Albeit, ne flatt'ry did corrupt her truth;
Ne pompous title did debauch her ear;
Goody, good-woman, goffip, n'aunt, forfooth,
Or dame, the fole additions she did hear;
Yet these she challeng'd, these she held right dear:
Ne would esteem him act as mought behove,
Who fhould not honour'd eld with thefe revere ;

For never title yet so mean could prove,

But there was eke a mind which did that title love.

One ancient hen fhe took delight to feed,
The plodding pattern of the bufy dame,
Which ever and anon, impell'd by need,
Into her school, begirt with chickens, came;
Such favour did her paft deportment claim :
And if neglect had lavifh'd on the ground
Fragment of bread, fhe would collect the fame;

For well fhe knew, and quaintly could expound,
What fin it were to waste the smallest crumb the found.

Herbs, too, she knew, and well of each could speak,
That in her garden fipp'd the filv'ry dew,

Where no vain flow'r difclos'd a gaudy streak,
But herbs for use, and phyfick, not a few,
Of grey renown, within those borders grew ;
The tufted bafil, pun-provoking thyme,
Fresh baum, and marygold of chearful hue,

The lowly gill, that never dares to climb,
And more I fain would fing, difdaining here to rhyme.

Yet euphrafy may not be left unfung,

That gives dim eyes to wander leagues around,
And pungent radish, biting infant's tongue,
And plantain ribb'd, that heals the reaper's wound;

And

And marj'ram fweet, in fhepherd's pofie found;
And lavender, whose spikes of azure bloom
Shall be, erewhile, in arid bundles bound,

To lurk amidst the labours of her loom,

And crown her kerchiefs clean with mickle rare perfume.

And here trim rosemarine, that whilom crown'd
The daintieft garden of the proudeft peer,
Ere, driv'n from it's envy'd fite, it found
A facred fhelter for it's branches here,
Where edg'd with gold it's glitt'ring skirts appear.
Oh, waffel days! O cuftoms meet and well!
Ere this was banish'd from it's lofty sphere;
Simplicity then fought this humble cell,

Nor ever would fhe more with thane and lordling dwell.

Here oft the dame, on Sabbath's decent eve,
Hymned fuch pfalms as Sternhold forth did mete;
If winter 'twere, fhe to her hearth did cleave,
But in her garden found a fummer-feat:
Sweet melody! to hear her then repeat

How Ifrael's fons, beneath a foreign king,
While taunting foe-men did a fong entreat,
All for the nonce untuning ev'ry ftring,
Up-hung their useless lyres-fmall heart had they to fing.

For fhe was juft, and friend to virtuous lore,
And pafs'd much time in truly virtuous deed;
And in thofe elfin's ears would oft deplore

The times when Truth by Popish rage did bleed,
And tortious death was true Devotion's meed;
And fimple Faith in iron chains did mourn,
That nould on wooden image place her creed;

And lawny faints in fmould'ring flames did burn:

Ah, dearest Lord! forefend thilk days fhould e'er return.

In elbow-chair, like that of Scottish ftem,

By the fharp tooth of cank'ring Eld defac'd, In which, when he receives his diadem,

Our fov'reign prince and liefeft liege is plac'd, The matron fate and fome with rank she grac'd; (The fource of children's and of courtier's pride!) Redrefs'd affronts, (for vile affronts there pafs'd;) And warn'd them not the fretful to deride, But love each other dear, whatever them betide.

Right well she knew each temper to descry,
To thwart the proud, and the submiss to raise;
Some with vile copper prize exalt on high,

And fome entice with pittance fmall of praife;
And other fome with baleful fprig fhe 'frays:

E'en abfent, she the reins of pow'r doth hold, While with quaint arts the giddy crowd she sways; Forewarn'd, if little bird their pranks behold, 'Twill whisper in her ear, and all the frene unfold.

Lo, now, with ftate fhe utters the command!
Eftfoons the urchins to their tasks repair;
Their books, of stature small, they take in hand,
Which with pellucid horn fecured are,

To fave from finger wet the letters fair.

The work fo gay, that on their back is seen, St. George's high atchievements does declare, On which thilk wight that has y-gazing been, Kens the forth-coming rod, unpleafing fight, I ween!

Ah! luckless he, and born beneath the beam

Of evil ftar! it irks me whilst I write !

As erft the bard *, by Mulla's filver stream,
Oft as he told of deadly dolorous plight,

* Spenfer.

Sigh'd as he fung, and did in tears indite;
For, brandishing the rod, the doth begin
To loofe the brogues, the ftripling's late delight!
And down they drop; appears his dainty skin,
Fair as the furry coat of whiteft ermilin.

O ruthful scene! when from a nook obfcure
His little fifter doth his peril fee;

All playful as fhe fate, fhe grows demure,
She finds full foon her wonted spirits flee;
She meditates a pray'r to fet him free:

Nor gentle pardon could this dame deny, (If gentle pardon could with dames agree)

To her fad grief that fwells in either eye, And wrings her fo that all for pity fhe could die.

1

No longer can fhe now her shrieks command;
And hardly fhe forbears, thro' awful fear,
To rufhen forth, and, with prefumptuous hand,
To stay harsh juftice in it's mid career.
On thee fhe calls, on thee, her parent dear!
(Ah! too remote to ward the shameful blow!)

She fees no kind domeftick vifage near,

And foon a flood of tears begins to flow,

And gives a loose at last to unavailing woe.

But, ah! what pen his piteous plight may trace ?
Or what device his loud laments explain?

The form uncouth of his difguifed face?

The pallid hue that dyes his looks amain?
The plenteous fhow'r that does his cheek distain ?
When he in abject wife implores the dame,
Ne hopeth aught of sweet reprieve to gain ;

Or when from high fhe levels well her aim,

And thro' the thatch his cries each falling ftroke proclaim.

The

The other tribe, aghaft, with fore difmay

Attend, and conn their tasks with mickle care; By turns, aftony'd, ev'ry twig furvey,

And from their fellows hateful wounds beware, Knowing, I wift, how each the fame may share; Till fear has taught them a performance meet, And to the well-known cheft the dame repair,

Whence oft with fugar'd cates fhe doth 'em greet, And gingerbread y-rare, now, certes, doubly fweet!

See, to their feats they hye with merry glee,
And in befeemly order fitten there,
All but the wight of bum y-galled; he

Abhorreth bench, and ftool, and fourm, and chair,
(This hand in mouth y-fix'd, that rends his hair)
And eke with fnubs profound, and heaving breaft,
Convulfions intermitting! does declare

His grievous wrong, his dame's unjust beheft, And fcorns her offer'd love, and fhuns to be carefs'd.

His face befprent, with liquid chrystal shines ;
His blooming face, that feems a purple flow'r,
Which low to earth it's drooping head declines,
All fmear'd and fully'd by a vernal show'r.
O the hard bofoms of defpotick pow'r!

All, all, but she, the author of his shame;
All, all, but she, regret this mournful hour:
Yet hence the youth, and hence the flow'r fhall claim,
If fo I deem aright, tranfcending worth and fame.

Behind fome door, in melancholy thought,
Mindlefs of food, he, dreary caitiff! pines;
Ne for his fellows joyaunce careth aught,
But to the wind all merriment refigns,,