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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| X. |
| XI. | CANTO XI. |
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| XXI. |
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| XXVI. |
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 | The three tours of Doctor Syntax |  |
CANTO XI.
In this sad, variegated life, Evil and good, in daily strife,
Contend, we find, which shall be master:
Now Fortune smiles—then sad disaster
Assumes in turn its frowning power,
And gives to man his chequer'd hour.
With chequer'd hours good Syntax thought,
And well he might, his journey fraught;
But still he hop'd, when all was past,
That he should comfort find at last.
Thus, with unlook'd-for kindness blest,
No fears alarm his tranquil breast;
He eats, and drinks, and goes to rest;
And when the welcome 'morrow came,
The 'Squire and Madam were the same.
Just as the Minster-clock struck nine,
Coffee and tea, and fowl and chine,
Appear'd in all their due array, To give the breakfast of the day.
The 'Squire then the talk began, And thus the conversation ran.
'Squire Hearty.—
Contend, we find, which shall be master:
Now Fortune smiles—then sad disaster
Assumes in turn its frowning power,
And gives to man his chequer'd hour.
With chequer'd hours good Syntax thought,
And well he might, his journey fraught;
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That he should comfort find at last.
Thus, with unlook'd-for kindness blest,
No fears alarm his tranquil breast;
He eats, and drinks, and goes to rest;
And when the welcome 'morrow came,
The 'Squire and Madam were the same.
Just as the Minster-clock struck nine,
Coffee and tea, and fowl and chine,
Appear'd in all their due array, To give the breakfast of the day.
The 'Squire then the talk began, And thus the conversation ran.
“Doctor, you truly may believe
The pleasure which I now receive
In seeing you, as you sit there, On what was once my father's chair.
I pray you think this house your home,—
Aye, though it were three months to come.
Here you will find yourself at ease—
May read or write—just as you please.
At nine we breakfast, as you see— Dinner is always here at three;
At six my wife will give you tea.”
Mrs. Hearty.—
“And should you find the evening long,
I'll play a tune and sing a song.”
'Squire Hearty.—
“Besides, you'll range the country round,
Some curious things may there be found:
Your genius too may chance to trace, Within this celebrated place,
Some ancient building worth a look,
That may perhaps enrich your book.
I'm a true Briton, as you see: I love good cheer, and liberty;
And what I love myself, I'll give To others, while I'm doomed to live.
This morning I intend to go To see the military show.
The light dragoons now quarter'd here Will all in grand review appear:
They are a regiment of renown, And some great Gen'ral is come down
To see them all, in bright array, Act the fierce battle of the day.
If you should like such sights as these,
If warlike feats your fancy please,
We'll to the common take a ride, And I myself will be your guide:
So, if you please, within an hour Our nags shall be before the door.”
Syntax.—
“I will be ready to attend
The summons of my worthy friend.
The laurell'd Hero's my delight, With plumed crest and helmet bright:
E'en when a boy, at early age, I read in Homer's lofty page
How the stout Greeks, in times of yore,
Brought havoc to the Phrygian shore:
I revell'd in that ancient story, And burn'd with ardent love of glory.
Whene'er I trac'd the Fields of Troy
My heart beat high with martial joy.
'Tis true, I pray that war may cease,
And Europe hail returning Peace;
Yet still I feel my bosom glow When British heroes meet the foe;
When our arm'd legions make him fly, And yield the palm of Victory;
Or when our naval thunders roar, And terrify the Gallic shore.
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And I shall wait upon your leisure.”
But, as no time was to be lost, Syntax now hasten'd to the post:
The post obey'd his loud command, And gave a letter to his hand.
With eager haste the seal he broke, And thus the fond epistle spoke.
The post obey'd his loud command, And gave a letter to his hand.
With eager haste the seal he broke, And thus the fond epistle spoke.
“My dearest husband,—on my life
I thought you had forgot your wife,
While she, to her affection true, Was always thinking, Love, on you.
By this time, I presume, you've made
No small advancement in your trade:
I mean, my dear, that this same book, To which I with impatience look,
Is full of promise; and I'm bold To hope for a return in gold.
