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Or winter porridge to the lab'ring youth,
Or buns and sugar to the damsel's tooth;
Yet Blouzelinda's name shall tune my lay;
Of her I'll sing for ever and for aye.

When Blouzelind expir'd, the wether's bell
Before the drooping flock toll'd forth her knell;
The solemn deathwatch click'd the hour she dy'd,
And shrilling crickets in the chimney cry'd:
The boding raven on her cottage sate,
And with hoarse croaking warn'd us of her fate;
The lambkin, which her wonted tendance bred,
Dropp'd on the plains that fatal instant dead;
Swarm'd on a rotten stick the bees I spy'd,
Which erst I saw when Goody Dobson dy'd.
How shall I, void of tears, her death relate?
While on her darling's bed her mother sate;
These words the dying Blouzelinda spoke,
And of the dead let none the will revoke.

Mother, quoth she, let not the poultry need,
And give the goose wherewith to raise her breed;
Be these my sister's care---and ev'ry morn
Amid the ducklings let her scatter corn;

The sickly calf that's hous'd, be sure to tend,

Feed him with milk, and from bleak colds defend.
Yet ere I die---see, Mother, yonder shelf,

There secretly I've hid my worldly pelf,

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120

Ver. 96.] Κρέσσον Μελπομένω τενακείμεν υἱ μὲλι

λεί χειν.

Volume I.

Theoc.

Twenty good shillings in a rag I laid,

Be ten the parson's, for my sermon paid:
The rest is your's---my spinning-wheel and rake
Let Susan keep for her dear sister's sake:
My new straw hat that's trimly lin'd with green
Let Peggy wear, for she's a damsel clean:
My leathern bottle, long in harvests try'd,
Be Grubbinol's---this silver ring beside:
Three silver pennies and a ninepence bent,
A token kind to Bumkinet is sent.

Thus spoke the maiden, while her mother cry'd,
And peaceful, like the harmless lamb, she dy'd.

130

To show their love, the neighbours far and near Follow'd, with wistful look, the damsel's bier. Sprigg'd rosemary the lads and lasses bore, While dismally the parson walk'd before. Upon her grave the rosemary they threw, The daisie, butter-flow'r, and endive blue. After the good man warn'd us from his text, That none could tell whose turn would be the next, He said that Heav'n would take her soul, no doubt, 141 And spoke the hour-glass in her praise---quite out. To her sweet mem'ry flow'ry garlands strung, O'er her new empty seat aloft were hung; With wicker rods we fenc'd her tomb around, To ward from man and beast the hallow'd ground, Lest her new grave the parson's cattle raise, For both his horse and cow the churchyard graze.

Now we trudg'd homeward to her mother's farm,
To drink new cyder mull'd, with ginger warm:
For Gaffer Treadwell told us, by the by,
Excessive sorrow is exceeding dry.

While bulls bear horns upon their curled brow,
Or lasses with soft strokings milk the cow;
While paddling ducks the standing lake desire,
Or batt'ning hogs roll in the sinking mire;
While moles the crumbled earth in hillocks raise,
So long shall swains tell Blouzelinda's praise.
Thus wail'd the louts in melancholy strain,
Till bonny Susan sped across the plain:
They seiz'd the lass, in apron clean array'd,
And to the alehouse forc'd the village maid.
In ale and kisses they forget their cares,

And Susan Blouzelinda's loss repairs.

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Ver. 153.] Dum juga montis aper, fluvios dum piscis amabit,

Dumque thymo pascentur apes, dum rore cicada Semper honos nomenque tuum, laudesque manebunt.

Gay.

O ij

SATURDAY:

OR,

THE FLIGHTS.

BOWZYBEUS.

SUBLIMER strains, O rustic Muse! prepare;
Forget awhile the barn and dairy's care;
Thy homely voice to loftier numbers raise,
The drunkard's Flights require sonorous lays;
With Bowzybeus' songs exalt thy verse,

While rocks and woods the various notes rehearse.
'Twas in the season when the reapers' toil
Of the ripe harvest 'gan to rid the soil;
Wide thro' the field was seen a goodly rout,
Clean damsels bound the gather'd sheaves about ;
The lads with sharpen'd hook and sweating brow
Cut down the labours of the winter plough.
To the near hedge young Susan steps aside,
She feign'd her coat or garter was unty'd;
Whate'er she did, she stoop'd adown unseen,
And merry reapers what they list will ween,
Soon she rose up, and cry'd with voice so shrill,
That Echo answer'd from the distant hill;
The youths and damsels ran to Susan's aid,
Who thought some adder had the lass dismay'd.
When fast asleep they Bouzybeus spy'd,
His hat and oaken staff lay close beside;

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

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Ah! Bouzybee, why didst thou stay so long?
The mugs were large, the drink was wondrous strong!
Thou shouldst have left the fair before 'twas night,
But thou sat'st toping till the morning light.

Cic❜ly, brisk maid, steps forth before the rout,
And kiss'd with smacking lips 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.

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He rubs his nostril, and in wonted joke

The sneering swains with stamm'ring speech bespoke.
To you, my lads, I'll sing my carols o'er;
As for the maids---I've something else in store.

Ver.22.] Serta procul tantum capiti delapsa jacebant.

Virg.

Ver. 40. Sanguineis frontem moris et tempora

pingit.

Virg.

Ver. 43. Carmina quæ vultis, cognoscite; carmina

vobis.

Huic aliud mercedis erit.

Virg.

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