Poems upon several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

In Days of Old, if Story does not err,
In Oxford dwelt an aged Carpenter;
But tho' with Riches he was amply stor'd,
Greedy of Pelf, he Scholars kept at Board;
Daily he thriv'd, and thriving learn'd to Save;
A Jealous Dotard, and a Purse proud Knave.

It so befel, a Youngster of the Gown,
For his Diversion, took a Room in Town

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At this old Carpenter's good Mansion-House;
He let the Room—the Scholar paid his Spouse.
A Youth He was of most accomplish'd Parts,
Deep read in Sciences, and learn'd in Arts;
But to Astrology he most inclin'd,
To that the Stars had influenc'd his Mind.
You cou'd propose no Question e're so nice,
But he resolv'd the Problem in a Trice,
And drew infallible Conclusions by
The sure Determinations of the Sky;
No Almanack cou'd half so well explain
The dire Contingences of Drought, or Rain;
No Farmer in the Neighbourhood around,
Without Consulting him, broke up his Ground;
And Husbandmen their Contributions pay,
To know when they shou'd Reap, or Cock their Hay:
He'd form a Diagram, and there descry
The Horoscope of a Nativity;

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And much enlarge on num'rous Cuckolds born
Beneath the Forked Star of Capricorn:
He corresponded with the Heav'nly Signs,
Conjunctions, Aspects, Quartils, and their Trines;
And Stars wou'd tip the Wink, to let him know
What Sublunary Thieves, or Lovers did below.

He by his Knowledge purchas'd goodly Fame,
And Gentle Nich'las was this Artist's Name;
His Maiden Looks profess'd a Saint-like Grace,
And well-dissembl'd Truth bely'd his Face;
The Sophister a Graduate might prove
In all th' Intrigues and secret Arts of Love;
And when to solace, Phillis gave Occasion,
He punctually obey'd her Assignation.

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With trusty Fondle Wife (as we have said)
He boarded; and to propagate his Trade,
Alone Apartment to himself he had:
The Chamber well his blooming Thoughts express'd,
Spruc'd up with chearful Greens, and quaintly dress'd,
Myrtles, and Flow'rs in Sweets confus'dly meet,
Sweet were the Greens, and Flow'rs, but he himself more sweet.

On a Decyph'ring Table, near the Bed,
His Astrologick Schemes, and Globes were laid,
His Astrolabe, that long'd to shew his Art,
With Constellation Stones, were set apart:
Upon a Shelf were Authors rang'd on high,
With the fam'd Almagist of Ptolomy;
Whence he his Cant purloin'd, and learned Banters,
Colures, Azimuthals, and Almicanters.

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His Press was with a Scarlet Carpet grac'd,
Where he his tuneful Instrument had plac'd,
On which a nights harmoniously he play'd,
With Strings and Voice such Melody he made,
He play'd so sweet, the Chamber ecchoing rung,
And Angelus ad Virginem he sung:
Full many a Sonnet bless'd his warbling Throat,
Shrill as the Lark, as merry was his Note.

The Carpenter, devoid of Sense and Grace,
(As it is many an Honest Townsman's Case)
But newly wedded had a Buxom Wife,
That he more dearly tender'd than his Life;
The gamesom Filly was about Eighteen,
Barb'ry her Shape, her Pasterns strait and clean,
Which made the Sot his Charge in Durance keep,
Lest She promiscuously shou'd steal a Leap:

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For She was wild, and young; He tame, and old,
And thought all Cuckolds sprung from Heat and Cold;
Unlearn'd, he ne're had read Sage Cato's Rules,
Which preach this Maxim from the Moral Schools,
That who in Disproportion wed, are Fools.
Man ought to Couple with an equal Mate,
For Youth and Age get nothing—but Debate;
The Husband Aged, and a Youthful Dame,
His chilling Snow but ill requites her Flame:
But since the Gull was fall'n into the Snare,
He must endure what Fellow-Suff'rers bear,
And think that She from Others will receive
The Love He cannot, and which They can give.

