Matthew Prior. Dialogues of the Dead and Other Works in Prose and Verse. The Text Edited by A. R. Waller |
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 | Matthew Prior. Dialogues of the Dead and Other Works |  |
[POEMS FROM THE New Collection, 1725]
Epitaph Extempore.
Heralds, and Statesmen, by your leave,Here lye the Bones of Matthew Prior;
The Son of Adam and of Eve,
Can Bourbon, or Nassau, go higher?
58
THE Turtle and the Sparrow.
A TALE.
Behind an unfrequented Glade,
Where Eugh and Myrtle mix their Shade,
A Widow Turtle pensive sat,
And wept her murder'd Lover's Fate.
The Sparrow chanc'd that Way to walk,
(A Bird that loves to chirp and talk)
Besure he did the Turtle greet,
She answer'd him as she thought meet.
Sparrows and Turtles by the bye,
Can think as well as You or I:
But how they did their Thoughts express,
The Margin shows by T, and S.
T.
Where Eugh and Myrtle mix their Shade,
A Widow Turtle pensive sat,
And wept her murder'd Lover's Fate.
The Sparrow chanc'd that Way to walk,
(A Bird that loves to chirp and talk)
Besure he did the Turtle greet,
She answer'd him as she thought meet.
Sparrows and Turtles by the bye,
Can think as well as You or I:
But how they did their Thoughts express,
The Margin shows by T, and S.
My Hopes are lost, my Joys are fled,
Alas! I weep Columbo dead:
Come all ye winged Lovers, come,
Drop Pinks and Daisies on his Tomb:
Sing Philomel his Fun'ral Verse,
Ye pious Redbreasts deck his Herse:
Fair Swans extend your Dying-throats,
Columbo's Death requires your Notes:
For Him, my Friends, for Him I moan,
My dear Columbo, dead and gone.
Alas! I weep Columbo dead:
Come all ye winged Lovers, come,
Drop Pinks and Daisies on his Tomb:
Sing Philomel his Fun'ral Verse,
Ye pious Redbreasts deck his Herse:
Fair Swans extend your Dying-throats,
Columbo's Death requires your Notes:
For Him, my Friends, for Him I moan,
My dear Columbo, dead and gone.
Stretch'd on the Bier Columbo lies,
Pale are his Cheeks, and clos'd his Eyes;
Those Cheeks, where Beauty smiling lay;
Those Eyes, where Love was us'd to play:
Ah cruel Fate, alas! how soon
That Beauty and those Joys are flown!
Pale are his Cheeks, and clos'd his Eyes;
Those Cheeks, where Beauty smiling lay;
Those Eyes, where Love was us'd to play:
Ah cruel Fate, alas! how soon
That Beauty and those Joys are flown!
59
Columbo is no more, ye Floods,
Bear the sad Sound to distant Woods;
The Sound let Echo's Voice restore,
And say, Columbo is no more.
Ye Floods, ye Woods, ye Echoes, moan
My dear Columbo, dead and gone.
Bear the sad Sound to distant Woods;
The Sound let Echo's Voice restore,
And say, Columbo is no more.
Ye Floods, ye Woods, ye Echoes, moan
My dear Columbo, dead and gone.
The Driads all forsook the Wood,
And mournful Naiads round me stood,
The tripping Fauns and Fairies came,
All conscious of our mutual Flame,
To sigh for him, with me to moan,
My dear Columbo, dead and gone.
And mournful Naiads round me stood,
The tripping Fauns and Fairies came,
All conscious of our mutual Flame,
To sigh for him, with me to moan,
My dear Columbo, dead and gone.
Venus disdain'd not to appear
To lend my Grief a Friendly Ear;
But what avails her Kindness now?
She ne'er shall hear my Second Vow:
The Loves that round their Mother flew,
Did in her Face her Sorrows view.
Their drooping Wings they pensive hung,
Their Arrows broke, their Bows unstrung;
They heard attentive what I said,
And wept with me, Columbo dead:
For Him I sigh, for Him I moan,
My dear Columbo, dead and gone.
To lend my Grief a Friendly Ear;
But what avails her Kindness now?
She ne'er shall hear my Second Vow:
The Loves that round their Mother flew,
Did in her Face her Sorrows view.
Their drooping Wings they pensive hung,
Their Arrows broke, their Bows unstrung;
They heard attentive what I said,
And wept with me, Columbo dead:
For Him I sigh, for Him I moan,
My dear Columbo, dead and gone.
'Tis Ours to Weep, great Venus said,
'Tis JOVE's alone to be Obey'd:
Nor Birds, nor Goddesses can move
The just Behests of Fatal JOVE;
I saw thy Mate with sad Regret,
And curs'd the Fowler's cruel Net:
Ah, dear Columbo, how he fell,
Whom Turturella lov'd so well!
I saw him bleeding on the Ground,
The Sight tore up my ancient Wound;
And whilst you wept, alas, I cry'd,
Columbo and Adonis Dy'd.
'Tis JOVE's alone to be Obey'd:
Nor Birds, nor Goddesses can move
The just Behests of Fatal JOVE;
I saw thy Mate with sad Regret,
And curs'd the Fowler's cruel Net:
Ah, dear Columbo, how he fell,
Whom Turturella lov'd so well!
I saw him bleeding on the Ground,
The Sight tore up my ancient Wound;
And whilst you wept, alas, I cry'd,
Columbo and Adonis Dy'd.
Weep all ye Streams, ye Mountains groan,
I mourn Columbo, dead and gone;
Still let my tender Grief complain,
Nor Day, nor Night that Grief restrain,
I said, and Venus still reply'd,
Columbo and Adonis Dy'd.
I mourn Columbo, dead and gone;
Still let my tender Grief complain,
Nor Day, nor Night that Grief restrain,
60
Columbo and Adonis Dy'd.
S.
Poor Turturella, hard thy Case,
And just thy Tears, alas, alas!
T.
And hast thou lov'd, and canst thou hear
With piteous Heart a Lover's Care?
Come then, wi[t]h Me thy Sorrows join,
And ease My Woes by telling Thine:
For Thou, poor Bird, perhaps may'st moan
Some Passerella dead and gone.
S.
Dame Turtle, this runs soft in Rhime,
But neither suits the Place nor Time;
That Fowler's Hand, whose cruel Care
For dear Columbo set the Snare,
The Snare again for Thee may set;
Two Birds may perish in One Net.
Thou shou'd'st avoid this cruel Field,
And Sorrow shou'd to Prudence yield.
'Tis sad to Die.
T.
It may be so;
'Tis sadder yet, to Live in Woe.
S.
When Widows use their canting Strain,
They seem resolv'd to wed again.
T.
When Wid'wers wou'd this Truth disprove,
They never tasted real Love.
S.
Love is soft Joy and gentle Strife,
His Efforts all depend on Life:
When he has thrown Two Golden Darts,
And struck the Lovers mutual Hearts;
Of his black Shafts let Death send One,
Alas! the pleasing Game is done,
Ill is the poor Survivor sped,
A Corps feels mighty cold in Bed.
Venus said right, nor Tears can move,
Nor plaints revoke the Will of JOVE.
All must obey the gen'ral Doom,
Down from Alcides to Tom Thumb.
