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Next oranges the longing boys entice, To trust their copper fortunes to the dice. When rosemary, and bays, the poet's crown, Are bawl'd, in frequent crics, through all the town, Then judge the festival of Christmas near, Christmas, the joyous period of the year. Now with bright holly all your temples strow, With laurel green, and sacred misletoe. Now, heaven-born Charity thy blessings shed; Bid meagre Want uprear her sickly head; Bid shivering limbs be warn; let Plenty’s bowl In humble roofs make glad the needy soul! See, see! the heaven-born maid her blessings shed; Lo, meagre Want uprears her sickly head; Cloth'd are the naked, and the needy glad, While seifish Avarice alone is sad. Proud coaches pass, regardless of the moan Of infant orphans, and the widow's groan; While Charity still moves the walker's mind, His liberal purse relieves the lame and blind. Judiciously thy halfpence are bestow'd, Where the laborious beggar sweeps the road. Whate'er you give, give ever at demand, Nor let old age long stretch his palsy'd hand. Those who give late are importun'd each day, And still are teas'd, because they still delay. 460 lf e'er the miser durst his faithings spare, He thinly spreads them thro' the public square, Where, all beside the rail, rang'd beggars lie, And from each other catch the doleful cry; [score, With Heaven, for two-pence, cheaply wipes his Lifts up his eyes, and hastes to beggar more. Where the brass-knocker, wrapt in flannel band, Forbids the thunder of the foots,an's hand; To upholder, rueful harbinger of Death, Waits with impatience for the dying breath; 470 As vultures o'er the camp, with hovering flight, Stuff up the future carnage of the fight. I'ere canst thou pass, unmindful of a prayer, That Heaven in mercy may thy brother spare? Come, Fortescue, sincere, experienc'd friend, Thy briefs, thy deeds, and ev'n thy fees suspend; Come, let us leave the Temple's silent walls, Me business to my distant lodging calls; "I hrough the long Strand together let us stray; With thee conversing, I forget the way. 480 Behold that narrow street which steep descends, Whose building to the slimy shore extends; Here Arundel's fam'd structure rear'd its frame, The street alone retains the empty name. Where Titian's glowing paint the canvas warm’d, And Raphael's fair design, with judgment, charm’d, Now hangs the bellman's song, and pasted here The colour'd prints of Overton appear. Where statues breath'd the works of Phidias' hands, A wooden pump, or lonely watch-house, stands. There Essex' stately pile adorn'd the shore, 491 There Cecil's, Bedford's, Villiers', now no more. Yet Burlington's fair palace still remains; Beauty within, without proportion, reigns. Beneath his eye declining art revives, The wall with animated picture lives; There Handel strikes the strings, the melting strain Transports the soul, and thrills through every vein; There oft I enter, (but with cleaner shoes) For Burlington's belov'd by every Muse. O ye associate walkers! O my friends! Upon your state what happiness attends! What though no coach to frequent visit rolls, Nor for your shilling chairmen sling their poles;
Yet still your nerves rheumatic pains defy, Nor lazy jaundice dulls your saffron eye; No wasting cough discharges sounds of death, Nor wheezing asthma heaves in vain for breath; Nor from your restless couch is heard the groan Of burning gout, or sedentary stone. 510. Let others in the jolting coach confide, Or in the leaky boat the Thames divide; Or, box'd within the chair, contemn the street, And trust their safety to another's feet: Still let me walk; for oft the sudden gale Ruffles the tide, and shifts the dangerous sail; Then shall the passenger too late deplore The whelming billow, and the faithless oar; The drunken chairman in the kennel spurns, The glasses shatters, and his charge o'erturns. 