The Wife was wond'rous Fair, and therewithal
Her gentle Body, as the Weezel, small;
She wore a Girdle of Brocaded Silk,
Her Apron whiter was than Morning Milk,

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Purfl'd about, it fell in Pleats all o're;
Clean was her Smock—embroider'd down before,
The Collar round with Needle-Work was wrought,
Black as her Eyes, and wanton as her Thought;
In glossy Rounds the jetty Bugles deck
The graceful Column of her snowy Neck:
Her Kercheif was of Lawn, with Ribbons ty'd
In mazy Knots, and complicated Pride;
Just on the less'ning Calf her Buskins fall,
And gayly lac'd the well-proportion'd Small:
Her Fillet broad of Silk, was set full high;
And the young Wanton had a liqu'rish Eye:
Her Eyebrows pincht like slender Arches grow,
Bending in Shades, and blacker than a Sloe;
Her spangl'd Purse with tawdry Colours dy'd,
Tassell'd with Silk, hung dangling by her Side;
Her ev'ry Garment, with a Rival Air,
Contended which shou'd most adorn the Fair:

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Her Beauty and Attire each other grace,
Her Face the Dress commends, the Dress her Face.

Her shining Hue was brighter to behold
Than new coin'd Angels, or the Noble-Gold:
Her Genial Songs full gladsom Notes express'd;
So Sparrows chirping tread, and build their Nest:
But to her Voice She like a Kid wou'd bound,
Frisking in Air, too light to touch the Ground.
Her lovely Mouth, and Lips of Ruby, shew
Like blushing Cherries pearl'd with Morning Dew:
Not spicy Wines such Fragrancies display,
Nor Apples hoarded in new-tedded Hay:
Wincing She was, as is a jolly Colt,
Long as a Mast, and upright as a Bolt:
Not Down of Swans, or Blossoms on the Tree
Were half so soft, so sweet, so beautiful as She.

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The Charmer was created for Delight,
Form'd to provoke a Monarch's Appetite,
A Venus fit to wanton by Jove's Side,
Or yet to make a good convenient Vulcan's Bride.

Now Sir, and oft Sir, thus befel the Case;
Upon a Day this Gentle Nicholas
(While the good Husband was to Os'ney gone,
And the young Wife was kindly left alone)
Began his am'rous Passion to declare,
And with outrageous Love attack'd the Fair;
He kiss'd—he ogl'd her—with Ardor press't
Her balmy Hand, and squeez'd her heaving Breast;
Then wantonly he stole down by degrees,
First strok'd her swelling Thigh, then grasp'd her Knees,
Till his impatient Hand like Lightning flew
To a strange Place—which scarce her Husband knew;

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(There He had been indeed, but been in vain,
Gave Her small Pleasure, and Himself much Pain.)
One Arm in strictest Folds the Fair embrac'd,
Clinging like Ivy round her slender Waste.
“For Love of You (says he) I inly mourn,
“All Night I languish, and all Day I burn.
“Permit me then—or I will ne're remove,
“O grant me—or I perish for your Love;
“Thus on your panting Bosom will I lie,
“Here conquer, or—upon this Spot will die.

Now, as in Passion, from his Arms She sprung,
Far from his Kisses back her Head She flung,
Writhing her twining Neck, as rack'd with Pain,
But whisper'd Kindness, tho' She look'd Disdain;
Half-smiling, and half-frowning She appears,
And Venus seem'd to chuckle thro' her Tears;

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Says She—“You shall not—Heav'ns—nay fie—forbear,
“I shall cry out,—and somebody may hear.
Thus as they in the wanton Battel strove,
He boldly storm'd, and seiz'd the Fort of Love;
Nor cou'd She longer now the Foe withstand,
The Articles of Peace were in his Hand.

Yet Gentle Nich'las, fearing to displease,
Fell, and ask'd Pardon on his bended Knees;
He pray'd—he swore—and promis'd her so fast,
That She as kindly promis'd him at last.
“You naughty Men have the prevailing Arts
“To tyrannize o're silly Women's Hearts,
“Undone by You, we fondly seek no Aid,
“In Love most happy, when by Love betray'd;
Then swore devoutly by St. Becket's Shrine,
“Thine will I be (quoth She) and only thine,

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“Whenever by kind Absence I am free
“From my old Husband's watchful Jealousy:
“But I enjoin You, that You cautious prove,
“And on your Life be secret in your Love;
“For shou'd You not to Secresy incline,
“The rash Discov'ry may endanger mine.

