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And, certes, mirth it were to see
Lo, yonder, Cloddipole, the blithsome swain, Thy joyous madrigals twice three,
The wisest lout of all the neighbouring plain ! With preface meet, and notes profound, From Cloddipole we learnt to read the skies, Imprinted fair, and well ye-bound."
To know when hail will fall, or winds arise. All suddenly then bome I sped,
He taught us erst the heifer's tail to view, And did ev'n as my lord had said.
When stuck aloft, that showers would straight ensue: Lo, here thou hast mine eclogues fair, He first that useful secret did explain, But let not these detain thine ear.
That pricking corns foretold the gathering rain. Let not th' affairs of states and kings
When swallows fleet soar high and sport in air, Wait, while our. Bouzybeus sings.
He told us that the welkin would be clear. SO Rather than verse of simple swain
Let Cloddipole then hear us twain rehearse, Should stay the trade of France or Spain ; And praise his sweetheart in alternate verse. Or, for the plaint of parson's maid,
I'll wager this same oaken staff with thee,
That Cloddipole shall give the prize to me.
fiches See this tobacco-pouch, that's lin’d with hair,
Made of the skin of sleekest fallow-deer.
I'll wager, that the prize shall be my due,
Begin thy carols then, thou vaunting slouch! The younglings, Cuddy, are but just awake, Be thine the oaken staff, or mine the pouch. 40 No thrustles shrill the bramble-bush forsake, No chirping lark the welkin sheen invokes, No damsel yet the swelling udder strokes ; O’er yonder hill does scant the dawn appear :
My Blouzelinda is the blithest lass,
Than primrose sweeter, or the clover-grass.I
Fair is the daisie that beside her grows;
Fair is the gilliflower, of gardens sweet,
Fair is the marygold, for pottage meet : For he that leaves, a stranger is to rest :
But Blouzelind's than gilliflower more fair,
Than daisie, marygold, or king-cup rare.
My brown Buxoma is the featest maid,
That e'er at wake delightsome gambol play'd. 50 Thee Blouzelinda smites, Buxoma me.
Clean as young lambkins or the goose's down,
The witless lamb may sport upon the plain,
The frisking kid delight the gaping swain, Than does their fawns, or cows the new-fall’n calf; The wanton calf may skip with many a bound, Woe worth the tongue ! may blisters sore it gall,
And my cur Tray play deftest feats around;
But neither lamb, nor kid, nor calf, nor Tray, That names Buxoma Blouzelind withal.
Dance like Buxoma on the first of May..
Hold, witless Lobbin Clout, I thee advise,
Sweet is my toil when Blouzelind is near
Of her bereft, 'tis winter all the year.
60 Ver. 3. Welkin, the same as welken, an old Saxon In winter, when she's nigh, with love I glow.. word, signifying a cloud; by poetical licence it is Come, Blouzelinda, ease thy swain's desire, frequently taken for the element, or sky, as may My summer's shadow, and my winter's fire! appear by this verse in the Dream of Chaucer
Ne in all the welkin was no cloud. - Sheen, or shine, an old word for shining, or
As with Buxoma once I work'd at hay, bright.
Ev'n noon-tide labour seem'd an holiday; Ver. 5. Scant, used in the ancient British authors And holidays, if haply she were gone,
Like worky-days I wish'd would
soon be done. Ver. 6. Rear, an expression in several counties of England, for early in the morning.
Ver. 25. Erst; a contraction of ere this; it signiVer. 7. To ween, derived from the Saxon, to fies sometime ago, or formerly. think, or conceive.
Ver. 56. Deft, an old word, signifying brisk, or nimble.
Leek to the Welch, to Dutchmen butter's dear, Of Irish swains potatoe is the cheer ;
Answer, thou carle, and judge this riddle right, Oats for their feasts the Scottish shepherds grind,
I'll frankly own thee for a cunning wight. | Sweet turnips are the food of Blouzelind.
“ What flower is that which royal honour craves, While she loves turnips, butter I'll despise,
Adjoin the virgin, and 'tis strown on graves ?" Nor leeks, nor oatmeal, nor potato, prize.
Forbear, contending louts, give o'er your strans! In good roast beef my landlord sticks his knife,
An oaken staff each merits for his pains. The capon fat delights his dainty wife,
But see the sun-beams bright to labour warn,
90 Pudding our parson eats, the squire loves hare,
And gild the thatch of goodman Hodge's baru. But white-pot thick is my Buxoma's fare.
