Doll every day had walk'd these treacherous roads;
Her neck grew warpt beneath autumnal loads Of various fruit: fhe now a basket bore; 'That head, alas! fhall basket bear no more. Each booth the frequent past, in quest of gain, And boys with pleasure heard her fhrilling strain. Ah, Doll! all mortals must resign their breath, And industry itself submit to death!
The cracking cryftal yields; fhe finks, fhe dies, Her head, chopt off, from her loft shoulders flies; Pippins the cry'd; but death her voice confounds; And pip- pip- pip- along the ice refounds.
So when the Thracian furies Orpheus tore, And left his bleeding trunk deform'd with gore, His fever'd head floats down the filver tide, His yet warm tongue for his loft confort cry'd; Eurydice with quivering voice he mourn'd, And Heber's banks Eurydice return'd.
But now the western gale the flood unbinds, And blackening clouds move on with warmer winds; 400
The wooden town its frail foundation leaves, And Thames' full urn rolls down his plenteous
From every pent-house streams the fleeting fnow,
And with diffolving froft the pavements flow. Experienc'd men, inur'd to city ways, Need not the calendar to count their days. When through the town with flow and folemn air, Led by the noftril, walks the muzzled bear; Behind him moves, majeftically dull, The pride of Hockiey-hole, the furly bull. Learn hence the periods of the week to name, Mondays and Thursdays are the days of game. When fishy ftalls with double ftore are laid; The golden-belly'd carp, the broad-finn'd maid, Red fpeckled trouts, the falmon's filver jowl, The jointed lobfter, and unfcaly foal, And lufcious 'fcallops to allure the taftes Of rigid zealots to delicious fafts; Wednesdays and Fridays you'llobferve from hence, Days when our fires were doom'd to abftinence. When dirty waters from balconies drop, And dextrous damfels twirl the sprinkling mop, And cleanse the spatter'd fash, and scrub the stairs; Know Saturday's conclufive morn appears.
Succeffive cries the feafons' change declare, And mark the monthly progrefs of the year. Hark! how the streets with treble voices ring, To fell the bounteous product of the spring: Sweet-fmelling flowers, and alder's early bud, With nettle's tender fhoots, to cleanse the blood; And, when June's thunder cools the fultry skies, E'en Sundays are profan'd by mackrel cries. 432 Walnuts the fruiterer's hand in autumn stain, Blue plumbs and juicy pears augment his gain; Next oranges the longing boys entice, To truft their copper fortunes to the dice.
When rosemary, and bays, the poet's crown, Are bawl'd, in frequent cries, 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 ftrow, With laurel green, and facred mifletoe. Now, heaven-born Charity thy bleffings fhed; Bid meagre Want uprear her fickly head; Bid fhivering limbs be warm; let Plenty's bowl In humble roofs make glad the needy foul! See, fee the heaven-born maid her bleffings thed; Lo meagre Want uprears her fickly head; Cloth'd are the naked, and the needy glad, While felfish Avarice alone is fad.
Proud coaches pafs, regardless of the moan Of infant orphans, and the widow's groan; While Charity still moves the walker's mind, His liberal purfe relieves the lame and blind. Judiciously thy halfpence are bestow'd, Where the laborious beggar fweeps 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 If e'er the mifer durft his faithings fpare, He thinly spreads them through the public fquare, Where, all befide the rail, rang'd beggars lie, And from each other catch the doleful cry; With Heaven, for two-pence, cheaply wipes his score,
Lifts up his eyes, and haftes to beggar more.
Where the brafs-knocker, wrapt in flannel band, Forbids the thunder of the footman's hand; Th' upholder, rueful harbinger of death, Waits with impatience for the dying breath; 470 As vultures o'er a camp, with hovering flight, Snuff up the future carnage of the fight, Here canft thou pass, unmindful of a prayer, That Heaven in mercy may thy brother spare?
Come, Fortescue, fincere, experienc'd friend, Thy briefs, thy deeds, and ev'n thy fees fufpend; C me let us leave the Temple's filent walls, Me bufinels to my diftant lodging calls; Through the long Strand together let us stray; With thee converfing, I forget the way. Eehold that narrow street which steep defcends, Whofe building to the flimy fhore extends, Here Arundel's fam'd ftructure rear'd its frame, The street alone retains the empty name. Where Titian's glowing paint the canvas warm'd, And Raphael's fair defign, with judgment, charm'd, Now hangs the bellman's fong, and pasted here The colour'd prints of Overton appear.
