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FRIDAY; OR, THE DIRGE,
BUMKINET, cause inot.
BUMriner. Why, Grubbinol, dost thou so wistful seem P There's sorrow in thy look, if right I deem. 'Tis true yon oaks with yellow tops appear, And chilly blasts begin to nip the year; From the tall elm a shower of leaves is borne, And their lost beauty riven beeches mourn. Yet ev'n this season pleasance blithe affords, Now the squeez'd press foams with our apple hoards. Come, let us hie, and quaff a cheery bowl, Let cyder new “wash sorrow from thy soul.” 19 GRU Baixon. * Ah, Bumkinet' since thou from hence wert gone, From these sad plains all merriment is flown; Should I reveal my grief, 'twould spoil thy cheer, And make thine eye o'erflow with many a tear. Bum kix ET. “ Hang sorrow !” Let's to yonder hut repair, And with trim sonnets “cast away our care.” “. Gillian of Croydon” well thy pipe can play: Thousing'st most sweet, “O'er hills and far away.” of “Patient Grissel” I devise to sing, And catches quaint shall make the vallies ring. & Come, Grubbinol, beneath this shelter, come 5 From hence we vic w our flocks securely roam. GRUBB in ol. Yes, blithsone lad, a tale 1 mean to sing, But with my woe shall distant vallies ring. The tale shall make our kidlings droop their head. For, woe is nue !—our Blouzelind is dead :
BU Mixi Net. Is Blouzelinda dead farewell, my gleet No happiness is now reserv'd for me. As the wood-pigeon coos without his mate, So shall inv doleful dirge bewail her fate. So of Biouzelinda fair I mean to tell, The peerless maid that did all maids excel. Henceforth the morn shall dewy sorrow shed, And evening tears upon the grass be spread: The rolling streams with watery grief shall flow. And winds shall moan aloud—when loud they blow. Henceforth, as ost as Autumn shall return, The drooping trees, whene'er it rains, shall mourn; The season quite shall strip the country's pride, For 'twas in Autumn Blouzelinda dy’d. Where’er I sad, I Blouzelind shall view, Woods, dairy, barn, and inows, our passion knew, When I direct Iny eyes to yonder wood, Fresh rising sorrow curdles in my blood.
' Dirke, or dyrge, a mournful ditty, or son: of lanentation, over the dead; not a contraction of the Latin dirige in the popish hymn, dirise ****, moos, as some pretend; but from the Tentonic dyrke, laudare, to praise and extol. whence it is possible their dyrke, and our dirge, was a laudatory song to commemorate and applaud the dead. Cowell's Interpreter.
Ver. 15. Incipe, Mopse, prior, si quos aut Phyllidis ignes All Alcoris habes laudes, autjurgia Codri. virr.
Ver. 27. Glee, joy; from the Dutch gloosen, te recreate,
Thither I've eften been the damsel's guide, When rotten sticks our fuel have supply'd; There I remember how her faggots large Were frequently these happy shoulders' charge. Sometimes this crook drew hazel-boughs adown, And stuff"d her apron wide with nuts so brown; 50 Or when her feeding hogs had miss'd their way, Or wallowing 'mid a feast of acorns lay; Th" untoward creatures to the stye I drove, And whistled all the way—or told my love. If by the dairy's hatch I chance to hie, I shall her goodly countenance espy; For there her goolly countenance I've seen, Sct off with kerchief starch'd and pinners clean. Soun times, like wax, she rolls the butter round, Or with the wooden lily prints the pound. 6() Whilom I've seen her skim the clouted cream, And press fron spungy curls the milky stream: But now, alas ! these ears shall hear no more The whining swine surround the dairy door; No more her care shall fill the hollow tray, To fat the guzzling hogs with floods of whey. Lanent, ye swine, in grunting spend your grief, For you, like me, have lost your sole relief. When in the barn the sounding flail I ply, Where from her sieve the chaff was wont to fly; 70 The poultry there will seem around to stand, Waiting upon her charitable hand. No succour meet the poultry now can find, For they, like me, have lost their Blouzelind. Whenever by yon barley inow I pass, "Before my eyes will trip the tidy lass. I pitch'd the sheaves, (oh, could I do so now!) Which she in rows pil'd on the growing mow. There every deale my heart by love was gain'd, There the sweet kiss my courtship has explain'd. 80 Ah, Blouzelind ' that mow I ne'er shall see, But thy memorial will revive in me. Lament, ye fields, and rueful symptoms show; Henceforth let not the smelling primrose grow; Let weeds, instead of butter-flowers, appear, And meads, instead of daisies, hemlock bear; For cowslips sweet let dandelions spread; For Blouzelinda, blithsome maid, is dead Lament, ye swains, and o'er her grave bemoan, And spell ye right this verse upon her stone: 90 “ Here Blouzelinda lies—Alas, alas ! Weep, shepherds—and remember flesh is grass.”