520 Who can recount the coach's various harms, The legs disjointed, and the broken arms ? I’ve seen a beau, in some ill-fated hour, When o'er the stones choak'd kennels swell the shower, In gilded chariot loll; he with disdain Views spatter'd passengers all drench'd in rain. With mud fill'd high, the rumbling cart draws near; Now rule thy prancing steeds, lac'd charioteer: The dustman lashes on with spiteful rage, 529 His ponderous spokes thy painted wheel engage; Crush'd is thy pride, down falls the shrieking beau, The slabby pavement crystal fragments strow ; Black floods of mire th’ embroider'd coat disgrace, And mud enwraps the honours of his face. So, when dread Jove the son of Phocbus hurl’d, Scar'd with dark thunder, to the nether world, The headstrong coursers tore the silver reins, And the Sun's beamy ruin gilds the plains. If the pale walker pant with weakening ills, His sickly hand is stor'd with friendly bills: 540 From hence he learns the seventh-born doctor's fame, From hence he learns the cheapest taylor's name. Shall the large mutton smoke upon your boards 2 Such Newgate's copious market best affords. Would'st thou with mighty beef augment thy meal? Seek Leaden-hall; St. James's sends thee veal; Thames-street gives cheeses; Covent-garden fruits; Moor-fields old books; and Monmouth-street old suits. Hence mayst thou well supply the wants of life, Support thy family, and clothe thy wife. 550 Volumes on shelter'd stalls expanded lie, And various science lures the learned eye; The bending shelves with ponderous scholiasts groan, And deep divines, to modern shops unknown: Here, like the bee, that on industrious wing Collects the various odours of the Spring, Walkers, at leisure, learning's flowers may spoil, Nor watch the wasting of the midnight oil ; May morals snatch from Plutarch's tatter'd page, A mildew'd Bacon, or Stagyra's sage : 550 Here sauntering 'prentices o'er Otway weep, O'er Congreve smile, or over D'Urfey sleep; Pleas'd sempstresses the Lock's fam'd Rape unfold; And Squirts 'read Garth, till apozems grow cold. O Lintot let my labours obvious lie, Rang'd on thy stall, for every curious eye So shall the poor these precepts gratis know, And to my verse their future safeties owe.
: An apothecary's boy, in The Dispensary,
What walker shall his mean ambition fix
See yon bright chariot on its braces swing,
Vain of his unknown race, the coxcomb shows.
O Trivia, goddess' leave these low abodes, And traverse o'er the wide ethereal roads; Celestial queen! put on thy robes of light, Now Cynthia nam’d, fair regent of the might. At sight of thee, the villain sheaths his sword, Nor scales the wall, to steal the wealthy hoard. O may thy silver lamp from Heaven's high bower I)irect my footsteps in the midnight hour!
when Night first bids the twinkling stars appear, Or with her cloudy vest enwraps the air, 10 Then swarms the busy street; with caution tread, where the shop-windows’ falling threat thy head; Now labourers home return and join their strength ‘io bear the tottering plank, or ladder's length; Still fix thy eyes intent upon the throng, And, as the passes open, wind along.
Where the fair columns of St. Clement stand, Whose straiten’d bounds encroach upon the Strand; where the low penthouse bows the walker's head, And the rough pavement wounds the yielding
tread; 20 where not a post protects the narrow space, And, strung in twines, combs dangle in thy face; summon at once thy courage, rouze thy care, stand firm, look back, be resolute, beware. Forth issuing from steep lanes, the collier's steeds Drag the black load; another cart succeeds; Team follows team, crowds heap'd on crowds appear,
And wait impatient till the road grow clear.
* A species of window now almost forgotten. N.