Your herds for want of water stand a-dry, While she loves white-pot, capon ne'er shall be,
They're weary of your songs--and so am I Nor hare, nor beef, nor pudding, food for me.
TUESDAY, OR, THE DITTY.
In every wood his carols sweet were known,
When in the ring the rustic routs he threw,
The damsels' pleasures with his conquests grew; And felt the weighty hand of many a clown; 100 Or when aslant the cudgel threats his head, Buxoma gave a gentle tap, and I
His danger smites the breast of every maid, Quick rose, and read soft mischief in her eye. But chief of Marian. - Marian lov'd the swain,
The parson's maid, and neatest of the plain; 1 10 Ver. 69. Eftsoons, from eft, an ancient British Marian, that soft could stroke the udder'd com, word, signifying soon. So that eftsoons is a doubling Or lessen with her sieve the barley-mow; of the word soon ; which is, as it were, to say twice Marbled with sage the hardening cheese she presid.
And yellow butter Marian's skill confess'd; 1 soon, or very soon.
Ver. 79. Queint has various significations in the But Marian now, devoid of country cares, ancient English authors. I have used it in this Nor yellow butter, nor sage-cheese, prepares, place in the same sense as Chaucer hath done in his For yearning love the witless maid employs, Miller's Tale. “ As clerkes being full subtle and And " Love" say swains, "all busy heed destroys' queint,” (by which he means arch, or waggish); and Colin makes mock at all her piteous smart; not in that obscene sense wherein he useth it in the A lass that Cicely hight had won his heart, line immediately following. Ver. 85.
Ver. 103—110 were not in the early editions X Populus Alcidæ gratissima, vitis Iaccho,
Ver. 113. Marygold. Formosa myrtus Veneri, sua laurea Phobo, Ver. 117. Rosemary. Phillis amat corylos Illas dum Phillis amabit Dic quibus in terris inscripti nomina regum Nec myrtus vincet corylos nec laurea Phæbi. &c. Nascantur flores Viro. Ver. 120. Et vitula tu dignus & hic.
'icely, the western lass, that tends the kee,
“ Have I not sat with thee full many a night, he rival of the parson's maid was she.
Wheñ dying embers were our only light, in dreary shade now Marian lies along,
When every creature did in slumbers lie, ind, mixt with sighs, thus wails in plaining song : Besides our cat, my Colin Clout, and I ? 90
“ Ah, woeful day! alı, woeful noon and morn! No troublous thoughts the cat or Colin move,
“ Remember, Colin, when at last year's wake (y sheep were silly, but more silly I.
I bought the costly present for thy sake; Beneath the shears they felt no lasting smart, Could'st thou spell o'er the posy on thy knife, they lost but fleeces, while I lost a heart. 30 | And with another change thy state of life? “ Ah, Colin! canst thou leave thy sweetheart If thou forgett’st, I wot, I can repeat, true?
My memory can tell the verse so sweet : Vhat I have done for thee, will Cicely do?
. As this is gravid upon this knife of thine, Vill she thy linen wash, or bosen darn,"
So is thy image on this heart of mine.'
100 ind knit thee gloves made of her own spun yarn? | But woe is me ! such presents luckless prove, Vill she with huswife's hand provide thy meat ? For knives, they tell me, always sever love." ind every Sunday morn thy neckcloth plait,
Thus Marian wailid, her eyes with tears brimful, Vhich o'er thy kersey doublet spreading wide, When Goody Dobbins brought her cow to bull. n service-time drew Cicely's eyes aside ?
With apron blue to dry her tears she sought, “ Where'er I gad, I cannot hide my care, Then saw the cow well serv'd, and took a groat. Ty new disasters in my look appear. Vhite as the curd my ruddy cheek is grown, o thin my features, that I'm hardly known. hur neighbours tell me oft, in joking talk,
WEDNESDAY; OR, THE DUMPS. Y ashes, leather, oatmeal, bran, and chalk; Inwittingly of Marian they divine, .nd wist not that with thoughtful love I pine. Pet Colin Clout, untoward shepherd swain,
The wailings of a maiden I recite, Valks whistling blithe, while pitiful I plain. « Whilom with thee 'twas Marian's dear delight
A maiden fair, that Sparabetta hight.