When Blouzelind expir'd, the wether's bell Before the drooping flock toll'd forth her knell; 100 The solemn death-watch click'd the hour she dy'd, And shrilling crickets in the chimney cry’d ; The boding raven on her cottage sate, And with hoarse croaking warn'd us of her fate; The lambkin, which her wonted tendance bred, Dropp'd on the plains that fatal instant dead; Swarm'd on a rotten stick the bees I spy'd, Which erst I saw when Goody Dobson dy'd. How shall I, void of tears, her death relate, When on her darling's bed her mother sate | These words the dying Blouzelinda spoke, And of the dead let none the will revoke: “Mother,” quoth she, “let not the poultry need, And give the goose wherewith to raise her breed: Be these my sister's care—and every morn Amid the ducklings let her scatter corn; The sickly calf that's hous'd be sure to tend, Feed him with milk, and from bleak colds defend. Yet ere I die—see, mother, yonder shelf, There secretly I've hid my worldly pels. Twenty good shillings in a rag I laid; Be ten the parson's, for my sermon paid. The rest is yours—my spinning-wheel and rake Let Susan keep for her dear sister's sake; My new straw hat, that's trimly lin'd with green, Let Peggy wear, for she's a damsel clean. My leathern bottle, long in harvests try’d, Be Grubbinol's—this silver ring beside: Three silver pennies, and a nine-pence bent, A token kind to Bumkinet is sent.” 130 Thus spoke the maiden, while the mother cry’d; And peaceful, like the harmless lamb, she dy’d. To show their love, the neighbours far and near Follow'd with wistful look the damsel's bier. Sprig'd rosemary the lads and lasses bore, While dismally the parson walk'd before. Upon her grave the roseinary they threw, The daisie, butter-flower, and endive blue. After the good man warn'd us from his text, 139 That none could tell whose turn would be the next; He said, that Heaven would take her soul, no doubt, And spoke the hour-glass in her praise—quite out. To her sweet memory, flowery garlands strung, O'er her now empty seat aloft were hung. With wicker rods we fenc'd her tomb around, To ward from man and beast the hallow'd ground; Lest her new grave the parson's cattle raze, For both his horse and cow the church-yard graze. Now we trudg’d homeward to her mother's farm, To drink new cyder mull'd, with ginger warm. 150 For Gaffer Treadwell told us, by the by, “Excessive sorrow is exceeding dry.” While bulls bear horns upon their curled brow, Or lasses with soft stroakings milk the cow; While paddling ducks the standing lake desire, Or battening hogs roll in the sinking mire; While moles the crumbled earth in hillocks raise; So long shall swains tell Blouzelinda's praise. Thus wail'd the louts in melancholy strain, Till bonny Susan sped across the plain.
