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My boxen hautboy, sweet of sound,
There many a worthy wight I've seen, In ribbon blue and ribbon green : As Oxford, who a wand doth bear, Like Moses, in our Bibles fair; Who for our traffic forms designs, And gives to Britain Indian mines. Now, shepherds, clip your fleecy care; Ye maids, your spinning-wheels prepare; Ye weavers, all your shuttles throw, And bid broad-cloths and serges grow ; For trading free shall thrive again, Nor leasings lewd affright the swain,
There saw I St. John, sweet of mien, Full stedfast both to church and queen; With whose fair name I'll deck my strain; St. John, right courteous to the swain.
For thus he told me on a day, “Trim are thy sonnets, gentle Gay; And, certes, mirth it were to see Thy joyous madrigals twice three, With preface meet, and notes profound, Imprinted fair, and well ye-bound.” All suddenly then home I sped, And did ev'n as my lord had said.
Lo, here thou hast mine eclogues fair, But let not these detain thine ear. Let not th'affairs of states and kings Wait, while our Bouzybeus sings. Rather than verse of simple swain Should stay the trade of France or Spain; Or, for the plaint of parson's maid, Yon emperor's packets be delay'd; In sooth, I swear by holy Paul, Pll burn book, preface, notes, and all.
MONDAY; OR, THE SQUABBLE.
lobbin clout, cuddy, cloddipole.
Thy younglings, Cuddy, are but just awake, No thrustles shrill the bramble-bush forsake,
No chirping lark the welkin sheen invokes,
Ah Lobbin Clout! I ween, my plight is guest, For he that leaves, a stranger is to rest: If swains belye mot, thou hast prov'd the smart, And Blouzelinda's mistress of thy heart. 10. This rising rear betokeneth well thy mind, Those arms are folded for thy Blouzelind. And well, I trow, our piteous plights agree: Thee Blouzelinda smites, Buxoma me.
lobbin clour, Ah, Blouzelind! I love thee more by half, Than does their fawns, or cows the new-fall'n calf; Woe worth the tongue! may blisters sore it gall, That names Buxoma Blouzelind withal.
culody. Hold, withess Lobbin Clout, I thee advise, Lest blisters sore on thy own tongue arise. Lo, yonder, Cloddipole, the blithsome swain, The wisest lout of all the neighbouring plain From Cloddipole we learnt to read the skies, To know when hail will fall, or winds arise. He taught us erst the heifer's tail to view,
ensue : He first that useful secret did explain, That pricking corns foretold the gathering rain. , , When swallows fleet soar high and sport in air, He told us that the welkin would be clear. 30 Let Cloddipole then hear us twain rehearse, And praise his sweetheart in alternate verse. I'll wager this same oaken staff with thee, That Cloddipole shall give the prize to me!
lobbin clout. See this tobacco pouch, that's lin'd with hair, Made of the skin of sleekest fallow-deer. This pouch, that's ty'd with tape of reddest hue, I'll wager, that the prize shall be my due.
cuddy. Begin thy carols then, thou vaunting slouch" Be thine the oaken staff, or mine the pouch. 48
Lobbin clouT. My Blouzelinda is the blithest lass, Than primrose sweetcr, or the clover-grass. Fair is the king-cup that in meadow blows, Fair is the daisie that beside her grows;
Ver. 3. Welkin, the same as welken, an old Saxon word, signifying a cloud; by poetical licence it is frequently taken for the element, or sky, as may appear by this verse in the Dream of Chaucer—
Ne in all the welkin was no cloud.
—Sheen, or shine, an old word for shining, or bright.
Ver. 5. Scant, used in the ancient British authors for scarce.
Ver. 6. Rear, an expression in several counties of England, for early in the morning.
Ver, 7. To ween, derived from the Saxon, to think, or conceive.
Ver. 25. Erst, a contraction of ere this; it
signifies sometime ago, or formerly.
