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The cilly schepe and thare litill hird gromes
Lurkis vnder lye of bankis, woddis and bromes:
Ann vtheris dantit greter beistial,
Within thare stabill sesit in the stall,
Sic as mulis, hors, oxin or ky,

Fed tuskit baris, and fat swyne in sty,
Sustenit war be mannis gouernance

On hervist, and on someris puruiance:
Widequhare with sors so Eolus schoutis schill.
In this congelit sesoun scharp and chill,
The callour are penetratiue and pure
Dasing the blude in euery creature,
Maid seik warme stouis and bene fyris hote,
In doubil garmont cled and wylecote,
With mychty drink, and metis confortiue,
Aganis the sterne wynter for to striue.
Recreate wele and by the chymnay bekit,
At euin be tyme doun in ane bed me strekit,
Warpit my hede, kest on claithis thyrnfald
For to expell the perrellus persand cald :
I crosit me, syne bownit for to slepe :
Quhare lemand throw the glas I did take kepe
Latonia the lang irksum nycht

Hir subtell blenkis sched and watry lycht,
Full hie vp quhirlit in hir regioun,
Till Phebus right in opposicioun,

Into the crab hir propir mansioun draw,
Haldand the hicht althocht the son went law:
The hornyt byrd quhilk we clepe the nicht oule,
Within hir cauerne hard I schout and zoule,
Laithely of forme, with crukit camscho beik,
Ugsum to here was hir wylde Irische skreik.
The wyld geis eik claking by nychtis tyde
Attour the ciete fleand hard I glyde.

On slummer I slade full sone, and slepyt sound,
Quhill the horisont upwart can rebound:
Phebus crounit bird, the nychtis orlagere,
Clappin his wingis thryis had crawin clere:
Approching nere the greking of the day,
Within my bed I walkynyt quhare I lay,
Sa fast declynnys Cynthia the mone,
And kayis keklys on the rufe abone:
Palamedes birdis crowpand in the sky,
Fleand on randoun, schapin lyk ane Y;
And as ane trumpit rang thare vocis soun,
Quhais cryis bene pronosticacioun
Of wyndy blastis and ventositeis.
Fast by my chalmer on hie wisnit treis
The sary gled quhissllis with mony ane pew,
Qubarby the day was dawing wele I knew ;
Bad bete the fyre, and the candyll alicht,
Syne blissit me, and in my wedis dicht;
Ane schot wyndo unschet ane litel on char,
Persauyt the mornyng bla, wan and har,
Wyth cloudy gum and rak ouerquhelmyt the are,
The sulze stiche, hasard, rouch and hare;
Branchis brattlyng, and blaiknyt schew the brayis,
With hirstis barsk of waggand wyndil strayis,
The dew droppis congelit on stibbil and rynd,
And scharp hailstanys mortfundyit of kynd,
Hoppand on the thak and on the causay by:
The schote I closit, and drew inwart in hy,
Cheuerand for cald, the sessoun was sa snell,
Schupe with nait flambis to fleme the fresing fell.

Industrious peasants, toil-enduring men,
Went wet and weary, draggled in the fen:
Beneath the wild broom, or the shelving steep,
Securely skulk'd the shepherd and his sheep;
But household animals which man had bred,
Enjoy'd warm cover, or in stables fed :
The mule, the horse, the ox, and brindled boar,
And liv'd at large on summer's golden store.
The hollow-howling winds, and frost intense,
Benumb'd man's vigour, and congeal'd the sense
And loudly told him what his wants require,
A double garment, and bright-burning fire,
And generous wine, and comfortable cheer,
To guard against the rigour of the year.
Warm from the hearth, and plentifully fed,
With early eve I press'd my downy bed,
And of soft covering added many a fold
To dissipate the penetrating cold;
Then, duly cross'd, prepar'd for balmy sleep,
When through the glass I saw pale Cynthia peep:
Her silver orb display'd a watery light,
And faintly glimmer'd all the livelong night;
She calmly sailing through th' etherial way,
Full orb'd, oppos'd the glorious lamp of day,
And reach'd the sign where Cancer's kingdoms
glow,

Thron'd in her zenith, tho' the Sun was low.
In boding note, within her darksome bower,
Where crawling ivy clasps yon antient tower,
I heard the solitary owl complain, [strain:
Saddening dread midnight with her hideous
While clamourous wild-geese in long trains ou
With lazy pinions fann'd the liquid sky; [high,
Lull'd by the drowsy din in sleep I lay,
Till from the east pale gleam'd the dubious day;
Till chanticleer his merry notes begun, [Sun.
Thrice clapt his wings, and call'd the lingering
Rous'd by his orisons from sweet repose,
I shook off slumbers as the morning rose;
The morning rose, but shed a languid light,
And down in ocean sunk the queen of night.
Then jack-daws chatter'd on the chimney high;
And cranes renewed their voyage thro' the sky :
Whose piercing clamours sounded in my ear,
Presage of wintery winds and tempests gathering

near.