I have no doubt that ample gains Will well reward your learned pains,
And with a bounteous store, repay Your anxious toil of many a day;
For well, my dearest friend, I know, Where'er you are compell'd to go,
You still must sigh that you should be So long away from Love and me.
I truly say my heart doth burn With ardent wish for your return;
And that I may my Syntax greet With all due honour when we meet;
The milliner is uow preparing A dress that will be worth the wearing,
Just such an one as I have seen In Ackerman's last Magazine,
Where, by the skilful painter's aid, Each fashion is so well display'd.
A robe of crape with satin boddice, Will make me look like any goddess:
A mantle too is all the ton, And therefore I have order'd one:
I've also got a lilac bonnet, And plac'd a yellow feather on it:
Thus I shall be so very smart, 'Twill vex Miss Raisin to the heart!
Oh! it will make me burst with laughter,
To plague the purse-proud grocer's daughter;
While through the town as you shall see No one will be so fine as me.
Oh! with what pleasure and delight I shall present me to your sight;
How shall I hug you, dearest honey,
When you return brimfull of money.”
I thought you had forgot your wife,
While she, to her affection true, Was always thinking, Love, on you.
By this time, I presume, you've made
No small advancement in your trade:
I mean, my dear, that this same book, To which I with impatience look,
Is full of promise; and I'm bold To hope for a return in gold.
I have no doubt that ample gains Will well reward your learned pains,
And with a bounteous store, repay Your anxious toil of many a day;
For well, my dearest friend, I know, Where'er you are compell'd to go,
You still must sigh that you should be So long away from Love and me.
I truly say my heart doth burn With ardent wish for your return;
And that I may my Syntax greet With all due honour when we meet;
The milliner is uow preparing A dress that will be worth the wearing,
Just such an one as I have seen In Ackerman's last Magazine,
Where, by the skilful painter's aid, Each fashion is so well display'd.
A robe of crape with satin boddice, Will make me look like any goddess:
A mantle too is all the ton, And therefore I have order'd one:
I've also got a lilac bonnet, And plac'd a yellow feather on it:
Thus I shall be so very smart, 'Twill vex Miss Raisin to the heart!
Oh! it will make me burst with laughter,
To plague the purse-proud grocer's daughter;
While through the town as you shall see No one will be so fine as me.
Oh! with what pleasure and delight I shall present me to your sight;
How shall I hug you, dearest honey,
When you return brimfull of money.”
Syntax exclaim'd, in accents sad,
“The woman's surely gone stark mad!
To ruin, all her airs will tend; But I'll read on, and see the end.”
“The woman's surely gone stark mad!
To ruin, all her airs will tend; But I'll read on, and see the end.”
“As to the news, why you must know, Things in their usual order go:
Jobson the Tanner's run away, And has not left a doit to pay:
Bet Bumkin was last Thursday married,
And Mrs. Stillborn has miscarried.
In the High-street, the other day, Good Mrs. Squeamish swoon'd away,
And was so ill, as it is said, That she was borne away for dead;
But Mother Gossip, who knows all
The neighbours round, both great and small,
Has hinted to me, as she thinks, That pious Mrs. Squeamish drinks.
—There is a Lady just come down, A dashing, frisky dame from town.
To visit Madam Stapleton;
She's said to be a London toast, But has no mighty charms to boast;
For it is clear to my keen sight, That she lays on both red and white.
She drives about, in chaise and pair,
And, I have heard can curse and swear:
But I mind not these things, not I, I never deal in calumny,
So fare you well, my dearest life.— And I remain your loving wife.”
P.S.—“But if you fear that you shall come
Without a bag of money home,
'Twere better far that you should take A leap at once into the Lake:
I'd rather hear that you were drown'd,
Than that you should my hopes confound!”
Jobson the Tanner's run away, And has not left a doit to pay:
Bet Bumkin was last Thursday married,
And Mrs. Stillborn has miscarried.
In the High-street, the other day, Good Mrs. Squeamish swoon'd away,
And was so ill, as it is said, That she was borne away for dead;
But Mother Gossip, who knows all
The neighbours round, both great and small,
Has hinted to me, as she thinks, That pious Mrs. Squeamish drinks.
—There is a Lady just come down, A dashing, frisky dame from town.
To visit Madam Stapleton;
She's said to be a London toast, But has no mighty charms to boast;
For it is clear to my keen sight, That she lays on both red and white.
