The Wiccamical Chaplet a selection of original poetry; comprising smaller poems, serious and comic; classical trifles; sonnets; inscriptions and epitaphs; songs and ballads; mock-heroics, epigrams, fragments, &c. &c. Edited by George Huddesford |
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 | SONGS AND BALLADS. |
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 | The Wiccamical Chaplet |  |
105
SONGS AND BALLADS.
107
SONG TO A LADY
Who seemed to trifle with the Author's Passion.
Call me not false: by Heav'n's decree
Before thy haughty charms I bow'd:
But Heav'n foresaw thy cruelty;
And, from thy scorn to set me free,
A more enlarged love bestow'd.
Before thy haughty charms I bow'd:
But Heav'n foresaw thy cruelty;
And, from thy scorn to set me free,
A more enlarged love bestow'd.
On me thy Smiles no longer shine;
To Delia I again remove:—
What! should I in despair sit down
Beneath the darkness of thy Frown,
Until the rising of thy Love!
To Delia I again remove:—
What! should I in despair sit down
Beneath the darkness of thy Frown,
Until the rising of thy Love!
Still to thy Beauty let me sue:
While thou art kind I'm thine alone:
But think not that I'll vainly woo;
The heart that's large enough for two
Will never, never break for One.
While thou art kind I'm thine alone:
But think not that I'll vainly woo;
The heart that's large enough for two
Will never, never break for One.
108
SONG, ON A KISS.
Humid seal of soft affections!Tenderest pledge of future bliss!
Dearest tie of young connexions!
Love's first snow-drop, Virgin Kiss!
Speaking silence! dumb confession!
Passion's birth and infant play!
Dove-like fondness, chaste concession,
Glowing dawn of brighter day!
Sorrowing joy! Adieu's last action,
When lingering lips no more must join!
What words can ever speak affection
So thrilling, so sincere as thine?
Thee the fond youth, untaught and simple,
Nor on the naked breast can find,
Nor yet within the cheek's small dimple!
Sole offspring Thou of lips conjoin'd!
Then haste thee to thy dewy mansion;
With Hebe spend thy laughing day!
Dwell in her rubied lip's expansion!
Bask in her eye's propitious ray!
109
SONG. THE REFLECTION.
O tell me no more of the fir-shaded hill
Where Contentment securely might grow;
Nor mention the murmuring sound of the rill
Which bubbles so sweetly below!
Where Contentment securely might grow;
Nor mention the murmuring sound of the rill
Which bubbles so sweetly below!
The grove's smiling verdure no longer can please,
Tho' so gay and enchantingly fair;
Nor Reason talk down a fond bosom to ease
That is tortur'd with Love and Despair.
Tho' so gay and enchantingly fair;
Nor Reason talk down a fond bosom to ease
That is tortur'd with Love and Despair.
A wound which the hand or the head may endure
A relief from the lancet can find:
But say what physician can e'er hope to cure
A latent disease of the mind?
A relief from the lancet can find:
But say what physician can e'er hope to cure
A latent disease of the mind?
In vain all the force and extent of his art
The medical blockhead applies;
For Beauty will ever reign over the Heart,
Till Nature deprive us of eyes.
The medical blockhead applies;
For Beauty will ever reign over the Heart,
Till Nature deprive us of eyes.
110
SONG.
[Beauty, the painful Mother's pray'r]
Beauty, the painful Mother's pray'r,
The Lover's theme, the Virgin's care,
Fair virtue, ease and elegance,
A gentle mind and polish'd sense
Cleora owns; and yet is free
From each affected vanity.
The Lover's theme, the Virgin's care,
Fair virtue, ease and elegance,
A gentle mind and polish'd sense
Cleora owns; and yet is free
From each affected vanity.
But tho' thus lovelily you shine,
Cleora, you're but half divine;
For fiends can beauty imitate,
And yet are fiends, because they hate;
But, would you Love to Beauty join,
Cleora, you were all divine.
Cleora, you're but half divine;
For fiends can beauty imitate,
And yet are fiends, because they hate;
But, would you Love to Beauty join,
Cleora, you were all divine.
SONG.
[In vain, my lovely frozen dame]
In vain, my lovely frozen dame,
The pow'rs of verse you bid me try;
While you with coldness check the flame
That should the sprightly thought supply.
The pow'rs of verse you bid me try;
While you with coldness check the flame
That should the sprightly thought supply.
Love, Love's the only genuine fire
Can raise and quicken what we say:
The mercury still rises higher,
As sovereign Beauty warms the day.
Can raise and quicken what we say:
The mercury still rises higher,
As sovereign Beauty warms the day.
111
But from a brain that Scorn has chill'd
Such feeble wit can only rise
As, like the fire that damp grounds yield
By night, but faintly gleams, and dies.
Such feeble wit can only rise
As, like the fire that damp grounds yield
By night, but faintly gleams, and dies.
Thus whilst your slave's desires you starve,
You to your own, fair Maid, say “Nay;”
For you must love without reserve,
To make me able to obey.
You to your own, fair Maid, say “Nay;”
For you must love without reserve,
To make me able to obey.
SONG.
[Artless words of unfeign'd passion]
Artless words of unfeign'd passion
With harmonious numbers join'd,
Soothly try your soft persuasion
On Eliza's gentle mind!
With harmonious numbers join'd,
Soothly try your soft persuasion
On Eliza's gentle mind!
For her ear alone intended,
Other censure nought regard:
If by her you are commended,
'Tis enough for your reward.
Other censure nought regard:
If by her you are commended,
'Tis enough for your reward.
But why thus you seek to move her,
Strive not further to explain!
If her heart will not discover,
You or I should tell in vain.
Strive not further to explain!
If her heart will not discover,
You or I should tell in vain.
112
SONG. MUTUAL LOVE.
When on thy bosom I recline,
Enraptur'd still to call thee mine,
To call thee mine for life;
I glory in the sacred ties,
Which modern wits and fools despise,
Of Husband and of Wife.
Enraptur'd still to call thee mine,
To call thee mine for life;
I glory in the sacred ties,
Which modern wits and fools despise,
Of Husband and of Wife.
One mutual flame inspires our bliss:—
The tender look, the melting kiss
Ev'n years have not destroy'd;
Some sweet sensation ever new
Springs up, and proves the maxim true,
That Love can ne'er be cloy'd.