A wooden pump, or lonely watch-house, stands. There Effex' ftately pile adorn'd the shore, There Cecil's, Bedford's, Villiers', now no more. Yet Burlington's fair palace ftill remains; Beauty within, without proportion reigns. Beneath his eye declining art revives, The wall with animated picture lives;
There Handel ftrikes the ftrings, the melting ftrain
Tranfports the foul, and thrills through every vein;
There oft' I enter (but with cleaner shoes), For Burlington's belov'd by every muse.
Thames-ftreet gives cheefes; Covent-garden fruits; Moorfields old books; and Monmouth-street old fuits.
Hence mayit thou well fupply the wants of life, Support thy family, and clothe thy wife. Volumes on fhelter'd ftalls expanded lie, And various science lures the learned eye: The bending fhelves with ponderous fcholiafts groan,
And deep divines, to modern fhops unknown; Here, like the bee, that on induftrious wing Collects the various odours of the spring, Walkers' at leifure, learning's flowers may fpoil, Nor watch the wafling of the midnight oil; 500 May morals fnatch from Plutarch's tatter'd page, A mildew'd Bacon, or Stagyra's fage: Here fauntering 'prentices o'er Otway weep, O'er Congreve fmile, or over D'Urfey fleep; Pleas'd fempitreffes 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 ftall, for every curious eye! So fhall the poor thefe precepts gratis know, And to my verfe their future fafeties owe.
O ye affociate walkers, O my friends, Upon your flate what happiness attends! What though no coach to frequent vifit rolls, Nor for your fhilling chairmen fling their poles; Yet ftill your nerves rheumatic pains defy, Nor lazy jaundice dulls your faffron eye; No wafting cough difcharges founds of death, Nor wheezing afthma heaves in vain for breath; Nor from your reftlefs couch is heard the Of burning gout, or fedentary ftone. 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 fafety to another's feet: Still let me walk; for oft' the fudden gale Ruffles the tide, and shifts the dangerous fail; Then fhall the paffenger too late deplore The whelming billow, and the faithlefs oar; The drunken chairman in the kennel spurns, The glaffes fhatters, 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 fome ill-fated hour, When o'er the ftones choak'd kennels fwell the fhower,
In gilded chariot loll; he with difdain Views fpatter'd paffengers all drench'd in rain. With mud fill'd high, the rumbling cart draws
Now rule thy prancing steeds, lac'd charioteer : The duftman lathes on with fpiteful rage, His ponderous fpokes thy painted wheel engage; Crush'd is thy pride, down falls the fhrieking beau, The flabby pavement crystal fragments strow; Black floods of mire th' embroider'd coat disgrace, And nud enwraps the honours of his face. So, when dread Jove the fon of Phabus hurl'd, Scar'd with dark thunder, to the nether world, The head reng courfers tore the filver reins, And the fun's beamy ruin g is the plains.
If the pale walker pant with weakening ills, His fickly hand is ftor'd with friendly bills; 540 From hence he learns the feventh-born doctor's fame,
From hence he learns the cheapest tailor's name.
Shall the large mutton fmoke upon your boards? Such Newgate's copious market best affords. Would't thou with mighty beef augment thy meal?
Seek Leaden hall; St. James's fends thee veal;
What walker fhall his mean ambition fix On the falfe luftre of a coach and fix? Let the vain virgin, lur'd by glaring show, Sigh for the liveries of th' embroider'd beau.
See yon bright chariot on its braces fwing, With Flanders mares, and on an arched fpring. That wretch, to gain an equipage and place, Betray'd his fifter to a lewd embrace.
This coach that with the blazon'd 'fcutcheon glows,
Vain of his unknown race, the coxcomb shows. Here the brib'd lawyer, funk in velvet, fleeps; The ftarving orphan, as he paffes, weeps; There flames a fool, begirt with tinsel slaves, Who wastes the wealth of a whole race of knaves; That other, with a clustering train behind, Owes his new honours to a fordid mind! This next in court-fidelity excels, The public rifles, and his country fells. May the proud chariot never be my fate, If purchas'd at fo mean, fo dear a rate! Or rather give me sweet content on foot, Wrapt in my virtue, and a good furtout !
OF WALKING THE STREETS BY NIGHT.
