9^ / ^A 
 
 BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME 
 FROM THE 
 
 SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND 
 
 THE GIFT OF 
 
 1S91 
 
 S\,1^5..<^.-i>.<\.0. 
 
 j>:s>\x>\\\ 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PR1175.T48 
 
 Coridon's song, and other verses from va 
 
 3 1924 013 289 685 
 
Cornell University 
 
 WM Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013289685 
 
CORIDON'S SONG 
 
 And other Verses 
 
A JOURNEY TO EXETER. 
 
CORIDON'S SONG 
 
 And other Verfes 
 FROM VARIOUS SOURCES 
 
 With Illujiratiom by 
 
 HUGH THOMSON. 
 
 And an Introduction by 
 AUSTIN DOBSON 
 
 iLontion 
 
 
 CMILLAN AND 
 
 CO 
 
 AND NEW YORK 
 
 
 1894 
 V. 
 
 
 C-w.. 
 
 
ElCHAED ClA-Y and SoNS, LIMITED, 
 tOSDOH AKD BUSOAY. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 " We^ that are very qld"-^to borrow a phrase 
 from the immortal Isaac Bickerstaff^must re- 
 member how, over thirty years ago, followed to Robert 
 Browning's " Men and Women " the same author's 
 single volume of " Dramatis Personm!' It was a 
 brief collection, but it included the Master in all 
 his moods. Far those who looked for " something 
 craggy to break their minds upon',' there were 
 "James Lee's Wife" and " Dis Aliter Visum" ; 
 for the mere lovers of poetry, there were "Rabbi 
 Ben Ezra',' " Abt Vogler" the curious speculations 
 of Caliban upon Setebos, the magnificent narrative, 
 " supposed of Pamphylax, the Antiochene',' entitled 
 " A Death in the Desert'.' Other pieces there were 
 again in that slender list of twenty, which have 
 since become household words in English Literature, 
 But among the lighter efforts was orie in particular 
 which lingers in the mind of the present preface^ 
 writer. It was the fancy called " A Likeness!' 
 In the critical record its part is only a modest one. 
 Eight lines are all that Mrs. Sutherland Orr 
 
viii INTRODUCTION 
 
 devotes to it in her excellent manual, yet it has 
 haunted one idle brain for a quarter of a century 
 and more. And it is not so much its central idea 
 winch endures, as the skilful presentment of that 
 idea, with its revel of rhyme — its " mark ace " 
 and " cigar-case" its " alas ! mine " and "jasmine" 
 its " keepsake " and " leaps, ache " {surely this last 
 is as neat as Calverley's historical " dovetail" and 
 "love tale"!') — tours de force which, to minds then 
 less familiar with such dexterities, seemed scarcely 
 short of miraculous. Perhaps, in the present day, 
 it might be hinted that— for the modern rules of 
 the game — the license of rhyming on proper names 
 was used too freely. But this is to seek knots in a 
 reed : and the lines at once regain their ancient 
 charm to the votary who renews his study of 
 them : — 
 
 " I keep my prints, an imbroglio, 
 Fifty in one portfolio. 
 When somebody tries my claret, 
 We turn round chairs to the fire, 
 Chirp over days in a garret, 
 Chuckle o'er increase of salary. 
 Taste the good fruits of our leisure, 
 Talk about pencil and lyre. 
 And the National Portrait Gallery : 
 Then I exhibit my treasure." 
 
 " Talk of the National Portrait Gallery" only 
 necessary in Browning's case for the fitter ex- 
 hibition of his leading idea, zvould not, by tJu way, 
 be ill-timed at the present moment, wlun, at last, 
 there is some nearing prospect of the transfer, at 
 
INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 least to " an ampler ether" if not to " a diviner 
 air" of the art-treasures so long buried in a corner 
 at Bethnal Green. But it is not of Mr. George 
 Scharf's portraits, or of their new Valhalla at 
 Trafalgar Square, that we now purpose to speak : 
 it is rather of the "pencil and lyre " in the poet's 
 preceding line. The lyre here is the lyre of Gay, 
 of Swift, of Fielding — of that supreme " inheritor 
 of unfulfilled renown" the imperishable "Anon": 
 the pencil is one already exercised successfully on 
 " Cranford" and " Our Village" and Goldsmiths 
 " Vicar" — the pencil of Mr. HUGH THOMSON. If 
 the reader cannot " chuckle with us over increase of 
 salary" or {in retrospect) "chirp over days in a 
 garret" he can certainly pause for a space while we 
 " exhibit our treasure " ; and, as from a visionary 
 portfolio, draw forth the pictures and poems which 
 follow. Only, seeing that the accpmpUshed A rtist may 
 read this " Introduction" we shall spare his blushes 
 by letting his pleasant sketches speak for themselves, 
 confining our office in the main to running comment 
 on the verses he has chosen for embellishment. 
 
 Integros accedere fontes, atque 
 
 Condons jj^^j-j^g — seems to have been Mr. 
 