Grim Pluto will not be withstood
By Force or Craft; Tall Robinhood,
As well as Little John, is dead.
(You see how deeply I am read)
With Fate's lean Tipstaff none can dodge,
He'll find you out where e'er you lodge.
Ajax to shun his gen'ral Pow'r,
In vain absconded in a Flower.
An idle Scene Tythonus acted,
When to a Grass-hopper contracted:
Death struck them in those Shapes again,
As once he did when they were Men.
Down from Alcides to Tom Thumb.
Grim Pluto will not be withstood
By Force or Craft; Tall Robinhood,
As well as Little John, is dead.
(You see how deeply I am read)
61
He'll find you out where e'er you lodge.
Ajax to shun his gen'ral Pow'r,
In vain absconded in a Flower.
An idle Scene Tythonus acted,
When to a Grass-hopper contracted:
Death struck them in those Shapes again,
As once he did when they were Men.
For Reptiles perish, Plants decay,
Flesh is but Grass, Grass turns to Hay,
And Hay to Dung, and Dung to Clay.
Flesh is but Grass, Grass turns to Hay,
And Hay to Dung, and Dung to Clay.
Thus Heads extreamly nice, discover,
That Folks may Die, some Ten times over;
But oft by too refin'd a touch,
To prove Things plain, they prove too much.
What e'er Pythagoras may say,
(For each, you know, will have his Way)
With great Submission I pronounce,
That People Die no more than Once:
But Once is sure, and Death is Common
To Bird and Man including Woman.
From the Spread Eagle to the Wren,
Alas! no Mortal Fowl knows when;
All that wear Feathers first or last,
Must one Day perch on Charon's Mast;
Must lye beneath the Cypress Shades,
Where Strada's Nightingale was laid.
Those Fowl who seem Alive to sit,
Assembled by Dan Chaucer's Wit,
In Prose have slept Three Hundred Years,
Exempt from worldly Hopes and Fears,
And laid in State upon their Herse,
Are truly but embalm'd in Verse.
As sure as Lesbia's Sparrow I,
Thou, sure as Prior's Dove, must Die:
And ne'er again from Lethe's Streams
Return to Adda, or to Thames.
T.
That Folks may Die, some Ten times over;
But oft by too refin'd a touch,
To prove Things plain, they prove too much.
What e'er Pythagoras may say,
(For each, you know, will have his Way)
With great Submission I pronounce,
That People Die no more than Once:
But Once is sure, and Death is Common
To Bird and Man including Woman.
From the Spread Eagle to the Wren,
Alas! no Mortal Fowl knows when;
All that wear Feathers first or last,
Must one Day perch on Charon's Mast;
Must lye beneath the Cypress Shades,
Where Strada's Nightingale was laid.
Those Fowl who seem Alive to sit,
Assembled by Dan Chaucer's Wit,
In Prose have slept Three Hundred Years,
Exempt from worldly Hopes and Fears,
And laid in State upon their Herse,
Are truly but embalm'd in Verse.
As sure as Lesbia's Sparrow I,
Thou, sure as Prior's Dove, must Die:
And ne'er again from Lethe's Streams
Return to Adda, or to Thames.
I therefore weep Columbo dead,
My Hopes bereav'd, my Pleasures fled;
62
My dear Columbo dead and gone.
S.
Columbo never sees your Tears,
Your Cries Columbo never hears;
A Wall of Brass, and one of Lead,
Divide the Living from the Dead.
Repell'd by this, the gather'd Rain
Of Tears beats back to Earth again,
In t'other the Collected Sound
Of Groans, when once receiv'd, is drown'd.
'Tis therefore vain one Hour to grieve
What Time it-self can ne'er retrieve,
By Nature soft, I know, a Dove
Can never live without her Love;
Then quit this Flame, and light another;
Dame, I advise you like a Brother.
T.
What, I to make a second Choice?
In other Nuptials to rejoyce?
S.
Why not my Bird?
T.
No Sparrow no,
Let me indulge my pleasing woe:
Thus sighing, coeing, ease my Pain,
But never wish nor love again:
Distress'd for ever let me moan
My dear Columbo, dead and gone.
S.
Our winged Friends thro' all the Grove
Contemn thy mad Excess of Love:
I tell thee, Dame, the t'other Day
I met a Parrot and a Jay,
Who mock'd thee in their mimick Tone,
And wept Columbo, dead and gone.
T.
Whate'er the Jay or Parrot said,
My Hopes are lost, my Joys are fled;
And I for ever must deplore
Columbo dead and gone.—
S.
Encore!
For Shame forsake this BION-style,
We'll talk an Hour, and walk a Mile.
Does it with Sense or Health agree,
To sit thus mopeing on a Tree?
To throw away a Widow's Life,
When you again may be a Wife.
63
Come on, I'll tell you my Amours;
Who knows but they may infl'ence Yours?
Example draws, where Precept fails,
And Sermons are less read than Tales.
T.
Who knows but they may infl'ence Yours?
Example draws, where Precept fails,
And Sermons are less read than Tales.
Sparrow, I take thee for my Friend,
As such will hear thee, I descend;
Hop on and talk, but honest Bird,
Take care that no immodest Word
May venture to offend my Ear.—
S.
Too Saint-like Turtle, never fear,—
By Method Things are best discours'd,
Begin we then with Wife the first:
A handsome, senseless, awkward Fool
Who wou'd not Yield, and cou'd not Rule:
Her Actions did her Charms disgrace,
And still her Tongue talk'd off her Face:
Count me the Leaves on yonder Tree,
So many diff'rent Wills had she,
And like the Leaves, as Chance inclin'd,
Those Wills were chang'd with every Wind:
She courted the Beau Monde To-night,
L'Assemblèe her supreme Delight.
The next she sat immur'd, unseen,
And in full Health enjoy'd the Spleen.
She censur'd that, she alter'd this,
And with great Care set all amiss;
She now cou'd chide, now laugh, now cry,
Now sing, now pout, all, God knows why:
Short was her Reign, she Cough'd and Dy'd,
Proceed we to my Second Bride;
Well Born she was, genteely Bred,
And Buxom both at Board and Bed,
Glad to oblige, and pleas'd to please,
And, as Tom Southren wisely says,
No other Fault had she in Life,
But only that she was my Wife.
O Widow-Turtle! every She,
(So Nature's Pleasure does Decree)
Appears a Goddess till enjoy'd,
But Birds, and Men, and Gods are cloy'd.
64
Or Jove for ever Leda's Swan?
Ah! Madam, cease to be mistaken,
Few marry'd Fowl peck Dunmow-Bacon.
Variety alone gives Joy,
The sweetest Meats the soonest cloy:
What Sparrow, Dame? what Dove alive?
Tho' Venus shou'd the Char'ot drive,
But wou'd accuse the Harness-Weight,
If always Coupled to One Mate;
And often wish the Fetter broke,
'Tis Freedom but to Change the Yoke.
T.
Impious to wish to Wed again,
E'er Death dissolv'd the former Chain.
S.
Spare your Remark, and hear the rest,
She brought me Sons, but Jove be blest,
She Dy'd in Child-Bed on the Nest.
Well, rest her Bones, quoth I, she's gone:
But must I therefore lye alone?
What, am I to her Memory ty'd?
Must I not Live, because she Dy'd?