Where not a poft protects the narrow space, And, ftrung in twines, combs dangle in thy face; Summon at once thy courage, rouze thy care, Stand firm, look back, be refolute, beware. Forth iffuing from fteep lanes, the collier's fteeds Drag the black load; another cart fucceeds; Team follows team, crowds heap'd on crowds ap- pear,
And wait impatient till the road grow clear. Now all the pavement founds with trampling feet, And the mix'd hurry barricades the street. 30 Entangled here, the waggon's lengthen'd team Cracks the tough harness; here a ponderous beam Lies over-turn'd athwart; for flaughter fed, Here lowing bullocks raise their horned head. Now oaths grow loud, with coaches coaches jar, And the fmart blow provokes the sturdy war; From the high box they whirl the thong around, And with the twining lafh their fhins refound: Their rage ferments, more dangerous wounds they try,
And the blood gushes down their painful eye. 40 And now on foot the frowning warriors light, And with their ponderous fifts renew the fight; Blow anfwers blow, their checks are fmear'd with blood,
Till down they fall, and grappling roll in mud. So when two boars, in wild Ytene † bred, Or on Weftphalia's fattening chefnuts fed, Gnash their fharp tusks, and, rous'd with equal Infpute the reign of fome luxurious mire, In the black flood they wallow o'er and o'er, Till their arm'd jaws diftil with foam and gore. Where the mob gathers, fwiftly fhoot along, Nor idly mingle in the noify throng: Lur'd by the filver hilt, amid the fwarm, The subtle artift will thy fide difarm. Nor is the flaxen wig with fafety worn; High on the shoulder, in a basket borne, Lurks the fly boy, whofe 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. Where's now the watch, with all its trinkets, flown? And thy late fnuff-box is no more thy own. But lo his bolder thefts fome tradesman spies, Swift from his prey the fcudding lurcher flies; Dextrous he 'fcapes the coach with nimble bounds, Whilst every honeft tongue "ftop thief" re- founds.
A fpecies of window now almost forgotten. New Foreft in Hampfire, anciently fo called.
So fpeeds the wily fox, alarm'd by fear, 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. 70 Breathless, he stumbling falls. Ill-fated boy! Why did not honeft work thy youth employ? Seiz'd by rough hands, he's dragg'd amid the
And ftretch'd beneath the pump's inceffant spout, Or, plung'd in miry ponds, he gafping lies, Mud choaks his mouth, and plaifters o'er his eyes. Let not the ballad-finger's fhrilling strain Amid the fwarm thy littening car detain: Guard well thy pocket; for these fyrens ftand To aid the labours of the diving hand; Confederate in the cheat, they draw the throng, And cambric handkerchiefs reward the fong. But foon as coach or cart drives rattling on, The rabble part, in fhoals they backward run. So Jove's loud bolts the mingled war divide, And Greece and Troy retreat on either fide.
If the rude throng pour on with furious pace, And hap to break thee from a friend's embrace, Stop fhort; nor struggle through the crowd in vain,
But watch with careful eye the paffing train. 9 Yet I (perhaps too fond), if chance the tide Tumultuous bear my partner from my fide, Impatient venture back; defpifing harm, I force my paffage where the thickeft [warm. Thus his loft bride the Trojan fought in vain Through night, and arms, and flames, and hills of flain.
Thus Nifus wander'd o'er the pathlefs grove, To find the brave companion of his love. The pathlefs 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 damfel's face, From fide to fide by thrufting elbows toft, Shall ftrike his aching breaft against a post; Or water, dafh'd from fithy ftalls, shall stain His hapless coat with fpirts of fcaly rain. But, if unwarily he chance to ftray Where twirling turnftiles intercept the way, The thwarting paffenger fhall force them round, And beat the wretch half breathlefs to the ground. Let conftant vigilance thy footsteps guide, 111 And wary circumfpection guard thy fide; Then halt thou walk unharm'd the dangerous night,
Nor need th' officious linkboys fmoky light. Thou never wilt attempt to cross the road, Where ale-house benches reft the porter's load, Grievous to heedlefs thins; no barrows wheel, That bruifes oft' the truant fchool-boy's heel, Behind thee rolling, with infidious pace, Shall mark thy flocking with a miry trace. Let not thy venturous fteps approach too nigh, Where, gaping wide, low fteepy cellars lie. Should thy fhoe wrench afide, down, down you fall,
And overturn the fcolding huckster's ftall; The fcolding huckster shall not o'er thee moan, But pence exact for nuts and pears o'erthrown,
Though you through cleanlier allies wind by, There may'st thou pass with fafe unmiry feet, day,
To fhun the hurries of the public way,
Yet ne'er to thofe dark paths by night retire; Mind only fafety, and contemn the mire. Then no impervious courts thy hafte detain. Nor fneering alewives bid thee turn again. Where Lincoln's-inn, wide fpace, is rail'd around, Crofs not with venturous ftep; there oft' is found The lurking thief, who while the day-light fhone Made the walls echo with his begging tone: That crutch, which late compaflion mov'd, shall wound
Thy bleeding head, and fell thee to the ground. Though thou art tempted by the link-man's call, Yet truft him not along the lonely wall; la 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 cryftal lamp, o'erfpread the ways. Happy Augufta! law-defended town! Here no dark lanterns hade the villain's frown; No Spanish jealoufies thy lanes infeft, Nor Roman vengeance ftabs th' unwary breast; Here tyranny ne'er lifts her purple haud, But liberty and juftice guard the land; No bravos here profefs the bloody trade, Nor is the church the murderer's refuge made. Let not the chairman, with affuming ftride, Prefs near the wall, and rudely thrust thy fide: The laws have fet him bounds; his fervile feet Should ne'er encroach where pofts defend the Street.