The tender look, the melting kiss
Ev'n years have not destroy'd;
Some sweet sensation ever new
Springs up, and proves the maxim true,
That Love can ne'er be cloy'd.
Have I a wish? 'tis all for thee;
Hast thou a wish? 'tis all for me:
So soft our moments move,
That angels look with ardent gaze,
Well pleas'd to see our happy days,
And bid us live—and love.
Hast thou a wish? 'tis all for me:
So soft our moments move,
That angels look with ardent gaze,
Well pleas'd to see our happy days,
And bid us live—and love.
If cares arise (and cares will come),
Thy bosom is my softest home,
I lull me there to rest;
And is there ought disturbs my Fair?
I bid her sigh out all her care,
And lose it in my breast.
Thy bosom is my softest home,
I lull me there to rest;
And is there ought disturbs my Fair?
I bid her sigh out all her care,
And lose it in my breast.
113
SONG.
[To thy cliffs, rocky Seaton, adieu!]
To thy cliffs, rocky Seaton, adieu!And adieu to the roar of thy seas!
And adieu to the Girl, whose insensible heart
Is as hard and as sullen as these!
Forget the fond echoes you heard!
Forget my fond hope and my strain!
My strain is neglected and dead is my hope:—
But you never shall hear me complain—
To your cliffs, rocky Seaton, adieu!
SONG, TO A LADY,
Who observed that almost all Songs were alike.
Eliza, you say that all Songs are the same,
And turn on the subject of Love:
That they paint but the brightness or strength of a Flame,
The softness or faith of a Dove.
And turn on the subject of Love:
That they paint but the brightness or strength of a Flame,
The softness or faith of a Dove.
Is it strange that a Regent who governs our lives
And is ever our blessing or curse,
In stories of prose to be uppermost strives,
Or thrusts himself forward in verse?
And is ever our blessing or curse,
In stories of prose to be uppermost strives,
Or thrusts himself forward in verse?
114
To the free in a court, or the slave in a cell,
This flattering vision remains:
Tho' in palaces Cupid is happy to dwell,
Yet he visits the wretched in chains.
This flattering vision remains:
Tho' in palaces Cupid is happy to dwell,
Yet he visits the wretched in chains.
If gallant and gay, in the reign he refin'd,
Great Villars with Shrewsbury toy'd:
Poor Mary of Scotland, in durance confin'd,
The love of her Bothwell enjoy'd.
Great Villars with Shrewsbury toy'd:
Poor Mary of Scotland, in durance confin'd,
The love of her Bothwell enjoy'd.
Thro' every toil of Ulysses, his bride
Was a hope that surviv'd to the last:
When to baffle the force of a Cyclop he tried,
Or rode thro' the waves on a mast.
Was a hope that surviv'd to the last:
When to baffle the force of a Cyclop he tried,
Or rode thro' the waves on a mast.
Then say not, Eliza, the passion can tire,
Or too oft with its shadow we play;
For you its reality live to inspire,
And waken each amorous lay.
Or too oft with its shadow we play;
For you its reality live to inspire,
And waken each amorous lay.
The man who in love is forbidden to write,
And must heavier studies pursue,
Should never, Eliza, come into your sight,
Or venture to listen to you.
And must heavier studies pursue,
Should never, Eliza, come into your sight,
Or venture to listen to you.
116
SONG.
[I've roam'd thro' many a weary round]
I've roam'd thro' many a weary round,
I've wander'd east and west;
Pleasure in ev'ry clime I've found,
But sought in vain for rest.
I've wander'd east and west;
Pleasure in ev'ry clime I've found,
But sought in vain for rest.
While Glory sighs for other spheres,
I feel that one's too wide,
And think the home which love endears
Worth all the world beside.
I feel that one's too wide,
And think the home which love endears
Worth all the world beside.
SONG.
[Give me, Charlotte, e'er we part]
Give me, Charlotte, e'er we part,Some dear token of your heart:
Look on me, and let me spy,
In the language of your eye,
Gentle pardon of my Love,
Smiling grace, that may remove
Fear, and doubt, and dull despair:—
Smile; and I will fancy there
Soft compassion of my flame,
Love, that comes in Friendship's name;
Leave to hope for future bliss:—
Weep, and I am sure of this!
117
To HOPE.
Ah, woe is me! from day to day
I drag a life of pain and sorrow!
Yet still, sweet Hope, I hear thee say,
“Be calm—thine ills will end to-morrow.”
I drag a life of pain and sorrow!
Yet still, sweet Hope, I hear thee say,
“Be calm—thine ills will end to-morrow.”
To-morrow comes, but brings to me
No charm, disease or grief relieving!
And am I ever doom'd to see,
Sweet Hope, thy promises deceiving?
No charm, disease or grief relieving!
And am I ever doom'd to see,
Sweet Hope, thy promises deceiving?
Yet, false and cruel as thou art,
Thy dear delusions will I cherish;
I cannot, dare not with thee part,
Since I, alas! with Thee must perish.
Thy dear delusions will I cherish;
I cannot, dare not with thee part,
Since I, alas! with Thee must perish.
THE PARTNERSHIP DISSOLVED.
A SONG, Written in the Hard Frost of the Year ---.
Death or the Devil, or both together,
Came out this last hard winter weather;
Took L**** in their journey,
And carried off a Welch Attorney:
Came out this last hard winter weather;
Took L**** in their journey,
And carried off a Welch Attorney:
Chorus.
Ah! cruel Death; ah! Devil more cruel;To carry Harpax off for fuel.
118
But some folks in their sleeves may laugh,
Since Harpalus has lost his half:
And reason too they should be glad,
Perhaps he'll be but half as bad.
Since Harpalus has lost his half:
And reason too they should be glad,
Perhaps he'll be but half as bad.
Chorus.
Since cruel Death, or Devil more cruel,Has carried Harpax off for fuel.
BACCHANALIAN SONG.
[_]
Part of this Song is taken from one in a printed Collection. The finishing couplets of the fourth and fifth Stanzas, and the three entire remaining Stanzas, are original.
You know that our antient philosophers hold
There is nothing in equipage, honours, or gold;
That bliss in Externals we seldom can find,
And, in truth, my good friends, I am quite of their mind.