And thus I Logically said,
('Tis good to have a Reas'ning-Head)
Is this my Wife? Probatur, not;
For Death dissolv'd the Marriage-Knot:
She was, Concedo, during Life;
But, is a Piece of Clay, a Wife?
Again, if not a Wife, d'ye see,
Why then no Kin at all to me:
And he who gen'ral Tears can shed
For Folks that happen to be Dead,
May e'en with equal Justice mourn
For those who never yet were born.
T.
But must I therefore lye alone?
What, am I to her Memory ty'd?
Must I not Live, because she Dy'd?
And thus I Logically said,
('Tis good to have a Reas'ning-Head)
Is this my Wife? Probatur, not;
For Death dissolv'd the Marriage-Knot:
She was, Concedo, during Life;
But, is a Piece of Clay, a Wife?
Again, if not a Wife, d'ye see,
Why then no Kin at all to me:
And he who gen'ral Tears can shed
For Folks that happen to be Dead,
May e'en with equal Justice mourn
For those who never yet were born.
Those Points indeed you quaintly prove,
But Logick is no Friend to Love.
S.
My Children then were just pen feather'd:
Some little Corn for them I gather'd,
And sent them to my Spouse's Mother,
So left that Brood to get another.
65
Reflecting on Anne Bullen Dead,
Cocksbones, I now again do stand
The jolly'st Batchelor i'th' Land.
T.
Ah me! my Joys, my Hopes are fled;
My first, my only Love is Dead.
With endless Grief let me bemoan
Columbo's Loss. S. Let me go on.
As yet my Fortune was but narrow,
I woo'd my Cousin Philly Sparrow,
O'th' Elder House of Chirping-End,
From whence the younger Branch descend;
Well seated in a Field of Pease
She liv'd, extreamly at her Ease:
But when the Honey-Moon was past,
The following Nights were soon o'ercast,
She kept her own, could plead the Law,
And Quarrel for a Barley-Straw;
Both, you may judge became less kind,
As more we knew each other's Mind:
She soon grew sullen, I, hard-hearted,
We scolded, hated, fought, and parted.
To LONDON, blessed Town, I went,
She Boarded at a Farm in Kent:
A Magpye from the Country fled,
And kindly told me she was Dead:
I prun'd my Feathers, cock'd my Tail,
And set my Heart again to Sale.
My Fourth, a meer Coquet, or such
I thought her, nor avails it much,
If true or false, our Troubles spring
More from the Fancy than the Thing.
Two staring Horns, I often said,
But ill become a Sparrow's Head;
But then, to set that Balance even,
Your Cuckold-Sparrow goes to Heaven.
The Thing you fear, suppose it done,
If you enquire, you make it known.
Whilst at the Root your Horns are sore,
The more you scratch, they ake the more.
But turn the Tables and reflect,
All may not be, that you suspect:
By the Mind's Eye, the Horns, we mean,
Are only in Ideas seen,
'Tis from the inside of the Head
Their Branches shoot, their Antlers spread;
Fruitful Suspicions often bear them,
You feel 'em from the Time you fear 'em.
Cuckoo! Cuckoo! that Echo'd word,
Offends the Ear of Vulgar Bird;
But those of finer Taste have found
There's nothing in't beside the sound.
Preferment always waits on Horns,
And Houshold Peace the Gift adorns:
This Way, or That, let Factions tend,
The Spark is still the Cuckold's Friend;
This Way, or That, let Madam roam,
Well pleas'd and quiet she comes home.
Now weigh the Pleasure with the Pain,
The plus and minus, Loss and Gain,
And what La Fontaine laughing says,
Is serious Truth, in such a Case;
Who slights the Evil, finds it least,
And who does Nothing, does the best.
I never strove to rule the Roast,
She ne'er refus'd to pledge my Toast:
In Visits if we chanc'd [t]o meet,
I seem'd obliging, she discreet;
We neither much caress'd, nor strove,
But good Dissembling pass'd for Love.
T.
I thought her, nor avails it much,
If true or false, our Troubles spring
More from the Fancy than the Thing.
Two staring Horns, I often said,
But ill become a Sparrow's Head;
But then, to set that Balance even,
Your Cuckold-Sparrow goes to Heaven.
The Thing you fear, suppose it done,
If you enquire, you make it known.
Whilst at the Root your Horns are sore,
The more you scratch, they ake the more.
66
All may not be, that you suspect:
By the Mind's Eye, the Horns, we mean,
Are only in Ideas seen,
'Tis from the inside of the Head
Their Branches shoot, their Antlers spread;
Fruitful Suspicions often bear them,
You feel 'em from the Time you fear 'em.
Cuckoo! Cuckoo! that Echo'd word,
Offends the Ear of Vulgar Bird;
But those of finer Taste have found
There's nothing in't beside the sound.
Preferment always waits on Horns,
And Houshold Peace the Gift adorns:
This Way, or That, let Factions tend,
The Spark is still the Cuckold's Friend;
This Way, or That, let Madam roam,
Well pleas'd and quiet she comes home.
Now weigh the Pleasure with the Pain,
The plus and minus, Loss and Gain,
And what La Fontaine laughing says,
Is serious Truth, in such a Case;
Who slights the Evil, finds it least,
And who does Nothing, does the best.
I never strove to rule the Roast,
She ne'er refus'd to pledge my Toast:
In Visits if we chanc'd [t]o meet,
I seem'd obliging, she discreet;
We neither much caress'd, nor strove,
But good Dissembling pass'd for Love.
Whate'er of Light our Eye may know,
'Tis only Light it-self can show:
Whate'er of Love our Heart can feel,
'Tis mutual Love alone can tell.
S.
My pretty, amorous, foolish Bird,
A Moment's Patience, in one Word,
The Three kind Sisters broke the Chain,
She Dy'd, I mourn'd, and woo'd again.
T.
Let me with juster Grief deplore
My dear Columbo, now no more;
67
S.
Your Sorrow does but spoil my Tale.
My Fifth she prov'd a jealous Wife,
Lord shield us all from such a Life!
'Twas Doubt, Complaint, Reply, Chit-Chat,
'Twas This, To-day, To-morrow, That.
Sometimes forsooth, upon the Brook,
I kept a Miss; an honest Rook
Told it a Snipe, who told a Stear,
Who told it those, who told it her.
One Day a Linnet and a Lark
Had met me stroleing in the Dark;
The next, a Woodcock and an Owl
Quick-sighted, grave, and sober Fowl,
Wou'd on their Corp'ral Oath alledge,
I kiss'd a Hen behind the Hedge.
Well, Madam Turtle, to be brief,
(Repeating but renews our Grief)
As once she watch'd me, from a Rail,
Poor Soul! her Footing chanc'd to fail,
And down she fell, and broke her Hip,
The Fever came, and then the Pip:
Death did the only cure apply;
She was at quiet, so was I.
T.
Cou'd Love unmov'd these Changes view?
His Sorrows, as his Joys are true.
S.
My dearest Dove, One wise Man says,
Alluding to our present Case,
We're here To-day, and gone To-morrow:
Then what avails superfl'ous Sorrow?
Another full as wise as he,
Adds; that a Marry'd Man may see
Two happy Hours; and which are they?