Ver. 153. Dum juga montis aper, fluvios du m piscis amabit, Dumque thymo pascentur apes, dum rore cicadae, Semper honos, nounenque tuum, laudesque manebuat. Wirz
Subtiven strains, O rustic Muse' prepare; Forget awhile the barn and dairy's care; Thy homily voice to lostier numbers raise, The drunkard's flights require sonorous lays; with Bowzybeus' songs exalt thy verse, While rocks and woods the various notes rehearse. 'Twas in the season when the reapers' toil Of the ripe harvest 'gan to rid the soil; Wide through the field was seen a goodly rout, Clean damsels bound the gather'd sheaves about; 10 The lads, with sharpen'd hook and sweating brow, Cut down the labours of the winter plough. To the near hedge young Susan steps aside, She feign'd her coat or garter was unty'd; Whate'er she did, she stoop'd adown unseen, And merry reapers what they list will ween. Soon she rose up, and cry'd with voice so shrill, That Echo answer'd from the distant hill; The youths and damsels ran to Susan's aid, Who thought some adder had the lass dismay’d. 20 When fast asleep they Bowzybeus spy'd, His hat and oaken staff lay close beside; That Bowzybeus who could sweetly sing, Or with the rosin'd bow torment the string; That Bowzybeus who, with fingers speed, Could call soft warblings from the breathing reed; That Bowzybeus who, with jocund tongue, Ballads and roundelays and catches sung : They loudly laugh to see the damsel's fright, And in disport surround the drunken wight. 30 “Ah, Bowzybee, why didst thou stay so long? The mugs were large, the drink was wondrous strong ! Thou should'st have left the fair before 'twas night; But thou sat'st toping till the morning light.” Cicely brisk maid, steps forth before the rout, An kiss'd with smacking lip the snoaring lout: (For cut m says, “Whoe'er this venture proves, For such a kiss demands a pair of gloves.”) By her example Dorcas bolder grows, A d plays a tickling straw within his nose. 4() He rubs is nostril, and in wonted joke The sneering swains with staininering speech be, spoke : “To you, my lads, I'll sing my carols o'er, As for the mads—I’ve something else in store.” No sooner 'gan he raise his tuneful song, But lads and lasses round about him throng.
ver. 22. Serta procultantum capiti delapsa jacebant. Virg. Ver. 40. Sangumcis frontem moris & tempora pingit. Virg. Ver. 43. Carnina, quae vultis, cognoscite: carmina vobis ; Huic aliud inercedis erit. Virg.
Not ballad-singer plac'd above the crowd Sings with a note so shrilling sweet and loud; Nor parish-clerk, who calls the psalm so clear, Like Bowzybeus soothes th’ attentive ear. 50 Of Nature's laws his carols first begun, Why the grave owl can never face the Sun. For owls, as swains observe, detest the light, And only sing and seek their prey by might. How turnips hide their swelling heads below ; And how the closing coleworts upwards grow ; How Will-a-wisp misleads night-faring clowns O'er hills, 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. 66 He sung where woodcocks in the Sumner feed, And in what climates they renew their breed (Some think to northern coasts their flight they Or to the Moon in midnight hours ascend); [tend, Where swallows in the Winter's season keep, And how the drowsy bat and dormouse sleep; How Nature does the puppy's eyelid close Till the bright Sun has nine times set and rose (For huntsmen by their long experience find, That puppies still nine rolling suns are blind). To Now he goes on, and sings of fairs and shows, For still new fairs before his eyes arose. How pedlars' stalls with glittering toys are laid, The various fairings of the country maid. Long silken laces hang upon the twine, And rows of pins and amber bracelets shine; How the tight lass knives, combs, and scissars spies, And looks on thimbles with desiring eyes, Of lotteries next with tuneful note he told, Where silver spoons are won, and rings of gold. 80 The lads and lasses trudge the street along, And all the fair is crowded in his song. The mountebank now treads the stage, and sells His pills, his balsams, and his ague-spells; Now o'er and o'er the nimble tumbler springs, And on the rope the venturous maiden swings; Jack Pudding in his party-colour'd jacket Tosses the glove, and jokes at every packet. Of raree-shows he sung, and Punch's feats, Of pockets pick'd in crowds, and various cheats. 90 Then sad he sung the Children in the Wood: (Ah, barbarous uncle, stain'd with infant blood!) How blackberries they pluck'd in deserts wild, And fearless at the glittering falchion smil’d; Their little corpse the robin-red-breasts found, And strow'd with pious bill the leaves around. (Ah, gentle birds' if this verse lasts so long, Your names shall live for ever in my song.) For Buxom Joan he sung the doubtful strife, How the sly sailor made the maid a wife. To louder strains he rais'd his voice, to tell What woeful wars in Chevy-chace befell,
Ver. 47. Nectantum Phoebo gaudet Parmassia rupes: Nectantum Rhodope mirantur & Ismarus Orphea. Vir-f. Ver. 51. Our swain had possibly read Tussor, from whence he might have collected these philosophical observations: Nanque canebat, uti magnum periname coacta, &c. Ver, 97. Fortunati ambo, siquid mea carmina possunt, Nulla dies unquam memori vos eximet evo. Virg. Ver, 99. A song in the coinedy of Love for Love, beginning “A soldier and a sailor,” &c.