Now oaths grow loud, with coaches coaches jar, -
try, And the blood gushes down their painful eye. 40 And now on foot the frowning warriors light, And with their ponderous sists renew the fight; Blow answers blow, their cheeks are smear'd with blood, Till down they fall, and grappling roll in mud. So when two boars, in wild Ytene' bred, Or on Westphalia's fattening chesnuts fed, Gnash their sharp tusks, and, rouz'd with equal fire, Dispute the reign of some luxurious mire; In the black flood they wallow o'er and o'er, Till their arm'd jaws distil with foam and gore. 50 Where the mob gathers, swiftly shoot along, Nor idly mingle in the noisy throng: Lur’d by the silver hilt, amid the swarm, The subtle artist will thy side disarm. Nor is the flaxen wig with safety worn; High on the shoulder, in a basket borne, Lurks the sly boy, whose hand, to rapine bred, Plucks off the curling honours of thy head. Here dives the skulking thief, with practis'd sleight, And unfelt fingers make thy pocket light. 60 Where's now the watch, with all its trinkets, flown 2 And thy late snuff-box is no more thy own. But, lo! his bolder thefts some tradesman spies, Swift from his prey the scudding lurcher flies; Dext'rous he'scapes the coach with nimble bounds Whilst every honest tongue “stop thief!” re- So speeds the wily fox, alarm'd by fear, [sounds. Who lately filch'd the turkey's callow care; Hounds following hounds grow louder as he flies And injur'd tenants join the hunter's cries. > Breathless, he stumbling falls. Ill-fated boy! Why did not honest work thy youth employ? Seiz'd by rough hands, he's dragg'd amid the rout And stretch'd beneath the pump's incessant spout. Or, plung'd in miry ponds, he gasping lies, Mud chokes his mouth, and plaisters o'er his eyes. Let not the ballad-singer's shrilling strain Amid the swarm thy listening ear detain : Guard well thy pocket; for these Syrens stand – To aid the labours of the diving hand; 80 Confederate in the cheat, they draw the throng, And cambric handkerchiefs reward the song. But soon as coach or cart drives rattling on, The rabble part, in shoals they backward run. So Jove's loud bolts the mingled war divide, And Greece and Troy retreat on either side. If the rude throng pour on with furious pace, And hap to break thee from a friend's embrace, Stop short; nor struggle through the growd in vain, But watch with careful eye the passiug train. 90 Yet I, (perhaps too fond) if chance the tide Tumultuous bear my partner from my side, Impatient venture back; despising harm, I force my passage where the thickest swarm. Thus his lost bride the Trojan sought in vain Through night, and arms, and flames, and hills of slain. Thus Nisus wander'd o'er the pathless grove, To find the brave companion of his love.
* New Forest in Hampshire, anciently so called.
The pathless grove in vain he wanders o'er: Euryalus, alas! is now no more. That walker who, regardless of his pace, Turns oft to pore upon the damsel’s face, From side to side by thrusting elbows tost, Shall strike his aching breast against a post; Or water, dash'd from fishy stalls, shall stain His hapless coat with spirts of scaly rain. But, if unwarily he chance to stray Where twirling turnstiles intercept the way, The thwarting passenger shall force them round, And beat the wretch half breathless to the ground. Let constant vigilance thy footsteps guide, 111 And wary circumspection guard thy side; snight, Then shalt thou walk, unharm'd, the dangerous Nor need th' officious linkboy's smoky light. Thou never wilt attempt to cross the road, Where ale-house benches rest the porter's load, Grievous to heedless shins; no barrow's wheel, That bruises oft the truant school-boy's heel, Behind thee rolling, with insidious pace, Shall mark thy stocking with a miry trace. Let not thy venturous steps approach too nigh, Where, gaping wide, low steepy cellars lie. Should thy shoe wrench aside, down, down you fall, And overturn the scolding huckster's stall; The scolding huckster shall not o'er thee moan, But pence exact for nuts and pears o'erthrown. Though you through cleanlier allies wind by day, To shun the hurries of the public way, Yet ne'er to those dark paths by night retire; Mind only safety, and conteinn the mire. Then no impervious courts thy haste detain, Nor sneering alewives bid thee turn again. Where Lincoln’s-inn, wide space, is rail'd around, Cross not with venturous step; there oft is found The lurking thief, who, while the day-light shone, Made the walls echo with his begging tone: That crutch, which late compassion mov’d, shall wound Thy bleeding