 ' Thomson's motto in his earliest selections, 
 
 for it is in Walton's "Angler" that he 
 
 finds his first sources of inspiration. Of the 
 
 author of the song which Coridon the Country man 
 
 sings to Piscator and Master Peter, we know but 
 
 little, so little that it has even been profanely 
 
 suggested that his name should be Harris rather 
 
X INTRODUCTION 
 
 than John Chalkliill, that reputed " Acquaintant of 
 Edmund Spenser" and assumed composer of the 
 " Pastoral History in smooth and easie Verse " 
 which Walton put forth in 1683 under the title 
 of " Thealma and Clear chus." Indeed, in some 
 aids to learni}tg, the book is roundly ascribed to 
 Walton Jiiniself. But the modern investigator — who 
 must always be meddling — has discovered there 
 was actually existent in Walton's day a ''Jo. Chalk- 
 hill, Gent." who probably zvrote verse, easy and 
 otherwise ; and who, in spite of insinuations to the 
 contrary, may really have been the inventor of this 
 most desirable carol with its artless — 
 
 "heigh trolollie lollie loe, 
 heigh trolollie lee," 
 
 and its new-old, old-new variation upon that time- 
 honoured and delusive contrast between the Country 
 and tlie Tozvn wliich hath ever bee7i the dream 
 of those who " study to be quiet " / — - 
 
 " For Courts are full of flattery, 
 As hath too oft been tried ; 
 
 heigh trolollie lollie loe, 
 
 heigh trolollie lee. 
 The City full of wantonness, 
 and both are full of pride : 
 
 Then care away, 
 
 and wend along with me." 
 
 " / shall love you for it as long as T know you" 
 says honest Piscator. " / would you were a brother 
 of the Angle, for a companion that is cheerful and 
 free froin swearing and scurrilous discourse, is 
 
INTRODUCTION xi 
 
 ivorth gold." " / love {he says once more) such mirth 
 as does not make friends ashamed to look upon one 
 another next morning" — a sentiment to which, 
 were not the idea as old as Plato, one -might fancy 
 a resemblance in the later " tnirth that, after, no 
 repenting drazvs " of a certain austei^e fohn Milton. 
 And so farewell, Master Coridon ! Yours was a 
 good song, and a merry, whoever be the author ! 
 
 It is from another self-proclaimed 
 
 ^ ^ " acquaintant " of the poet of the 
 
 TiTi Tr. in "Faerie Queene" that Piscator borrows 
 pp. 19-39. ^ 
 
 his reply — a reply for which {according 
 to the flattered Coridon) "Anglers are all beholding!' 
 Piscator' s song, he himself tells us, was lately com- 
 posed " at my request by Mr. William Basse, one 
 that has made the choice Songs of the Hunter 
 in his carrere, and of Tom of Bedlam, and many 
 otliers of note!' Time has dealt capriciously with 
 this same William Basse. He was tJie friend of 
 Browne and Wither and Ben fonson, as well as of 
 Spenser and Walton ; and when Shakespeare died, 
 he wrote upon him an elegy zvherein he bids him 
 make his fourfold bed with Chaucer and Beaumoftt 
 and Spenser — 
 
 "Vntill Doomesdaye, for hardly will a fift 
 Betwixt y* day and y' by Fate be slayne, 
 For whom your Curtaines may be drawn againe" 
 
 — a sentiment which, besides something of the 
 spacious Elizabethan spirit, has also the merit 
 of a not-discredited prediction. Yet the bulk of 
 
xii INTRODUCTION 
 
 Basse's work, unpublished during his life, re- 
 mained uncollected until last year, when he was born 
 out of due time in Mr. Warwick Bond's handsome 
 and scholarly edition. On the whole, however, it is 
 impossible to regard him as anything but a diluted 
 Spenserian. His flat pastoral fertility is more curious 
 than edifying, and prompts the suspicion that there 
 must have been Just a touch of friendly log-rolling 
 about Walton! s praise of his lyric gift, since it is not 
 greatly conspicuous in the pair of pieces mentioned, 
 neither of which excels the "Angler's Song." And 
 even in that the iv eighties t line is the first ("As 
 inward love breeds outward talk"). Still— leaving 
 open the question whether your thorough-paced 
 fisherman can really read at his craft — one must 
 confess a " contemplative " ease in the stanza — 
 
 " Of recreation there is none 
 So free as fishing is alone ; 
 AIL other pastimes do no less 
 Than mind and body both possess ; 
 My hand alone my work can do, 
 So I can fish and study too." 
 
 The" Compleat Angler" comes about 
 
 „ midway between the next two selections. 
 so merry," ■' 
 
 pp. 41-52. ^' Who hveth so merry" is from the 
 " Deuteromelia " of 1609, the date of 
 Shakespeare's " Sonnets " : " Come, Sweet Lass" 
 from " Pills to Purge Melancholy" which brings 
 us nigh to Dry den's " Fables " and 1 700. Tlie 
 " Deuteromelia " is a thin quarto of some fifteen 
 leaves, with a preface that might have been written 
 by Holofernes. Vt Mel Os, sic Cor melos afficit, 
 
INTRODUCTION xiii 
 
 & reficit — says a motto in its highly elaborate title- 
 page ; and it was printed at London for Thomas 
 Adams, dwelling in Paule's Church-yard "at the 
 signe of the white Lion." The author was one 
 Thomas Ravenscroft, sometime chorister of Paul's 
 and graduate of Cambridge, whose " Af-part psalms" 
 were considered by that eminent connoisseur, Mr. 
 Samuel Pepys, to be " most admirable musiqueV 
 Already, earlier in 1609, Ravenscroft had published 
 a series of rounds and canons entitled " Pammelia" 
 of which " Deuteromelia" is the sequel. Turning 
 its pages, one comes upon the lively catch of " Hold 
 thy peace, thou knave" which Feste the Clown, and 
 Sir Toby Belch, and Sir Andrew Aguecheek sing 
 together in Act II. of " Twelfth Night " — a catch, 
 as Sir Toby says, calculated to " draw three souls 
 out of one weaver'' A later ditty given in the 
 book suggested the title borne by a famous chronicle 
 of Mr. Rndyard Kipling: — 
 
