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My whale-bone hoop, that has so long withstood With tedious lessons and long task to get,
Pails, pots, and doors, and with circumference My dismal thoughts employ: or wield my pen
wide
To mark dire characters on paper white:
Not blunter pen or stronger character
Uses the sage, a chiromancer hight,
Sprung from Egyptian king, and swarthy race,
Amenophis, or Ptolemy, when he,
In search of stolen calf, or money lost,
For wondering ploughman does his art employ;
Or for the wish'd return of sweet-heart dear,
Or apron fine, purloin'd from hawthorn hedge,
For country-maid consults directing stars,
Gemini, Taurus, or chill Capricorn.

My virtuous limbs enclos'd, by frequent sparks
Of fire's destroy'd (what will not fire destroy!).
The splinter'd ribs crack, break, and pierce amain
My wounded skin. In rags the canvas hangs;
The seven-fold circlets of the fluttering hoop,
Uplifted, yield to every blast of wind,
Southern, or Western, or the bleak North-east,
North-east, that sinks the hearts of hippish
souls,

Till whale-bone, twitcher, petticoat, and all,
Descend with clangor to the rattling hearth.
So when of some great church the cupola,
Or minster of renown'd metropolis,
York, Canterbury, or the height of Paul's,
Resisting long the jaws of ravenous Time,
The summer's thunder, and the winter's wind,
Fam'd many centuries for its stately strength,
Upon some fatal, unexpected day,

mit by the rapid lightning's forked gleam,
Admits the flame; the melted lead runs down:
Their own destruction sapless beaurs increase:
The neighbours with astonishment are seiz'd;
They stare, they scream, they help, they steal,
they run.

Endeavours vain! Unconquer'd, unextinct,
Flames domincer aloft: far off resounds
The wreck of chancels, and the crush of aisles;
Ligh turrets hasten to the vaults below,
And proud cathedrals tumble to the ground.

221. The Copper Farthing. PENNINGTON.
HAPPY the boy, who dwells remote from
school,

Whose pocket, or whose rattling-box, contains
copper Farthing! He nor grieving hears
lot cheese-cakes cried, nor savoury mutton-
Jut with his play-mates, in the dusk of eve, [pies;
o well known blacksmith's shop, or church-
yard, hies;

Thus while my lingering hours Ijoyless spend
With magisterial look, and solemn step,
Appears my school-uraster, tremendous wight?
Dreaded by truant boys: how can I 'scape
Th' expected punishment for task ungot?
Aghast I stand, nor fly to covert bench,
Or corner dark, to hide my hapless head;
So great my terror, that it quite bereaves
My limbs the power to fly; slow he ascends
Th' appointed seat, and on his right-hand lies
The bushy rod, compos'd of numerous twigs
Torn from the birchen tree, or bending willows
Which to the flesh of idle boys portends,
For the neglected task, a poignant smart;
And with him comes another nighty elf,
Yelep'd an usher; ah, terrific name
To lesser wights! who if they hapless place
In station wrong pronoun or participle,
Straight, by the magic of his voice, are rais'd
In attitude above their lov'd compeers,
Where they, reluctant, various torments bear,
Till by their dolorous plaints, that pierce the
skies,
[down

They draw kind pity, moist-ey'd goddess,
To heal, with balin of sympathy, their woe.
Ye urchins, take, ah! take peculiar care, [ways,
For, when ye wot not, much he marks your
And in his mind revolves disastrous deeds
Against th' unwary wretch. So story tells,
That chanticleer, on dunghill's top elate,
With haughty step, and watchful eye askance,
Each tiny prominence he views, where haply he
May find conceal'd delicious grub or worm,
To which bis mnaw insatiate forebodes
Certain destruction, while, behind or bush,
Or pale encompassing the fariner's yard, [wile
Skulks Reynard, fraught with many a crafty
This lady died in the year 1759, aged 25. The following character of her, by Mr Duncombe,
exrtacted from that gentleman's Poem, called "The Feminead," vol. iv. Pearch's Collection of
Poemas, p. 184.

There, mindful of the sport that joys his heart,
Marbles, or chuck, he instantly begins,
Vith undissembled pleasure in his face,
To draw the circle, or to pitch the dump:
While I, confin'd within the hated walls
Of school, resounding with a clainorous din,
By still more hated books environ'd, I,

"Nor shall thy much-lov'd Pennington remain
"Unsung, unhonour'd in my votive strain

See where the soft enchantress, wandering o'er
The fairy ground that Phillips trod before,
"Exalts her chemic wand, and swift behoid

The basest metal ripen into gold!
"Beneath her magic touch, with wondering eye,
"We view vile copper with pure sterling vie;
"Nor shall the Farthing, sung by her, forbear
"To claim the praises of the smiling Fair;

Till chuck and marble shall no more employ
The thoughtless leisure of the truant boy."