“Since I am bless'd (said he) with your Consent,
“Leave this Intrigue to my sole Management;
“The Scholar idly has employ'd his Study,
“That of thy Logwood cannot make a Noddy.
Thus Both agreed, and mutually they swore
To wait the Time, as 'tis express'd before—
Then after he had taken lusty Pains
To warm her Gaskins well, and thump'd her Loyns,
Thick on her Lips he patt'ring Kisses laid;
Then sirk'd his Fiddle, and like wild he play'd,

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With eager Joy elate, he loudly sings,
Swift flew his Bow, and scarcely touch'd the Strings.

It so befel, upon an Holy-Day,
The beauteous Convert went to Church to pray;
But first bethought her to consult her Glass,
And there in private She confess'd her Face,
Absolv'd from venial Stains her Beauties shone,
In Lustre equal to the Mid-day Sun.

Now of this Church there was a Parish-Clerk
Icleped Absolon—a furious Spark,
His Goldy Locks were curl'd, and from his Head
On each Side op'ning, like a Fan, they spread;
His Countenance Vermilion was; his Eyes
Grey as a Goose's, and he look'd as wise;
He tripp'd full featly with a mincing Pace,
In Hosen red, and an affected Grace;

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And as on Bread and Butter Children use,
He wore Glass-Windows printed on his Shoes.
His Azure Vest thick set with Points, embrac'd
And narrowly confin'd his spiny Waste;
His Surplice over all did downward flow,
Fair as the Blossom whit'ning on the Bough.

A merry Child he was, a parlous Knave,
Well cou'd he use the Lancet, Clip, or Shave,
Or draw a Lease, as if h' had learn'd by Heart
The Barber-Surgeon's, and the Lawyer's Art;
His various Legs he threw in Figures rare,
And coupee'd with a Courtly Oxford Air;
He to his Strings his tow'ring Voice cou'd raise,
And on his Gittern thrum Harmonious Lays;
No publick Inn, no Tavern in the Town,
Where He, and where his Fiddle were not known;
The merry Maids without him knew no Bliss,
They took a License from his Strings to Kiss.

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Our Jolly Absolon, thus brisk and gay,
Went with his Censer on a Sabbath-Day,
To fume the Parish-Wives with pious Haste,
And on them many a Holy Leer he cast.
But when fair Alison he view'd, each Glance
Made his Heart caper, and his Spirits dance;
The Votary did more devoutly look
Upon her Heav'nly Eyes, than on his Book:
To Her he bow'd, unmindful of the Altar,
And on her Face repeats his Lady's Psalter;
Before her Beauties Shrine devoutly whispers
His Mattins o're, and darkling sings his Vespers.
Her Lovely Form so gratify'd the Sense,
He cou'd not keep his wand'ring Eyes from thence:
Had now the Pow'rs of Jove's superior House
Transform'd our Clergy-Spark, and City-Spouse
Into a Mufty-Cat, and a Sultana-Mouse,

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The furry Orthodox had born away,
In his rapacious Claws, the ravish'd Prey.

This Absolon, o'recome with am'rous Care,
Felt such insatiate Longings for the Fair,
That for her Sake alone, he cou'd refuse
(What rarely Parish-Clerk remits) his Dues:
For tho' the Female-Off'rings were many,
He out of Kindness wou'd not touch a Penny;
But that Religion might obliging prove,
He threw them in the Service—All for Love.

The Day was past, at length approach'd the Night,
Pale Cynthia glitter'd with her Silver Light;
His trusty Gittern forth the Lover brings,
And softly humming preludes to his Strings,
Till his instructed Voice and Hand prepare
In goodly Strains to Serenade the Fair:
Along he trudg'd with thoughtful Love oppress'd,
While Jealousy consum'd his throbbing Breast;

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He just before the Ladies Bow'r appear'd,
When wakeful Chanticleer's first Crow was heard,
Which rouz'd the slumb'ring Strings, they soon obey'd,
And in an Eunuch-Voice he sung, and play'd,
His mournful Lays in doleful Notes express
A Canticle of Woe, and Lovers in Distress.