 "Wee be Souldiers three, 
 
 Pardona moy ie vous an pree, 
 Lately come forth of the low country 
 With neuer a penny of mony. 
 Fa la la la lantido dillyP 
 
 {The French of Flanders, it should be observed, 
 apparently left something to be desired in the 
 matter of spelling^ Then follows at p. 18, with 
 its pleasant suggestion of old street cries and open- 
 air callings, the "Freemen's Song" for four voices 
 that Mr. Thomson has here illustrated, the moral 
 of which seems to lie in the lines — 
 
xiv INTRODUCTION 
 
 " Who liveth so merry, and maketh such sport, 
 As those that be of the poorest sort ? " 
 
 — a point clearly open to argument. It is not 
 true under Victoria : probably it was only poetically 
 true under " Eliza and our James!' 
 
 " Would yoji have a love-song, or a 
 
 ' „ song of good life ?" — asks the Clown of 
 oweet l^ass, i • i j _r c^ i r 
 
 i.-_g-_ Str loby in that comedy of Shakespeare 
 
 to which we have already referred. 
 And Olivia's reprobate uncle unhesitatingly declares 
 for a love-song, to which his led-captain, Sir Andrew, 
 with the exaggeration of the imitator, further adds 
 that he " cares not for good life." Our next dip in 
 the lyi'ic lucky-bag must assuredly have satisfied them 
 both. It is " amatorious " enough for Sir Toby ; 
 and as an Invitation a la Danse shoidd have had 
 special attractions for that expert in " Lavoltas high 
 and swift Corantos',' his companion. {Sir Andrew' s 
 leg, we all know, did " indifferent well in a flame- 
 coloured stock'.'^ " Come, Sweet Lass " is apparently 
 one of the innumerable performances of that prolific 
 Tom D'Urfey, whose words, married to the music of 
 Purcell and Blow and Farmer, were 07ice so well 
 known to our ancestors. " He has been the delight 
 of the most polite companies and conversations, from 
 the beginning of king Charles the Second's reign to 
 otir present times',' says Addison iiitke " Guardian" ; 
 and Pope, in his Binfield boyhood, tells his friend 
 Cromwell that D'Urfey is ''your only poet of toler- 
 able reputation in this country!' Over his volumin- 
 ous plays and farces, which Collier justly attacked. 
 
INTRODUCTION xv 
 
 Oblivion has discreetly "scattered her poppy"; 
 but not a few of his songs still linger in our 
 anthologies. One of tlte last testimonies to their 
 popularity in his own day is contained in Gay's 
 " Shepherd's Week." The references in the third 
 and fourth lines are to D'Urfey's burlesque opera 
 called " Wonders in the Sun" and his " ode " of the 
 " Newmarket Horse Race " : — 
 
 "A while, O D — -y, lend an Ear or twain, 
 Nor, though in homely Guise, my Verse disdain. 
 Whether thou seek'st new Kingdoms in the Sun, 
 Whether thy Muse does at New-Market run. 
 Or does with Gossips at a Feast regale, 
 And heighten her Conceits with Sack and Ale, 
 Or else at Wakes with Joan and Hodge rejoice, 
 Where D — y's Lyricks swell in every Voice, 
 Yet suffer me, thou Bard of wondrous Meed, 
 Amid thy Bays to weave this rural Weed." 
 
 According to the notes to Gay's Pastorals in the 
 admirable edition of the late Mr. John Underhill, 
 it appears that D' Urfey supplied the words to two 
 other old songs mentioned by Gay, " Gillian of 
 Croydon " and " Sawney Scot." Many who could 
 sing, and many who could not, must have blessed 
 that tunefil memory. 
 
 When Tom D' Urfey was buried in 
 ornmg m ^^^^ ^^ ^^ Jame^s, Piccadilly {where 
 
 g, y' tJure is a tablet to his memory"), Steele 
 
 followed him to his grave. It was in 
 
 Steele's then new periodical, the " Tatler" that first 
 
 appeared the piece which here succeeds to "Come, 
 
 Sweet Lass" Swift's " Morning in London " {or, 
 
xvi INTRODUCTION 
 
 more strictly, " Morning in Town"), which Addison 
 is supposed to have sent to " Mr. Bickerstaff" from 
 Dublin with some of his own contributions to his 
 friend's venture, is leagues removed from the 
 previous verses. "An ingenious kinsman of mine " 
 — says Steele introducing it — "has run into a way 
 perfectly new, and described things exactly as they 
 happen: he never forms fields, or nymphs, or 
 groves, where they are not ; but makes the incidents 
 just as they really appear." Swift, in short, is one 
 of the earliest of the realists, with much of their 
 merit and most of their defects. Nothing could be 
 surer-sighted than his inspection of the "slipshod 
 'prentice" the mop-whirling maid {whom he uses 
 again in the City Shower), the "youth with broomy 
 stumps" {observe the nice distinction between "broomy 
 stumps " and " stumpy broom "), the small-coal man, 
 the bailiffs, and all the sordid rest. But his photo- 
 graph of these things is taken from the seamy side, 
 and, like his latter-day disciples, he dwells upon this by 
 preference. Neither Steele nor Addison, one would 
 think, could have left this picture as it is. They 
 might perhaps have missed its microscopic view of 
 the mean and squalid; but they would undoubtedly 
 have added some touch of red-veined humanity to 
 warm the composition — a pretty girl seen smiling at 
 her glass — a child wondering in its bed at the 
 birth of a new day. We are apt to think that 
 Swift's contemporaries were blinder to his faults 
 than we are. But tlte Anglo-Gallic Annotator of 
 the " Babillard" was perfectly right when he con- 
 demned the petty range of the ideas. And it is not 
 