T'ensnare

Tensnare the feather'd race, who, if they stray | A miserable victim, quite decay'd Beyond the precincts of their mother's ken, With many services, and cleft throughout, He strait purloins them from her careful wing, All useless lies: ah! sight of saddest woe With his sharp teeth torments their tender

frame,

And with the crimson gore distains their sides,
Relentless; nor can all the piercing cries
Of duckling, chick, or turkey, yet unfledg'd,
His heart obdurate move; instant he tears
Each trembling limb, devours the quivering
Nor leaves a remnant of the bloody feast, [flesh,
Save a few fluttering feathers scatter'd round
(That, with their varied plumage, whilom deck'd
The slaughter'd prey), to tell the hapless tale.
Thus joyless do I spend those hours the sun
Illuminates; and when the silver moon
Her gentle ray dispenses, and invites
The swains and maids to mix in jovial dance
Around the towering may-poles of the green,
Where each gay ploughman does his partner
As love or fate directs; or o'er the lawn [choose
The needle thread, or toss the bounding ball;
All cheerless I, nor dance, nor pleasing sport,
Nor social mirth, nor bowl of nappy ale,
Partake: but on her drooping raven wing,
Sad Melancholy hovers o'er my head,
Pale Envy rankles deep within my breast,
And baneful venom sheds. Grim Horror too
Attends my thoughts, and fills my gloomy mind
With tales of gliding sprites, in milk-white

shrouds

Array'd, and rattling chains, and yelling ghosts
Irascible! or Fancy, mimic queen,
To swift imagination's eye presents
A group of tiny elves, in circling dance
Or luscious feast employ'd; such elves as danc'd
When Oberon did fajr Titiana wed;
While I, in wishes impotent and vain,
For Liberty, dear object of my hopes,
The tedious moments spend; or if perchance,
Morpheus invok'd, my heavy eye-lids close,
Dear Liberty still haunts my sleeping thoughts,
And in a short-liv'd dream those joys I taste,
Which waking are denied: and beat the hoop
With dextrous hand, or run with feet as swift
As feather'd arrow flies from archer's bow:
Till, from my slumber wak’d, too soon I find
It was illusion all, and mockery vain.

Thus, comfortless, appall'd, forlorn I pass
The tardy hours, nor of those viands taste,
Which are on other boys full oft bestow'd
In plenteous manner by the liberal hand
Of friend indulgent; apple-pye, or tart,
Or trembling custard of delicious goût,
Or frothy syllabub in copious bowl,
Hard fate for me! Yet harder still betides
Me, hapless youth! My faithful top, that oft
Has cheer'd my drooping spirits, and reviv'd
My saddening thoughts, when o'er the pave-

ment smooth

It spins, and sleeps, and to its master's hand
Does mple justice, now, alas! become
To all the rude inclemencies of weather,
To time and destiny's relentless doom

To wretched me! of every hope bereft,
Of every gleam of comfort. So the wretch,
Who near or Etna or Vesuvius dwells,
Beholds the sulph'rous flames, the molten rocks,
And feels the ground trembling beneath his feet
Till with a horrid yawn it opens wide
Before his eyes, all glaring with affright;
Swallows his cultur'd vines, his gardens, hots,
With all his soul held dear, his lovely wik
And prattling babes, the hopes of years to cent;
All, all are lost, in ruin terrible!

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In sprightly bumpers, and the mantling be

Far otherwise within these darksome w Whose gates, with rows of triple steel secur And many a bolt, prohibit all egress, I spend my joyless days; ere dawn appet Rous'd from my peaceful slumbers by the se Of awe-inspiring bell, whose every stroke Chills my heart-blood, all trembling, I de e From dreary garret, round whose ancient Gaping with hideous chinks, the whistlingtPerpetual raves, and fierce descending rais Discharge their fury-dire lethargic dews Oppress my drowsy sense; still fancy teen With fond ideal joys, and, fir'd with what Or poets sing, or fabled tale records, Presents transporting visions; goblets crow: With juice of nectar, or the food divine Of rich ambrosia, tempting to the sight! While in the shade of some embowering gro I lie reclin'd, or through Elysian plains Enraptur'd stray; where every plant and flow: Send forth an odorous smell, and all the air With songs of love and melody resounds. Meanwhile benumbing cold invades my join's As with slow faltering footsteps I resort To where, of antique mould, à lofty dome