She drives about, in chaise and pair,
And, I have heard can curse and swear:
But I mind not these things, not I, I never deal in calumny,
So fare you well, my dearest life.— And I remain your loving wife.”
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Without a bag of money home,
'Twere better far that you should take A leap at once into the Lake:
I'd rather hear that you were drown'd,
Than that you should my hopes confound!”
These tender lines did not impart
Much comfort to the Doctor's heart;
He therefore thought it would be better, To lay aside this pretty letter;
Nor suffer its contents to sour The pleasure of the present hour.
Much comfort to the Doctor's heart;
He therefore thought it would be better, To lay aside this pretty letter;
Nor suffer its contents to sour The pleasure of the present hour.
The 'Squire now became his guide, So off they trotted, side by side;
And, e'er they pass'd a mile or two, Beheld the scene of the review.
The troops drawn up in proud array, An animating sight display;
The well-form'd squadrons wheel around,
The standards wave, the trumpets sound,
When Grizzle, long inur'd to war, And not without an honour'd scar,
Found all her former spirits glow As when she used to meet the foe:
No ears she prick'd, for she had none:
Nor cock'd her tail, for that was gone:
But still she snorted, foam'd, and flounc'd;
Then up she rear'd and off she bounc'd;
And, having play'd these pretty pranks, Dash'd all at once into the ranks!
While Syntax, though unus'd to fear, Suspected that his end was near.
But, though his courage 'gan to addle,
He still stuck close upon his saddle;
While to the trumpets on the hill, Grizzle sped fast, and then stood still:
With them she clos'd her warlike race,
And took with pride her ancient place;
For Grizzle, as we've told before, Once to the wars a trumpet bore.
At length recover'd from his fright,
The Doctor stay'd and view'd the sight;
And then with heart as light as cork,
He with his friends jogg'd back to York,
Where was renew'd the friendly fare, And ev'ry comfort promis'd there.
The time in chit-chat pass'd away, Till the chimes told the closing day:
“And now,” says pleasant Madam Hearty,
“What think you if our little party
Should each to sing a song agree? 'Twill give a sweet variety.
Thus let the passing moments roll,
Till Thomas brings the ev'ning bowl;
The Doctor, sure, will do his best And kindly grant my poor request.”
The Doctor, though by nature grave, And rather form'd to tune a stave,
Whene'er he got a little mellow, Was a most merry pleasant fellow;
Would sing a song, or tell a riddle, Or play a hornpipe on the fiddle;
And, being now a little gay, Declar'd his wishes to obey.
“Then I'll begin,” Squire Hearty said,
“But though by land my tours are made,
Whene'er I tune a song or glee, I quit the land, and go to sea.”
And, e'er they pass'd a mile or two, Beheld the scene of the review.
The troops drawn up in proud array, An animating sight display;
The well-form'd squadrons wheel around,
The standards wave, the trumpets sound,
When Grizzle, long inur'd to war, And not without an honour'd scar,
Found all her former spirits glow As when she used to meet the foe:
No ears she prick'd, for she had none:
Nor cock'd her tail, for that was gone:
But still she snorted, foam'd, and flounc'd;
Then up she rear'd and off she bounc'd;
And, having play'd these pretty pranks, Dash'd all at once into the ranks!
While Syntax, though unus'd to fear, Suspected that his end was near.
But, though his courage 'gan to addle,
He still stuck close upon his saddle;
While to the trumpets on the hill, Grizzle sped fast, and then stood still:
With them she clos'd her warlike race,
And took with pride her ancient place;
For Grizzle, as we've told before, Once to the wars a trumpet bore.
At length recover'd from his fright,
The Doctor stay'd and view'd the sight;
And then with heart as light as cork,
He with his friends jogg'd back to York,
Where was renew'd the friendly fare, And ev'ry comfort promis'd there.
The time in chit-chat pass'd away, Till the chimes told the closing day:
“And now,” says pleasant Madam Hearty,
“What think you if our little party
Should each to sing a song agree? 'Twill give a sweet variety.
Thus let the passing moments roll,
Till Thomas brings the ev'ning bowl;
The Doctor, sure, will do his best And kindly grant my poor request.”