Perch'd on a tree that nigh my chamber grew,
The kite began her lamentable pew,
Whereby the dawning of the day I knew; [drest,
Then call'd for lights, and Heav'n with pray'r ad-
And wrapt my cold limbs in the warmest vest,
And thro' the window half-way opening saw
The melancholy morning bleak and raw;
Thick clouds envelop'd all the mountains round,
And rough and rigid was the hoary ground;
The bare boughs clashing rattled to the blast,
And tall grass trembled as the wild wind past.
Like pendent pearls, on every shrub that grew
And every stubble, hung the frozen dew;
And hail-stones pattering from the chilling sky
Hopt on the thatch, and on the causeway by.
Aghast, the joyless season to behold,

My teeth all chattering with the piercing cold,
I clos'd the casement, and retir'd in haste
To quell with cheering blaze the horrour-breath-
ing blast.

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Sike, a rivulet.
Skuggis, shades.

Slak, a bottom or valley.
Slekit, smooth.
Snell, piercing, sharp.
Snyppand, nipping.
Sole, soil. [Lat. solum.]
Soppis, showers, clouds.
Sore, sorrel, chesnut.
Souch, to make a noise.
Spate, foam, froth.

Sprayngis, rays, streaks of different colours.

Sprinkilland, gliding swiftly.

Spulzeit, spoiled, robbed.

Stabyillt, settled, calm

Stanryis, the shore.

Stede, place.

Sternes, stars.

Steuynnis, notes, sounds.
Storare, restorer.

Stouis, vapours, exhalations.
Stourand, stirring.
Strandis, strands,-
vulets.

Strekit, stretched.

Sulze, the soil, ground.

sometimes signifies ri

Sulzeart, bright, glittering,

Sum dele, somewhat, a little.

Swarde, the surface of the ground.

Syne, then, afterwards.

Syon, a scion, or young shoot.

Tail, tight.

Tetand, putting forth.

Thareon, their own.

Thoucht, though.
Thrang, in crowds.

Thrid, third.

Thuddis, blasts.

Till, to, unto.

[blocks in formation]

Sic, such.

Resolv'd to travel with this courtly spark, PART OF SAT. VI. BOOK II. OF HỌ- | And gain the city when securely dark.

RACE, TRANSLATED.

BEGINNING AT, PERDITUR HÆC INTER MISERO
LUX, NON SINE VOTIS, &c.

CONSUM'D in trifles, thus the golden day
Steals, not without this ardent wish, away;
When shall I see my peaceful country farm,
My fancy when with antient authors charm?
Or, lull'd to sleep, the cares of life elude
In sweet oblivion of solicitude?

O, for those beans which my own fields provide!
Deem'd by Pythagoras to man allied;
The savoury pulse serv'd up in platters nice,
And herbs high-relish'd with the bacon slice?
O, tranquil nights in pleasing converse spent,
Ambrosial suppers that might gods content!
When with my chosen friends (delicious treat!)
Before the household deities we eat;

The slaves themselves regale on choicest meat.
Free from mad laws we sit reclin'd at ease,
And drink as much, or little, as we please.
Some quaff large bumpers that expand the soul,
And some grow mellow with a moderate bowl.
We never talk of this man's house or vill,
Or whether Lepos dances well or ill:
But of those duties which ourselves we owe,
And which 'tis quite a scandal not to know:
As whether wealth or virtue can impart
The truest pleasure to the human heart:
What should direct us in our choice of friends,
Their own pure merit, or our private ends:
What we may deem, if rightly understood,
Man's sovereign bliss, his chief, his only good.
Mean-time my friend, old Cervius, never fails
To cheer our converse with his pithy tales:
Praise but Arellius, or his ill-got store,

His fable thus begins: "In days of yore
A country mouse within his homely cave
A treat to one of note, a courtier, gave;
A good plain mouse our host, who lov'd to spare
Those heaps of forage he had glean'd with care;
Yet on occasion would his soul unbend,
And feast with hospitality his friend :