When Percy drove the deer with hound and horm,
ALPHABETICAL CATALOGUE of
FAMEs, PlaNors, Flowers, fruits, hirds, heasts, insecrs, AND other Material. Thiscs, MENTioned IN these PASTOR ALS.
A Rumkinet iii. 28 Acorns, Past. v. 52 Bun v. 96 adder vi. 20 Boobyclod iv. 102 Ale-house v. 8 Butter i. 33 Apple iv. 126 Bowzybeus vi. Apron ii. 105. v. 50 Butcher iii. 90 ass iii. 6. '70 Hutterflower v. 85 Autumn v. 3. 37 Buxoma i. 14
Barley ii. 70. v. 78 Calf i. 16, 55 Ballad-singer vi. 47 Capon i. 90 that iii. 117 Car ii. 65 Hateman vi. 117 Cat ii. 90. iii. 67 Bays iii. 18 Cicely . ii. 20, vi. 35 Barn i. 122. v. 69 Clover grass i. 42 Heech v. 6 Cloddipole i. Hee v. 107 Churn iii. 42 Harn ii. 44 Coleworts vi. 56 Blackberry vi. 93 Clumsilis iii. 30 Blind-man's-buff i. 95 Cock ii. 79 Hramble i. 2 Comb wi. 77 Blouzelind i. 10. v. 26 Cow i. 16. 32. ii. 104 Breakfast ii. 52 Colin Clout ii. 1 Bull ii. 104 Clouted cream v. 61
Cowslips v. 87 Chalk ii. 44 Cricket v. 102 Curd v. 62 Cuddy i. Church-yard v. 148 Cuckow iv. 15 Cur i. 56 Cyder v. 150 Corms i. 28 D Dairy v. 42 Daisie i. 44 Dandelion v. 87 Deborah iv. 18 Death-watch v. 101 D'Urfey iii. 9 Goody Dobbins ii. 104 Deer i. 36 Dick iii. 83 Doe i. 16 Dorcas vi. 39 Dragon vi. 118 Drink iii. 43 Goody Dobson v. 108 Duck v. 155 i Duckling v. 116 Ducking-stool ii. 105 E. Fggs iv. 120 Elm v. 5. Endive W. 138
Horse v. 143 Goodman Hodges i 122
Hound iii. 59 Jack Pudding vi. 87 Jay iii. 5 Joan vi. 99 Irish Trot vi. 1 it, Katharine Pear iii. 56 Kerchief v. 58 Kid i. 54. Kidling v. 25 Kiss i. 73 Kite iii. 60 Kersey doublet ii. 37 Knife i. 89 Kingcup i. 43 L Lady-bird iv. 85 Leather ii. 44 Lamb . i. 53 Lobbin Clout i. Love-powder iv. 124 Lambkin v. 105 Lottery vi. 79 Lark i. 3 Leathern bottle v. 127 Lubberkin iv. 7 Lily v. 60 Leek iii. 55 Lilly-bullero vi. 116 Linnet iii. 3. M Mackrel iii. 68 May-day i. 58 Magpye iii. 5 Milk-pail ii. 58 Mare vi. 110 Mug vi. 32 Marian ii. 9 Moore vi. 118 Marygold i. 46 Midsummer-eve iv. 27 Mole v. 157 Mountebank vi. 83 Mow v. 75 Neckcloth ii. 36 Nuts v. 50 Ninepence v. 129 O Oak v. 3 Oatmeal ii. 44 Owl vi. 52 Oxen iii. 20
Potatoe i. 84 Swallow i. 29
s Udder i. 4
TR/I’s, 1 ;
Tur world, I believe, will take so little notice of mo, that I need not take much of it. The critics may see by this poem, that I walk on foot, which probably may save me from their envy. I should be sorry to raise that passion in men whom I am so much obliged to, since they-allow me an honour hitherto only shown to better writers, that of denying ine to be the author of my own works.
Gentlemen, if there be any thing in this poem good enough to displease you, and if it be any advantage to you to ascribe it to some person of greater merit; I shall acquaint you, for your romfort, that, among many other obligatious, 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 following motto:
TR IV. I. A.
of The impleMENTs for walking The starets, ANP signs of the weather.
Through winter streets to steer your course aright,
For thee the sturdy pavior thumps the ground,