The First and Last, perhaps you'll say;
'Tis true, when blithe she goes to Bed,
And when she peaceably lies Dead;
Women 'twixt Sheets are best, 'tis said,
Be they of Holland or of Lead.
Now cur'd of Hymen's Hopes and Fears,
And sliding down the Vale of Years,
I hoped to fix my future Rest,
And took a Widow to my Nest.
Ah Turtle! had she been like Thee,
Sober, yet gentle; wise, yet free;
But she was peevish, noisy, bold,
A Witch ingrafted on a Scold:
Jove in Pandora's Box confin'd
A Hundred Ills to vex Mankind;
To vex one Bird, in her Bandore
He hid at least a Hundred more:
And soon as Time that Veil withdrew,
The Plagues o'er all the Parish flew;
Her Stock of borrow'd Tears grew dry,
And Native Tempests arm'd her Eye,
Black Clouds around her Forehead hung,
And Thunder rattled on her Tongue.
We, Young or Old, or Cock or Hen,
All liv'd in Æolus's Den;
The nearest her, the more accurst,
Ill far'd her Friends, her Husband worst.
But JOVE amidst his Anger spares,
Remarks our Faults, but hears our Pray'rs.
In short, she Dy'd, why then she's Dead
Quoth I, and once again I'll wed.
Wou'd Heaven this Mourning Year was past,
One may have better Luck at last.
Matters at worst are sure to mend,
The DEVIL's Wife was but a Fiend.
T.
And sliding down the Vale of Years,
68
And took a Widow to my Nest.
Ah Turtle! had she been like Thee,
Sober, yet gentle; wise, yet free;
But she was peevish, noisy, bold,
A Witch ingrafted on a Scold:
Jove in Pandora's Box confin'd
A Hundred Ills to vex Mankind;
To vex one Bird, in her Bandore
He hid at least a Hundred more:
And soon as Time that Veil withdrew,
The Plagues o'er all the Parish flew;
Her Stock of borrow'd Tears grew dry,
And Native Tempests arm'd her Eye,
Black Clouds around her Forehead hung,
And Thunder rattled on her Tongue.
We, Young or Old, or Cock or Hen,
All liv'd in Æolus's Den;
The nearest her, the more accurst,
Ill far'd her Friends, her Husband worst.
But JOVE amidst his Anger spares,
Remarks our Faults, but hears our Pray'rs.
In short, she Dy'd, why then she's Dead
Quoth I, and once again I'll wed.
Wou'd Heaven this Mourning Year was past,
One may have better Luck at last.
Matters at worst are sure to mend,
The DEVIL's Wife was but a Fiend.
Thy Tale has rais'd a Turtle's Spleen,
Uxorious Inmate, Bird obscene,
Dar'st thou defile these Sacred Groves,
These silent Seats of faithful Loves?
Begone, with flagging Wings sit down
On some old Pent-house near the Town;
In Brewers-Stables peck thy Grain,
Then wash it down with puddled Rain:
And hear thy dirty Off-spring Squall
From Bottles on a Suburb-Wall.
Where Thou hast been, return again,
Vile Bird! Thou hast convers'd with Men;
69
Those vilest Creatures under Heav'n.
To Cities and to Courts repair,
Flatt'ry and Falshood flourish there:
There, all thy wretched Arts employ,
Where Riches triumph over Joy;
Where Passions do with Int'rest Barter,
And Hymen holds, by Mammon's Charter;
Where Truth by Point of Law is Parry'd,
And Knaves and Prudes are Six-Times Marry'd.
Flatt'ry and Falshood flourish there:
There, all thy wretched Arts employ,
Where Riches triumph over Joy;
Where Passions do with Int'rest Barter,
And Hymen holds, by Mammon's Charter;
Where Truth by Point of Law is Parry'd,
And Knaves and Prudes are Six-Times Marry'd.
APPLICATION OF THE TURTLE and SPARROW.
O dearest daughter of two dearest friends,To thee, my muse, this little tale commends;
Loving, and lov'd, regard thy future mate,
Long love his person, tho' deplore his fate.
Seem young, when old, in thy dear husband's arms,
For constant virtue has immortal charms;
And when I lie low sepulcher'd in earth,
And the glad year returns thy day of birth,
Vouchsafe to say e'er I cou'd write or spell,
The Bard, who from my cradle wish'd me well,
Told me I should the prating Sparrow blame,
And bid me imitate the Turtle's fame.
70
DOWN-HALL;
A BALLAD.
I Sing not old Jason, who Travell'd thro' Greece,
To Kiss the fair Maids, and possess the rich Fleece:
Nor Sing I Æneas, who led by his Mother,
Got rid of One Wife, and went far for another,
Derry down, down, hey derry down.
To Kiss the fair Maids, and possess the rich Fleece:
Nor Sing I Æneas, who led by his Mother,
Got rid of One Wife, and went far for another,
Derry down, down, hey derry down.
Nor Him who thro' Asia and Europe did roam,
Ulysses by Name, who ne'er cry'd to go home;
But rather desir'd to see Cities and Men,
Than return to his Farms, and Converse with old Pen.
Ulysses by Name, who ne'er cry'd to go home;
But rather desir'd to see Cities and Men,
Than return to his Farms, and Converse with old Pen.
Hang Homer and Virgil; their meaning to seek,
A Man must have pok'd in the Latin and Greek;
Those who Love our own Tongue, we have Reason to hope,
Have read them Translated by Dryden and Pope.
A Man must have pok'd in the Latin and Greek;
Those who Love our own Tongue, we have Reason to hope,
Have read them Translated by Dryden and Pope.
But I Sing Exploits, that have lately been doen
By Two British Heroes, call'd Matthew and John:
And how they rid Friendly from fine London-Town,
Fair Essex to see, and a Place they call DOWN.
By Two British Heroes, call'd Matthew and John:
And how they rid Friendly from fine London-Town,
Fair Essex to see, and a Place they call DOWN.
Now e'er they went out, you may rightly suppose,
How much they Discours'd, both in Prudence and Prose:
For before this great Journey was throughly concerted,
Full often they met; and as often they parted.
How much they Discours'd, both in Prudence and Prose:
For before this great Journey was throughly concerted,
Full often they met; and as often they parted.
And thus Matthew said, look you here, my Friend John,
I fairly have Travell'd Years Thirty and One;
And tho' I still carry'd my Soveraign's Warrants,
I only have gone upon other Folks Errands.
I fairly have Travell'd Years Thirty and One;
And tho' I still carry'd my Soveraign's Warrants,
I only have gone upon other Folks Errands.
71
And now in this Journey of Life, I wou'd have
A Place where to Bait, t'wixt the Court and the Grave;
Where joyful to Live, not unwilling to Die—
Gadzooks, I have just such a Place in my Eye.
A Place where to Bait, t'wixt the Court and the Grave;
Where joyful to Live, not unwilling to Die—
Gadzooks, I have just such a Place in my Eye.
There are Gardens so Stately, and Arbors so Thick,
A Portal of Stone, and a Fabrick of Brick.
The Matter next Week shall be all in your Pow'r;
But the Money, Gadzooks, must be Paid in an Hour.
A Portal of Stone, and a Fabrick of Brick.
The Matter next Week shall be all in your Pow'r;
But the Money, Gadzooks, must be Paid in an Hour.