Rears

Rears its tremendous front; here all at once
From thousand different tongues a mighty hum
Assaults my ear; loud as the distant roar
Of tumbling torrents; or as in some mart
Of public note, for traffic far renown'd,
Where Jew with Grecian, Turk with African
Assembled, in one general peal unite
Of dreadful jargon.-Straight on wooden bench
I take my seat, and con with studious care
Tu appointed tasks; o'er many a puzzling page
Poring intent, and sage Athenian bard,
With dialect, and mood, and tense perplex'd;
Aud conjugations varied without end.
When lo! with haughty stride (in size like

him

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when, of old, the monarch of the floods,
idst raging hurricanes and battling waves,
aking the dreadful trident, rear'd aloft

* awful brow-Suddea the furious winds
ere hush'd in peace, the billows ceas'd their
rage:

when (if mighty themes like these allow
thumble metaphor) the sportive race
nibbling heroes, bent on wanton play,
acath the shelter of some well-stor'd barn,"
many an airy circle wheel around;
ne eve, perchance, in private nook conceal'd,
old's Grimalkin; instant they disperse
headlong flight, each to his secret cell;
aply he may 'scape impending fate.
Thus ceas'd the general clamour; all remain
silent terror wrapt, and thought profound.
Meanwhile, the Pedagogue throughout the
dome

And senseless for a time, I stand; but soon,
By friendly jog or neighbouring whisper rous'd,
Obey the dire injunction; straight I loose
Depending brogues, and mount the lofty throne
Indignant, or the back oblique ascend
Of sorrowful compeer: nor long delays
The monarch, from his palace stalking down,
With visage all inflam'd; his sable robe
Sweeping in lengthening folds along the
ground:
[scourge
He shakes his sceptre, and th' impending
Brandishes high; nor tears nor shrieks avail;
But with impetuous fury it descends,
Imprinting horrid wounds, with fatal flow
Of blood attended, and convulsive pangs.

Curs'd be the wretch, for ever doom'd to bear
Infernal whippings; he, whose savage hands
First grasp'd these barbarous weapons, bitter

cause

Of foul disgrace, and many a dolorous groan
To hapless school-boy!-Could it not suffice
I groan'd and toil'd beneath the merciless weight
By stern, relentless tyranny impos'd;
But scourges too, and cudgels were reserv'd
To goad my harrow'd sides: this wretched life
Loading with heavier ills! a life expos'd
To all the woes of hunger, toil, distress;
Cut off from every genial source of bliss;
From every bland amusement, wont to sooth
The youthful breast; except when father Time,
In joyful change, rolls round the festive hour,
That gives this racagre, pining figure back
To parent fondness, and its native roofs !
Fir'd with the thought, then, then, my tower-
ing soul

[laid

Rises superior to its load, and spurns
Its proud oppressors; frantic with delight
My fancy riots in successive scenes
Of bliss and pleasures: plans and schemes are
How best the fleeting moments to improve,
Nor lose one portion of so rare a boon.

But soon, too soon, the glorious scenes are

fied,

Scarce one short moon enjoy'd; (oh! transient
And other scenes succeeded, what fierce pangs
Of sublunary bliss!) by bitter change, [state
Then rack my soul! what ceaseless floods of
grief

Rush down my cheeks, while strong convul-
sive throbs
Espeech!
Heave all my frame, and choak the power of
Forlorn I sigh, nor heed the gentle voice

fiery eye-balls, like two blazing stars,
rtentous rolls, on some unthinking wretch
shed their baleful influence; whilst his voice,
te thunder, or the cannon's sudden burst, Of friend or stranger, who, with soothing words
ree times is heard, and thrice the roofs re-, And slender gift, would fain beguile my woes:
sound!
In vain: for what can aught avail to sooth
Such raging anguish? Oft with sudden glance
Before my eyes in all its horror glares
That well-known form, and oft I seem to hear
The thundering scourge-ah mel e'en now 1
Its deadly venom, raging as the pangs
That tore Alcides, when the burning vest
Prey'd on his wasted sides.-At length, re-
turn'd

sudden paleness gathers in my face,
to' all thy limbs a stiffening horror spreads,
dd as the dews of death; nor heed my eyes
eir wonted fauction, but in stupid gaze
in the full monster, from my trembling hands
e time-worn volume drops; oh, dire presage
instant woe! for now the mighty sound,
"geant with disinal tidings, once again
likes my astonish'd cars: transfix'd with awe,