He brought wild oats and vetches from his hoard;
Dried grapes and scraps of bacon grac'd the

board:

In hopes, no doubt, by such a various treat,
To tempt the dainty traveller to eat.
Squat on fresh chaff, the master of the feast
Left all the choicest viands for his guest,
Nor one nice morsel for himself would spare,
But gnaw'd coarse grain, or nibbled at a tare.
At length their slender dinner finish'd quite,
Thus to the rustic spoke the mouse polite :
"How can my friend a wretched being drag
On the bleak summit of this airy crag?
Say, do you still prefer this barbarous den
To polish'd cities, savages to men?
Come, come with me, nor longer here abide,
I'll be your friend, your comrade, and your
guide.

Since all must die that draw this vital breath, Nor great nor small can shun the shafts of death, 'Tis ours to sport in pleasures while we may : For ever mindful of life's little day.' [mouse, "These weighty reasons sway'd the country And light of heart be sallied from his house.

"Now midnight hover'd o'er this earthly ball, When our small gentry reach'd a stately hall, Where brightly glowing, stain'd with Tyrian dye,

On ivory couches richest carpets lie;
And in large baskets, rang'd along the floor,
The rich collation of the night before.
On purple bed the courtier plac'd his guest,
And with choice cates prolong'd the grateful
feast;

And was his waiter, and his taster too.
He carv'd, he serv'd, as much as mouse could do,
Joy seiz'd the rustic as at ease he lay :
This happy change had made him wondrous gay—
When lo! the doors burst open in a trice,
And at their banquet terrified the mice:
They start, they tremble, in a deadly fright,
And round the room precipitate their flight;
The high-roof'd room with hideous cries resound:
Of baying mastiffs, and loud-bellowing hounds
Then thus the rustic in the courtier's ear;

Adieu! kind sir! I thank you for your cheer:
Safe in my cell your state I envy not;
Tares be my food, and liberty my lot!'"

A PARODY ON THE CITY AND COUN-
TRY MOUSE.

A COUNTRY Vicar in his homely house,
Pleas'd with his lot, and happy in his spouse,
With simple diet, at his humble board,
Once entertain'd the chaplain of a lord ;-
He gave him (all he could) a little fish,
With sauce of oysters, in no silver dish;
And, for the craving stomach's sure relief,
The glory of Old England, rare roast-beef,
Horse-raddish and potatoes, Ireland's pride;
A pudding too the prudent dame supplied:
Their cheering beverage was a pint of port
(Tho' small the quantum) of the better sort ;
But plenty of good beer, both small and stout,
With wine of elder to prevent the gout.
The vicar hop'd, by such a various treat,
To tempt his scarf-embellish'd friend to eat ;
With nicest bits provok'd his guest to dine,
He carv'd the haddock, and he serv'd the wine:
Content his own sharp stomach to regale
With plain, substantial roast meat, and mild ale.
Our courtly chaplain, as we may suppose,
At such old-fashion'd commons curl'd his nose;
He tried in vain to piddle, and, in brief,
Pish'd at the pudding, and declin'd the beef;-
At length, their homely dinner finish'd quite,
Thus to the vicar spoke the priest polite:

"How can my brother in this paltry town Live undistinguish'd, to the world unknown? And not exalt your towering genius higher, Than here to herd with country clown-or squire; Stunn'd with the discord of hoarse cawing rooks, The roar of winds, the dissonance of brooks, Which discontented through the valley stray, Plaintive and murmuring at their long delay. Come, come with me, nor longer here abide; You've friends in town, and I will be your guide: Soon great preferment to your share will fall A good fat living, or perhaps-a stall.”

