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Nor parish-clerk-who calls the pfalm so clear,
Of nature's laws his carols first begun, Why the grave owl can never face the sun. For owles; as Twains observe, detest the light, And only fing and seek their prey by night. (How turnips hide their swelling head's below, 55 And how the closing colworts upwards grow; How Will-a-Wisp mis-leads night-faring clowns, O'er hill, and sinking bogs, and pathless downs. Of stars he told that shoot with shining trail, And of the glow-worm's light that gilds his tail. 60 He sung where wood-cocks in the summer feed, And in what climates they renew their breed; Some think to northern coasts their flight they tend, Or to the moon in midnight hours afcend. Where swallows in the winter season keep, 65 And how the drowsy bat and dormouse fleep. How nature does the puppy's eyelid close, Till the bright sun has nine times set and rose.
51. Our fwain bad possibly read Tuffer, from whence be migbe
bave collected i beje pbilosopbical observations. Namque canebat uti magnum per inane coasta &c.
For huntsmen by their long experience find,
Now he goes on, and sings of Fairs and shows, For still new fairs before his
Then sad he sung the children in the wood, Ah barb'rous uncle, stain'd with infant blood ! How blackberries they pluck'd in desarts wild, And fearless at the glittering fauchion smild; Their little corps the robin-red-breasts found, And ftrowd with pious bill the leaves around. Ah gentle birds! if this verse lafts so long, Your names shall live for ever in my song.
For buxom Joan he sung the doubtful ftrife, How the fly sailor made the maid a wife.
To louder strains he rais'd his voice, to tell What woeful wars in Chevy-chase befell, When Piercy drove the deer with bound and born, Wars to be wept by children yet unborn! Ah With’rington, more years thy life had crown'd, 105 If thou hadft never heard the horn or hound ! Yet shall the Squire, who fought on bloody ftumps, By future bards be wail'd in doleful dumps.
97. Fortunati ambo, fi quid mea carmina poffunt,
Nulla dies unquam memori vos eximet avo. Virg. 99. A Song in the Comedy of Love for Love, beginning
A Soldier and a Sailor, c.
All in the land of Efex next he chaunts , How to sleek mares itarch quakers turn gallants : 116 How the grave brother stood on bank so green. Happy for him if mares had never been !
Then he was seiz'd with a religious qualm, And on a sudden, sung the hundredth pfalm.
He sung of Taffy Welch, and Sawney Scot, 115 Lilly-bullero and the Irish Trot. Why should I tell of Bateman or of Shore, Or Wantley's Dragon slain by valiant Moore, The bow'r of Rosamond, or Robin Hood,
119 And how the grass now grows where Troy town ftood?
His carols ceas d : the list’ning maids and swains
109. A Song of Sir J. Denham’s. See bis Poems.