Such strains ne'er warble in the linnet's throat, o moil all day, and merry-make at night. 50 Nor the gay goldfinch chants so sweet a note. i fin the soil you guide the crooked share, i
No magpye chatter'd, nor the painted jay, 'our early breakfast is my constant care ; ; No ox was heard to low, nor ass to bray; ind when with even hand you strow the grain,
No rustling breezes play'd the leaves among, fright the thievish rooks from off the plain.
While thus her madrigal the damsel sung. o misling days, when I my thresher heard,
A while, O D'Urfey! lend an ear or twain, Vith nappy beer I to the barn repair'd;
Nor, tho' in homely guise, my verse disdain ; 10 ost in the music of the whirling flail,
Whether thou seek'st new kingdoms in the Sun, o gaze on thee I left the smoking pail :
Whether thy Muse does at Newmarket run, n harvest, when the Sun was mounted high,
Or does with gossips at a feast regale, ly leathern bottle did thy draught supply ; 60 | And heighten
her conceits with sack and ale, Vhene'er you mow'd, I follow'd with the rake,
Or else at wakes with Joan and Hodge rejoice, ind have full oft been sun-burnt for thy sake: Vhen in the welkin gathering showers were seen,
Where D'Urfey's lyrics swell in every voice; lagg'd the last with Colin on the green; ind when at eve returning with thy car,
• Dumps, or dumbs, made use of to express a waiting heard the jingling bells from far, fit of the sullens. Some have pretended that it is traight on the fire the sooty pot I plac'd,
derived from Dumops, a king of Egypt, that built o warm thy broth I burnt my hands for haste. a pyramid, and died of melancholy. So mopes, Vhen hungry thou stood'st staring, like an oaf,
after the same manner, is thought to have come slic'd the luncheon from the barley-loaf; 70 from Merops, another Egyptian king, that died of Vith crumbled bread I thicken'd well thy mess.
the same distemper. But our English antiquaries Ih, love me more, or love thy pottage less! have conjectured that dumps, which is a grievous
“ Last Friday's eve, when as the Sun was set, heaviness of spirits, comes from the word dumplin, , near yon stile, three sallow gypsies met. the heaviest kind of pudding that is eaten in this Jpon my hand they cast a poring look,
country, 'much used in Norfolk, and other counties Bid me beware, and thrice their heads they shook : of England. They said, that many crosses I must prove;
Ver. 5. some in my worldly gain, but most in love.
Immemor herbarum quos est mirata juvenca Next morn I miss'd three hens and our old cock; Certantes, quorum stupefactæ carmine lynces, And off the hedge two pinners and a smock;
Et mutata suos requiêrunt flumina cursus. I bore these losses with a Christian mind,
VIRGIL And no mishaps could feel, while thou wert kind. Ver. 9. But since, alas ! I grew my Colin's scorn..
Tu mihi, seu magni superas jam saxa Timavi, I've known no pleasure, night, or noon, or morn.
Sive oram Illyrici legis æquoris — Virg. Help me, ye gypsies; bring him home again, Ver. 11. An opera written by this author, called And to a constant lass give back her swain. The World in the Sun, or the Kingdom of Birds ;
he is also famous for his song on the Newmarket - Ver. 21. Kee, a west-country word for kine, or horse-race, and several others that are sung by the
Yet suffer me, thou bard of wondrous meed,
“ Sooner shall cats disport in waters clear, Amid thy bays to weave this rural weed.
And speckled mackrel graze the meadows far; Now the Sun drove adown the western ronde Sooner shall screech-owls bask in sunny day, And oxen, laid at rest, forgot the goad, 20 And the slow ass on trees, like squirrels, play; The clown, fatigued, trudg'd homeward with his Sooner shall snails on insect pinions rove; spade,
Than I forget my shepherd's wonted love. Across the meadows stretch'd the lengthen'd shade ; “ My plaint, ye lasses, with this burthen aid, When Sparabella, pensive and forlorn,
• 'Tis hard so true a damsel dies a maid Alike with yearning love and labour worn,
“ Ah! didst thou know what proffers I withstan Lean’d on her rake, and straight with de!eful guise When late I met the squire in yonder wood! Did this sad plaint in mournful notes devise : To me he sped, regardless of his game,
“Come Night, as dark as pitch, surround my head, while all my cheek was glowing red with shatte From Sparabella Bumkinet is fled;
My lip he kiss'd, and prais'd my healthful look, The ribbon that his valorous cudgel won,
Then from bis purse of silk a guinea took, Last Sunday happier Clumsilis put on. 30 Into my hand he forc'd the tempting gold, Sure if he'd eyes, (but Love, they say, has none) While I with modest struggling broke his bold. I whilom by that ribbon had been known.