When stuck aloft, that showers would straight
Fair is the gillifiower, of gardens sweet,
Ver. 56. Deft, an old word, signifying brisk, or nimble. Ver. 69. Eftsoons, from eft, an ancient British word, signifying soon. So that eftsoons is a doubling of the word soon : which is, as it were, to say twice soon, or very soon. Ver. 79. 2weint has various significations in the ancient English authors. I have used it in this place in the same sense as Chaucer hath done in his Miller's Tale. “As clerkes being full subtle and queint,” (by which he means arch, or waggish); and not in that obscene sense wherein he useth it in the line immediately following. Ver. 85. Populus Alcidae gratissima, vitis Iaccho, Formosa myrtus Veneri, sua laurea Phoebo, Phillis amat corylos. Illas dum Phillis amabit, Nec myrtus vincet corylos mec laurea Phoebi. &c.
While she loves turnips, butter I'll despise, Nor leaks, nor oatmeal, nor potatoe, prize.
cuddy. In good roast-beef my landlord sticks his knife, The capon fat delights his dainty wife, o Pudding our parson eats, the squire loves hare, But white-pot thick is my Buxoma's fare. While she loves white-pot, capon ne'er shall be, Nor hare, nor beef, nor pudding, food for me.
lobbin clout. As once I play’d at blindman's buff, it hapt About my eyes the towel thick was wrapt. I miss'd the swains, and seiz'd on Blouzelind. True speaks that ancient proverb, “Love is blind.”
When in the ring the rustic routs he threw,
Ver. 21. Kee, a west-country word for kine, or ooirs.
With crumbled bread I thicken'd well thy mess.
WEDNESDAY ; OR, THE DUMPs".
The wailings of a maiden I recite, A maiden fair, that Sparabella hight. Such strains ne'er warble in the linnet's throat, Nor the gay goldfinch chants so sweet a note. No magpye chatter'd, nor the painted jay, No ox was heard to low, nor ass to bray; No rustling breezes play'd the leaves among, While thus her madrigal the damsel sung.
* Dumps, or dumbs, made use of to express a fit of the sullens Some have pretended that it is derived from Dumops, a king of Egypt, that built a pyramid, and died of melancholy. So mopes, after the same manner, is thought to have come from Merops, another Fgyptian king, that died of the same distemper. But our English antiquaries have conjectured that dumps, which is a grievous heaviness of spirits, comes from the word dumplin, the heaviest kind of pudding that is eaten in this country, much used in Norfolk, and other counties of England. Ver. 5. Immemor herbarum quos est mirata juvenca Certantes, quorum stupefactae carmine lynces, Et mutata suds requierunt flumina cursus. Virg. A while, 6 D'Urfey' lend an ear or twain, - Nor, tho' in homely guise, my verse disdain; Whether thou seek'st new kingdoms in the Sun, Whether thy Muse does at Newmarket run, Or does with gossips at a feast regale, And heighten her conceits with sack and ale, Or else at wakes with Joan and Hodge rejoice, Where D'Urfey's lyrics swell in every voice; Yet suffer me, thou bard of wondrous meed, Amid thy bays to weave this rural weed. Now the Sun drove adown the western road, And oxen, laid at rest, forgot the goad, 20 The clown, fatigued, trudg’d homeward with his spade, Across the meadows stretch'd the lengthen'd shade; When Sparabella, pensive and forlorn, Alike with yearning love and labour worn, Lean'd on her rake, and straight with doleful guise JDid this sad plaint in mournful notes devise: “Come Night as dark as pitch, surround my head, From Sparabella Bumkinet is fled; The ribbon that his valorous cudgel won, Last Sunday happier Clumsilis put on. Sure if he'd eyes, (but Love, they say, has none) I whilom by that ribbon had been known. Ah, well-a-day ! I’m shent with baneful smart, For with the ribbon he bestow'd his heart. “My plaint, ye lasses, with this burthen aid, * "Tis hard so true a damsel dies a maid.” “Shall heavy Clumsilis with me compare 2 View this, ye lovers, and like me despair. Her blubber'd lip by smutty pipes is worn, And in her breath tobacco whiffs are borne! The cleanly cheese-press she could never turn, Her awkward fist did ne'er employ the churn; If e'er she brew'd, the drink would straight go sour, Before it ever felt the thunder's power; No huswifery the dowdy creature knew ; To sum up all, her tongue confess'd the shrew. “My plaint, yel , with this burthen aid, * "Tis hard so true a damsel dies a maid.” “I’ve often seen my visage in yon lake, Nor are my features of the homeliest make: Though Clumsilis may boast a whiter dye, Yet the black sloe turns in my rolling eye; And fairest blossoms drop with every blast, But the brown beauty will like hollies last.
