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That Bowzybeus who could sweetly sing,
Or with the rosin'd bow torment the string;
That Bowżybeus 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.

Ah, Bowzybee, why didst thou stay so long? The mugs were large, the drink was wond'rouş

strong! Thou shouldst have left the fair before 'twas night; But thqu sat'st toping till the morning light.

Cicely, brisk maid, steps forth before the rout, And kiss'd with smacking lip the snoring lout : (For custom says, " Whoe'er this venture proves, For such a kiss demands a pair of gloves.") By her example Dorcas bolder grows, And plays a tickling straw within his nose. He rubs his nostril, and in wonted joke The sneering swains with stammering speech be

spoke : To you, my lads, I'll sing my carols o'er, As for the maids--I've something else in store.

No sooner 'gan he raise his tuneful song, But lads and lasses round about him throng, 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.



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 night. 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. He sung where woodcocks in the summer feed, And in what climates they renew their breed. (Some think to northern coasts their flight they tend, Or to the moon in midnight hours ascend); 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).

Now he goes on, and sings of fairs and shows, For still new fairs before his eyes aroše. 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.

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


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.

Then sad he sung, “the Children in the Wood :" (Ah, barbarous uncle, stain'd with infant blood !) How blackberries they pluck'd in desarts wild, And fearless at the glittering faulchion smild; Their little corpse the robin red-breasts found, And strew'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 tailor made the maid a wife,

To louder strains he rais'd his voice, to tell What woeful wars in “ Chevy-chace" befel, When “ Percy drove the deer with hound and horn, Wars to be wept by children yet

unborn!” Ah, Witherington, more years thy life had crown'd, If thou hadst never heard the horn or hound! Yet shall the squire, who fought on bloody stumps, By future bards be wail'd in doleful dumps.

“ All in the land of Essex” next he chants, How to sleek mares starch quakers turn gallants :

How the grave brother stood on bank so green
Happy for him if mares had never been !

Then he was seiz'd with a religious qualm,
And on a sudden sung the hundredth psalm.

He sung of " Taffey Welsh," and "Sawney Scot," “Lilly-bullero" and the Irish Trot." Why should I tell of Bateman," or of “Shore," Or“ Wantley's Dragon” slain by valiant Moore; “ The Bower of Rosamond,” or “ Robin Hood,”: And how the “

grass now grows where Troy town stood ?His carols ceas'd: the listening maids and swains Seem still to hear some soft imperfect strains. Sudden he rose; and, as he reels along, Swears kisses sweet should well reward his song. The damsels laughing fly: the giddy clown Again upon a wheat-sheaf drops adown; The power that guards the drunk his sleep attends, Till, ruddy, like his face, the sun descends.



Ye sylvan Muses, loftier strains recite :
Not all in shades and hurnble cots delight.
Hark! the bells ring; along the distant grounds
The driving gales convey the swelling sounds:
Th' attentive swain, forgetful of his work,
With gaping wonder, leans-upon his fork.

What sudden news alarms the waking morp?
To the glad Squire a hopeful heir is born.
Mourn, mourn, ye stags, and all ye beasts of chase;
This hour destruction brings on all your race :
See, the pleas'd tenants duteous offerings bear,
Turkeys and geese, and grocer's sweetest ware ;
With the new health the ponderous tankard flows,
And old October reddens every nose.
Beagles and spaniels round his cradle stand,
Kiss his moist lip, and gently lick his hand..
He joys to hear the shrill horn's echoing sounds,
And learns to lisp the names of all the bounds.
With frothy ale to make his cup o'erflow,
Barley shall in paternal acres grow;
The bee shall sip the fragrant dew from flowers,
To give metheglin for his morning-hours;
For him the clustering hop shall climb the poles,
And his own orchard sparkle in his bowls.

His sire's exploits he now with wonder hears,
The monstrous tales indulge his greedy ears;
How, wben youth strung his nerves and warm'd his

veins, He rode the mighty Nimrod of the plains. He leads the staring infant through the hall, Points out the horny spoils that grace the wall; Tells how this stag through three whole counties

fled, What rivers swam, where hay'd, and where he bled. Now he the wonders of the fox repeats, : Describes the desperate chase, and all his cheats;

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