INTRODUCTION xvii 
 
 necessary to contend zuitk Johnson that, since " sucJi 
 a nnmber of particulars could never have been 
 assembled by the power of recollection" Swift must 
 have noted down what he observed. On the contrary, 
 Steele, in penning a little caveat against possible 
 imitators of these particular verses, goes parttvay 
 toivards improvising the material himself. " T bar," 
 he says, " all descriptions of the Evening ; as, a med- 
 ley of verses signifying grey peas are now cried 
 warm . ... or of Noon ; as, that fine ladies and 
 great beaux are just yawning out of their zvindoivs 
 in Pall-Mair 
 
 One of these imitators, in a better sense, 
 ^ ^ was the poet of tJu pleasant rhyming 
 81-111;' ^pi^l^^ which follows Sivift's Dutch 
 picture. In the advertisement to 
 " Trivia" Gay himself admits his indebtedness 
 for "several hints" to Dr. Swift; and indeed it 
 has always been supposed that " Morning in Tozvn " 
 and the "City Shower" siipplied the initial sug- 
 gestion for that poem. In the order of Gay's 
 productions, the " fourney to Exeter" comes just 
 before " Trivia!' For reasons best knoivn to the 
 Artist, though doubtless sufficient, the introductory 
 lines to Richard Boyle, Earl of Burlington, tipon 
 whose prompting, and at zvhose cost, the little trip 
 zvas undertaken, are here omitted : — 
 
 "While you, my Lord, bid stately piles ascend, 
 Or in your Chiswick bow'rs enjoy your friend ; 
 Where Pope unloads the boughs within his reach 
 The purple vine, blue plumb, and blushing peach ; 
 I journey far." 
 
 b 
 
xviii INTRODUCTION 
 
 " Within his reach" we have always supposed to be 
 a sly stroke at the minute stature of tfu great 
 Alexander. But Gay does not spare his own 
 defects : — 
 
 " You knew fai Bards might tire, 
 And, mounted, sent me forth your trusty Squire." 
 
 Who the traveller's " two companions" were, history 
 has not related, though he calls one Grcevius: — 
 
 " Now o'er true Roman way our horses sound, 
 
 GrcBvius would kneel, and kiss the sacred ground ; " 
 
 and a line or two higher he speaks of sketching 
 them both at Dorchester as they snored in their 
 elbow chairs. There are many drawings by Pope 
 extant ; what would one not give for this solitary 
 croquis of Gay ! But in default of pictures with 
 the pencil, the poem abounds in those pen sketches 
 which are still the freshest legacy of the bard of 
 " The Beggar's Opera!' We seem to see the pigeon- 
 feeding Solomon of Turnham Green, as he has 
 been revealed to the Artist and denied to the 
 antiquary ; we watch the travellers riding warily 
 over Bagshot Heath — 
 
 " Where broken gamesters oft' repair their loss ; " 
 
 we taste the red trout and " rich metheglin " of 
 Steele's borough of Stockbridge, the lobster and 
 " unadulterate wine " of Morecombe ; we spell out 
 on the road from Honiton — 
 
 "Where finest lace industrious lasses weave," 
 the rhyming sign of that " Hand and Pen " where the 
 rain-drenched party take shelter. A nd at Axminster 
 
INTRODUCTION xix 
 
 there is the ^^ pretty washermaiden" {as Mr. Henley 
 would call her) of ivhom Mr. Thomson has contrived 
 so charming a portrait. But why, why ! has he 
 forborne to dratv for us that most impressive local 
 celebrity, the female barber ? 
 
 "The weighty golden chain adorns her neck, 
 And three gold rings her skilful hand bedeck : 
 Smooth o'er our chin her easy fingers move, 
 Soft as when Venus strok'd the beard oi Jove." 
 
 Tzvelve years had passed away zvhen 
 Id I b " John Gay composed the brief and better- 
 
 pp jjy-123. ^^ozvn song which follows. Since, in 
 1728, William Hogarth painted, for 
 
 William Blake eventually to engrave, the likeness of 
 Captain Macheath " between his twa Deborahs " — 
 the Polly and Lucy of the " Beggar's Opera " — the 
 couplet " How happy could I be with either. Were 
 t'other dear Charmer away',' has been an almost 
 indispensable formtila for the expression of mascu- 
 line indecision in presence of conflicting feminine 
 attractions. Nor has it been employed in this way 
 alone, for it has done service in many another 
 fashion of dilemma. To take but the latest example, 
 only the other day it was triumphantly pressed by 
 Sir William Harcourt into a discussion on the 
 business of the House of Commons, when — to the 
 amusement of that august body — Mr. Goschen neatly 
 countered its Leader by completing the quotation : — 
 
 " But while you thus tease me together. 
 To neither a word will I say." 
 
 b 2 
 
XX INTRODUCTION 
 
 For tills reason, it may be, J\Ir. Tlionison has 
 treated the song, less as an extract from the famous 
 piece ivhich made " Gay rich, and Rich gay" than 
 as a cosmopolitan utterance — a cry wrung from the 
 heart of embarrassed male humanity. It is, in fact, 
 one of those " Eternal Verities " of zvliicJi Carlyle 
 was wont to speak — as old as Adam, as young as 
 yesterday. 
 