For Things in this World, must by Law be made certain,
We Both must repair unto Oliver Martin;
For he is a Lawyer of worthy Renown.
I'll bring You to see; he must fix you at DOWN.
We Both must repair unto Oliver Martin;
For he is a Lawyer of worthy Renown.
I'll bring You to see; he must fix you at DOWN.
Quoth Matthew, I know, that from Berwick to Dover,
You have Sold all our Premisses over and over.
And now if your Buyers and Sellers agree,
You may throw all our Acres into the South-Sea.
You have Sold all our Premisses over and over.
And now if your Buyers and Sellers agree,
You may throw all our Acres into the South-Sea.
But a word to the Purpose; To-morrow, dear Friend,
We'll see, what To-night you so highly commend.
And if with a Garden and House I am blest;
Let the Devil and Con—y go with the rest.
We'll see, what To-night you so highly commend.
And if with a Garden and House I am blest;
Let the Devil and Con—y go with the rest.
Then answer'd Squire Morley, pray get a Calesch,
That in Summer may Burn, and in Winter may Splash:
I love Dirt and Dust; and 'tis always my Pleasure,
To take with me much of the Soil which I Measure.
That in Summer may Burn, and in Winter may Splash:
I love Dirt and Dust; and 'tis always my Pleasure,
To take with me much of the Soil which I Measure.
But Matthew thought better: for Matthew thought right,
And hired a Chariot so trim and so tight,
That extreams both of Winter and Summer might pass;
For one Window was Canvas, the t'other was Glass.
And hired a Chariot so trim and so tight,
That extreams both of Winter and Summer might pass;
For one Window was Canvas, the t'other was Glass.
Draw up quoth Friend Matthew; pull down quoth Friend John,
We shall be both Hotter and Colder anon.
Thus Talking and Scolding, they forward did Speed;
And Ralpho pac'd by, under Newman the Sweed.
We shall be both Hotter and Colder anon.
Thus Talking and Scolding, they forward did Speed;
And Ralpho pac'd by, under Newman the Sweed.
Into an old Inn, did this Equipage roll,
At a Town they call Hodsdon, the Sign of the Bull,
Near a Nymph with an Urn, that divides the High-way,
And into a Puddle throws Mother of Tea.
At a Town they call Hodsdon, the Sign of the Bull,
Near a Nymph with an Urn, that divides the High-way,
And into a Puddle throws Mother of Tea.
72
Come here my sweet Landlady, pray how do you do?
Where is Sisley so cleanly, and Prudence and Sue?
And where is the Widow that dwelt here below?
And the Hostler that Sung about Eight Years ago?
Where is Sisley so cleanly, and Prudence and Sue?
And where is the Widow that dwelt here below?
And the Hostler that Sung about Eight Years ago?
And where is your Sister so mild and so dear?
Whose Voice to her Maids like a Trumpet was clear,
By my Troth, She replies, you grow Younger, I think:
And pray Sir, what Wine does the Gentleman drink?
Whose Voice to her Maids like a Trumpet was clear,
By my Troth, She replies, you grow Younger, I think:
And pray Sir, what Wine does the Gentleman drink?
Why now let me Die, Sir, or live upon Trust,
If I know to which Question to answer you first.
Why Things since I saw you, most strangely have vary'd,
And the Hostler is Hang'd, and the Widow is Marry'd.
If I know to which Question to answer you first.
Why Things since I saw you, most strangely have vary'd,
And the Hostler is Hang'd, and the Widow is Marry'd.
And Prue left a Child for the Parish to Nurse;
And Sisley went off with a Gentleman's Purse;
And as to my Sister so mild and so dear,
She has lain in the Church-yard full many a Year.
And Sisley went off with a Gentleman's Purse;
And as to my Sister so mild and so dear,
She has lain in the Church-yard full many a Year.
Well, Peace to her Ashes; what signifies Grief:
She Roasted red-Veal, and she Powder'd lean-Beef:
Full nicely she knew to Cook up a fine Dish;
For tough was her Pullets, and tender her Fish.
She Roasted red-Veal, and she Powder'd lean-Beef:
Full nicely she knew to Cook up a fine Dish;
For tough was her Pullets, and tender her Fish.
For that matter, Sir, be ye Squire, Knight, or Lord,
I'll give you whate'er a good Inn can afford:
I shou'd look on myself as unhappily Sped,
Did I yield to a Sister, or Living, or Dead.
I'll give you whate'er a good Inn can afford:
I shou'd look on myself as unhappily Sped,
Did I yield to a Sister, or Living, or Dead.
Of Mutton, a delicate Neck and a Breast,
Shall Swim in the Water in which they were Drest:
And because You great Folks are with Rarities taken,
Addle-Eggs shall be next Course, tost up with rank-Bacon.
Shall Swim in the Water in which they were Drest:
And because You great Folks are with Rarities taken,
Addle-Eggs shall be next Course, tost up with rank-Bacon.
The Supper was Serv'd, and the Sheets they were laid;
And Morley most lovingly whisper'd the Maid.
The Maid was She handsome? why truly so, so:
But what Morley whisper'd, we never shall know.
And Morley most lovingly whisper'd the Maid.
The Maid was She handsome? why truly so, so:
But what Morley whisper'd, we never shall know.
Then up rose these Heroes as brisk as the Sun,
And their Horses like his, were prepared to Run.
Now when in the Morning Matt. ask'd for the Score,
John kindly had paid it the Evening before.
And their Horses like his, were prepared to Run.
Now when in the Morning Matt. ask'd for the Score,
John kindly had paid it the Evening before.
73
Their Breakfast so warm to be sure they did Eat:
A Custom in Travellers, mighty Discreet,
And thus with great Friendship and glee they went on
To find out the Place you shall hear of anon,
call'd Down, down, hey derry down.
A Custom in Travellers, mighty Discreet,
And thus with great Friendship and glee they went on
To find out the Place you shall hear of anon,
call'd Down, down, hey derry down.
But what did they talk of from Morning 'till Noon?
Why, of Spots in the Sun, and the Man in the Moon:
Of the Czar's gentle Temper, the Stocks in the City,
The wise Men of Greece, and the Secret-Committee.
Why, of Spots in the Sun, and the Man in the Moon:
Of the Czar's gentle Temper, the Stocks in the City,
The wise Men of Greece, and the Secret-Committee.
So to Harlow they came; and hey, where are You all?
Show Us into the Parlor, and mind when I call:
Why, your Maids have no motion, your Men have no life;
Well Master, I hear you have Bury'd your Wife.
Show Us into the Parlor, and mind when I call:
Why, your Maids have no motion, your Men have no life;
Well Master, I hear you have Bury'd your Wife.
Come this very instant, take Care to provide
Tea, Sugar, and Toast, and a Horse, and a Guide.
Are the Harrison's here, both the Old and the Young?
And where stands fair Down, the delight of my Song?
Tea, Sugar, and Toast, and a Horse, and a Guide.
Are the Harrison's here, both the Old and the Young?
And where stands fair Down, the delight of my Song?
O Squire, to the Grief of my Heart, I may say,
I have Bury'd Two Wives since you Travell'd this way;
And the Harrison's both may be presently here;
And DOWN stands, I think, where it stood the last Year.