Within these hated walls, again I mourn

[feel

A sullea

A sullen prisoner, till the wish'd approach
Of joyous holiday or festive play
Releases me: ah! freedom that must end
With thee, declining Sol! All hail, ye sires
For sanctity renown'd, whose glorious names
In large conspicuous characters pourtray'd,
Adorn the annual chronologic page

Of Wing or Partridge; oft, when sore oppress'd
With dire calamities, the glad return
Of your triumphant festivals hath cheer'd
My drooping soul. Nor be thy name forgot,
Illustrious GEORGE! for much to thee I owe
Of heart-felt rapture, as with loyal zeal
Glowing, I pile the crackling bonfire high,
Or hurl the mounting rocket though the air,
Or fiery whizzing serpent; thus thy name
Shall still be honour'd, as thro' future years
The circling Seasons roll their festive round.
Sometimes, by dire compulsive hunger
[trunk
I spring the neighbouring fence, and scale the
Of apple-tree; or wide, o'er flowery lawns
By hedge or thicket, bend my hasty steps,
Intent, with secret ambush, to surprise
The straw-built nest, and unsuspecting brood
Of thrush or bull-finch; oft with watchful ken
Eyeing the backward lawns, lest hostile glance
Observe my footsteps, while each rustling leaf
Stirr'd by the gentle gale, alarms my fears:
Then, parch'd beneath the burning heats of

press'd,

noon,

I plunge into the limpid stream that laves
The silent vale; or, on its grassy banks,
Beneath some oak's majestic shade recline,
Envying the vagrant fishes, as they pass,
Their boon of freedom; till the distant sound
Of tolling curfew warns me to depart.
Thus under tyrant-pow'r I groan, oppress'd
With worse than slavery; yet my free-born soul
Her native warmth forgets not, nor will brook
Menace, or taunt, from proud insulting peer;
But sunimons to the field the doughty foe
In single combat, 'midst th' impartial throng,
There to decide our fate: oft too, inflam'd
With mutual rage, two rival armies meet
Of youthful warriors; kindling at the sight,
My soul is fill'd with vast heroic thoughts,
Trusting in martial glory to surpass
Roman or Grecian chief: instant, with shouts,
The mingling squadrons join the horrid fray;
No need of cannon, or the murderous steel,
Wide wasting nature: rage our arms supplies;
Fragments of rock are hurl'd, and showers of

stones

Obscure the day; nor less the brawny arm
Or knotted club avail: high in the midst
Are seen the mighty chiefs, thro' hosts of foes
Mowing their way; and now with tenfold rage
The combat burns, full many a sanguine

stream

Distains the field, and many a veteran brave Lies prostrate; loud triumphant shouts ascend

• The Earls of Berkeley and of Galway.

By turns from either host; each claims the palm [shades Of glorious conquest; nor till night's dan Involve the sky the doubtful conflict ends.

Thus, when rebellion shook the thrones of

heaven,

And all th' Eternal Powers in battle met, High o'er the rest, with vast gigantic strides, The godlike leaders on th' embattled plain, Came towering, breathing forth revenze d Nor less terrific join'd the inferior hosts fie Of angel warriors, when encountering h Tore the rent conclave-flashing with the Of fiery arms, and lightnings, not of Jos: All heaven resounded, and the astonish'd de Of chaos bellow'd with the monstrous roar.

§ 223. Written in a Lady's Ivory Table-boe

SWIFT

1699, PERUSE my leaves through every part, And think thou seest my owner's heart, Scrawl'd o'er with trifles thus, and quite As hard, as senseless, and as light; Expos d to every coxcomb's eyes, But hid with caution from the wise. Here you may read, "Dear charming sain Beneath, "A new receipt for paint:" Here, in beau-spelling, Tru tel deth;" There, in her own, "For an el breth:" Here, "Lovely nymph, pronounce my doo" There," A safe way to use perfume":" Here, a page fill'd with billet-doux : On t'other side, " Laid out for shoes."

"Madam, I die without your grace:" "Item, for half a yard of lace."Who that had wit would place it here, For every peeping fop to jeer? In pow'r of spittle and a clout, Whene'er he please to blot it out: And then, to heighten the disgrace, Clap his own nonsense in the place. Whoe'er expects to hold his part In such a book, and such a heart, If he be wealthy, and a fool, Is in all points the fittest tool; Of whom it may be justly said, He's a gold pencil tipp'd with lead.

