Three filver pennies, and a nine-pence bent,
A token kind, to Bumkinet is fent."

Thus fpoke the maiden, while her mother cry'd, And peaceful, like the harmless lamb, fhe dy'd. 1

To show their love, the neibours, far and near, Follow'd, with wiftful look, the damfel's bier. Sprigg'd rosemary the lads and laffes bore, While, difmally, the parfon walk'd before.. Upon her grave the rosemary they threw, The daifie, butter-flower, and endive blue. After the good man warn'd us from his text, That none could tell whofe turn would be the next; He faid, that Heaven would take her foul, no doubt, And spoke the hour-glafs, in her praife-quite out.

To her fweet mem'ry flow'ry garlands ftrung, O'er her now empty feat aloft were hung. With wicker rods we fenc'd her tomb around, To ward, from man and beaft, the hallow'd ground, Left her new grave the parfon's cattle raze; For both his horfe and cow the church-yard graze.

Now we trudg'd homeward to her mother's farm, To drink new cyder mull'd, with ginger warm: For gaffer Tread-well told us, by the by, Exceffive forrow is exceeding dry.

While bulls bear horns upon their curled brow, Or laffes with foft ftroakings milk the cow; While paddling ducks the ftanding lake defire, Or batt'ning hogs roll in the finking mire; While moles the crumbled earth in hillocks raise, So long shall swains tell Blouzelinda's praise.

Thus

Thus wail'd the louts in melancholy strain,
'Till bonny Sufan sped a-cross the plain;
They feiz'd the lass, in apron clean array'd,
And to the ale-houfe forc'd the willing maid:
In ale and kiffes they forget their cares,
And Sufan Blouzelinda's lofs repairs.

e

SATURDAY;

SATURDAY;

O R,

THE FLIGHT S.

BowZYBEUS.

UBLIMER ftrains, O rustic muse, prepare;

SUB

Forget, a-while, the barn and dairy's care;
Thy homely voice to loftier numbers raise ;

The drunkard's flights require fonorous lays,
With Bowzybeus fongs exalt thy verse,

While rocks and woods the various notes rehearse,
"Twas in the feafon when the reapers toil
Of the ripe harveft 'gan to rid the foil;
Wide through the field was feen a goodly rout,
Clean damfels bound the gather'd fheafs about;
The lads, with fharpen'd hook and fweating brow,
Cut down the labours of the winter plow.
To the near hedge young Susan steps afide,
She feign'd her coat or garter was unty'd,
Whate'er she did, fhe ftoop'd adown unfeen,
And merry reapers, what they lift, will ween.
Soon the rofe up, and cry'd with voice so fhrill,
That echo anfwer'd from the distant hill;
The youths and damfels ran to Sufan's aid,
Who thought fome adder had the lafs difmay'd.

When

When faft afleep they Bowzybeus spy'd,
His hat and oaken staff lay close befide.
That Bowzybeus who could fweetly fing,
Or, with the rofin'd bow, torment the string:
That Bowzybeus who, with finger's speed,

Could call foft warblings from the breathing reed;
That Bowzybeus who, with jocund tongue,
Ballads, and roundelays, and catches fung.
They loudly laugh to fee the damfel's fright,
And in difport furround the drunken wight.

Ah, Bowzybee, why didft thou stay fo long?
The mugs were large, the drink was wond'rous ftrong!
Thou should't have left the fair before 'twas night,
But thou fat'ft toping till the morning light..

Cic'ly, brifk maid, steps forth before the rout, And kifs'd with fmacking lip, the fnoring lout; For custom fays, "Whoe'er this venture proves, For fuch a kifs demands a pair of gloves." By her example Dorcas bolder grows, And plays a tickling ftraw within his nose. He rubs his noftril, and, in wonted joke, The fneering swains with stamm'ring speech bespoke. "To you, my lads, I'll fing my carrols o'er ; As for the maids- -I've something else in store. No fooner 'gan he raise his tuneful fong, But lads and laffes round about him throng. Not ballad-finger, plac'd above the crowd, Sings with a note fo thrilling fweet and loud, Nor parish-clerk, who calls the pfalm fo clear, Like Bowzybeus fooths th' attentive ear.

Of

Of nature's laws his carols first begun,

Why the
grave owl can never face the fun.
For owls, as fwains obferve, deteft the light,
And only fing and feek their prey by night.
How turnips hide their swelling heads below,
And how the clofing colworts upwards grow;
How Will-a-Wifp misleads night-faring clowns,
O'er hills, and finking bogs, and pathlefs downs.
Of ftars he told, that shoot with fhining trail,
And of the glow-worms light that gilds his tail.
He fung, where wood-cocks in the fummer feed,
And in what climates they renew their breed ;
Some think to northern coasts their flight they tend,
Or to the moon, in midnight hours, afcend.
Where swallows in the winter's season keep.
And how the drowfy bat and dormouse fleep.
How nature does the puppy's eyelid close,
Till the bright fun has nine times set and rofe;
For huntfmen, by their long experience find,
That puppies, ftill, nine rolling funs are blind.

Now he goes on, and fings of fairs and shows;
For ftill new fairs before his eyes arofe.
How pedlars ftalls with glitt'ring toys are laid,
The various fairings of the country-maid.
Long filken laces hang upon the twine,
And rows of pins and amber bracelets shine;
How the tight lafs knives, combs, and scissars spies,
And looks on thimbles with defiring eyes.

Of lott'ries, next, with tuneful note, he told,
Where filver spoons are won, and rings of gold.

The