There is nothing in equipage, honours, or gold;
That bliss in Externals we seldom can find,
And, in truth, my good friends, I am quite of their mind.
What makes a man happy I never can doubt:
'Tis something within him, 'tis nothing without.
This something, they said, was the source of content;
But whatever they call'd it, 'twas wine that they meant.
'Tis something within him, 'tis nothing without.
This something, they said, was the source of content;
But whatever they call'd it, 'twas wine that they meant.
Upon their own principles I could have shown 'em
That the juice of the grape is the true Summum Bonum;
Without us, I grant ye, 'tis not worth a pin,
But, ye Gods, how divine when we get it within!
That the juice of the grape is the true Summum Bonum;
Without us, I grant ye, 'tis not worth a pin,
But, ye Gods, how divine when we get it within!
119
The wealthy are poor, and the haughty repine,
If, with gold and with grandeur, you give them no wine:
But plenty of wine to the beggar afford,
Only make him as drunk—he's as great as a Lord.
If, with gold and with grandeur, you give them no wine:
But plenty of wine to the beggar afford,
Only make him as drunk—he's as great as a Lord.
While the bottle is wanting the soul is depress'd,
And Beauty can kindle no flame in the breast;
But the toper for ev'ry encounter is ready,
And Joan, when you're drunk, is as good as my Lady.
And Beauty can kindle no flame in the breast;
But the toper for ev'ry encounter is ready,
And Joan, when you're drunk, is as good as my Lady.
He surely can boast little brains of his own
Who attempts to find out the Philosopher's Stone:
To turn lead into gold is an idle design;
So I'll be content to turn gold into wine.
Who attempts to find out the Philosopher's Stone:
To turn lead into gold is an idle design;
So I'll be content to turn gold into wine.
Your Heroes, in story who make such a figure,
Were indebted to wine for their conduct and vigour;
Hence Persia was won by the Macedon Boy:
Sure the Greeks too drank Sack, or they ne'er had sack'd Troy.
Were indebted to wine for their conduct and vigour;
Hence Persia was won by the Macedon Boy:
Sure the Greeks too drank Sack, or they ne'er had sack'd Troy.
Wine, wine for my bev'rage to take I determine;
Give water to Poets and such kind of vermin;
Then broach the decanter and let the wine cóme free,
And he that don't like it let him dine with Duke Humphrey.
Derry down.
Give water to Poets and such kind of vermin;
Then broach the decanter and let the wine cóme free,
And he that don't like it let him dine with Duke Humphrey.
Derry down.
Valour comes of Sherris, so that skill in the Weapon is nothing without Sack, for that sets it a-work. Shakesp. II. Henry iv.
120
A NEW BALLAD OF DEATH AND THE LADY.
'Twas eve: the labours of the toilet ceas'd;
And blooming Isabel sat proudly dress'd:
By her stood Betty, much less fine and fair;
But she had her own colour, clothes, and hair.
And blooming Isabel sat proudly dress'd:
By her stood Betty, much less fine and fair;
But she had her own colour, clothes, and hair.
When lo! a Stranger enter'd: in he bounc'd
Abrupt, unintroduc'd and unannounc'd:
And without bow or preface, as became
A courteous person, thus address'd the dame.
Abrupt, unintroduc'd and unannounc'd:
And without bow or preface, as became
A courteous person, thus address'd the dame.
“Fair Lady, lay your costly robes aside—”
Ah! 'tis Death, Madam, frighten'd Betty cried:
I know him by his blind-man song; but he
Comes to your Ladyship, and not to me.
Ah! 'tis Death, Madam, frighten'd Betty cried:
I know him by his blind-man song; but he
Comes to your Ladyship, and not to me.
Alarm'd she heard; for well his name she knew,
And sadly fear'd that Betty told her true:
But strait with wily speeches thus she tried
To baffle Death, and thus the fiend replied.
LADY.And sadly fear'd that Betty told her true:
But strait with wily speeches thus she tried
To baffle Death, and thus the fiend replied.
Sir, you have made a small mistake I fear;
At least you first will send a Doctor here;
For sure your interest with them must be large:
Pray ar'n't you well acquainted with Sir George?
121
By chance we meet, we ne'er were intimate;
But he and I have quarrell'd much of late:
He practis'd, I know where, to keep me out:
Still I have friends i'th' Faculty no doubt.
LADY.
They should have introduc'd you: can I go
So suddenly, and with a stranger too?
Excuse me, Sir; but if you'll take my Maid—
The man is civil, Betty, don't be 'fraid.
DEATH.
To your face I speak it, if I came to woo,
I'd rather take your waiting-maid than you:
That's not my business: come without delay:
I've twenty visits still to make to-day.
LADY.
Whate'er your hurry be, Sir, please to wait:
Why sure no dun is more importunate:
Then, for a stranger, your request is bold;
I cannot stir abroad—I've got a cold.
DEATH.
Ne'er mind your cold, this jaunt will carry 't off;
It always cures the cold, sore throat and cough:
I soon shall lodge you where you'll feel no more on't,
But lie and sleep most quietly, I warrant.
LADY.
You're jesting! what, without provision made,
To sleep at inns perhaps, in a strange bed?
I carry my own sheets—they must be air'd:
My night-cloaths too—You see I'm not prepar'd.
122
That's true, no question; but it matters not!
There's many a fool hath this excuse, God wot!
Small need of sheets or night-cloaths will you have,
Your Inn's the Church-yard, and your Bed's the Grave.
LADY.
Heav'ns, how you fright one! Can't I be allow'd
A little, little while to make a shroud?
And then the Grave—I cannot think of it:
'Twill take a month to make one warm and fit.
DEATH.
For shrouds, some of the trade, I understand,
Will sell them ready-made or second-hand:
And graves are sooner dug than you may think;
You'll be in one to-morrow, if you stink.
LADY.
Stink, Mr. Death, I stink! that never yet
In all my life knew what it was to sweat?
Stink, you foul carrion! don't you smell perfume
In every corner of my dressing-room?
DEATH.
Faith, Madam , he that said it was no fool:
At best you're like the --- of your --- ---;
Made of the same materials, aye, and hold
Within you the same trash: now huff and scold.
LADY.
