120 When Percy drove the deer with hound and horn, 109 All in the land of Essex next he chants, Then he was seiz'd with a religious qualm, He sung of Taffey Welch, and Sawney Scot, Why should I tell of Bateman, or of Shore, His carols ceas'd: the listening maids and swains The power that guards the drunk, his sleep attends, Ver. 109. A song of sir J. Denham's. See his Ver, 112. Et fortunatam, si nunquam armenta fuissent, Eggs iv. 120 Lily Virg. Endive v. 138 Lilly-bullero v. 60 iii. 55 Ver. 117. Quid loquar aut Scyllam Nisi, &c. Epitaph iii. 3. Virg. M Ver. 117-120, Old English ballads, iii. 68 Fawn i. 16 May-day i. 58 Fox iii. 61 Magpye iii. 5 Fuel v. 46 Milk-pail ii. 58 Mare vi. 110 i. 45 Mug vi. 32 vi. 38 Marian ii. 9 vi. 60 Moore vi. 118 Garter iv. 110 Marygold i. 46 i. 52 Midsummer-eve iv. 27 v. 150 Mole v. 157 Mountebank vi. 83 ACORNS, Adder Past. v. 52 Bun Gillian of Croydon v. 17 Mow v. 75 iv. 51 N i. 33 vi. Grass Green gown v, Ninepence v. 129 ii. 74 Robin-red-breast vi. 95 Tobacco THROUGH winter streets to steer your course aright, i. 2 iii. 40 vi. 120 True-love's knot iv. 115 i. 29 vi. 117 vi. 80 Robin Hood vi. 119 Troy town Turnip v. 137. V iv. 37 Udder Gaffer Treadwell v. 151 Through spacious streets conduct thy bard along; TRIVIA; i. 4 ii. 4 v. 99 i. 60 85 vi. 57 vi. 126 v. 66 i. 92 v. 43 i. 63 vi. 61 v. 54 10 20 When the black youth at chosen stands rejoice, 30 And damsels first renew their oyster-cries: True Witney broad-cloth, with its shag unshorn, [vent Gentlemen, if there be any thing in this poem good enough to displease you, and if it be any ad-Or his deep cloke bespatter'd o'er with lace. vantage to you to ascribe it to some person of greater merit; I shall acquaint you, for your comfort, that, among many other obligations, I owe several hints of it to Dr. Swift.. And, if you will so far continue your favour as to write against it, I beg you to oblige me in accepting the follow-Then brave unwet the rain, unchill'd the frest. 60 ing motto: 70 ff the strong cane support thy walking hand, Chairmen no longer shall the wall command; Ev'n sturdy carmen shall thy nod obey, And rattling coaches stop to make thee way: This shall direct thy cautious tread aright, Though not one glaring lamp enliven night. Let beaux their canes, with amber tipt, produce; Be theirs for empty show, but thine for use. In gilded chariots while they loll at ease, And lazily ensure a life's disease; While softer chairs the tawdry load convey To court, to White's, assemblies, or the play; Rosy-complexion'd Health thy steps attends, And exercise thy lasting youth defends. Imprudent men Heaven's choicest gifts profane: Thus some beneath their arm support the cane; The dirty point oft checks the careless pace, And miry spots the clean cravat disgrace. Oh! may I never such misfortune meet! May no such vicious walkers crowd the street! May Providence o'ershade me with her wings, While the bold Muse experienc'd danger sings! Not that I wander from my native home, And (tempting perils) foreign cities roam. Let Paris be the theme of Gallia's Muse, Where Slavery treads the streets in wooden shoes. Nor do I rove in Belgia's frozen clime, And teach the clumsy boor to skate in rhyme; Where, if the warmer clouds in rain descend, No miry ways industrious steps offend; The rushing flood from sloping pavements pours, And blackens the canals with dirty showers. Let others Naples' smoother streets rehearse, And with proud Roman structures grace their verse, Where frequent murders wake the night with groans, 80 90 And blood in purple torrents dyes the stones. 111 120 Surpris'd in dreary fogs, or driving rain. 1 A chocolate house in St. James's street. This knows the powder'd footman, and with care The changing weather certain signs reveal. 140 Nor do less certain signs the town advise Of milder weather and serener skies. The ladies, gaily dress'd, the Mall adorn With various dyes, and paint the sunny morn; The wanton fawns with frisking pleasure range, And chirping sparrows greet the welcome change; Not that their minds with greater skill are fraught Endued by instinct, or by reason taught: The seasons operate on every breast; "Tis hence the fawns are brisk, and ladies drest. When on his box the nodding coachman snores, And dreams of fancy'd fares; when tavern doors The chairmen idly crowd; then ne'er refuse To trust thy busy steps in thinner shoes. 