head, and fell thee to the ground. Though thou art tempted by the link-man's call, Yet trust him not along the lonely wall; 1 40 In the mid-way he'll quench the flaming brand, And share the booty with the pilfering band. Still keep the public streets, where oily rays, Shot from the crystal lamp, o'erspread the ways. Happy Augusta! law-defended town Here no dark lanterns shade the villain's frown; No Spanish jealousies thy lanes infest, Nor Roman vengeance stairs th' unwary breast; Here Tyranny ne'er lifts her purple hand, But Liberty and Justice guard the land; 150 No bravos here profess the bloody trade, Nor is the church the murderer's refuge made. Let not the chairman, with assuming stride, Press near the wall, and rudely thrust thy side: The laws have set him bounds; his servile feet Should ne'er encroach where posts defend the strect. Yet who the footman's arrogance can quell, Whose flambeau gilds the sashes of Pall-mall, When in long rank a train of torches flaine, To light the midnight visits of the daine * others, perhaps, by happier guidance led, May where the chairman rests with safety tread; Whene'er 1 pass, their poles (unseen below) Make my knee tremble with a jarring blow. If wheels bar up the road, where streets are crost, With gentle words the coachuad's car accost:
And rudely shove thee far without the post
He ne'er the threat or harsh command obeys,
+in Then to retrieve the shed you strive in vain, Draggled all o'er, and soak'd in floods of rain.
! Yet rather bear the shower, and toils of mud,
Than in the doubtful quarrel risque thy blood-
No: the dead know it not, nor profit gain; It only serves to prove the living vain. How short is life! how frail is human trust! Is all this pomp for laying dust to dust? Where the nail'd hoop defends the painted stall, Brush not thy sweeping skirt too near the wall: Thy heedless sleeve will drink the colour'd oil, And spot indelible thy pocket soil. 240 Has not wise Nature strung the legs and feet With firmest nerve, design'd to walk the street? Has she not given us hands to grope aright, Amidst the frequent dangers of the night? And think'st thou not the double nostril meant, To warn from oily woes by previous scent? Who can the various city frauds' recite, With all the petty rapines of the night? Who now the guinea-dropper's bait regards, 249 Trick'd by the sharper's dice, or juggler's cards? Why should I warn thee ne'er to join the fray, Where the sham quarrel interrupts the way? Lives there in these our days so soft a clown, Brav'd by the bully's oaths, or threatening frown? I need not strict enjoin the pocket's care, When from the crowded play thou lead'st the fair; Who has not here or watch or snuff-box lost, Cr handkerchiefs that India's shuttle boast 2 O! may thy virtue guard thee through the roads Of Drury's mazy courts, and dark abodes! 260 The harlots' guileful paths, who nightly stand Where Catharine-street descends into the Strand 1 Say, vagrant Muse, their wiles and subtle arts, To lure the strangers' unsuspecting hearts: So shall our youth on healthful sinews tread, And city cheeks grow warm with rural red. 'Tis she who nightly strolls with sauntering pace, No stubborn stays her yielding shape embrace; Beneath the lamp her tawdry ribbons glare, The new-scour'd manteau, and the slattern air; High-draggled petticoats her travels show, 271 And hollow cheeks with artful blushes glow ; With flattering sounds she soothes the credulous ear, “My noble captain' charmer love! my dear!” In riding-hood near tavern-doors she plies, Or muffled pinners hide her livid eyes. With empty bandbox she delights to range, And feigns a distant errand from the 'Change; TNay, she will oft the quaker's hood prophane, And trudge demure the rounds of Drury-lane. 280 She darts from sarsenet ambush wily leers, Twitches thy sleeve, or with familiar airs Her fan will pat thy cheek; these snares disdain, Nor gaze behind thee, when she turns again. I knew a yeoman, who, for thirst of gain, To the great city drove, from Devon's plain, His numerous lowing herd; his herds he sold, And his deep leathern pocket bagg'd with gold. Drawn by a fraudful nymph, he gaz'd, he sigh'd : Unmindful of his home, and distant bride, 290 She leads the willing victim to his doom, Through winding alleys, to her cobweb room. Thence thro’ the street he recla from post to post, "Valiant with wine, nor kuows his treasure lost. The vagrant wretch th' assembled watchmen spies, He waves his hanger, and their poles defits; Deep in the round house pent, all night he snores, Aud the next morn in vain his fate deplores.