Ah, Sir, we all are vile! but 'tis inhuman
To set your wit to a defenceless woman.
123
And bring a cordial too for Mr. Death.
DEATH.
Madam, spare both your waters; you will see
Cordials and tears are thrown away on me:
Death's not a man to be abus'd and bullied,
Nor with your tears and wheedling coax'd and fooled.
LADY.
Pity me, gentle Death, or if not me,
Pity my husband and my family:
My poor dear children else must fare the worse,
She at the boarding-school, and he at nurse.
DEATH.
Mother unnatural, and thriftless wife!
To live, yet loath the business of your life:
All you can do is breed, give suck, and teach;
Does not your husband think you are a beech!
124
Alas! I strive and labour all I can,
My husband is a poor unthinking man:
I might have gone long since for ought he car'd,
Tho' he, poor creature! might be better spar'd.
DEATH.
I never heard so: well, if this be true,
Your children may be pitied, yet not you:
But let him know, 'twill surely come, the day
Of his account, how soon I will not say.
LADY.
Believe me, Death, he is a wretch indeed:
Could you spare me and take him now in stead?
Do so, dear Death; you must have pow'r to chuse,
And you sha'n't ask the thing that I'll refuse.
125
I take your meaning, and perhaps I may.—
Why, Madam, you look temptingly to-day;
No bloom of roses with this cheek can vie,
And then, I vow, you have a roguish eye.
LADY.
Dear Mr. Death, I hope you'll not be rude;
Pardon me, Sir, that I suspect you wou'd:
One may see clearly in your face and mien
The Man of Fashion, so genteel and thin.
DEATH.
My charming Jezabel! let me embrace;
Nay, don't be coy, and turn aside your face:
My dear, what, so offended! won't you speak,
When, I protest, I only touch'd your cheek?
LADY.
Ah! trait'rous Murderer!—What is this I feel?
My limbs are sinewless, my blood is chill:
A deadly torpor seizes every part;
And, oh! what sickness weighs me down at heart!
DEATH.
Accuse not Me: Riot hath hurt thee more,
And that bad heart was palsy-struck before:
Thou thing, like mine own coffers; painted skin,
And all-consuming rottenness within.
DEATH.
again.
Madam, adieu! my errand was but this,
To give you warning in a gentle kiss:
But since I know you hate to think on Me,
Tell what you wish:—perchance we may agree.
126
Then, monster, thus: Avaunt, and quit the room!
Nor once return these fifty years to come.
Yet hear—I would not leave my husband last;
Come soon for him, and I'll forgive the past.
DEATH.
Are these your terms? My answer shall be plain;
I think I never will come here again.
What! to be scolded so, and coax'd and vex'd?
No, no; I'll send the Devil to you next.
It is pleasant to trace the progress of an Author's ideas, when it can be done with clearness and certainty. The Poet conceived that a woman, such as he is here delineating, must be a continual source of uneasiness to her husband: this he intended to express by calling her a Thorn in his side; but, as the rhime and measure admitted not this phrase, he was obliged to substitute “Beech” for Thorn, which it must be owned falls short of the original idea in propriety and force. Steevens.
By calling her a Beech I believe the Poet means that she is like that Tree, beautiful in appearance, but unprofitable, not bearing Fruit as the Apple tree does. Malone.
Naturalists say that some sorts of Trees flourish outwardly, and make a fair shew, when they are rotten at heart: perhaps the Poet has heard, or knew of this property in the Beech. Tyrwhitt.
The Transcriber of this Line was a blockhead, and the Commentators fools; the Author had nothing in his mind of Apple-trees, Beeches, or Thorns—but he thought that a woman so depraved as This is might be taken for what a plain man (even if, instead of breakfasting with Queen Bess's carnivorous Maids of Honour, he had, with Me, successfully cultivated the Humanities by eating pulse for thirty years, and breathed in consequence the whole spirit of my benignity and meekness) would plainly call her: “a Bitch.” Ritson.
WELL-A-DAY JACK! OR, THE JACK THAT JACK SPLIT.
A NEW BALLAD.
Muse, grant my request!
I some rhimes of the best
And fine-flowing numbers intreat
For my two-edged theme,
A Jack of the stream,
And a Jack of O---d-street.
I some rhimes of the best
And fine-flowing numbers intreat
For my two-edged theme,
A Jack of the stream,
And a Jack of O---d-street.
127
This Jack of the wave he
Made Jacks cry Peccavi,
And gave to his comrades no quarter;
But, when Jack of the land
Once took him in hand,
Our fresh-water Jack caught a tartar.
Made Jacks cry Peccavi,
And gave to his comrades no quarter;
But, when Jack of the land
Once took him in hand,
Our fresh-water Jack caught a tartar.
And this Jack o' dry ground
Was a Lawyer profound,
And his head-piece, I'll lay what you dare on't,
With Indentures was lin'd,
But no brains you would find
Tho' you look'd for 'em with a search-warrant.
Was a Lawyer profound,
And his head-piece, I'll lay what you dare on't,
With Indentures was lin'd,
But no brains you would find
Tho' you look'd for 'em with a search-warrant.
Jack's Client, for lack
Of cash, sent him a Jack,
And averr'd 'twas the best he could get;
But no matter for that,
Had it been but a Sprat,
All were fish that came to Jack's net.
Of cash, sent him a Jack,
And averr'd 'twas the best he could get;
But no matter for that,
Had it been but a Sprat,
All were fish that came to Jack's net.
Then a question arose—
Of this Jack to dispose;
So Jack summon'd his council of state:
There was Jack, and Jack's wife,
And, with keen kitchen knife,
Waddled after Jack's cook-maid Kate.
Of this Jack to dispose;
So Jack summon'd his council of state:
There was Jack, and Jack's wife,
And, with keen kitchen knife,
Waddled after Jack's cook-maid Kate.
128
With majestical air
Jack himself took the chair,
To conduct in due form and decorum
The debate with his mate,
And her subaltern, Kate,
On the Jack in the platter before 'em.
Jack himself took the chair,
To conduct in due form and decorum
The debate with his mate,
And her subaltern, Kate,
On the Jack in the platter before 'em.
“Come riddle my ree!