I have Bury'd Two Wives since you Travell'd this way;
And the Harrison's both may be presently here;
And DOWN stands, I think, where it stood the last Year.
Then Joan brought the Tea-pot, and Caleb the Toast;
And the Wine was froth'd-out by the Hand of my Host:
But we clear'd our Extempore Banquet so fast,
That the Harrison's both were forgot in the haste.
And the Wine was froth'd-out by the Hand of my Host:
But we clear'd our Extempore Banquet so fast,
That the Harrison's both were forgot in the haste.
Now hey for Down-Hall; for the Guide he was got:
The Chariot was mounted; the Horses did trot;
The Guide he did bring us a Dozen Mile round:
But O! all in vain; for no Down cou'd be found.
The Chariot was mounted; the Horses did trot;
The Guide he did bring us a Dozen Mile round:
But O! all in vain; for no Down cou'd be found.
O! thou Popish Guide, thou hast led us astray.
Says he; how the Devil shou'd I know the way?
I never yet travell'd this Road in my life:
[B]ut Down lyes on the left, I was told by my Wife.
Says he; how the Devil shou'd I know the way?
I never yet travell'd this Road in my life:
[B]ut Down lyes on the left, I was told by my Wife.
Thy Wife, answer'd Matthew, when she went abroad,
Ne'er told Thee of half the bye-ways she had trod:
Perhaps She met Friends, and brought Pence to Thy House
But Thou shalt go home without ever a Souse.
Ne'er told Thee of half the bye-ways she had trod:
Perhaps She met Friends, and brought Pence to Thy House
But Thou shalt go home without ever a Souse.
74
What is this thing Morley, and how can you mean it?
We have lost our Estate here, before we have seen it.
Have Patience, soft Morley in anger reply'd:
To find out our way, let us send off our Guide.
We have lost our Estate here, before we have seen it.
Have Patience, soft Morley in anger reply'd:
To find out our way, let us send off our Guide.
O here I spy Down: cast your Eye to the West,
Where a Wind-mill so stately stands plainly Confest.
On the West reply'd Matthew, no Wind-mill I find:
As well Thou may'st tell me, I see the West-wind.
Where a Wind-mill so stately stands plainly Confest.
On the West reply'd Matthew, no Wind-mill I find:
As well Thou may'st tell me, I see the West-wind.
Now pardon me, Morley, the Wind-mill I spy;
But faithful Achates, no House is there nigh.
Look again, says mild Morley, Gadzooks you are blind:
The Mill stands before; and the House lyes behind.
But faithful Achates, no House is there nigh.
Look again, says mild Morley, Gadzooks you are blind:
The Mill stands before; and the House lyes behind.
O now a low ruin'd white Shed I discern,
Untyl'd and unglaz'd; I believe 'tis a Barn,
A Barn? why you rave: 'Tis a House for a Squire,
A Justice of Peace, or a Knight of our Shire.
Untyl'd and unglaz'd; I believe 'tis a Barn,
A Barn? why you rave: 'Tis a House for a Squire,
A Justice of Peace, or a Knight of our Shire.
A House shou'd be Built, or with Brick, or with Stone.
Why, 'tis Plaster and Lath; and I think, that's all One.
And such as it is, it has stood with great Fame,
Been called a Hall, and has given its Name
To Down, down, hey derry down.
Why, 'tis Plaster and Lath; and I think, that's all One.
And such as it is, it has stood with great Fame,
Been called a Hall, and has given its Name
To Down, down, hey derry down.
O Morley, O Morley, if that be a Hall;
The Fame with the Building will suddenly fall—
With your Friend Jimmy Gibbs about Buildings agree,
My Business is Land; and it matters not me.
The Fame with the Building will suddenly fall—
With your Friend Jimmy Gibbs about Buildings agree,
My Business is Land; and it matters not me.
I wish you cou'd tell, what a duce your head ails:
I show'd you Down-Hall; did you look for Versailles?
Then take House and Farm, as John Ballet will let you:
For better for worse, as I took my Dame Betty.
I show'd you Down-Hall; did you look for Versailles?
Then take House and Farm, as John Ballet will let you:
For better for worse, as I took my Dame Betty.
And now, Sir, a word to the Wise is enough;
You'll make very little of all your Old Stuff:
And to build at your Age, by my Troth, you grow simple.
Are You Young and Rich, like the Master of Wimple?
You'll make very little of all your Old Stuff:
And to build at your Age, by my Troth, you grow simple.
Are You Young and Rich, like the Master of Wimple?
If You have these Whims of Apartments and Gardens,
From Twice Fifty Acres you'll ne'er see five Farthings:
And in Yours I shall find the true Gentleman's Fate:
E'er you finish your House, you'll have spent your Estate.
From Twice Fifty Acres you'll ne'er see five Farthings:
And in Yours I shall find the true Gentleman's Fate:
E'er you finish your House, you'll have spent your Estate.
75
Now let Us touch Thumbs, and be Friends e'er we part.
Here, John, is my Thumb; and here Matt, is my Heart.
To Halstead I speed; and You go back to Town.
Thus ends the First part of the Ballad of DOWN.
Derry down, down, hey derry down.
Here, John, is my Thumb; and here Matt, is my Heart.
To Halstead I speed; and You go back to Town.
Thus ends the First part of the Ballad of DOWN.
Derry down, down, hey derry down.
VERSES Spoke to the Lady Henrietta-Cavendish Holles Harley, In the LIBRARY of St. John's College, Cambridge
November the 9th, An. 1719.
Madam,
Since anna
visited the Muses Seat,
(Around Her Tomb let weeping Angels wait)
Hail Thou, the Brightest of thy Sex, and Best,
Most gracious Neighbour, and most welcome Guest.
Not Harley's Self to Cam and Isis dear,
In Virtues and in Arts great Oxford's Heir,
Not He such present Honours shall receive,
As to his Consort We aspire to give.
(Around Her Tomb let weeping Angels wait)
Hail Thou, the Brightest of thy Sex, and Best,
Most gracious Neighbour, and most welcome Guest.
Not Harley's Self to Cam and Isis dear,
In Virtues and in Arts great Oxford's Heir,
Not He such present Honours shall receive,
As to his Consort We aspire to give.
Writings of Men our Thought to Day neglects,
To pay due Homage to the Softer Sex:
Plato and Tully We forbear to read,
And their great Followers whom this House has bred,
To study Lessons from Thy Morals given,
And shining Characters, impress'd by Heaven.
Science in Books no longer We pursue,
Minerva's Self in Harriet's Face We view;
For when with Beauty we can Virtue join,
We paint the Semblance of a Form Divine.
To pay due Homage to the Softer Sex:
Plato and Tully We forbear to read,
And their great Followers whom this House has bred,
To study Lessons from Thy Morals given,
And shining Characters, impress'd by Heaven.
Science in Books no longer We pursue,
Minerva's Self in Harriet's Face We view;
For when with Beauty we can Virtue join,
We paint the Semblance of a Form Divine.
76
Their pious Incense let our Neighbours bring,
To the kind Mem'ry of some bounteous King,
With grateful Hand, due Altars let Them raise
To some good Knight's, or holy Prelate's Praise;
We tune our Voices to a nobler Theme,
Your Eyes We bless, your Praises We proclaim,
St. John's was founded in a Woman's Name:
Enjoin'd by Statute, to the Fair We bow;
In Spight of Time, We keep our antient Vow;
What Margaret Tudor was, is Harriet Harley now.
