She sets the candle down in haste,
Tucks her white apron round her waist,
The hogshead's mouldy side ascends,
She straddles wide, and downward bends;
So low she stoops to seek the flaw,
Her coats rose high, her master saw----
I see--he cries--(then clasp'd her fast)
The leak thro' which my wine has past.
Then all in haste the maid descended,
And in a trice the leak was mended.
He found in Nannette all he wanted,
So Dennis' brows remain'd unplanted.
Ere since this time all lusty friars
(Warm'd with predominant desires,
Whene'er the flesh with spirit quarrels)
Look on the sex as leaky barrels.
Beware of these, ye jealous spouses,
From such like Coopers guard your houses;
For if they find not work at home,
For jobs thro' all the town they roam.
AN abbot rich (whose taste was good
Alike in science and in food)
His bishop had resolv'd to treat:
The bishop came, the bishop ate.
'Twas silence till their stomachs fail'd,
And now at heretics they rail'd.
What heresy (the prelate said)
Is in that church where priests may wed!
Do not we take the church for life?
But those divorce her for a wife;
Like laymen keep her in their houses,
And own the children of their spouses.
Vile practices! the abbot cry'd,
For pious use we 're set aside!
Shall we take wives; marriage at best
Is but carnality profest.
Now as the bishop took his glass,
He spy'd our abbot's buxom lass,
Who cross'd the room: he mark'd her eye
That glow'd with love; his pulse beat high.
Fye, Father! fye (the pielate cries)
A maid so young! for shame! be wise:
These indiscretions lend a handle
To lewd lay tongues to give us scandal;
For your vow's sake, this rule I give t' ye,
Let all your maids be turn'd of fifty.
The priest reply'd, I have not swerv'd,
But your chaste precept well observ'd;
That lass full twenty-five has told,
I've yet another who's as old;
Into one sum their ages cast,
So both my maids have fifty past.
The prelate smil'd, but durst not blame;
For why, his lordship did the same.
Let those who reprimand their brothers
First mend the faults they find in others.
SCEPTICS (whose strength of argument makes out
That wisdom's deep enquiries end in doubt)
Hold this assertion positive and clear,
That sprites are pure delusions rais'd by fear.
Not that fam'd ghost, which in presaging sound
Call'd Brutus to Philippi's fatal ground,
Nor can Tiberius Gracchus' gory shade
These ever-doubting disputants persuade.
Straight they with smiles reply. Those tales of old
By visionary priests were made and told.
Oh! might some ghost at dead of night appear,
And make you own conviction by your fear!
I know your sneers my easy faith accuse,
That with such idle legends scares the Muse;
But think not that I tell those vulgar sprights
Which frighted boys relate on win'er nights,
How cleanly milkmaids meet the fairy train,
How headless horses drag the clinking chain,
Night-roaming ghosts, by saucer eyeballs known,
The common spectres of each country town:
Gay.]
No; I such fables can like you despise,
And laugh to hear these nurse-invented lies:
Yet has not oft' the fraudful guardian's fright
Compell'd him to restore an orphan's right?
And can we doubt that horrid ghosts ascend,
Which on the conscious murd' rer's steps attend?
Hear, then, and let attested truth prevail;
From faithful lips I learnt the dreadful tale.
Where Arden's forest spreads its limits wide,
Whose branching paths the doubtful road divide,
A trav'ller took his solitary way,
When low beneath the hills was sunk the day.
And now the skies with gath'ring darkness lour,
The branches rustle with the threaten'd show'r;
With sudden blasts the forest murmurs loud,
Indented lightnings cleave the sable cloud;
Thunder on thunder breaks, the tempest roars,
And Heav'n discharges all its wat'ry stores.
The wand'ring trav'ller shelter seeks in vain,
And shrinks and shivers with the beaten rain:
On his steed's neck the slacken'd bridle lay,
Who chose with cautious step th' uncertain way;
And now he checks the rein, and halts to hear
If any noise foretold a village near:
At length from far a stream of light he sees
Extend its level ray between the trees;
Thither he speeds, and as he nearer came,
Joyful he knew the lamp's domestic flame
That trembled thro' the window; cross the way
Darts forth the barking cur, and stands at bay.
It was an ancient lonely house that stood
Upon the borders of the spacious wood;
Here tow'rs and antique battlements arise,
And there in heaps the moulder'd ruin lies:
Some lord this mansion held in days of yore
To chase the wolf, and pierce the foaming boar:
How chang'd, alas! from what it once had been!
'Tis now degraded to a public inn.
Straight he dismounts, repeats his loud commands: Swift at the gate the ready landlord stands; With frequent cringe he bows, and begs excuse, His house was full, and ev'ry bed in use. What, not a garret, and no straw to spare? Why, then, the kitchen fire and elbowchair Shall serve for once to nod away the night. The kitchen ever is the servants' right, Replies the host; there, all the fire around, The Count's tir'd footman snor'd upon the ground. The maid, who listen'd to this whole debate, With pity learnt the weary stranger's fate. Be brave, she cries, you still may be our guest, Our haunted room was ever held the best; If then your valour can the fright sustain, Of rattling curtains and the clinking chain, If your courageous tongue have pow'r to talk, When round your bed the horrid ghost shall walk;
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