150 But when the swinging signs your ears offend With creaking noise, then rainy floods impend; Soon shall the kennels swell with rapid streams, And rush in muddy torrents to the Thames. 160 The bookseller, whose shop's an open square, Foresees the tempest, and with early care Of learning strips the rails; the rowing crew, To tempt a fare, clothe all their tilts in bluc; On hosier's poles depending stockings ty'd, Flag with the slacken'd gale from side to side; Church-monuments foretel the changing air, Then Niobe dissolves into a 'tear, [sounds And sweats with sacred grief; you'll hear the Of whistling winds, ere kennels break their bounds; Ungrateful odours common-shores diffuse, 171 And dropping vaults distil unwholesome dews, Fre the tiles rattle with the smoking shower, And spouts on heedless men their torrents pour. All superstition from thy breast repel: Let credulous boys and prattling nurses tell, How, if the festival of Paul be clear, Plenty from liberal horn shall strew the year; When the dark skies dissolve in snow or rain, The labouring hind shall yoke the steer in vain; But, if the threatening winds in tempests roar, 181 Then War shall bathe her wasteful sword in gore. How, if on Swithin's feast the welkin lours, And every penthouse streams with hasty showers, Twice twenty days shall clouds their fleeces drain, And wash the pavements with incessant rain, Let not such vulgar tales del ase thy mind; Nor Paul nor Swithin rule the clouds and wind. If you the precepts of the Muse despise, And slight the faithful warning of the skies, Others you'll see, when all the town's afloat, Wrapt in th' embraces of a kersey coat, 190 'Haud equidem credo, quia sit divinitus illis, Ingenium, aut rerum fato prudentia major. Virg. Georg. 200 Or double-bottom'd frieze; their guarded feet 210 Good housewives all the winter's rage despise, To guard from chilly showers the walking maid. Where Lincoln wide extends her fenny soil, 230 And, when the plains with evening dews are spread, Vulcan by chance the bloomy maiden spies, 240 250 The Lemnian power forsakes the realms above, His bosom glowing with terrestrial love : Far in the lane a lonely hut he found; No tenant ventur'd on th' unwholesome ground. Here smokes his forge, he bares his sinewy arm, And early strokes the sounding anvil warm: Around his shop the steely sparkles flew,' As for the steed he shap'd the bending shoe. When blue-ey'd Patty near his window came, His anvil rests, his forge forgets to flame, To hear his soothing tales, she feigns delays; What woman can resist the force of praise? At first she coyly every kiss withstood, And all her cheek was flush'd with modest blood; 260 With headless nails he now surrounds her shoes, No more her lungs are shook with dropping rheums, TRIVIA. BOOK 11. OF WALKING THE STREETS BY DAY. 280 Thus far the Muse has trac'd, in useful lays, The proper implements for wintery ways; Has taught the walker, with judicious eyes, To read the various warnings of the skies: Now venture, Muse, from home to range the town, And for the public safety risk thy own. For ease and for dispatch, the morning's best; No tides of passengers the streets molest. You'll see a draggled damsel here and there, From Billingsgate her fishy traffic bear; 3 10 On doors the sallow milk-maid chalks her gains; Ah! how unlike the milk-maid of the plains! Before proud gates attending asses bray, Or arrogate with solemn pace the way; These grave physicians with their milky cheer The love-sick maid and dwindling beau repair; Here rows of drummers stand in martial file, And with their vellum thunder shake the pile, To greet the new made bride. Are sounds like these The proper prelude to a state of peace? Now Industry awakes her busy sons; Full-charg'd with news the breathless hawker runs : Shops open, coaches roll, carts shake the ground, And all the streets with passing cries resound. 