To the kind Mem'ry of some bounteous King,
With grateful Hand, due Altars let Them raise
To some good Knight's, or holy Prelate's Praise;
We tune our Voices to a nobler Theme,
Your Eyes We bless, your Praises We proclaim,
St. John's was founded in a Woman's Name:
Enjoin'd by Statute, to the Fair We bow;
In Spight of Time, We keep our antient Vow;
What Margaret Tudor was, is Harriet Harley now.
PROLOGUE TO THE ORPHAN.
Represented by some of the Westminster-Scholars at Hickford's Dancing-Room, the 2d of February, 1720.
What wou'd my humble Comrades have Me say?
Gentle Spectators, pray excuse the Play?
Such Work by hireling Actors shou'd be done,
Whom You may Clap or Hiss, for half a Crown:
Our generous Scenes for Friendship We repeat;
And if We don't delight, at least We treat.
Ours is the Damage, if We chance to blunder;
We may be ask'd whose Patent We act under.
Gentle Spectators, pray excuse the Play?
Such Work by hireling Actors shou'd be done,
Whom You may Clap or Hiss, for half a Crown:
Our generous Scenes for Friendship We repeat;
And if We don't delight, at least We treat.
Ours is the Damage, if We chance to blunder;
We may be ask'd whose Patent We act under.
How shall We gain you? A-la-mode de France?
We hir'd this Room; but none of Us can dance:
In cutting Capers We shall never please:
Our Learning does not lye below our Knees.
We hir'd this Room; but none of Us can dance:
In cutting Capers We shall never please:
Our Learning does not lye below our Knees.
77
Shall We procure You Symphony and Sound?
Then You must Each subscribe Two hundred Pound.
There We shou'd fail too, as to Point of Voice:
Mistake Us not; We're no Italian Boys:
True Britons born, from Westminster We come;
And only speak the Style of ancient Rome.
We wou'd deserve, not poorly beg Applause;
And stand or fall by Freind's or Busby's Laws.
Then You must Each subscribe Two hundred Pound.
There We shou'd fail too, as to Point of Voice:
Mistake Us not; We're no Italian Boys:
True Britons born, from Westminster We come;
And only speak the Style of ancient Rome.
We wou'd deserve, not poorly beg Applause;
And stand or fall by Freind's or Busby's Laws.
For the Distress'd Your Pity We implore:
If once refus'd, We trouble You no more,
But leave Our Orphan squawling at your Door.
If once refus'd, We trouble You no more,
But leave Our Orphan squawling at your Door.
THE CONVERSATION,
A TALE.
It always has been thought discreet,
To know the Company You meet;
And sure there may be secret Danger,
In talking much before a Stranger.
Agreed: What then? Then drink your Ale:
I'll pledge You, and repeat my Tale.
To know the Company You meet;
And sure there may be secret Danger,
In talking much before a Stranger.
Agreed: What then? Then drink your Ale:
I'll pledge You, and repeat my Tale.
No Matter where the Scene is fixt:
The Persons were but odly mixt;
When Sober Damon thus began:
(And Damon is a clever Man)
I now grow Old; but still, from Youth,
Have held for Modesty and Truth:
The Men who by these Sea-marks steer,
In Life's great Voyage never Err:
Upon this Point I dare defy
The World: I pause for a Reply.
The Persons were but odly mixt;
When Sober Damon thus began:
(And Damon is a clever Man)
I now grow Old; but still, from Youth,
Have held for Modesty and Truth:
The Men who by these Sea-marks steer,
In Life's great Voyage never Err:
Upon this Point I dare defy
The World: I pause for a Reply.
78
Sir, Either is a good Assistant:
Said One who sat a little distant:
Truth decks our Speeches and our Books;
And Modesty adorns our Looks:
But farther Progress We must take,
Not only born to Look and Speak:
The Man must Act. The Stagyrite
Says thus, and says extremely right:
Strict Justice is the Sov'raign Guide,
That o'er our Action shou'd preside:
This Queen of Virtues is confest,
To regulate and bind the rest.
Thrice Happy, if You once can find
Her equal Balance poize your Mind:
All different Graces soon will enter,
Like Lines concurrent to their Center.
Said One who sat a little distant:
Truth decks our Speeches and our Books;
And Modesty adorns our Looks:
But farther Progress We must take,
Not only born to Look and Speak:
The Man must Act. The Stagyrite
Says thus, and says extremely right:
Strict Justice is the Sov'raign Guide,
That o'er our Action shou'd preside:
This Queen of Virtues is confest,
To regulate and bind the rest.
Thrice Happy, if You once can find
Her equal Balance poize your Mind:
All different Graces soon will enter,
Like Lines concurrent to their Center.
'Twas thus, in short, these Two went on,
With Yea and Nay, and Pro and Con,
Thro' many Points divinely dark,
And Waterland assaulting Clarke;
'Till, in Theology half lost,
Damon took up the Evening-Post;
Confounded Spain, compos'd the North,
And deep in Politics held forth.
With Yea and Nay, and Pro and Con,
Thro' many Points divinely dark,
And Waterland assaulting Clarke;
'Till, in Theology half lost,
Damon took up the Evening-Post;
Confounded Spain, compos'd the North,
And deep in Politics held forth.
Methinks We're in the like Condition,
As at the Treaty of Partition:
That Stroke, for All King William's Care,
Begat another Tedious War:
Matthew, who knew the whole Intrigue,
Ne'er much approv'd That Mystic League.
In the vile Utrecht Treaty too,
Poor Man, He found enough to do:
Sometimes to Me he did apply;
But down-right Dunstable was I,
And told Him, where They were mistaken;
And counsell'd Him to save his Bacon:
But (pass His Politics and Prose)
I never herded with his Foes;
Nay, in his Verses, as a Friend,
I still found Something to commend:
Sir, I excus'd his Nut-Brown-Maid;
Whate'er severer Critics said:
Too far, I own, the Girl was try'd:
The Women All were on my Side.
For Alma I return'd Him Thanks:
I lik'd Her with Her little Pranks:
Indeed poor Solomon in Rhime
Was much too grave to be Sublime.
As at the Treaty of Partition:
That Stroke, for All King William's Care,
Begat another Tedious War:
Matthew, who knew the whole Intrigue,
Ne'er much approv'd That Mystic League.
In the vile Utrecht Treaty too,
Poor Man, He found enough to do:
Sometimes to Me he did apply;
But down-right Dunstable was I,
And told Him, where They were mistaken;
And counsell'd Him to save his Bacon:
But (pass His Politics and Prose)
I never herded with his Foes;
Nay, in his Verses, as a Friend,
79
Sir, I excus'd his Nut-Brown-Maid;
Whate'er severer Critics said:
Too far, I own, the Girl was try'd:
The Women All were on my Side.
For Alma I return'd Him Thanks:
I lik'd Her with Her little Pranks:
Indeed poor Solomon in Rhime
Was much too grave to be Sublime.
Pindar and Damon scorn Transition:
So on He ran a new Division;
'Till out of Breath he turn'd to spit:
(Chance often helps Us more than Wit)
T'other that lucky Moment took,
Just nick'd the Time, broke in, and spoke.