“Tell me which of us three
“This nail on the head can hit:
“Shall the Jack we have got
“Go to spit or to pot;
“Or shall it in sunder be split?—
“Tell me which of us three
“This nail on the head can hit:
“Shall the Jack we have got
“Go to spit or to pot;
“Or shall it in sunder be split?—
“And the tail, or the jowl on't,
“Be sent to Rich Rowland,
“To curry his favour and grace:
“Half a Jack for a gift
“To rich Rowland is thrift,
“In requital he'll give me a brace.”—
“Be sent to Rich Rowland,
“To curry his favour and grace:
“Half a Jack for a gift
“To rich Rowland is thrift,
“In requital he'll give me a brace.”—
Cries Katern, “I've hit it;
“The Jack shall be spitted,
“And stuff'd with a pudding so nice;
“With eggs daintily sauc'd,
“Tho' a tester it cost,
“And, sweet Sir, let us all have a slice.”
“The Jack shall be spitted,
“And stuff'd with a pudding so nice;
“With eggs daintily sauc'd,
“Tho' a tester it cost,
“And, sweet Sir, let us all have a slice.”
129
But Well-a-day Jack
Look'd confoundedly black:
“What!—incur such unheard-of expences!
“Should I make such a treat
“I must die in the Fleet;
“Sure the baggage is out of her senses.
Look'd confoundedly black:
“What!—incur such unheard-of expences!
“Should I make such a treat
“I must die in the Fleet;
“Sure the baggage is out of her senses.
Says Jack Well-a-day's Jill,
“If a Jack the good-will
“And favour will win of Rich Rowland;
“Never cut it in half,
“You curmudgeonly calf,
“But be gen'rous and send him the whole on't!”
“If a Jack the good-will
“And favour will win of Rich Rowland;
“Never cut it in half,
“You curmudgeonly calf,
“But be gen'rous and send him the whole on't!”
“Send him all and keep none!—
“Good Bone of my bone,
“Such counsel may suit other Jacks:
“Kate, give me the knife,
“For, in spite of my wife,
“Rich Rowland and I will go snacks.”—
“Good Bone of my bone,
“Such counsel may suit other Jacks:
“Kate, give me the knife,
“For, in spite of my wife,
“Rich Rowland and I will go snacks.”—
Jack ended his sermon:
Then seiz'd cousin-german,
And, grinning with self-approbation,
'Twixt the Jack's tail and gills,
Without parchment or quills,
Drew articles of separation.
Then seiz'd cousin-german,
And, grinning with self-approbation,
'Twixt the Jack's tail and gills,
Without parchment or quills,
Drew articles of separation.
130
Of these old women three—
Jack's Mate, Kate, and he,
Each held her opinion a good one:
But Jack, best of all, knew
That a Jack split in two
Would save him the charge of a pudding.
Jack's Mate, Kate, and he,
Each held her opinion a good one:
But Jack, best of all, knew
That a Jack split in two
Would save him the charge of a pudding.
Since Jack, we must own,
Such sage conduct has shewn,
If prodigals call him a blockhead,
And a niggardly sot,
He values it not,
For Jack knows he's a pudding in pocket.
Such sage conduct has shewn,
If prodigals call him a blockhead,
And a niggardly sot,
He values it not,
For Jack knows he's a pudding in pocket.
Of Jack Straw never vaunt,
Nor of old Jack of Gaunt,
Nor Jack Robinson's merits report;
I have troll'd for a Jack
That is worth the whole pack,
And I hope he has found you some sport.
Nor of old Jack of Gaunt,
Nor Jack Robinson's merits report;
I have troll'd for a Jack
That is worth the whole pack,
And I hope he has found you some sport.
Then sing—Hey derry down!
God save the King's Crown!
(For a Ballad should always have that in't:)
And, for splitting of Jacks,
Let this first of Law-quacks,
Jack Well-a-day, have the King's Patent!
God save the King's Crown!
(For a Ballad should always have that in't:)
And, for splitting of Jacks,
Let this first of Law-quacks,
Jack Well-a-day, have the King's Patent!
131
CRICKET-SONG.
For the Hambledon-Club, Hants, 1767.
Attend all ye Muses, and join to rehearse
An old English Sport, never prais'd yet in verse!
'Tis Cricket I sing, of illustrious fame,
No nation e'er boasted so noble a game.
An old English Sport, never prais'd yet in verse!
'Tis Cricket I sing, of illustrious fame,
No nation e'er boasted so noble a game.
Great Pindar has bragg'd of his heroes of old,
Some were swift in the race, some in battle were bold;
The brows of the victors with olive were crown'd,
Hark, they shout! and Olympia returns the glad sound!
Some were swift in the race, some in battle were bold;
The brows of the victors with olive were crown'd,
Hark, they shout! and Olympia returns the glad sound!
What boasting of Castor and Pollux his brother,
The one fam'd for riding, for bruising the other!
Yet compar'd with our heroes they'll not shine at all,
What are Castor and Pollux to Nyren and Small!
The one fam'd for riding, for bruising the other!
Yet compar'd with our heroes they'll not shine at all,
What are Castor and Pollux to Nyren and Small!
Here's guarding, and catching, and throwing, and tossing,
And striking, and bowling, and running, and crossing;
Each mate must excel in some principal part,
The Pentathlon of Greece could not shew so much art.
And striking, and bowling, and running, and crossing;
Each mate must excel in some principal part,
The Pentathlon of Greece could not shew so much art.
The parties are met, and array'd all in white,
Fam'd Elis ne'er boasted so noble a sight:
Each Nymph looks askance at her favourite swain,
And views him half stripp'd both with pleasure and pain.
Fam'd Elis ne'er boasted so noble a sight:
Each Nymph looks askance at her favourite swain,
And views him half stripp'd both with pleasure and pain.
132
Now the wickets are pitch'd and they've measur'd the ground,
Strait they form a large ring, and stand gazing around:
Since Ajax fought Hector, in sight of all Troy;
Ne'er a contest was seen with such fear and such joy.
Strait they form a large ring, and stand gazing around:
Since Ajax fought Hector, in sight of all Troy;
Ne'er a contest was seen with such fear and such joy.
Ye Bowlers take heed, to my precepts attend:
On you the whole fate of the game must depend;
Spare your vigour at first, nor exert all your strength,
But measure each step, and be sure pitch your length!
