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OMEN ben full of Ragerie,

Yet fwinken nat sans fecrefie.
Thilke moral thall ye understond,
From Schoole-boy's Tale of fayre Irelond:
Which to the Fennes hath him betake,
To filche'the gray Ducke fro the Lake.
Right then, there passen by the way
His Aunt, and eke her Daughers tway.
Ducke in his Trowses hath he hent,
Not to be spied of Ladies gent.
“ But ho! our Nephew, (crieth one)
“ Ho! quoth another, Cozen John;"
And stoppen, and lough, and callen out,
This sely Clerk full low doth lout:
They alken that, and talken this,
“Lo here is Coz, and here is Miss."
But, as he glozeth with speeches foote,
The Ducke fore rickleth his Erse roote :
Fore-piece and buttons all-to-brest,
Forth thrust a white neck, and red creft.
Te-he, cry'd Ladies; Clerke nought (pake :
Miss Atar'd; and gray Ducke cryeth Quaake.
"O Moder, Moder, (quoth the daughter)
" Be thilke same thing Maids longen a'ter?
" Bette is to pyne on coals and chalke,
" Then trúft on Mop, whofe yerde can talke."







N ev'ry Town where Thạmis rolls his Tyde,

A narrow Pass there is, with Houses low;
Where ever and anon, the Stream is ey'd,
And many a Boat, soft sliding to and fro.
There oft are heard the notes of Infant Woe, $
The short thick Sob, loud Scream, and thriller Squall :
How can ye, Morters, vex your children so ?
Some play, fome eat, fome cack against the wall,
And as they crouchen low, for bread and

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And on the broken pavement, here and there, 10
Doch many a itinking sprat and herring lie;
A brandy and tobacco shop is near,
And hens, and dogs, and hogs are feeding by;
And here a failor's jacket hangs to dry.
At ev'ry door are sun-burnt matrons seen,

Mending old nets to catch the scaly fry,
Now singing Thrill, and fcolding eft between ;
Scolds answer foul-mouth'd scolds; bad neighbourhood

I ween.



The snappish cur (the passengers annoy)
Clofe at my heel with yelping treble flies;
The whimp'ring girl, and hoarser-screaming boy,
Join to the yelping treble, thrilling cries;
The scolding Quean to louder notes doth rise,


And her full pipes those shrilling cries confound;
To her full pipes the grunting hog replies ; 25
The grunting hogs alarm the neighbours round,
And curs, girls, boys, and scolds, in the deep base are

Hard by a Sty, beneath a roof of thatch,
Dwelt Obloquy, who in her early days
Baskets of fish at Billingsgate did watch,

30 Cod, whiting, oyster, mackrel, sprat, or plaice: There learn'd the speech from tongues

that cease. Slander beide her, like a Magpie, chatters, With Envy, ([pitting Cat) dread foe to peace; Like a curs'd Cur, Malice before her clatters,

35. And vexing ev'ry wight, tears clothes and all to tatters.

V. Her dogs were mark'd by ev'ry Collier's hand, Her mouth was black as bulldogs at the stall : She scratch'd, bit, and spar'd ne lace ne band, And bitch and rogue her answer was to all ; Nay, e'en the parts of mame by name would call : Yea, when the passed by or lane or nook, Would greet the man who turn'd him to the Wall, And by his hand obscene the porier iook, Nor ever did akance like modelt Virgin look. 45

VI. Such place hath Deptford, navy-building town, Woolwich and Wapping, smelling Itrong of pitch; Such Lambeth, envy of each band and gown, And Twick’nam fuch, which fairer scenes enrich, Grots, statues, urns, and Jon's Dog and Bitch.

5° Ne village is without; on either fide, All up the filver Thames, or all adown; Ne Richmond's self, from whose tall front are ey'd Vales, spires, meandring itreams, and Windsor's tow'ry pride.

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Of a LADY singing to her LUTE.
Air Charmer, cease, nor make your voice's prize

A heart refign'd the conquest of your eyes :
Well might, alas! that threat'ned vessel fail,
Which winds and lightning both at once assail.
We were too bleft with these inchanting lays, 5
Which must be heav'nly when an Angel plays :
But killing charms your lover's death contrive,
Left heav'nly music should be heard alive.
Orpheus could charm the trees, but thus a tree,
Taught by your hand, can charm no less than he :
A Poet made the filent wood pursue,
This vocal wood had drawn the Poet too.
On a fan of the Author's design, in which

was painted the story of CEPHALUS and

PROCRIS, with the Motto, AURA VENI.
COME: gentle Air! th• Æolian

shepherd faid,
While Procris panted in the secret shade ;
Come, gentle Air, the fairer Delia cries,
While at her feet her swain expiring lies.
Lo che glad gales o'er all her beauties stray,

Breathe on her lips, and in her bosom play!
In Delia's hand this toy is fatal found,
Nor could that fabled dart more surely wound :
Both gifts destructive to the givers prove;
Alike both lovers fall by those they love.
Yet guiltless too this bright destroyer lives,
At random wounds, nor knows the wound she gives :
She views the story with attentive eyes,
And pities Procris, while her lover diese

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