 Over Fielding's "Hunting Song " and 
 
 . ™ '"f " Oh ! dear ! what can the matter be ? " 
 we will go, 
 
 ,2[._j,Q we may pass more rapidly. If tlie play 
 
 of " Don Quixote in England" from 
 Act II. of tvhich the first is taken, really included 
 these verses when it was sketched by its author at 
 Leyden, it folloivs that his gifts as a song-ivriter 
 must have been manifested more early and more 
 enduringly than his dramatic powers. Fieldiiig's 
 comedies have never held their ground ; but this 
 rollicking ditty of men and dogs, set to the fine old 
 air " There was a jovial beggar" is still good to 
 sing and to hear. The same play contains a sug- 
 gestion of another famous lyric : — 
 
 " Oh the roast beef of old England, 
 And old England's roast beef ! " 
 
 And one of the verses in " The dusky night rides 
 dow7t the sky" supplies a useful note to the 
 " Spectator." Says the song : — 
 
 "A brushing fox in yonder wood, 
 Secure to find we seek ; 
 For why, I carry'd, sound and good, 
 A cartload there last week." 
 
INTRODUCTION xxi 
 
 This is precisely the practice of which Budgell acaises 
 the provident Sir Roger de Coverley : " Indeed the 
 Knight does not scruple to own among his most 
 intimate Friends, that in order to establish his 
 Reputation this Wcty \as a Fox-killer\ he lias 
 secretly sent for great Numbers of them [Foxes] out 
 of other Counties, which he used to turn loose about 
 the Country by Night, that he might the better 
 signalise himself in their Destruction the next Day." 
 
 Upon " Oh! dear! what can the matter 
 Oh . dear ! ^^ p >' — ^^^^ words and tune of which are 
 
 what can the ,..., , , , , 
 
 , , „ anonymous — little comment can be needed 
 matter be? -^ 
 
 pp 141-14Q. l^^y^'^ l^'^t afforded by the illustrations. 
 It is still among the most familiar of its 
 old-fashioned kind, and may continue to supply 
 subjects to the genre painter for another century 
 or two. 
 
 " Captain (of Militia) Sir Dilberry 
 Sir Dilberry ^^-^^^^ "-—the last upon our list— belongs, 
 Diddle, , , , ■ • , J r 1 
 
 _jg, we should imagine, to the epoch of the 
 
 " Seven Years' War." Sir Dilberry is 
 clearly the growth of that chronic dread of invasion 
 which prompted not only Hogarth's ^^ France" and 
 " England',' but many another valiant pictorial gibe 
 at the frog-eating "Mounseers" who were always 
 threatening to cross over with their friars, and their 
 Popish racks and thumbscrews, to build their black 
 monasteries within sound of Bow Bells. Like John 
 Gilpin, he is to be ranked with those train-band 
 captains " of credit and renown " who furnished 
 such frank laughter to the Footes and Caimans 
 
xxii INTRODUCTION 
 
 of their day. His actual exploits, as those satirists 
 hinted, rarely went, in all probability, much beyond 
 the investment of a hay-stack or the occupation 
 of an alehouse, for the '^flat-bottomed boats " 
 so frequently mentioned by Goldsmith and others 
 never found their way into English ports, nor have 
 we to this day — in tJie mixed metaphor of the 
 " Gazetteer " — " lain down to be saddled with 
 wooden shoes." But however we estimate the precise 
 value of what Mr. Hosea Biglow styles " mills hy 
 gloary" there is no need why we should mock at an 
 honourable patriotic instinct, evejt in a citizen- soldier. 
 If the French had come, doubtless Sir Bilberry would 
 have fought as well waking as he did asleep. In any 
 case, let us not begrudge him his long nap under the 
 short apron of his excellent, lady — surely one of the 
 most original of Mr. Thomson's creations! 
 
 Part of the foregoing Introduction — an Intro- 
 duction, of necessity somewhat invertebrate and dis- 
 cursive — was ivritten in the West of Scotland. On 
 the grey and ancient island of lona, the author, with 
 the rest of his party, followed the appointed Guide in 
 the round of its venerable ruins. The Tale was of 
 Macbeth and King Fergus ; of the Cross of St. 
 Martin of Tours (who divided his cloak with the 
 beggar) ; of the stone pillow of St. Columba {in its 
 cage of iron) ; of the rudely carved griffin which 
 served as model for the monster at Temple Bar. 
 Meanwhile, in pauses of that instructive oration 
 — perhaps even during its progress — the eyes of the 
 listeners wandered vaguely to the clear blue over- 
 
INTRODUCTION xxiii 
 
 head ; to the patclws of particoloured lichen ; to 
 the ttifts of salt-fed spleenwort " in the crannied 
 wall" ; to the fringe of freckled, bare-legged children 
 with sea-urchins and necklets of shells for sale ; 
 to the endless and inexhaustible detail, often more 
 articulate than history, more persuasive than fact. 
 The function of the preface-making Dryasdust is 
 not tinlike that of the topographical cicerone. He 
 may recapitulate dates, and recount anecdotes ; but 
 his restless audience will seek for themselves, and 
 will probably select what they admire where they have 
 ttot been invited to search for it. With the conviction 
 that such cannot lack for individual choice in the 
 ahindant invention of the designs which follow, 
 the writer of these preliminary pages cheerfully 
 absolves them if tluy should now turn — even with 
 a sense of relief — from the comment to the text 
 and illustrations. 
 