Yet who the footman's arrogance can quell, Whofe flambeau gilds the fathes of Pall-mall, When in long rank a train of torches flame, To light the midnight vifits of the dame ? Others, perhaps, by happier guidance led, May where the chairman refts with fafety tread; Whene'er 1 pafs, their poles (unfeen below) Make my knee tremble with a jarring blow.
If wheels bar up the road, where streets are croft,
With gentle words the coachman's ear accost: He ne'er the threat or harsh command obeys, But with contempt the fpatter'd fhoe furveys. Now man with utmoft fortitude thy foul, To cross the way where carts and coaches roll; Yet do not in thy hardy fkill confide, Nor rafhly risk the kennel's fpacious ftride; Stay till afar the diftant wheel you hear, Like dying thunder in the breaking air; Thy foot will flide upon the miry stone, And paffing coaches crufh thy tortur'd bone, Or wheels inclofe the road; on either hand Pent round with perils, in the mid you stand, And call for aid in vain; the coachman fwears, And carmen drive, unmindful of thy prayers. 180 Where wilt thou turn? ah: whither wilt thou fly?
On every fide the preffing spokes are nigh. So failors, while Charybdis' gulf they shun, Amaz'd on Scylla's craggy dangers run.
Be fure oblerve where brown Oftrea ftands, Who boasts her fhelly ware from Walfleet fands;
Where the rais'd pavement leads athwart the
If where Fleet-ditch with muddy current flows, You chance to roam; where oyster-tubs in rows Are rang'd befide the pots; there ftay thy hatte, And with the favoury fish indulge thy taite: 192 The damfel's knife the gaping fhell commands, While the falt liquor ftreams between her hands. The man had fure a palate cover'd o'er With brafs or feel, that on the rocky fhore First broke the cozy oyiter's pearly coat, And risk'd the living mo fel down his throat. What will not luxury tafte Earth, fea, and air, Are daily ranfack'd for the bill of fare! Blood fluff'd in fkins is British Chriftian's food; And France robs marshes of the croaking brood! Spungy morels in ftrong ragouts are found, And in the foup the flimy fnail is drown'd.
When from high fpouts the dafhing torrents fall, Ever be watchful to maintain the wall; For fhould't thou quit thy ground, the rushing throng
Will with impetuous fury drive along; All prefs to gain thefe honours thou haft loft, And rudely fhove thee far without the poft.- 210 Then to retrive the fhed you strive in vain, Draggled all o'er, and foak'd in floods of rain. Yer rather bear the thower, and toils of mud, Than in the doubtful quarrel rifk thy blood. O think on lipus' detefted ftate, And by his woes be warn'd to fhun thy fate. Where three roads join'd, he met his fire un- known;
(Unhappy fire, but more unhappy fon!) Each claim'd the way, their fwords the ftrife decide, The hoary monarch fell, he groan'd, and died! 220 Hence fprung the fatal plague that thinn'd thy reign,
Thy curfed inceft! and thy children flain !
Hence wert thou doom'd in endless night to ftray, Through Theban ftreets, and cheerleis grope thy
Contemplate, mortal, on thy fleeting years; See, with black train the funeral pomp appears! Whether fome heir attends in fable ftare, And mourns with outward grief a parent's fate; Or the fair virgin, nipt in beauty's bloom, A crowd of lovers follow to her tomb : Why is the hearfe with 'fcutcheons blazon'd round, And with the nodding plume of oftrich crown'd? No: the dead know it not, nor profit gain; It only ferves to prove the living vain. How thort is life! how frail is human truft! Is all this pomp for laying duft to duft?
Where the nail' hoop defends the painted ftail, Brush not thy fweeping fkirt too near the well: Thy heedlefs fleeve will drink the colour'd oil, And fpot indelible thy pocket foil.
