« EelmineJätka »
My house is straight, but you are learned men;
You can by dint of argument maintain,
That twenty yards a mile in breadth comprise:
Now fhew your art, and make a miller wife.
You're merry friend; but wet and clammy earth:
Hunger and cold, provokes few men to mirth..
A man complies with neceffary things,
Content with what he finds, or what he brings,
'Tis meat and drink we earnestly defire;
To warm and dry us with a better fire.
Look, we have coin to pay what you demand!!
We ne'er catch falcons with an empty hand.
Sim fends his daughter to a neighb'ring house
For good ftrong ale, and roafts a well-fed goofe.
Tho' homely was this room, it was not small;
They had no other, it must ferve them all.
The daughter makes for these two youths a bed,
Lays on clean sheets, with blankets fairly spread.
Twelve foot beyond in the remotest place,
There ftood another for their daughter Grace.
The fupper does with sprightly mirth abound,
Each has his jeft, the nappy ale goes round.
Nor the fquab daughter, nor the wife were nice,
Each health the youths began, Sim pledg'd it twice.
The heady liquor ftupifies their care,
But midnight past, they all to reft repair.
The miller yawn'd, his eyes began to close;
The wife got Sim to bed, he had his dose.
She follow'd him, but he was gay and light,
Her whistle had been wetted too that night;
She plac'd the child in cradle by her fide,
To give it fuck, or rock it if it cry'd.
The daughter too, when once the ale was gone,
Retir'd to bed; fo Allen did, and John.
Sleep on the most did inftantly prevail;
The miller's lufty dofe of potent ale
Made him like any ftone-horse fnort and fnore,
The treble was behind the bafe before:
The wife's horse-tenor vacant parts did fill,
The daughter bore her part with wondrous skill,
They might be heard a furlong from the mill.
When this melodious confort first began,
Young Allen tumbling, pushes his friend John.
It is impoffible to fleep, he fays,
I'll up and dance, while this choice mufick plays.
He cries, What means my brother?-Allen faid,
I mean to fteal into the daughter's bed.
'Tis faid, the man who in one point is griev'd,.
Ought in another point to be reliey'd.
Our corn is ftoln, and we like fools are caught,
The daughter fhall repay the father's fault.
O Allen, he replies, think while you can,
'Fore heav'n the miller is a dangerous man!
Should he discover you, I would be loath
The thief fhould wreak his vengeance on us both.
I fear him not, fays Allen, I am young;
Tho' he's well fet, my finews are as ftrong.
Then up he gets; now friend good luck (he faid.)
The daughter's trumpet led him to her bed.
Half ftupify'd with ale, fhe fprawling lay;
He foftly creeping in, foon hit his way;
Soon put all knotty queftions out of doubt,
Stopping her mouth, prevented crying out.
John grumbling lay, while Allen's place was void, Am I then idle, while my friend's employ'd?
He can revenge himfeif for all his harms,
He has the miller's daughter in his arms,
While I lie fpiritlefs, benumb'd and cold;
I thall be jear'd to death when this is told-
They nothing can perform, who ne'er begin:
Faint heart, they fay, did ne'er fair lady win.
Then up he rofe, and foftly groaping round, He found the cradle standing on the ground, Close by the miller's bed; this unefpy'd
He took, and fet it by his own bed-fide.
The miller's wife had no more grift to grind,
(Some mills by water move, and fome by wind.)
The proper utenfil not plac'd at hand,
She rofe, by pure neceffity conftrain'd.
That grand affair difpatch'd, and feeling round
Her husband's bed; no cradle could be found.
Where am I? Benedicite, fhe faid!
This is undoubtedly the scholars bed.
Then turning t'other way, her hand did light
Full on the cradle,Now, fhe cry'd, I am right..
Lifting the clothes, into the bed she leap'd,
And close to John full harmlefly the crept:
In a fhort time he takes her in his arms,
And kindly treats her with unusual charms.
She thought (ftrange fancies working in her mind)
Some Saint had made her husband over-kind.
Propitious ftars this fortune did beftow
On both, till the third cock began to crow.
Now Allen fanfied light would foon appear,
He kifs'd the wench, and faid, My Grace, my dear;
Thou kindest of thy fex, the day comes on,
And we must part-Alas, will you be gone,
She faid, and leave poor harmless me alone?.
If Iftay longer, we are both undone;
For fhould your father wake and find me here,
What will become of me, and you my dear?
That dreadful thought (fhe cries) diftracts my heart
Too foon you won me, and too foon we part.
Then clinging round his neck, with weeping eyes,
She fays, Remember me! Allen replies,
I'll quickly find occasion to return;
You shall not long for Allen's absence mourn.
Farewel the cries! But, deareft, one word more;
You'll find upon a fack behind the door
A cake, and under it a bag of meal:
The flour my father and my self did steal
Out of your fack; but take it, 'tis your own.
Be careful, love, not a word more be gone.
Now Allen foftly feeling for his bed,
By chance his hand laid on the cradle-head,
And shrinking from it, faid (with no small fear)
That rogue the miller, and his wife lie there.
Turning, he finds Sim's Palate, in he crept;
I'm right, he fays, dull John all night has flept.