Her wan complexion's like the wither'd leek,
This penknife keen my windpipe shall divide.
And till to morrow comes defers her fate. 120
THURSDAY; or, THE SPELL.
Hohnetta, seated in a dreary vale, In pensive mood rehears'd her piteous tale; Her piteous tale the winds in sighs bemoan, And pining Echo answers groan for groan. * I rue the day, a rueful day I trow, The woeful day, a day indeed of woe! When Lubberkin to town his cattle drove, a maiden fine bedight he hapt to love; The maidcn fine bedight his love retains, And for the village he forsakes the plains. Return, my Lubberkin, these ditties hear; spells will I try, and spells shall ease my care. • With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around.’ “ when first the year I heard the cuckow sing, And call with welcome note the budding spring, I straightway set a-running with such haste, Deborah that won the smock scarce ran so fast; Tiii spent for lack of breath, quite weary grown, Upon a rising bank I sat adown, 2 Then doff'd my shoe, and by my troth, I swear, Therein I spy'd this yellow frizzled hair, As like to Lubberkin's in curl and hue, As if upon his comely pate it grew. • with my sharp heel I three times mark the ground And turn me thrice around, around, around.’ “At eve last Midsummer no sleep I sought, But to the field a bag of hemp-seed brought; I scatter'd round the seed on every side, And three times in a trembling accent cry'd, • This hemp seed with my virgin band I sow, Who shall my true-love be, the crop shall mow’
I straight look'd back, and, if my eyes speak truth,
“Last Valentine, the day when birds of kind Their paramours with mutual chirpings find; I rearly rose, just at the break of day, Before the Sun had chas'd the stars away; A-field I went, amid the morning dew, To milk my kine (for so should huswives do); Thee first I spy'd; and the first swain we see, In spite of Fortune, shall our true-love be. See, Lubberkin, each bird his partner take; And canst thou then thy sweetheart dear forsake?
“With my sharp heel I three times mark the
And turn me thrice around, around, around.”
“Last May-day fair I search'd to find a snail, That might my secret lover's name reveal. 50. Upon a gooseberry-bush a snail I found, (For always snails near sweetest fruit abound). I seiz'd the vermine, whom I quickly sped, And on the earth the milk-white embers spread. Slow crawl'd the snail, and, if I right can spell, In the soft ashes mark’d a curious L.; Oh, may this wondrous omen lucky prove 1 For L is found in Lubberkin and Love.
“With my sharp heel I three times mark the
- ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around.’ 60
“Two hazel nuts I threw into the flame, And to each mut I gave a sweetheart's name; This with the loudest bounce me sore amaz'd, That in a flame of brightest colour blaz'd. As blaz'd the nut, so may thy passion grow; For 'twas thy nut that did so brightly glow. “With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around.’ 69 “As peasecods once I pluck'd, I chanc'd to see One that was closely fill'd with three times three, Which, when I cropp'd, I safely home convey'd, And o'er the door the spell in secret laid; My wheel I turn'd, and sung a ballad new, While from the spindle I the fleeces drew ; The latch mev'd up, when, who should first come in, But, in his proper person—Lubberkin. I broke my yarn, surprisd the sight to see; " Sure sign that he would break his word with me. Eftsoons I join'd it with my wonted slight: So may again his love with mine unite 80 “With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around.” . “This lady-fly I take from off the grass, Whose spotted back might scarlet red surpass, ‘Fly, lady-bird, North, South, or Cast or West, Fly where the man is found that I love best.” He leaves my hand; see, to the W. st he's flown, To call my true-love from the faithless town.