He swore that Dick, in livery strip'd with lace, Ah, well-a-day! I'm shent with baneful smart, Should wed me soon, to keep me from disgræ; For with the ribbon he bestow'd his heart.
But I nor footmen priz’d, nor golden fee; “ My plaint, ye lasses, with this burthen aid, For what is lace or gold, compar'd to thee? « 'Tis hard so true a damsel dies a maid.'
“ My plaint, ye lasses, with this burthen aid, “ Shall heavy Clumsilis with me compare ? " 'Tis hard so true a damsel dies a maid.' View this, ye lovers, and like me despair
“ Now plain I ken whence Love his rise begun Her blubber'd lip by smutty pipes is worn, Sure he was born some bloody butcher's son, And in her breath tobacco whiffs are borne ! 40 Bred up in shambles, where our younglings slain The cleanly cheese-press she could never turn, Erst taught him mischief, and to sport with pain Her awkward fist did ne'er employ the churn; The father only silly sheep annoys, If e'er she brew'd, the drink would straight go sour, The son the siílier shepherdess destroys. Before it ever felt the thunder's power ;
Does son or father greater mischief do? No huswifery the dowdy creature knew ;
The sire is cruel, so the son is too. To sum up all, her tongue confess'd the shrew.
My plaint, ye lasses, with this burthen aid, “ My plaint, ye lasses, with this burthen aid, • 'Tis hard so true a damsel dies a maid.' "'Tis hard so true a damsel dies a maid.'
“ Farewell, ye woods, ye meads, ye streams tas “ I've often seen my visage in yon lake, Nor are my features of the homeliest make: 50 A sudden death shall rid me of my woe. Though Clumsilis may boast a whiter dye,
This penknife keen my windpipe shall divide. Yet the black sloe turns in my rolling eye; What! shall I fall as squeaking pigs have dy'd? And fairest blossoms drop with every blast, No— To some tree this carcass I'll suspend. But the brown beauty will like hollies last.
But worrying curs find such untimely end! Her wan complexion's like the wither'd leek, I'II speed me to the pond, where the high stool While Katharine pears adorn my ruddy cheek. On the long plank hangs o'er the muddy pool; Yet she, alas ! the witless lout hath won,
That stool, the dread of every scolding quean; And by her gain poor Sparabell's undone!
Yet, sure a lover should not die so mean! Let hares and hounds in coupling straps unite, There plac'd aloft, I'll rave and rail by fits The clucking hen make friendship with the kite; Though all the parish say I've lost my wits; 113 Let the fox simply wear the nuptial noose, 61 | And thence, if courage holds, myself I'll throw, And join in wedlock with the waddling goose ; And quench my passion in the lake below. For love hath brought a stranger thing to pass, “ Ye lasses, cease your burthen, cease to moen, The fairest shepherd weds the foulest lass.
And, by my case forewarn'd, go mind your own. “ My plaint, ye lasses, with this burthen aid, ' 'Tis hard so true a damsel dies a maid.'
Ver. 67. Ver. 17. Meed, an old word for fame, or renown.
Ante leves ergo pascentur in æthere cervi,
Et freta destituent nudos in littore pisces Ver. 18. Hanc sine tempora circum Inter victrices hederam tibi serpere lauros.
Quàm nostro illius labatur pectore vultus
Vies Ver. 25.
VIRG. Incumbens tereti Damon sic cæpit olivæ.
Ver. 89. To ken. Scire. Chaucer, to kre, & VIRG.
kende ; notus A. S. cunnam. Goth. kunnan. GeVer. 33 Shent, an old word, signifying hurt, or
manis kennen. Danis kiende. Islandis het harmed. Ver. 37.
Belgis kennen. This word is of general use, bu Mopso Nisa datur, quid non speremus amantes ?
not very common, though not unknown to the Ver. 49.
vulgar. Ken, for prospicere, is well known, ex
Ray, F. R. S
VIRG. Nunc scio quid sit amor, &c.
VIRG. Improbus ille puer, crudelis tu quoque mater. Ver. 59. Jungentur jam gryphes equis; ævoque sequenti Ver. 99.
