University of Virginia Library

While the bold Youths arrang'd on either Hand,
Around the Field in decent Order stand,
Amid the Throng, lame Hobbinol appear'd,
And wav'd his Cap in order to be heard:
The Green stood silent as the Midnight-Shade,
All Tongues but his were still, when thus he said;
Ye Champions of fair Lusk, and ye of Soards,
View well this Ball, the Present of your Lords;
To outward View, three Folds of Bullock's Hide,
With Leathern Thongs fast bound on ev'ry Side:
A Mass of finest Hay, conceal'd from Sight,
Conspire at once, to make it firm and light;
At this you'll all contend, this bravely strive,
Alternate thro' the adverse Goal to drive:
Two Gates of Sally bound the spacious Green,
Here one, and one on yonder Side is seen:
Guard that ye Men of Soards, ye Others this,
Fame waits the Careful, Scandal the Remiss.
He said; and high in Air he flung the Ball:
The Champions crowd, and anxious wait its Fall.
First Felim caught, he pois'd, and felt it soft,
Then whirl'd it with a sudden Stroke aloft:
With Motion smooth and swift, he saw it glide,
Till Dick, who stop'd it on the other Side,
A dextrous Kick, with artful Fury drew,
The light Machine, with Force unerring, flew
To th'adverse Goal; where, in the Sight of all,
The watchful Daniel caught the flying Ball;
He proudly joyful in his Arms embrac'd
The welcome Prize; then ran with eager haste,
With lusty Strides he measur'd half the Plain,
When all his Foes surround and stop the Swain;
They tug, they pull; to his Assistance run,
The strong-limb'd Darby, and the nimble John:
Paddy, with more than common Ardour fir'd,
Out-singled Daniel, while the rest retir'd:
At Grappling, now, their mutual Skill they try,
Now Arm in Arm they lock, and Thigh in Thigh;
Now turn, now twine, now with a furious Bound,
Each lifts his fierce Opposer from the Ground:
'Till Flora, who perceiv'd the dire Debate,
Anxious and trembling for her Darling's Fate,
Round Daniel's Leg (unseen by humane Eyes)
Nine Blades of Grass, with artful Texture ties.
From what slight Causes rise our Joy or Grief,
Pleasure or Pain, Affliction or Relief?
Th'entangled Youth but faintly seems to stand,
Bound by one Leg, incumber'd in one Hand;
For yet he held, nor till his hapless Fall,
Dropt from his Arms, the long contended Ball.

As when a Mountain Oak its Ruin finds,
Which long had brav'd the Fury of the Winds;
In vain it stands against the dreadful Blast,
And tho' reluctant, must submit at last:
Such, Daniel, was thy Fall; nor can it be
To thy Reproach, since by the God's Decree.

And now both Bands in close Embraces met,
Now Foot to Foot, and Breast to Breast were set;
Now all impatient grapple round the Ball,
And Heaps on Heaps in wild Confusion fall.

Thus when of Old the Cloud-begotten Guest,
Disturb'd the Revels, and embroil'd the Feast;
With sudden Frenzy fir'd, All rise to Arms,
And rend Heav'n's Azure Vault with loud Alarms;
With drunken Rage, and Resolution steel'd,
The mingling Warriours bustle thro' the Field;
Centaurs and Lapithæ (a dreadful Sight!)
Mix in the Throng, and void of Order fight;
Thro' the wide Waste, Death and Confusion reign,
And cover all around with Heaps of Slain.

Thy Trip, O Terence, fell'd the lusty Neal;
Kit dropt by Felim; Hugh by Paddy fell;
Toss'd down by Darby, Dick forbore to play;
John tugg'd at Cabe: While thus confus'd they lay,
Sly Le'nard struck th'unheeded Ball, and stole,
With easy Paces, tow'rds th'unguarded Goal:
This Daniel saw, who rising from the Ground,
(Where, like Antæus, he new Strength had found,)
Flew to his Post, and halloo'd to his Crew;
They start, and swift the flying Foe pursue:
Le'nard observing, stood upon his Guard,
And now to kick the rolling Ball prepar'd:
When careful Terence, fleeter than the Wind,
Ran to the Swain, and caught his Arm behind;
A dextrous Crook about his Leg he wound,
And laid the Champion grov'ling on the Ground;
Then toss'd the Football in the ambient Air,
Which soon was stop'd by nimble Paddy's Care.
Now Flora to the Zephyrs Cell repairs,
And bribes the Deities with ardent Pray'rs,
To waft the Ball from him with certain Aim,
And, by one Stroke, to end the doubtful Game.

The Zephyrs smiling, promis'd Heav'nly Aid,
Flew by the Swain, and with his Vesture play'd.