The Doctor, though by nature grave, And rather form'd to tune a stave,
Whene'er he got a little mellow, Was a most merry pleasant fellow;
Would sing a song, or tell a riddle, Or play a hornpipe on the fiddle;
And, being now a little gay, Declar'd his wishes to obey.
“Then I'll begin,” Squire Hearty said,
“But though by land my tours are made,
Whene'er I tune a song or glee, I quit the land, and go to sea.”
The 'Squire's Song.
The signal given, we seek the main,Where tempests rage, and billows roar;
Nor know we if we e'er again Shall anchor on our native shore.
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Hope whispers that some future gale Will waft us to our native shore.
When battle rages all amain, And hostile arms their vengeance pour,
We British sailors will maintain The honour of our native shore.
But, should we find a wat'ry grave, A nation will our loss deplore;
And tears will mingle with the wave That breaks upon our native shore.
And after many a battle won, When ev'ry toil and danger's o'er,
How great the joy, each duty done, To anchor on our native shore!
Mrs. Hearty's Song.
Cupid, away! thy work is o'er: Go seek Idalia's flow'ry grove!Your pointed darts will pain no more;
Hymen has heal'd the wounds of Love.
Hymen is here, and all is rest; To distant flight thy pinions move:
No anxious doubts, no fears molest;
Hymen has sooth'd the pangs of Love.
Cupid, away! the deed is done! Away, 'mid other scenes to rove:
For Ralph and Isabel are one, And Hymen guards the home of Love.
The Doctor now his rev'rence made, And Madam's smiling nod obey'd.
“Your songs,” said he, “have giv'n me pleasure
As well in subject as in measure;
But, in some modern songs, the taste
Is far, I'm sure, from being chaste:
They do not make the least pretence To poetry or common sense.
Some coarse conceits, a lively air, With a da capo, here and there,
Of uncouth words, which ne'er were found
In any language above ground;
And these set off with some strange phrase,
Compose our sing-song now-a-days.
The dancing-master of my school In this way oft will play the fool
And make one laugh—one knows not why,—
But we had better laugh than cry.
The song, which you're about to hear Will of this character appear;
From London it was sent him down,
As a great fav'rite through the town.”
“Your songs,” said he, “have giv'n me pleasure
As well in subject as in measure;
But, in some modern songs, the taste
Is far, I'm sure, from being chaste:
They do not make the least pretence To poetry or common sense.
Some coarse conceits, a lively air, With a da capo, here and there,
Of uncouth words, which ne'er were found
In any language above ground;
And these set off with some strange phrase,
Compose our sing-song now-a-days.
The dancing-master of my school In this way oft will play the fool
And make one laugh—one knows not why,—
But we had better laugh than cry.
The song, which you're about to hear Will of this character appear;
From London it was sent him down,
As a great fav'rite through the town.”
Doctor Syntax's Song.
I've got a scold of a wife, The plague and storm of my life;O! were she in coal-pit bottom, And all such jades, 'od rot 'em!
My cares would then be over, And I should live in clover;
With harum scarum, horum scorum,
Stew'd prunes for ever! Stew'd prunes for ever!
Brother Tom's in the codlin-tree, As blithe as blithe can be:
While Dorothy sits below, Where the daffodillies grow:
And many a slender rush, And blackberries all on a bush:
With harum scarum, &c. &c.
We'll all to the castle go Like grenadiers all of a row,
While the horn and trump shall sound As we pace the ramparts round,
Where many a lady fair Comes forth to take the air
With harum scarum, &c. &c.
The vessel spreads her sails To catch the rising gales,
And dances o'er the wave; While many a love lorn slave
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With harum scarum, &c. &c.
When the dew is on the rose, And the wanton zephyr blows;
When lilies raise their head, And harebells fragrance shed,
Then I to the rocks will hie, And sing a lullaby:
With harum scarum, &c. &c.
By fam'd Ilyssus' stream How oft I fondly dream,
When I read in classic pages Of all the ancient sages;
But they were born to die! And so were you and I;
With harum scarum, horum scorum,
Stew'd prunes for ever? Stew'd prunes for ever!
Thus with many a pleasant lay, The party clos'd th'exhausted day.
| The three tours of Doctor Syntax | |