- vivite sylvæ: Cum canibus timidi venient ad pocula damæ. Præceps aërii speculâ de mont's in undas
The Sun was set ; the night came on apace, • With my sharp heel I three times mark the And falling dews bewet around the place;
ground, The bat takes airy rounds on leathern wings, And turn me thrice around, around, around.' And the hoarse owl his woeful dirges sings; The prudent maiden.deems it now too late,
“ Last May-day fair I search'd to find a snail, And till to-morrow comes defers her fate. 120
That might my secret lover's name reveal.
I seiz'd the vermine, whom I quickly sped,
Slow crawld the snail; and, if I right can spell,
In the soft ashes mark'd a curious L. HOBNELIA, seated in a dreary vale,
Oh, may this wondrous omen lucky prove !
For L is found in Lubberkin and Love.
• With my sharp heel I three times mark the And pining echo answers groan for groan.
ground, “ I rue the day, a rueful day, I trow,
And turn me thrice around, around, around.' 60 The woeful day, a day indeed of woe!
“ Two hazel nuts I threw into the flame, When Lubberkin to town his cattle drove,
And to each nut I gave a sweetheart's name; A maiden fine bedight he hapt to love;
This with the loudest bounce me sore amaz'd, The maiden fine bedight his love retains,
That in a flame of brightest colour blaz’d. And for the village he forsakes the plains. 10 As blaz'd the nut, so may thy passion grow ; Return, my Lubberkin, these ditties hear; For 'twas thy nut that did so brightly glow. Spells will I try, and spells shall ease my care.
• With my sharp heel I three times mark the • With my sharp beel I three times mark the
And turn me thrice around, around, around.' 68 And turn me thrice around, around, around.'
“ As peasecods once I pluck'd, I chanc'd to see “ When first the year I heard the cuckoo sing, One that was closely fill'd with three times three. And call with welcome note the budding spring,
Which, when I croppd, I safely home convey'd, I straightway set a running with such haste,
And o'er the door the spell in secret laid ; Deborah that won the smock scarce ran so fast;
My wheel I turn'd, and sung a ballad new, Till spent for lack of breath, quite weary grown,
While from the spindle I the fleeces drew; Upon a rising bank I sat adown,
20 The latch mov'd up, when, who should first come in, Then doft'd my shoe, and, by my troth, I swear,
But, in his proper person
- Lubberkin. Therein I spy'd this yellow frizzled hair,
I broke my yarn, surpris’d the sight to see; As like to Lubberkin's in curl and hue,
Sure sign that he would break his word with me. As if upon his comely pate it grew.
Eftsoons I join'd it with my wonted slight :
So may again his love with mine unite! • With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground,
• With my sharp heel I three times mark the And turn me thrice around, around, around.'
And turn me thrice around, around, around.' “ At eve last Midsummer no sleep I sought, But to the field a bag of hemp-seed brought;
“ This lady-fly I take from off the grass, I scatter'd round the seed on every side,
Whose spotted back might scarlet red surpass, And three times in a trembling accent cry'd, 30
Fly, lady-bird, North, South, or East, or West, • This hemp-seed with my virgin hand I sow,
Fly where the man is found that I love best. Who shall my true love be, the crop shall mow.'
He leaves my hand; see, to the West he's flown, I straight look'd back, and, if my eyes speak truth, To call my true-love from the faithless town. With his keen scythe behind me came the youth, • With my sharp heel I three times mark the
ground, • With my sharp heel I three times mark the and turn me thrice around, around, around.'
90 ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around.' “ I pare this pippin round and round again,
My shepherd's name to flourish on the plain, “ Last Valentine, the day when birds of kind
I fling th' unbroken paring o'er my head, Their paramours with mutual chirpings find;
Upon the grass a perfect L is read ;
Yet on my heart a fairer L is seen
• With my sharp heel I three times mark the Thee first I spy'd; and the first swain we see,
ground, In spite of Fortune, shall our true-love be.
And turn me thrice around, around, around.' See, Lubberkin, each bird his partner take;
Ver. 64. εγώ δ' επί Λέλφιδι δάφναν And canst thou then thy sweetheart dear forsake ?
Λίθω. κ' ώς αυτά λακίει, μέγα καππυρίσασα. Ver. 66.
THEOC. Ver. 8. Dight, or bedight, from the Saxon word Daphnis me malus urit, ego hanc in Daphnide. dighlan, which signifies to set in order.
Virg. Ver. 21. Doff and don, contracted from the words
Ver. 93. Transque caput jace; ne respexeris. do off and do on.