden should despoil!”
“Eden,” he said, “it may appear, For I behold a Serpent here;
Though not with one attractive feature
To tempt the heart of human creature.”
“Gard'ners,” she cried, “where are you all?
Expel this instant from the hall
This saucy parson, chase him hence, And kick him for his insolence.”
At him the wat'ring pot she threw, His arms repell'd it as it flew,
When it return'd a hollow sound, As it bounc'd from the verdant ground.
But when a fork she sought to wield,
The Doctor did not wait to yield, But to the fury left the field;
And with quick steps the prudent sage Sought refuge at the Vicarage;
Where, with his pipe and balmy ale, He jok'd and told his curious tale.
And I'll refresh it as I stand With a full wat'ring-pot in hand.”
Careful and step by step he mov'd, But just as he successful prov'd,
A shelf gave way, another follow'd,
Ma'am Tulip scream'd, the gard'ner hallooed,
While Syntax join'd the gen'ral bawling,
And soon upon the ground was sprawling;
When, scatter'd round upon the green,
Pots, flowers and hat and wig were seen.
The lady trembling, from the spout Let the cool, sprinkling water out,
Which did in various streamlets play On Syntax as he struggling lay.
“O cease,” he cried, “these rills to pour,
My head is neither pot nor flower,
And for the flowers my brains produce,
They're not for Lady Tulip's use:
If with these dripping favours crown'd,
Have mercy, or they'll all be drown'd.”
He roll'd away and then uprose His moisten'd drap'ry to compose;
But when she saw on looking round
The fragments scatter'd o'er the ground,
O never did the realms of Drury Display a more decided fury.
“See,” she exclaim'd, “you horrid Bruin,
The matchless mischief you've been doing!
313
Than a year's tithes could e'er restore.
Ill-luck in its worst guise, is seen, In that beshrivell'd face and mien!
Be gone, you old, ill-boding fright,
Haste, leave my house, and quit my sight!
The lemon-scented moss that came
From—I've forgot the frightful name,
And my conundrum tulip's gone, A flower so rare, that's scarcely known
In any hot-house but my own.
It makes my blood with vengeance boil,
That you this Eden should despoil!”
“Eden,” he said, “it may appear, For I behold a Serpent here;
Though not with one attractive feature
To tempt the heart of human creature.”
“Gard'ners,” she cried, “where are you all?
Expel this instant from the hall
This saucy parson, chase him hence, And kick him for his insolence.”
At him the wat'ring pot she threw, His arms repell'd it as it flew,
When it return'd a hollow sound, As it bounc'd from the verdant ground.
But when a fork she sought to wield,
The Doctor did not wait to yield, But to the fury left the field;
And with quick steps the prudent sage Sought refuge at the Vicarage;
Where, with his pipe and balmy ale, He jok'd and told his curious tale.
| The three tours of Doctor Syntax | |