On you the whole fate of the game must depend;
Spare your vigour at first, nor exert all your strength,
But measure each step, and be sure pitch your length!
Ye Strikers observe, when the foe shall draw nigh,
Mark the Bowler advancing—with vigilant eye;
Your success all depends upon distance and sight,
Stand firm to your Scratch, let your Bat be upright!
Mark the Bowler advancing—with vigilant eye;
Your success all depends upon distance and sight,
Stand firm to your Scratch, let your Bat be upright!
Ye Fieldsmen look sharp—lest your pains you beguile;
Move close, like an army, in rank and in file;
When the Ball is return'd back it sure, for I trow
Whole states have been ruin'd by one over-throw.
Move close, like an army, in rank and in file;
When the Ball is return'd back it sure, for I trow
Whole states have been ruin'd by one over-throw.
At length the game's o'er, Iö Victory rings!
Echo doubles her Chorus and Fame spreads her wings!
Let's now hail our champions, all steady and true:
Such as Homer ne'er sung of, and Pindar ne'er knew.
Echo doubles her Chorus and Fame spreads her wings!
Let's now hail our champions, all steady and true:
Such as Homer ne'er sung of, and Pindar ne'er knew.
Buck, Curry, and Hogsflesh, and Barber, and Bret,
Whose swiftness in Bowling was ne'er equall'd yet;
I had almost forgot—they deserve a large bumper—
Little George, the long Stop, and Tom Suter, the Stumper.
Whose swiftness in Bowling was ne'er equall'd yet;
I had almost forgot—they deserve a large bumper—
Little George, the long Stop, and Tom Suter, the Stumper.
133
Then why should we fear either Sackville or Mann,
Or repine at the loss of both Boyton and Lann?
With such troops as these we'll be Lords of the Game,
Spite of Mincing, and Miller, and Lumpy, and Frame.
Or repine at the loss of both Boyton and Lann?
With such troops as these we'll be Lords of the Game,
Spite of Mincing, and Miller, and Lumpy, and Frame.
Then fill up your glass!—He's the best who drinks most:
Here's the Hambledon Club!—Who refuses the toast?
Let us join in the praise of the Bat and the Wicket,
And sing in full Chorus the Patrons of Cricket.
Here's the Hambledon Club!—Who refuses the toast?
Let us join in the praise of the Bat and the Wicket,
And sing in full Chorus the Patrons of Cricket.
When we've play'd our last Game, and our fate shall draw nigh,
(For the Heroes of Cricket, like others, must die),
Our Bats we'll resign, neither troubled nor vext,
And surrender our Wickets to those that come next.
(For the Heroes of Cricket, like others, must die),
Our Bats we'll resign, neither troubled nor vext,
And surrender our Wickets to those that come next.
A BALLAD OF SIMILIES.
If Life, like a Bubble, evaporates fast,
You must take off your wine, if you wish it to last;
For a Bubble may soon be destroy'd with a puff,
If it is not kept floating in liquor enough.
You must take off your wine, if you wish it to last;
For a Bubble may soon be destroy'd with a puff,
If it is not kept floating in liquor enough.
134
If Life's like a Flow'r, as grave moralists say,
'Tis a very good thing, understood the right way,
For, if Life is a Flow'r, ev'ry blockhead can tell,
If you'd have it look fresh, you must water it well.
'Tis a very good thing, understood the right way,
For, if Life is a Flow'r, ev'ry blockhead can tell,
If you'd have it look fresh, you must water it well.
That Life is a Journey no mortal disputes,
Then we'll liquor our brains, boys, instead of our boots,
And each toper shall own, on Life's road as he reels,
That a spur in the head is worth two on the heels.
Then we'll liquor our brains, boys, instead of our boots,
And each toper shall own, on Life's road as he reels,
That a spur in the head is worth two on the heels.
If Life's like a Lamp, then, to make it shine brighter,
We'll assign to Madeira the post of Lamp-lighter,
We'll cherish the flame with Oporto so stout,
And drink Brandy-punch till we're fairly burnt out.
We'll assign to Madeira the post of Lamp-lighter,
We'll cherish the flame with Oporto so stout,
And drink Brandy-punch till we're fairly burnt out.
The World to a Theatre liken'd has been,
Where each one around bears his part in the scene;
If 'tis ours to be tipsey, 'tis matter of fact
That the more you all drink, boys, the better you'll act.
Where each one around bears his part in the scene;
If 'tis ours to be tipsey, 'tis matter of fact
That the more you all drink, boys, the better you'll act.
Life sleets like a Dream, like a vision appears,
Some laugh in their slumbers and others shed tears;
But of us, when we wake from our Dream, 'twill be said,
That the tears of the Tankard were all that we shed.
Some laugh in their slumbers and others shed tears;
But of us, when we wake from our Dream, 'twill be said,
That the tears of the Tankard were all that we shed.
135
THE TRIOPTHALMIST, OR THREE-EYED CONNOISSEUR.
A BALLAD, Inscribed to the sagacious Amateurs of the Old School.
[_]
Written on a perusal of that very edifying, liberal, disinterested, candid, classical and supereminently modest publication, THE DESCRIPTIVE CATALOGUE Of Mons Desenfans: styling himself late Consul-General to the King of Poland in Great Britain. Published in Feb. 1802.
Virtuosos astute, Cognoscenti profound,
Who are bankrupts in brains, but in money abound,
To Consul Desenfans all scamper in haste:
Desenfans, the Guide of the National Taste!
Who are bankrupts in brains, but in money abound,
To Consul Desenfans all scamper in haste:
Desenfans, the Guide of the National Taste!
Desenfans
, our Misses and Masters who taught
To distinguish a verb from a noun for a groat,
Condescends to instruct English Gentry and Quality
In the liberal arts, and teach Painters morality,
To distinguish a verb from a noun for a groat,
Condescends to instruct English Gentry and Quality
In the liberal arts, and teach Painters morality,
136
French pronouns and articles others may teach,
He has Parts far transcending the eight parts of speech;
Since, in different articles dealing, he's got
To be Consul, and Critick, and Devil knows what.
He has Parts far transcending the eight parts of speech;
Since, in different articles dealing, he's got
To be Consul, and Critick, and Devil knows what.