So on He ran a new Division;
'Till out of Breath he turn'd to spit:
(Chance often helps Us more than Wit)
T'other that lucky Moment took,
Just nick'd the Time, broke in, and spoke.
Of all the Gifts the Gods afford,
(If we may take old Tully's Word)
The greatest is a Friend; whose Love
Knows how to praise, and when reprove:
From such a Treasure never part,
But hang the Jewel on your Heart:
And, pray, Sir (it delights Me) tell;
You know this Author mighty well—
Know Him! d'ye question it? Ods-fish!
Sir, does a Beggar know his Dish?
I lov'd Him, as I told You, I
Advis'd Him—Here a Stander-by
Twitch'd Damon gently by the Cloak,
And thus unwilling Silence broke:
Damon, 'tis Time We shou'd retire:
The Man You talk with is Mat. Prior.
Patron thro' Life, and from thy Birth my Friend,
(If we may take old Tully's Word)
The greatest is a Friend; whose Love
Knows how to praise, and when reprove:
From such a Treasure never part,
But hang the Jewel on your Heart:
And, pray, Sir (it delights Me) tell;
You know this Author mighty well—
Know Him! d'ye question it? Ods-fish!
Sir, does a Beggar know his Dish?
I lov'd Him, as I told You, I
Advis'd Him—Here a Stander-by
Twitch'd Damon gently by the Cloak,
And thus unwilling Silence broke:
Damon, 'tis Time We shou'd retire:
The Man You talk with is Mat. Prior.
Dorset, to Thee this Fable let Me send:
With Damon's Lightness weigh Thy solid Worth;
The Foil is known to set the Diamond forth:
Let the feign'd Tale this real Moral give,
How many Damons, how few Dorsets Live.
80
COLIN's MISTAKES.
Written in Imitation of Spenser's Style.
Me ludit Amabilis
Insania.
Hor.
Insania.
Hor.
I
Fast by the Banks of Cam was Colin bred:Ye Nymphs, for ever guard That sacred Stream,
To Wimpole's woody Shade his Way he sped:
Flourish those Woods, the Muses endless Theme!
As whilom Colin ancient Books had read,
Lays Greek and Roman wou'd he oft rehearse,
And much he lov'd, and much by heart he said
What Father Spenser sung in British Verse.
Who reads that Bard desires like Him to write,
Still fearful of Success, still tempted by Delight.
II
Soon as Aurora had unbarr'd the Morn,And Light discover'd Nature's chearful Face;
The sounding Clarion, and the sprightly Horn
Call'd the blyth Huntsmen to the distant Chace.
Eftsoons They issue forth, a goodly Band;
The deep-mouth'd Hounds with Thunder rend the Air;
The fiery Coursers strike the rising Sand;
Far thro' the Thicket flies the frighted Deer;
Harley the Honour of the Day supports;
His Presence glads the Wood; His Orders guide the Sports.
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III
On a fair Palfrey well equip't did sitAn Amazonian Dame; a scarlet Vest
For active Horsemanship adaptly fit
Enclos'd her dainty Limbs; a plumed Crest
Wav'd o'er her Head; obedient by her Side
Her Friends and Servants rode; with artful Hand
Full well knew She the Steed to turn and guide:
The willing Steed receiv'd her soft Command:
Courage and Sweetness in her Face were seated;
On Her all Eyes were bent, and all good Wishes waited.
IV
This seeing, Colin thus his Muse bespake:For alltydes was the Muse to Colin nigh,
Ah me too nigh! Or, Clio, I mistake;
Or that bright Form that pleaseth so mine Eye,
Is Jove's fair Daughter Pallas, gracious Queen
Of liberal Arts; with Wonder and Delight
In Homer's Verse we read Her; well I ween,
That emu'lous of his Grecian Master's Flight,
Dan Spenser makes the fav'rite Goddess known;
When in her graceful Look fair Britomart is shown.
V
At Noon as Colin to the Castle came,Ope'd were the Gates, and right prepar'd the Feast:
Apppears at Table rich yclad a Dame,
The Lord's Delight, and Wonder of the Guest.
With Pearl and Jewels was she sumptuous deckt,
As well became her Dignity and Place;
But the Beholders mought her Gems neglect,
To fix their Eyes on her more lovely Face,
Serene with Glory, and with Softness bright:
O Beauty sent from Heav'n, to cheer the mortal Sight!
VI
Liberal Munificence behind her stood;And decent State obey'd her high Command;
And Charity diffuse of native Good
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As to each Guest some Fruits She deign'd to lift,
And Silence with obliging Parley broke;
How gracious seem'd to each th' imparted Gift?
But how more gracious what the Giver spoke?
Such Ease, such Freedom did her Deed attend,
That every Guest rejoic'd, exalted to a Friend.
VII
Quoth Colin; Clio, if my feeble SenseCan well distinguish Yon illustrious Dame,
Who nobly doth such gentle Gifts dispense;
In Latian Numbers Juno is her Name,
Great Goddess who with Peace and Plenty crown'd,
To all that under Sky breathe vital Air
Diffuseth Bliss, and thro' the World around
Pours wealthy Ease, and scatters joyous Chear;
Certes of Her in semblant Guise I read;
Where Spenser decks his Lays with Gloriana's Deed.
VIII
As Colin mus'd at Evening near the Wood;A Nymph undress'd, beseemeth, by Him past:
Down to her Feet her silken Garment flow'd:
A Ribbon bound and shap'd her slender Waste:
A Veil dependent from her comely Head,
And beauteous Plenty of ambrosial Hair,
O'er her fair Breast and lovely Shoulders spread,
Behind fell loose, and wanton'd with the Air.
The smiling Zephyrs call'd their am'rous Brothers:
They kiss'd the waving Lawn, and wafted it to Others.
IX
Daisies and Violets rose, where She had trod;As Flora kind her Roots and Buds had sorted:
And led by Hymen, Wedlock's mystic God,
Ten thousand Loves around the Nymph disported.
Quoth Colin; now I ken the Goddess bright,
Whom Poets sing: All human Hearts enthrall'd
Obey her Pow'r; her Kindness the Delight
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When Mantuan Virgil doth her Charms rehearse;
Belphebè is her Name, in gentle Edmund's Verse.
X
Heard this the Muse, and with a Smile reply'd,Which show'd soft Anger mixt with friendly Love:
Twin Sisters still were Ignorance and Pride;
Can we know Right, 'till Error we remove?
But Colin, well I wist, will never learn:
Who slights his Guide shall deviate from his Way.
Me to have ask'd what Thou coud'st not discern,
To Thee pertain'd; to Me, the Thing to say.
What Heavenly Will from human Eye conceals,
How can the Bard aread, unless the Muse reveals?
XI
Nor Pallas thou, nor Britomart hast seen;When soon at Morn the flying Deer was chac't:
No Jove's great Wife, nor Spenser's Fairy-Queen
At Noon-tyde dealt the Honors of the Feast:
Nor Venus, nor Belphebè did'st Thou spy,
The Evening's Glory, and the Grove's Delight.
Henceforth, if ask'd, instructed right, reply,
That all the Day to knowing Mortals Sight
Bright Ca'ndish-Holles-Harley stood confest,
As various Hour advis'd, in various Habit drest.
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