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The maid! was she handsome? why truly so-so:
But what Morley whispered 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 asked for the score,

John kindly had paid it the evening before.

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,
Called 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.

So to Harlow they came; and, hey! where are you
all?
Show us into the parlour, and mind when I call;
Why, your maids have no motion, your men have no
life;
Well, master, I hear you have buried your wife.

Come this very instant, take care to provide

Tea, sugar, and toast, and a horse and a guide;

Are the Harrisons 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 buried two wives since youtravelled this way;

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And the Harrisons 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 frothed out by the hand of mine
host;
But we cleared our extempore banquet so fast,
That the Harrisons 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 miles round;
But oh! all in vain: for no Down could be found.

O thou popish guide, thou hast led us astray,
Says he, How the devil should I know the way :
I never yet travelled this road in my life;
But Down lies on the left, I was told by my wife.

Thy wife, answered Matthew, when she went abroad,
Ne'er told thee of half the by-ways she had trod:
Perhaps she met friends, and brought pence to thy
house,
But thou shalt go home without ever a souse.

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 replied:
To find out our way, let us send off our guide.

O here I spy Down, cast your eye to the west,
Where a windmill so stately stands plainly confessed.
On the west, replied Matthew, no windmill I find;
As well thou mayst tell me, I see the west wind:

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36 Now pardon me, Morley, the windmill 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 lies behind.

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A justice of peace, or a knight of our shire.

38 A house should be built, or with brick, or with stone.
Why ’tis plaster and lath; and J 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.

39 O. Morley! O Morley! if that be a hall,
The fame with the building will suddenly fall—
With your friend Jemmy Gibbs' about buildings
agree;
My business is land; and it matters not me.

40 I wish you could tell what a deuce your head ails:
I showed you Down-hall; did you look for Ver-
sailles!
Then take house and farm as John Ballet will let
you,
For better for worse, as I took my Dame Betty.

41 And now, Sir, a word to the wise is enough; You'll make very little of all your old stuff:

* James Gibbs, architect of the Ratcliffe Library, Oxford, and many other buildings.

And to build at your age, by my troth, you grow
simple!
Are you young and rich, like the masterof Wimple!'

§ 42 If you have these whims of apartments and gardens,

o, o From twice fifty acres you'll ne'er see five farthings:

'No. And in yours I shall find the true gentleman's fate;

Ere you finish your house, you’ll have spent your estate.

so. 4 Nowie us touch thumbs, and be friends ere we part.

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* * * To Halstead I speed, and you go back to town. ; : V Thus ends the first part of the ballad of Down. y Derry down, down, hey derry down. VERSES

SPOKEN TO LADY HENRIETTA CAVENDISH-HOLLES HARLEY,
COUNTESS OF OXFORD.
IN THE LIBRARY OF ST. John's COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, NoveMBER 9, 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 honour 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: 10
Plato and Tully we forbear to read,
And their great followers whom this house has bred,
* Edward Earl of Oxford—" The family seat was then at Wimple.

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To study lessons from thy morals given, 13
And shining characters, impressed 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.
• Their pious incense let our neighbours bring,
To the kind memory of some bounteous king; 20
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;
Saint John's was founded in a woman's name.
Enjoined by statute, to the fair we bow;
In spite of time, we keep our ancient vow;
What Margaret Tudor was, is Harriet Harley now.

PROLOGUE TO THE ORPHAN.3

REPRESENTED BY SOME OF THE WESTMINSTER SCHOLARS, At HICKFoRD's DANCING ROOM, FEBRUARY 2, 1720. spokeN By LoRD DUPPLIN, who ACTED cordELIO THE PAGE. WHAT! would my humble comrades have me say, Gentle spectators, pray excuse the play; Such work by hireling actors should 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 asked ‘whose patent we act under?” How shall we gain you, a la mode de France? We hired this room; but none of us can dance; 10

1 Sir T. White, founder of St John's College, Oxon.—a Archbishop Laud also was a generous benefactor.—” A few lines of this prologue occur in another, which has been given already.

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