Chef-d'œuvres of Art he has bought up by shoals,
At the special request of the King of the Poles:
But, since the King left 'em to rot on the shelf,
They'll be sold at the special request of himself.
At the special request of the King of the Poles:
But, since the King left 'em to rot on the shelf,
They'll be sold at the special request of himself.
So the Consul's found out (sure this Consul's a witch)
“Throw your money away, and you all must grow rich;
“Buy my wares, they are better than titles and rank ,
“My old Pictures are current as Notes of the Bank.”
“Throw your money away, and you all must grow rich;
“Buy my wares, they are better than titles and rank ,
“My old Pictures are current as Notes of the Bank.”
If modern productions you name, he cries, “Tush—
“No painter that's living can handle a brush!
“With the works of the dead let your gall'ries be cramm'd,
“But while painters are quick, let 'em starve and be damn'd.”
“No painter that's living can handle a brush!
“With the works of the dead let your gall'ries be cramm'd,
“But while painters are quick, let 'em starve and be damn'd.”
Picture-dealers, and vampers, and venders, wou'd drive
A rare trade if there was not one painter alive:
Then could none to our grand Connoisseur Desenfans
Give the lie, when he swears that his Geese are all Swans.
A rare trade if there was not one painter alive:
Then could none to our grand Connoisseur Desenfans
Give the lie, when he swears that his Geese are all Swans.
137
“Of Pictures,” he tells you, “good Judges are few:
“Since to view them the multitude eyes have but two.”
But two eyes, Good lack!—Why how many has he?
Connoisseurs, like Desenfans, are gifted with three .
“Since to view them the multitude eyes have but two.”
But two eyes, Good lack!—Why how many has he?
Connoisseurs, like Desenfans, are gifted with three .
He has one eye for censure to find a pretence,
He has one eye to wink at his own want of sense,
And one eye in reserve, which is worth t'other twain,
For that eye's never clos'd—'tis an eye to his gain.
He has one eye to wink at his own want of sense,
And one eye in reserve, which is worth t'other twain,
For that eye's never clos'd—'tis an eye to his gain.
But altho' we could boast all the eyes of old Argus,
Yet will Charon ere long in his wherry embark us:
To thy bar, Rhadamanthus, that ferryman hales
Connoisseurs with three eyes and Bashaws with three tails.
Yet will Charon ere long in his wherry embark us:
To thy bar, Rhadamanthus, that ferryman hales
Connoisseurs with three eyes and Bashaws with three tails.
The good King of the Poles Fate has knock'd off the perch,
And the Consul his Majesty left in the lurch
Who knows but his summons may hang up full soon
A chef-d'œuvre to garnish old Pluto's saloon.
And the Consul his Majesty left in the lurch
Who knows but his summons may hang up full soon
A chef-d'œuvre to garnish old Pluto's saloon.
Then let silver-tongu'd Christie his pulpit ascend:
And if Consuls who pictures vamp, varnish and vend,
Were all knock'd on the head with a stroke of his hammer,
What a loss we should have of marr'd canvass and grammar.
And if Consuls who pictures vamp, varnish and vend,
Were all knock'd on the head with a stroke of his hammer,
What a loss we should have of marr'd canvass and grammar.
The multitude are always beholding pictures with two eyes only, and the Connoisseur looks at them with three. Desc. Cat. part 2, p. 179.
Of the Consul's Grammatical knowledge take the following sample: “They (pictures) cease to be of the Masters whose names they bear, in proportion to the more or less they have been damaged and repainted.” Ib. part 1, p. 70.
138
THE CAPE HUNT,
A BALLAD, In the Manner of Chevy-Chace.
God prosper long our noble King,
And the noble house of B---rt---e,
And give you patience while I sing
Of a jovial hunting party!
And the noble house of B---rt---e,
And give you patience while I sing
Of a jovial hunting party!
To drive the foxes from their holes
They ride with might and main;
And, when they've kill'd them, o'er their bowls
Thrice do they slay the slain.
They ride with might and main;
And, when they've kill'd them, o'er their bowls
Thrice do they slay the slain.
Brave Peregrine
, for sporting fam'd,
And fam'd for drinking eke,
Vow'd he would hunt the county thro'
Six days in ev'ry week.
And fam'd for drinking eke,
Vow'd he would hunt the county thro'
Six days in ev'ry week.
Nor ditch so deep nor hedge so high
His purpose should prevent:
Then came these tidings speedily
Unto the Shrieve of Kent.
His purpose should prevent:
Then came these tidings speedily
Unto the Shrieve of Kent.
139
(His prowess in the chace did shine,
And he join'd with one accord
In toping too with Peregrine;
And his name was Johnny W---d,)
And he join'd with one accord
In toping too with Peregrine;
And his name was Johnny W---d,)
When as the Shrieve these tidings heard
Forthwith he did resort
To Yattendon , but ere he stirr'd
He drank three gills of port.
Forthwith he did resort
To Yattendon , but ere he stirr'd
He drank three gills of port.
And with him scores of sportsmen stout,
All topers of great might,
Who many a flask had emptied out
Of red wine and of white.
All topers of great might,
Who many a flask had emptied out
Of red wine and of white.
True Sportsmen know not dread nor fear,
Each rides, when once the saddle in,
As if he had a neck to spare,
Just like the Swan in Lad-lane.
Each rides, when once the saddle in,
As if he had a neck to spare,
Just like the Swan in Lad-lane.
With wide-stretch'd throats the hounds pursue,
With shouts the huntsmen cheer 'em,
The Welkin rings, and he may rue
That has two ears to hear 'em.
With shouts the huntsmen cheer 'em,
The Welkin rings, and he may rue
That has two ears to hear 'em.
“What stays John W---d,” quoth Peregrine,
“Erst wont to lead our van?
“Should he this Hunting-match decline,
“I have mistook my man:
“Erst wont to lead our van?
“Should he this Hunting-match decline,
“I have mistook my man:
140
“For, tho' he wields the Sheriff's wand,
“He never cares a rush
“Who tends the Courts and long-rob'd band,
“Shew him the Fox's Brush!”
“He never cares a rush
“Who tends the Courts and long-rob'd band,
“Shew him the Fox's Brush!”
When thus the Whipper-in bespake
His anxious Lord: “I trow
“The Sheriff comes thro' yonder brake,
“For I hear his tally-ho.
