And when the bursting clouds a deluge pour,
Let thy surtout defend the drenching show'r.

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The changing weather certain signs reveal,
Ere winter sheds her snow, or frosts congeal,
You'll see the coals in brigter flames aspire,
And sulphur tinge with blue the rising fire;
Your tender shins the scorching heat decline,
And at the dearth of coals the poor repine :
Before her kitchen hearth the nodding dame,
In flannel mantle wrapt, enjoys the flame;
Hov'ring, upon her feeble knees she bends,
And all around the grateful warmth ascends.
Nor do less certain signs the Town advise
Of milder weather and serener skies.
The ladies, gaily dress'd, the Mall adorn
With various dyes, and paint the sunny morn;
The wanton fawns with frisking pleasure range,
And chirping sparrows greet the welcome change:
Not that their minds with greater skill are fraught,
Endu'd by Instinct, or by Reason taught;
The seasons operate on ev'ry breast:

'Tis hence that fawns are brisk, and ladies drest.
When on his box the nodding coachman snores,
And dreams of fancy'd fares; when tavern-doors
The chairmen idly crowd, then ne'er refuse
To trust thy busy steps in thinner shoes.

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*Haud equidem credo quia sit divinitus illis, Ingenium, aut rerum fato prudentia major. Virg. Georg. 1.

But when the swinging signs your ears offend
With creaking noise, then rainy floods impend;
Soon shall the kennels swell with rapid streams,
And rush in muddy torrents to the Thames.
The bookseller, whose shop's an open square,
Foresees the tempest, and with early care
Of learning strips the rails: the rowing crew,
To tempt a fare, clothe all their tilts in blue.
On hosiers' poles depending stockings ty'd,
Flag with the slacken'd gale from side to side.
Church monuments foretel the changing air;
Then Niobe dissolves into a tear,

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And sweats with secret grief. You'll hear the sounds
Of whistling winds ere kennels break their bounds;
Ungrateful odours common sewers diffuse,
And drooping vaults distil unwholesome dews,
Ere the tiles rattle with the smoking show'r,
And spouts on heedless men their torrents pour.
All superstition from thy breast repel.
Let cred❜lous boys, and prattling nurses tell
How, if the festival of Paul be clear,

Plenty from lib'ral horn shall strow the year;
When the dark skies dissolve in snow or rain,
The lab'ring hind shall yoke the steer in vain ;
But if the threat'ning winds in tempests roar,
Then War shall bathe her wasteful sword in gore.
How, if on Swithin's feast the welkin lours,
And ev'ry penthouse streams with hasty show'rs,

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Twice twenty days shall clouds their fleeces drain,
And wash the pavements with incessant rain.
Let not such vulgar tales debase thy mind;
Nor Paul nor Swithin rule the clouds and wind.
If you the precepts of the Muse despise,
And slight the faithful warning of the skies,
Others you'll see when all the Town's afloat,
Wrapt in th' embraces of a kersey coat,
Or double-button'd freeze; their guarded feet
Defy the muddy dangers of the street,

While you, with hat unloop'd, the fury dread
Of spouts high streaming, and with cautious tread
Shun ev'ry dashing pool; or idly stop,
To seek the kind protection of a shop.
But bus'ness summons; now with hasty scud
You jostle for the wall; the spatter'd mud
Hides all thy hose behind; in vain you scour;
Thy wig, alas! uncurl'd, admits the show'r.
So fierce Alecto's snaky tresses fell,

When Orpheus charm'd the rig'rous pow'rs of hell;
Or thus hung Glaucus's beard, with briny dew
Clotted and strait, when first his am'rous view
Surpris'd the bathing fair; the frighted maid
Now stands a rock, transform'd by Circe's aid.
Good housewives all the winter's rage despise,
Defended by the ridinghood's disguise;
Or, underneath th' umbrella's oily shade,
Safe thro' the wet on clinking pattens tread.

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Ver. 193] Double-bottom'd freeze. 12mo. edit. 1767.

Let Persian dames th' umbrella's ribs display,
To guard their beauties from the sunny ray;
Or sweating slaves support the shady load,
When eastern monarchs show their state abroad;
Britain in winter only knows its aid,

To guard from chilly show'rs the walking maid.
But, O! forget not, Muse! the patten's praise,
That female implement shall grace thy lays;
Say, from what art divine th' invention came,
And from its origin deduce the name.

Where Lincoln wide extends her fenny soil,
A goodly yeoman liv'd, grown white with toil;
One only daughter blest his nuptial bed,
Who from her infant hand the poultry fed:
Martha (her careful mother's name) she bore,
But now her careful mother was no more.
Whilst on her father's knee the damsel play'd,
Patty he fondly call'd the smiling maid;
As years increas'd, her ruddy beauty grew,
And Patty's fame o'er all the village flew.

Soon as the grey-ey'd morning streaks the skies,
And in the doubtful day the woodcock flies,
Her cleanly pail the pretty housewife bears,
And singing to the distant field repairs :

And when the plains with ev'ning dews are spread,
The milky burden smokes upon her head:
Deep thro' a miry lane she pick'd her way,
Above her ancle rose the chalky clay,

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Vulcan by chance the bloomy maiden spies,
With innocence and beauty in her eyes:
He saw, he lov'd; for yet he ne'er had known
Sweet innocence and beauty meet in one.
Ah! Mulciber! recall thy nuptial vows,
Think on the graces of thy Paphian spouse;
Think how her eyes dart inexhausted charms,
And can'st thou leave her bed for Patty's arms?
The Lemnian Pow'r forsakes the realms above,
His bosom glowing with terrestrial love.
Far in the lane a lonely hut he found,

No tenant ventur'd on th' unwholesome ground.
Here smokes his forge, he bares his sinewy arm,
And early strokes the sounding anvil warm:
Around his shop the ste lly sparkles flew,
As for the steed he shap'd the bending shoe.
When blue-ey'd Patty near his window came,
His anvil rests, his forge forgets to flame:
To hear his soothing tales she feigns delays;
What woman can resist the force of praise ?
At first she coily ev'ry kiss withstood,
And all her cheek was flush'd with modest blood:
With heedless nails he now surrounds her shoes,
To save her steps from rains and piercing dews.
She lik'd his soothing tales, his presents wore,
And granted kisses, but would grant no more.
Yet winter chill'd her feet, with cold she pines,
And on her cheek the fading rose declines;

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