Pleas'd with the Sign, he listened to the Call,
And when the Goddess urg'd him, struck the Ball;
No feather'd Shaft, sent from the sounding Yew,
E'er went so straitly, or so swiftly flew:
For on their Wings (to mortal Eyes unseen,)
The careful Zephyrs bore the light Machine.
Daniel, despairing of his promis'd Prize,
Jumps up, and strives to stop it as it flies:
They, to avoid his Fury, upward soar,
'Till past the Goal the flying Ball they bore:
At this Advantage, all the Forces pause,
And the Field ecchoes with the loud Applause.

This Pan indignant saw, fierce Anger spread
Upon his ruddy Face a deeper Red.
Not far from hence a shady Forest lies,
Its nodding Summit tow'ring to the Skies:
In the Midwood (a lonely, awful Seat)
Stands the great Shepherd's best belov'd Retreat:
Here bloom the Trees, in goodly Order set,
While on each Side the spreading Branches met;
Here thro' the waving Boughs, the doubtful Day
Casts on the shaded Ground a chequer'd Ray;
Harmonious Birds hop warbling thro' the Trees,
And the Leaves quiver with the cooling Breeze.

Here the gay Scene with choicest Sweets is crown'd,
Here lavish Nature decks the teeming Ground;
Adorns the Sod with Grass of cheerful Green,
While interspers'd the vary'd Flow'rs are seen.

The Primrose here its fragrant Pride displays,
And there the Daisy shoots its Milk-white Rays;
Jonquils around their op'ning Bloom disclose;
Here smiles the Pink, and there the Tulip glows.
Here, stretch'd at Ease, the God supinely lay,
And smiling, view'd the well-disputed Fray:
But when he saw the Goddess interpose,
His Friends dishearten, and assist his Foes;
Fierce Gusts of Passion fir'd his swelling Soul,
His Bosom rages, and his Eye-Balls roll:
In wild Disorder, rising from the Ground,
He starts, and casts his gloomy Looks around,
Then sunk, and seem'd in sullen Sorrow drown'd.

'Twas at this Time, when from the Field retir'd,
To taste the Sweetness which the Grove expir'd,
Fair Flora entred the Divine Abode,
And, in a pensive Posture, found the God;
His Back reclin'd against an aged Oak,
Scowling his Eyes, and drooping o'er his Crook.
While various Thoughts roll anxious in his Breast,
Thus with a Frown, the Goddess he address'd;—
What Folly moves Thee, or what Pride excites,
To bar my Pleasures, or usurp my Rights?
And dost thou know the Swain's my proper Sphere,
While Flow'rs and Herbs alone demand thy Care?
And dar'st thou yet (by Jove's Decree confin'd)
Exceed the Limits to thy Charge assign'd?

Shock'd at these Sounds, while Anger and Disdain
Rage in her Breast, and boil in ev'ry Vein;
The Goddess answer'd, Whence this rising Storm?
And why these gloomy Clouds thy Brow deform?
To this Precedence, what is thy Pretence?
And whose the Pow'r, to which I gave Offence?
That thus you rave of violated Right,
In Sounds to deafen, and with Frowns to fright?

And dost thou ask? (reply'd the furious Pan)
And hast thou learn'd how first these Sports began?
Know then, I first of Gods or Men was seen,
To toss a Football on yon' Flow'ry Green;
Me Phœbus taught, when from Jove's Wrath he fled,
And on the Plain, Admetus' Cattle fed:
'Twas on yon' Field, and at that Game, I won
This long-contended Crook from Maya's Son;
To it (that stinging Thought renews my Woe)
This circling Wreath, which binds my Brows, I owe
This fatal Wreath—More as he strove to say,
Sighs choak'd his failing Words, and stop'd their Way:
Adown his Cheeks, the Tears each other trace,
And all his Anger to his Grief give Place.
Sighs so unfeign'd, soft Flora's Heart engage,
And kind Concern succeeds the ebbing Rage;
With calmer Brow she fondly asks his Care,
(Pity's the darling Weakness of the Fair.)
Pleas'd with her Words, the God forgot the Foe,
(So much we love Indulgence, ev'n in Woe,)
View'd her Intent, and with a kinder Look,
And in a gentler Tone, more softly spoke.
Tho' the Recital stab me to the Heart,
Revive my Suff'rings, and renew my Smart:
Tho' it recall past Horrors to my View,
Tear my old Wounds, and make them bleed anew;
Yet you shall hear—then beckon'd to the Plain,
When lo! appear'd a Satyr of his Train:
Two butting Horns adorn'd his curling Head,
His Limbs an Hairy Cov'ring overspread;
With scudding Tail, on cloven Hoofs he ran,
Receiv'd the God's Command, and thus began.