 AUSTIN DOBSON. 
 Ealing, September 1894. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CORIDON'S SONG . .... 
 
 THE ANGLER'S SONG ; 
 
 "WHO LIVETH SO MERRY" 
 
 "COME, SWEET LASS" .... 
 
 MORNING IN LONDON 
 
 A JOURNEY TO EXETER .... 
 
 "HOW HAPPY COUtD I BE WITH EITHER" 
 
 "A HUNTING WE WILL GO" . 
 
 "OH! DEAR! WHAT CAN THE MATTER BE?" 
 
 SIR DILBERRY DIDDLE . 
 
 PAGE 
 I 
 
 41 
 
 53 
 65 
 81 
 117 
 125 
 141 
 151 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Condon's Song 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Oh, the sweet contentment The countryman doth find ! . . 3 
 
 Then care away, And wend along with me . 5 
 
 His pride is in his tillage. His horses and his cart . 7 
 
 The ploughman, though he labour hard 9 
 
 Yet on the holiday, No emperor so merrily Doth pass his time 
 
 away 11 
 
 To recompense our tillage, The heavens afford us showers . 1 3 
 
 This is not half thehappiness The countryman enjoys .... 15 
 
 Then come away, turn Countryman with me 17 
 
 The Angler s Song 
 
 But these delights I neither wish Nor envy, while I freely fish 21 
 Some, better pleased with private sport. Use tennis ; some a 
 
 mistress court 23 
 
 Who hunts, doth oft in danger ride ; Who hawks, lures oft both 
 
 far and wide 25 
 
 But who falls in love Is fetter'd in fond Cupid's snare .... 27 
 My hand alone my work can do. So I can fish and study too 29 
 I care not, I, to fish in seas — Fresh rivers most my mind do 
 
 please . . 31 
 
 The timorous trout I wait To take 33 
 
 But yet, though while I fish I fast, I make good fortune my 
 
 repast ; And thereunto my friend invite. In whom I more 
 
 than that delight . . 35 
 
xxviii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 As well content no prize to take, As use of taken prize to make 37 
 The first men that our Saviour dear Did choose to wait upon 
 
 Him here, Bless'd fishers were 39 
 
 '■'■Who liveth so merry'" 
 
 Who liveth so merry in all this land As doth the poor widow 
 
 that selleth the sand? 43 
 
 The broom-man maketh his living most sweet, With carrying of 
 
 brooms from street to street . 45 
 
 The chimney-sweeper all the long day, He singeth and sweepeth 
 
 the soot away .... 47 
 
 The cobbler he sits cobbling till, noon, And cobbleth his shoes 
 
 till they be done 49 
 
 The serving-man waiteth from street to street, With blowing 
 
 his nails and beating his feet 51 
 
 Who liveth so merry and maketh such sport. As those that be of 
 
 the poorest sort? 52 
 
 '■'■Come, Sweet Lass'' 
 
 Come, sweet lass ; This bonny weather Let's to-gether . 55 
 
 Come, sweet lass Let's trip upon the grass 57 
 
 Ev'ry where Poor Jocky seeks his dear 59 
 
 On our green The loons are sporting, There, all day. Our lasses 
 
 dance and play 61 
 
 And ev'ry one is gay But I, when you're away 63 
 
 Morning in London 
 
 The slipshod 'prentice from his master's door Had pared the 
 
 dirt, and sprinkled round the floor . . . , . .67 
 
 Now Moll had whirl'd her mop with dexterous airs, Prepar'd 
 
 to scrub the entry and the stairs 69 
 
 The youth with broomy stumps began to trace The kennel's edge, 
 
 where wheels had worn the place . .71 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xxix 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The small coal man was heard with cadence deep ... -73 
 
 Duns at his Lordship's gate began to meet . 75 
 
 The watchful bailiffs take their silent stands . . 77 
 
 And schoolboys lag with satchels in their hands ... .79 
 
 A Journey to Exeter 
 
 Headpiece . ... 81 
 
 With early dawn the drowsy traveller stirs . ... 83 
 
 The day that city dames repair To take their weekly dose of 
 
 Hyde-Park air . . . . . . . 85 
 
 That Turnham-Green, which dainty pigeons fed, But feeds no 
 
 more : for Solomon is dead . . . 87 
 
 Prepar'd for war, now Bagshot Heath we cross, Where broken 
 
 gamesters oft repair their loss 89 
 
 Relates the Justices' late meeting there, How many bottles 
 
 drank, and what their cheer ... 91 
 
 What lords had been his guests in days of yore, And praised 
 
 their wisdom much, their drinking more 93 
 
 Next morn, twelve miles led o'er th'unbounded plain, Where 
 
 the cloak'd shepherd guides his fleecy train 95 
 
 With his reed the jocund valleys ring 97 
 
 Amid three boarding-schools well stock'd with misses Shall 
 
 three knight-errants starve for want of kisses? . . 99 
 
 The ready ostler near the stirrup stands. And as we mount, our 
 
 half-pence load his hands . . loi 
 
 Here sleep my two companions, eyes supprest, And propt in 
 
 elbow-chairs they snoring rest ... 103 
 
 Forth we trot .... 105 
 
 The maid subdu'd by fees, her trunk unlocks. And gives the 
 
 cleanly aid of dowlas smocks 107 
 
 Meantime our shirts her busy fingers rub. While the soap lathers 
 
 o'er the foaming tub . .' 109 
 
 Now swelling clouds roll'd on ; the rainy load Stream'd down 
 
 our hats, and smok'd along the road iii 
 
 Then he that could not Epic fights rehearse. Might sweetly 
 
 mourn in Elegiac verse I13 
 
 "This is the ancient hand, and eke the pen; Here is for 
 
 horses hay, and meat for men" 115 
 
XXX LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 "■How happy could I be with either'" 
 