These weighty reasons sway'd the vicar's mind-
To town he hied, but left his wife behind :-
Next levee-day he waited on his grace,
With hundreds more, who bow'd to get a place;
Shov'd in the crowd, he stood amaz'd to see
Lords who to Baal bent the supple knee,
And doctors sage he could not but admire,
Who stoop'd profoundly low-to rise the higher.
So much of ermine, lace, beaus, bishops, young
and old,

'Twas like a cloud of sable edg'd with gold:
By turns his grace the servile train addrest,
Pleas'd with a smile, or in a whisper blest.
Sick of the scene, the vicar sought the door,
Determin'd never to see London more;
But, as his friend had pleas'd the hour to fix,
First went to dinner to my lord's at six ;-
He knock'd-was usher'd to the room of state,
(My lord abroad) and dinner serv'd in plate;
Which, though it seem'd but common soup and
Was really callipee and callipash,
(The relics of the gaudy day before)
What Indians eat, and Englishmen adore;
With bright champaign the courtier crown'd the

feast,

[hash,

Sooth'd his own pride, and gratified his guest
All this conspir'd our Stoic to controul,
And warpt the steady purpose of his soul-
When lo! the cry of fire creates amaze-
"The next house, Lady Riot's, in a blaze”-
Aghast the vicar stood, in wild affright,
Then briefly thus addres'd the priest polite :
"Adieu, my friend-your state I envy not-
Beef, liberty, and safety be my lot”.

HORACE, EPIST. V. BOOK I. IMITATED.

TO JOHN HAWKESWORTH, ESQ.

IF you dear sir, will deign to pass a day
In the fair vale of Orpington and Cray,
And live for once as humble vicars do;
On Thursday let me see you here by two.
Expect no nieetics my plates to foul,
But Bansted mutton, and a barn-door fowl,
My friends with generous liquors I regale,
Good port, old hock, or, they like it, ale;
But if of richer wine you chuse a quart,
Why bring, and drink it here-with all my heart.
Plain is my furniture, as is my treat,
For 'tis my best ambition, to be neat.
Leave then all sordid views, and hopes of gain,
To mortais miserable, mad, or vain;
Put the last polish to th' historic page,
And cease awhile to moralize the age.
By your sweet converse cheer'd, the live-long day
Will
pass unnotic'd like the stream, away.
Why should kind Providence abundance give,
If we, like niggards, can't afford to live?
The wretched miser, poor 'midst heaps of pelf,
To cram his heir, most madly starves himself-
So will not I-give me good wine and ease,
And le all misers call me fool that please.
What cannot wine?-it opens all the soul;
Faint hope grows brilliant o'er the sparkling bowl:
Wine's generous spirit makes the coward brave,
Gives ease to kings, and freedom to the slave:

Bemus'd in wine the bard his duns forgets,
And drinks serene oblivion to his debts:
Wine drives all cares, and anguish from the heart,
And dubs us connoisseurs of every art:
Whom does not wine with eloquence inspire?
The bousey beggar struts into a squire.
This you well know- to me belongs to mind,
That neatness with frugality be join'd;
That no intruding blab, with itching ears,
Darken my doors, who tells whate'er he hears;
Two D-s, each a poet, with me dine,
Your friends, and decent C-n, a divine:
There's room for more-so to complete the band,
Your wife will bring fair Innocence in hand.
Should Cave want copy, let the teaser wait,
While you steal secret through the garden gate.

A PASSAGE FROM PETRONIUS,

FALLEN

TRANSLATED.

ALLEN are thy locks! for woeful winter hoar Has stolen thy bloom, and beauty is no more! Thy temples mourn their shady honours shorn, Parch'd like the fallow destitute of corn. Fallacious gods! whose blessings thus betray; What first ye give us, first ye take away. Thou, late exulting in thy golden hair, As bright as Phoebus, or as Cynthia fair, Now view'st, alas! thy forehead smooth and plain As the round fungus, daughter of the rain: Smooth as the surface of well polish'd brass, And fly'st with fear each laughter-loving lass: Death hastes amain-thy wretched fate deploreFallen are thy locks, and beauty is no more,

AGAINST LIFE.

FROM THE GREEK OF POSIDIPPUS.

WHAT tranquil road, unvex'd by strife, Can inortals chuse through human life? Attend the courts, attend the barThere discord reigns, and endless jar: At home the weary wretches find Severe disquietude of mind; To till the fields, gives toil and pain; Eternal terrours sweep the main: If rich, we fear to lose our store, Need and distress await the poor: Sad cares the bands of hymen give; Friendless, forlorn, th' unmarried live: Are children born? we anxious groan; Childless, our lack of heirs we moan: Wild, giddy schemes our youth engage; Weakness and wants depress old age. Would fate then with my wish comply, I'd never live, or quickly die.

FOR LIFE

FROM THE GREEK OF METRODORUS

MANKIND
ANKIND may rove, unvex'd by strife,
Through every road of human life.
Fair wisdom regulates the bar,
Aud peace concludes the wordy war :

1 The name of a very agreeable young lady,

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