His anxious Lord: “I trow
“The Sheriff comes thro' yonder brake,
“For I hear his tally-ho.
“With Kentish men on either side,
“Bold blades, in buck-skin breech'd;
“Look there, Sir, you may see 'em ride
As if they were bewitch'd!”
“Bold blades, in buck-skin breech'd;
“Look there, Sir, you may see 'em ride
As if they were bewitch'd!”
Eftsoons, ere he had told his tale,
The Sheriff's voice they hear:
“Where's Peregrine, whom Jockies hail
“Full Brother to a Peer?”
The Sheriff's voice they hear:
“Where's Peregrine, whom Jockies hail
“Full Brother to a Peer?”
“Welcome, brave W---d!---Lo, here am I!”
The gallant B---rt---e cried:
“Keep pace with us an if thou canst
“While we a-hunting ride!”
The gallant B---rt---e cried:
“Keep pace with us an if thou canst
“While we a-hunting ride!”
141
“Beshrew my soul,” the Shrieve rejoin'd,
And gave his steed the rein,
“Who rides a race with me, behind
“For ever shall remain.”
And gave his steed the rein,
“Who rides a race with me, behind
“For ever shall remain.”
A Black-coat then the Shrieve address'd:
(Such Black-coat there is scarce one)
“I'll put Thee, Sheriff, to the test,
“Tho' but an Oxford Parson.
(Such Black-coat there is scarce one)
“I'll put Thee, Sheriff, to the test,
“Tho' but an Oxford Parson.
“For I with thee will ride and race,
“Or any in the land,
“And ever swallow glass for glass,
“While I can sit or stand.”
“Or any in the land,
“And ever swallow glass for glass,
“While I can sit or stand.”
They urg'd their hacknies on amain
With spurs of Woodstock steel,
Until the blood, like drops of rain,
Bedew'd each sportsman's heel.
With spurs of Woodstock steel,
Until the blood, like drops of rain,
Bedew'd each sportsman's heel.
His loss of leather bitterly
Shall rue full many a man
Till he to Rumford ride, to be
New-bottom'd spick and span.
Shall rue full many a man
Till he to Rumford ride, to be
New-bottom'd spick and span.
For in the West the Sun was set
Ere they the chace gave o'er:
Then did they all their whistles wet
With brandy-punch galore.
Ere they the chace gave o'er:
Then did they all their whistles wet
With brandy-punch galore.
142
Port too they quaff'd and humming beer,
Brew'd all in shire of Berks:
And then (thank God I was not there)
They sung like Parish Clerks.
Brew'd all in shire of Berks:
And then (thank God I was not there)
They sung like Parish Clerks.
They storm'd the cellar, left each bin
Its ravish'd flasks to mourn;
But spar'd the small-beer kilderkin:
(They were at Highgate sworn.)
Its ravish'd flasks to mourn;
But spar'd the small-beer kilderkin:
(They were at Highgate sworn.)
The liquor mounted in their pates;
Then had their brains been drown'd,
In pates of jovial Foxhunters
If brains were to be found.
Then had their brains been drown'd,
In pates of jovial Foxhunters
If brains were to be found.
C---ch---ll drank bumpers to his girl,
And challeng'd all the board;
B---rt---e, full brother to an Earl,
Got drunk as any Lord.
And challeng'd all the board;
B---rt---e, full brother to an Earl,
Got drunk as any Lord.
Alack it was a grief I trow
And pity to behold
Each Foxhunter, like David's sow,
About the parlour roll'd!
And pity to behold
Each Foxhunter, like David's sow,
About the parlour roll'd!
With the High-sheriff sprawling laid
Renown'd Sir Narb---o D---th,
Noah a second deluge made
The table underneath.
Renown'd Sir Narb---o D---th,
Noah a second deluge made
The table underneath.
141
With Pottinger and Matthews there,
Yeomen of good account,
Honest Jack P---ll---y from his chair,
For drinking, could not mount.
Yeomen of good account,
Honest Jack P---ll---y from his chair,
For drinking, could not mount.
Charles W---lk---r too of Magdalen,
Ah, maudlin ripe was he!
Ned C*ny*rs, for good breeding fam'd,
Yet sober could not be.
Ah, maudlin ripe was he!
Ned C*ny*rs, for good breeding fam'd,
Yet sober could not be.
Of Thomas Cole
, a lad of spunk,
The fate my Muse bemoans:
When his legs fail'd him, he got drunk
Upon his marrow-bones.
The fate my Muse bemoans:
When his legs fail'd him, he got drunk
Upon his marrow-bones.
And, sooth to say, no squire nor knight
Who wore on heel a spur
Could keep his seat or stand upright
Save Sir John G---rd---n---r.
Who wore on heel a spur
Could keep his seat or stand upright
Save Sir John G---rd---n---r.
(Ne'er shall we see his peer again,
None like him now there be!
He drank to death five Aldermen,
And Oxford taylors three.)
None like him now there be!
He drank to death five Aldermen,
And Oxford taylors three.)
Full many a pretty damsel speeds
To fetch them home next day;
They kiss'd, and wash'd, and comb'd their heads
And job'd them all the way.
To fetch them home next day;
They kiss'd, and wash'd, and comb'd their heads
And job'd them all the way.
144
When tidings to Lord Ab---ngd---n
Were wrote, with pen and ink,
That Peregrine at Yattendon
Was overcome with drink,
Were wrote, with pen and ink,
That Peregrine at Yattendon
Was overcome with drink,
His Lordship strumm'd his fiddle-string,
And he sung with merry glee
Huzza! of Fiddlers I'm the King,
The King of Fuddlers he!
And he sung with merry glee
Huzza! of Fiddlers I'm the King,
The King of Fuddlers he!
Long live all Sheriffs like the W---ds,
To execute the Foxes,
And send us store of fiddling Lords!—
Amen!—replied our Doxies.
To execute the Foxes,
And send us store of fiddling Lords!—
Amen!—replied our Doxies.
And eke God save our noble King,
And the noble house of B---rt---e!
And we'll drink, hunt, fiddle, dance and sing,
And a fig for Bonaparte!
And the noble house of B---rt---e!
And we'll drink, hunt, fiddle, dance and sing,
And a fig for Bonaparte!
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