 PAcn 
 
 "Howhappy could I be with either" II7 
 
 How happy could I be with either, Were t'other dear charmer 
 
 a-way ... "9 
 
 But while you thus tease me to-gether . . . 121 
 
 To neither a word will I say 123 
 
 "yf Hunting we will go'' 
 
 "A hunting we will go" .... . 127 
 
 The huntsman winds his horn .... 1 29 
 
 The wife around her husband throws Her arms, and begs his 
 
 stay . . 131 
 
 Away he goes, he flies the rout. Their steeds all spur and switch 133 
 Some are thrown in, and some thrown out, And some thrown in 
 
 the ditch 135 
 
 But a hunting we will go, A hunting we will go . . . . 137 
 
 Then hungry, homeward we return, To feast away the night . 1 39 
 
 '■'■Oh I dear ! what can the matter heV 
 
 Oh ! dear! what can the matter be? Johnny's so long at the fair 141 
 
 At the fair . . ■ . 143 
 
 He promis'd he'd bring me a bunch of blue ribbons To tie up 
 
 my bonny brown hair . -145 
 
 He promis'd he'd bring me a basket of posies, A garland of 
 
 lilies, a garland of roses . . . 147 
 
 Oh! dear! what can the matter be? ... . . . 149 
 
 Sir Dilberry Diddle 
 
 "O cruel Sir Dilberry, do not kill ?««/ . . . . . . I53 
 
 For I never will leave thee, but cling round thy middle. And 
 
 die in the arms of Sir Dilberry Diddle" 155 
 
 At the head of his company Dilberry came ... ... 157 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xxxi 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Of all the fair ladies that came to the show, Sir Diddle's fair 
 
 lady stood first in the row . . . 159 
 
 The dame gives her captain a sip of rose-wafer, Then he, hand- 
 ing her into her coach, steps in after i6i 
 
 And prudently cautious, in Venus's lap, Beneath her short 
 
 apron. Mars takes a long nap 163 
 
C or i don's Song 
 
 from Walton s Complete Angler 
 
Coridons Song 
 
 h, the sweet contentment 
 T'he countryman doth find ! 
 Heigh trolollie lollie he. 
 Heigh trolollie lollie lee. 
 That quiet contemplation 
 PoJJeJJeth all my mind; 
 'then care away. 
 And wend along with me. 
 
Coridon's Song 
 
Coridons Song 
 
 For Courts are full of flattery 
 As hath too oft been tried; 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie he. 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie lee. 
 ^he city full of wantonnefs, 
 And both are full of pride : 
 
 Then care away. 
 
 And wend along with me. 
 
Coridons Song 
 
Coridons Song 
 
 But oh ! the honeft countryman 
 Speaks truly from his heart ; 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie^ loe. 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie lee. 
 His pride is in his tillage, 
 His horfes and his cart; 
 
 "Then care away. 
 
 And wend along with me. 
 
Coridons Song 
 
Coridons Song 
 
 Our clothing is good sheep-skins. 
 Grey rujjet for our wives ; 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie loe, 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie lee. 
 'Tis warmth, and not gay clothing, 
 "That doth prolong our lives ; 
 
 Then care away. 
 
 And wend along with me. 
 
Coridons Song 
 
 
 
 9 
 
Coridons Song 
 
 The ploughman, though he labour hard. 
 Yet on the holiday. 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie he. 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie lee. 
 No emperor so merrily 
 Doth pajs his time away ; 
 
 Then care away, 
 
 And wend along with me. 
 
 10 
 
Coridons Sang 
 
 II 
 
Coridons Song 
 
 To recompenfe our tillage, 
 
 The heavens afford us showers ; 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie he. 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie lee.. 
 And for our sweet refrejhments 
 The earth affords us bowers ; 
 
 Then care away. 
 
 And wend- along with me. 
 
 12 
 
Coridoris Song 
 
 13 
 
Coridons Song 
 
 'The cuckoo and the nightingale 
 Full merrily do sing. 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie he. 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie lee. 
 And with their pleafant roundelays 
 Bid welcome to the spring ; 
 
 Then care away, 
 
 And wgnd along with me. 
 
 H 
 
Coridons Song 
 
 ,^^^^i~_mi 
 
 IS 
 
Coridons Song 
 
 This is not half the happinefs 
 The countryman enjoys ; 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie he. 
 
 Heigh trolollie lollie lee. 
 Though others think they have as much. 
 Yet he that says so lies ; 
 
 Then come away, turn 
 
 Countryman with me. 
 
 i6 
 
Coridons Song 
 
 17 
 
T^he Angler s Song 
 
 s inward love breeds outward talk, 
 q'he hound some praije, and some 
 the hawk ; 
 
 20 
 
The Angler s Song 
 
 21 
 
'The Angler s Song 
 
 Some, better plea/ed with private sport, 
 U/e tennis ; some a mistrejs court ; 
 But theje delights I neither wijh 
 Nor envy, while I freely fi/h. 
 