Has not wife nature firung the legs and feet With firmest nerves, defign'd to walk the street? Has the not given us hands to grope aright, Amidit the frequent dangers of the night? And thirk'st thou not the double noftril meant,, To warn from oily woes by previous fcent?
Who can the various city frauds * recite, With all the petty rapines of the night? Who now the guinea dropper's bait regards, Trick'd by the fharper's dice, or juggler's cards? Why should I warn thee ne'er to join the fray, 251 Where the fham quarrel interrupts the way? Lives there in thefe our days fo foft 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 loft, Or handkerchiefs that India's fhuttle boast? O! may thy virtue guard thee through the roads Of Drury's mazy courts, and dark abodes! The harlots' guileful paths, who nightly fland Where Catharine-ftreet defcends into the Strand; Say, vagrant mufe, their wiles and fubtle arts, To lure the ftrangers' unfufpecting hearts: So fhall our youth on healthful finews tread, And city cheeks grow warm with rural red.
'Tis the who nightly strolls with fauntering pace, No ftubborn stays her yielding shape embrace; Beneath the lamp her tawdry ribbons glare, 269 The new-fcour'd manteau, and the flattern-air; High-draggled petticoats her travels fhow, And hollow cheeks with artful blushes glow; With flattering founds fhe fooths the credulous ear, My noble captain! charmer! love! my dear!"' In riding-hood, near tavern-doors fhe plies, Or muffled pinners hide her livid eyes. With empty bandbox fhe delights to range, And feigns a diftant errand from the 'Change; Nay, the will oft' the Quaker's hood profane, And trudge demure the rounds of Drury-lanc. 280 She darts trom farfenet ambush wily leers, Twitches thy fleeve, or with familiar airs Her fan will pat thy check; these fnares difdain, Nor gaze behind thee, when the 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 fold, And his deep leathern pocket bagg'd with gold. Drawn by a fraudful nymph, he gaz'd, he figh'd: Unmindful of his home, and diftant bride, She leads the willing victim to his doom, Through winding alleys to her cobweb room. Thence through the street he reels from post to poft,
Valiant with wine, nor knows his treafure loft. The vagrant wretch th' affembled watchmen fpies, He waves his hanger, and their poles defies; Deep in the round-house pent, all night he fnores, And the next morn in vain his fate deplores.
Ah, hapiefs fwain unus'd to pains and ills! Canti thou forego roafl-beef for naufeous pills 300 How wilt thou lift to heaven thy eyes and hands, When the long fcroll the furgeon's fees demands! Or elfe (ye gods avert that worst disgrace!) Thy ruin'd nofe falls level with thy face! Then fhall thy wife thy loathfome kifs difdain, And wholefome neighbours from thy mug refrain. Yet there are watchmen, who with friendly light, Will teach thy recling fteps to tread aright;
• Various cheats formerly in practice.
For fixpence will fupport thy helpless arm, 310 And home conduct thee, fafe from nightly harm. But, if they shake their lanterns, from afar To call their brethren to confederate war, When rakes refift their power; if hapless you Should chance to wander with the feowering crew; Though fortune yield theé captive, ne'er despair, But feek the conftable's confiderate ear; He will reverfe the watchman's harsh decree, Mov'd by the rhetoric of a silver fee. Thus, would you gain fome favourite courtier's word,
Fee not the petty clerks, but bribe my lord. 320 Now is the time that rakes their revels keep; Kindlers of riot, enemies of fleep.
His scatter'd pence the flying nicker flings, And with the copper fhower 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 defperate deeds, and mischiefs done, Where from Snow hill black fleepy torrents run; How matrons, hoop'd within the hogshead's womb, 331
Were tumbled furious thence; the rolling tomb O'er the ftones thunders, bounds from fide to fide:
So Regulus to fave his country dy`d.
Where a dim gleam the paly lanthorn throws O'er the mid pavement, heapy rubbish grows; Or arched vaults their gaping jaws extend, Or the dark caves to common fhores defcend; Oft' by the winds extinct the fignal lies, Or fmother'd in the glimmering focket dies, 440 Ere night has half roll'd round her ebon throne; In the wide gulph the shatter'd coach o'erthrown Sinks with the fnorting steeds; the reins are broke, And from the cracking axle flies the spoke. So, when fam'd Eddyfone's far-fhooting ray, That led the failor through the flormy way, Was from its rocky roots by billows torn,
| And the high turret in the whirlwind borne; Fleets bulg'd their fides against the craggy land, And pitchy ruins blacken'd all the strand. Who then through night would hire the harnefs'd fteed?
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