* W =rious cheats formerly in practice.
Ah, hapless swain' unus’d to pains and ills Sanst thou foregoroast-beef for nauseous pills; 300 How wilt thou lift to Heaven thy eyes and hands, When the long scroll the surgeon's fees demands: Or else (ye gods, avert that worst disgrace !) Thy ruin’d nose falls level with thy face Then shall thy wife thy loathsome kiss disdam, And wholesome neighbours from thy mug refrain. Yet there are watchmen, who with friendly light Will teach thy reeling steps to tread aright; For sixpence will support thy helpless arm, And home conduct thee, safe from nightly harm. But, if they shake their lanterns, from afar 311 To call their brethren to confederate war, When rakes resist their power; if hapless you Should chance to wander with the scowering crew; Though Fortune yield thee captive, ne'er despair, But seek the constable's considerate ear; He will reverse the watchman's harsh decree, Mov’d by the rhetoric of a silver fee. [word, Thus, would you gain some favourite courtiers Fee not the petty clerks, but bribe my lord. 320 Now is the time that rakes their revels keep; Kindlers of riot, enemies of sleep. His scatter'd pence the flying nicker flings, And with the copper shower the casement rings. Who has not heard the scowerer's midnight fame? Who has not trembled at the Mohock's name; Was there a watchman took his hourly rounds Safe from their blows, or new-invented wounds? I pass their desperate deeds, and mischiefs done Where from Snow-hill black steepy torrents run ;380 How matrons, hoop'd within the hogshead's womb Were tumbled furious thence; the rolling tomb 9'er the stones thunders, bounds from side to side; So Regulus, to save his country, dy’d. Where a dim gleam the paly lanthorn throws O'er the mid pavement, heapy rubbish grows; Qr arched vaults their gaping jaws extend, Q: the dark caves to common-shores descend Qft by the winds extinct the signal lies, "' Or smother'd in the glimmering socket dies, 340 Fre.Night has half roll'd round her ebon throne: In the wide gulph the shatter'd coach, overthrown, Sinks with the snorting steeds; the reins are broke, And from the crackling axle flics the spoke. So, when fan'd Eddystone's far-shooting ray That led the sailor through the stormy way, 2 Was from its rocky roots by billows torn, And the high turret in the whirlwind borne; Fleets bulg'd their sides against the craggy land And pitchy ruins blacken'd all the strani. 350 Who then through night would hire the harness'd steed 2 And who would choose the rattling wheel for speed? But o: ! Distress, with screaming voice, draws nigher, And wakes the slumbering street with ories of fire. At first a glowing red enwraps the skies, And, borne by winds, the scattering sparks arise; From bean to beam the fierce conta gion spreads; The spiry flames now lift aloft their heads; Through the burst sash a blazing deluge pours, And splitting tiles descend in rattling showers. 360 Now with thick crowds th’ enlighten’d pavement swarms, The fireman sweats beneath his crooked arms ;
A leathern casque his venturous head defends,
Arundel-street ii. 484
Country, the author's love of his i, 21
an amber-headed one useless i. 57
-the abuse of it i. 75
Camlet, how affected by rain i 46
Coachman asleep on his box, what the sign i. 153
his metamorphosis ii. 241
- despises dirty shoes iii. 165
Sarman, when unmerciful, his punishment ii. 245
Cheapside ii. 248
Qhairmen, their exercise in frosty weather ii. 335
Christmas, what cries forerun it ii. 438