20 30 If cloth'd in black you tread the busy town, "Or if distinguish'd by the reverend grown, Three trades avoid oft in the mingling press The barber's apron soils the sable dress; Shun the perfumer's touch with cautious eye, Nor let the baker's step advance too nigh. Ye walkers too, that youthful colours wear, Three sullying trades avoid with equal care: The little chimney-sweeper skulks along, And marks with sooty stains the heedless throng; When small-coal murmurs in the hoarser throat, From smutty dangers guard thy threaten'd coat; The dustman's cart offends thy clothes and eyes, When through the street a cloud of ashes flies; But, whether black or lighter dyes are worn, The chandler's basket, on his shoulder borne, 40 With tallow spots thy coat; resign the way, To shun the surly butcher's greasy tray, [49 Butchers, whose hands are dy'd with blood's foul Yield not the way, defy his strutting pride,. 60 70 If drawn by business to a street unknown, Let the sworn porter point thee through the town; Be sure observe the signs, for signs remain, Like faithful landmarks, to the walking train. Seek not from 'prentices to learn the way, Those fabling boys will turn thy steps astray; Ask the grave tradesman to direct thee right, He ne'er deceives-but when he profits by't. Where fam'd St. Giles's ancient limits spread, An enrail'd column rears its lofty head, Here to seven strects seven dials count the day, And from each other catch the circling ray.. Here oft the peasant, with inquiring face, Bewilder'd, trudges on from place to place; He dwells on every sign with stupid gaze, Enters the narrow alley's doubtful maze, Tries every winding court and street in vain, And doubles o'er his weary steps again. Thus hardy Theseus with intrepid feet Travers'd the dangerous labyrinth of Crete; But still the wandering passes forc'd his stay, Till Ariadne's clue unwinds the way. But do not thou, like that bold chief, confide Thy venturous footsteps to a female guide: She'll lead thee with delusive smiles along, Dive in thy fob, and drop thee in the throng. When waggish boys the stunted beesom ply, To rid the slabby pavement, pass not by Ere thou hast held their hands; some heedless Will overspread thy calves with spattering dirt. The voice of Industry is always near. 80 90 100 Like mortal man, great Jove (grown fond of change) Of old was wont this nether world to range To seek amours; the vice the monarch lov'd 109 Now had the watchman walk'd his second round, With the night-wandering harlot's airs she past, When the pale Moon had nine times fill'd her The pregnant goddess (cautious of disgrace) The child, through various risks in years im- At first a beggar's brat, compassion mov'd; 140 Oh happy unown'd youths! your limbs can bear. The scorching dog-star, and the winter's air; While the rich infant, nurs'd with care and pain, Thirsts with each heat, and coughs with every rain! The goddess long had mark'd the child's distress, And long had sought his sufferings to redress. 150 She prays the gods to take the fondling's part, To teach his hands some beneficial art Practis'd in streets: the gods her suit allow'd, And made him useful to the walking crowd; To cleanse the miry feet, and o'er the shoe, With nimble skill, the glossy black renew. Each power contributes to relieve the poor: With the strong bristles of the mighty boar Diana forms his brush; the god of day A tripod gives, amid the crowded way To raise the dirty foot, and ease his toil; Kind Neptune fills his vase with fetid oil Prest from th' enormous whale; the god of fire, From whose dominions smoky clouds aspire, Among these generous presents joins his part, And. aids with soot the new japanning art. Pleas'd she receives the gifts; she downward glides, Lights in Fleet-ditch, and shoots beneath the tides. 160 Cloacina was a goddess, whose image Tatius (a king of the Sabines) found in the common shore; and, not knowing what goddess it was, he called it Cloacina, from the place in which it was found, and paid to it divine honours. Lactant. 1. 20. Minuc. Fel. Oct. p. 232. |