BOOK II. ON WALKING THE STREETS BY DAY. THUS far the Muse has trac'd, in useful lays, Now venture, Muse! from home to range the Town, And for the public safety risk thy own. 6 For ease and for despatch the morning's best; On doors the sallow milkmaid chalks her gains; 10 These grave physicians, with their milky cheer, 15 these The proper prelude to a state of peace? 20 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. 30 If cloth'd in black you tread the busy Town, 25 Or if distinguish'd by the reverend gown, 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, 35 From smutty dangers guard thy threaten'd coat; The dust-man'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, With tallow spots thy coat: resign the way, To shun the surly butcher's greasy tray; [stain, Butchers! whose hands are dy'd with blood's foul And always foremost in the hangman's train. Let due civilities be strictly paid ; The wall surrender to the hooded maid; Nor let thy sturdy elbow's hasty rage Jostle the feeble steps of trembling age: 40 45 And when the porter bends beneath his load, And pants for breath, clear thou the crowded road: 51 55 But, above all, the groping blind direct, But mutters coward curses as he goes. 61 65 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 inrail'd column rears its lofty head; 70 Here to sev'n streets sev'n dials count the day, 75 80 Tries every winding court and street in vain, 85 90 When waggish boys the stunted besom ply, To rid the slabby pavement, pass not by Ere thou hast held their hands; some heedless flirt Will overspread thy calves with spattering dirt. Where porters hogsheads roll from carts aslope, Or brewers down steep cellars stretch the rope, 95 Where counted billets are by carmen tost, Stay thy rash step, and walk without the post. What though the gathering mire thy feet besmear? The voice of industry is always near. Hark! the boy calls thee to his destin'd stand, 100 105 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 109 115 Whose sable streams beneath the city glide) Now had the watchman walk'd his second round, When Cloacina hears the rumbling sound Of her brown lover's cart, for well she knows 125 131 1 Cloacina was a goddess whose image Tatius (a king of the Sabines) found in the common sewer, 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. |