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Therefore all the money I have, which, God knows, is a very small stock,

I keep in my pocket, ted about my middle, nest to my smock.

So when I went to put up my purse, as God would have it, my smock was unripp'd, And, instead of putting it into my pocket, down it slipp`d!

louse ; ተተ

Tis not that I value the money three skips of a [house. But the thing I stand upon is the credit of the "Tis true, seven pounds, four shillings, and sixpence, makes a great hole in my wages: Besides, as they say, service is no inheritance in these ages. [understands Now, Mrs. Dukes, you know, and every body That, tho' 'tis hard to judge, yet money can't go without hands. [ever I saw 't! Devil take me! said she (blessing herself) if So she roar'd like a bedlam, as tho' I had call'd her all to naught.

The

[Lady to bed; So you know what could I say to her any

more?

Then the bell rung, and I went down to put my [before. And, God knows, I thought my money was as I e'en left her, and came away as wise as I was safe as my maidenhead. [feel very light: Well; but then they would have had me gone to the cunning man!

So, when I came up again, I found my pocket

But when I search'o,and miss'd my purse, Lord, No, said I, 'tis the same thing, the chaplain I thought I should have sunk outright. will be here anon.

Lord! Mladami, says Mary, how d'ye do? In-So the chaplain ‡‡ came in: now the servants deed, says I, never worse:

say he is my sweetheart,

Зас
ord help me! said Mary, I never stirr'd out of
this place:
[that's a plain case.
Say, said I, I had it in Lady Betty's chamber,
o Mary got me to bed, and cover'd me up warm;
However she stole away my garters, that I might

pray, Mary, can you tell what I have done Because he's always in my chamber, and I alwith my purse?

do myself no harm. Every well think, I tembled and toss'd all night, as you may fat hardly ever set my eyes together, or slept a wink.

o I was a-dream'd, methought, that we went and search'd the folks round, I nd in a corner of Mrs. Duke's box, tied in a rag,the money was found. [a-swearing: next morning we fold Whittle, and he fell :hen my danie Wadgar cane; and she, you kaon, is thick of hearing.

lame, said I, as loud as I could bawl, do you

ways take his part."

So, as the Devil would have it, before I was aware, out I blunder'd,

Parson, said I, can you cast a nativity, when a

body's plunder'd? [son like the Devil!)
(Now you must know he hates to be cali'd par-
Truly, says he, Mrs. Nab, it might become you
to be more civil!
[d'ye see,
If your money be gone, as a learned divine says,
You are no text for my handling; so take that
from me:
[you to know.
was never taken for a conjuror before, I'd have
Lord, said 1, don't be angry, I'm sure i never
thought you so;

You know I honour the cloth; I design to be
a parson's wife;
[all my life.
I never took one in your coat for a conjuror in
With that he twisted his girdle at me like a rope,
as who should say, [went away.

know what a loss I have had? ay, said she, my Lord Colway's § folks are Now you may go hang yourself for me! and so all very sad'; [without fail., Well, I thought I should have swoon'd: Lord! said 1, what shall I do?

or my Lord Dromedary comes o' Tuesday ugh! said 1, but that's not the business that I have lost my money, and shail lose my trueI ail.

love too!

ay's Cary, says he, I have been a servant this Then my Lord call'd me: Harry, §§ said my hive-and-twenty years come spring,

Lord, don't cry;

nd in all the places I liv'd I never heard of I'll give something towards thy loss; and, says such a thing. my Lady, So will I.

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es, says the steward, *• I remember, when I O! but, said I, what if, after all, the chaplain was at my Lady Shrewsbury's,

uch a thing as this happen'd just about the time of gooseberries.

won't come to? [I must petition you. For that, he said (an't please your Excellencies), The premisses tenderly consider'd, I desire your Excellencies protection,

collection;

I went to the party suspected, and I found her full of grief; [I hate a thief,) And that I may have a share in next Sunday's Now you raisi kaow, of all things in the world, [cellencies letter, lowever, I was resolv'd to bring the discourse And, over and above, that I may haveyour Ex[happen dout: With an order for the chaplain aforesaid, or, instead of him, a beiter:

slily about:

drs. Dukes, said I, here's an ugly accident has

Wife to one of the footmen.

5 Galway.

The Earl of Berkeley's valet. The old deaf housekeeper*

The Earl of Drogheda, who, with the Primate, was to succeed the two Earis.

Clerk of the kitchen. * Dr Swift.

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