 22 
 
The Angler s Song 
 
 23 
 
'The Angler s Song 
 
 Who hunts, doth oft in danger ride ; 
 IVho hawks, lures oft both far and wide ; 
 Who ujes games shall often prove 
 
 24 
 
I^he Angler s Song 
 
 25 
 
I'he Angler s Song 
 
 A lojer ; but who falls in love 
 Is fetter' d in fond Cupid's snare : 
 My angle breeds me no such care. 
 
 26 
 
'The Angler s Song 
 
 27 
 
I^he Angler s Song 
 
 Of recreation there is none 
 So free as fifhing is alone ; 
 All other pajlimes do no less 
 Than mind and body both pofjefs ; 
 My hand alone my work can do. 
 So I can fifh and study too. 
 
 28 
 
The Angler's Song 
 
 0. '*l'l ' ? 
 
 29 
 
'the Angler s Song 
 
 I care not, I, to fijh in seas — 
 Frefh rivers moft my mind do plea/e, 
 Whoje sweet calm courje I contemplate. 
 And seek in life to imitate : 
 In civil bounds I fain would keep. 
 And for my pafi offences weep. 
 
 30 
 
'The Angler s Song 
 
 •31 
 
'The Angler s Song 
 
 And when the timorous trout I wait 
 'To take, and he devours my bait. 
 How poor a thing, sometimes I find. 
 Will captivate a greedy mind ; 
 And when none bite, I prai/e the wife. 
 Whom vain allurements ne'er surprije. 
 
 32 
 
the Angler s Song 
 
 33 
 
The Angler's Song 
 
 But yet, though while I fifh I faji, 
 I make good fortune my repajt ; 
 And thereunto my friend invite. 
 In whom I more than that delight ; 
 Who is more welcome to my difh 
 Than to my angle was my fifh. 
 
 3+ 
 
ne Angler s Song 
 
 35 
 
'The Angler s Song 
 
 As well content no prize to take. 
 As uje of taken prize to make : 
 For so our Lord was pleajed, when 
 He fijhers made fijhers of men : 
 Where (which is in no other game) 
 A man may fifh and praife His name. 
 
 36 
 
"The Angler s Song 
 
 ,.,i,f'/\«|iK 
 
 37 
 
The Angler s Song 
 
 The firfl men that our Saviour dear 
 Did choofe to wait upon Him here, 
 Blejfd fijhers were, and fi/h the lajt 
 Food was that tie on earth did tafte ; 
 I therefore strive to follow thofe 
 Whom He to follow Him hath choje. 
 
 38 
 
The Angler's Song 
 
 39 
 
Uodt)fo 77)erry 
 
" Who live til so merry " 
 
 ho liveth so merry in all this land 
 
 As doth the -poor widow that selleth the 
 sand ? 
 
 And ever she singeth as I can guejs, 
 " Will you buy a — ny sand, a — ny sand-, 
 m'lj — trejs ? " 
 
 42 
 
Who liveth so merry 
 
 43 
 
Who liveth so merry 
 
 The broom-man maketh his living most sweet. 
 With carrying of brooms from street to street ; 
 Who -would dejire a pleajanter thing 
 Than all day long doing nothing but sing ? 
 
 44- 
 
Who liveth so merry 
 
 i3^&m^Uij^^ 
 
 45 
 
IVho liveth so merry 
 
 The chimney-sweeper all the long day. 
 He singeth and sweepeth the soot away : 
 Tet when he comes home, although he be weary. 
 With his sweet wife he maketh him/elf full 
 merry. 
 
 46 
 
Who liveth so merry 
 
 47 
 
Who liveth so merry 
 
 The cobbler he sits cobbling till noon. 
 And cobbleth his shoes till they be done ; 
 Yet doth he not fear, and so doth say. 
 For he knows his work will soon decay. 
 
 48 
 
Who liveth so mer^y 
 
 49 
 
Who liveth so merry 
 
 "The merchant-man doth sail on the seas. 
 And lie on the shipboard with little eafe; 
 Always in doubt the rock is near. 
 How can he be merry and make good cheer ? 
 
 'The hujbandman all day goeth to plough. 
 And when he comes home he serve th his sow; 
 He moileth, and moileth all the long year. 
 How can he be merry and make good cheer ? 
 
 The serving-man waiteth from street to street. 
 With blowing his nails and beating his feet ; 
 And servelh for forty shillings a year. 
 How can he be- merry and make good cheer ? 
 
 SO 
 
Who liveth so merry 
 
 51 
 
Who liveth so merry 
 
 Who liveth so merry and maketh such sport. 
 As thoje- that he of the pooreft sorj ? 
 The pooreft sort, wherejoever they be. 
 They gather together, by one, two, and three. 
 
 ■fx-zfr^ 
 
 And every man will spend his penny. 
 
 What makes such a show among a great many ? 
 
 (Bis.) 
 from Deuteromelia, 1609 
 
 52 
 
" Come, sweet Lafs " 
 
 ome, sweet Iqfs ; 
 This honny weather 
 Lefs to-gether; 
 
 54 
 
Come, sweet lajs 
 
 55 
 
Come, sweet lajs 
 
 Come, sweet lajs 
 
 Let's trip upon the grajs. 
 
 56 
 
Come, sweet lajs 
 
 "^t^T^ ^. ^.„. 
 
 57 
 
Come, sweet lafs 
 
 Ev^ry where 
 
 Poor Jocky seeks his dear. 
 And unlejs you ap-pear. 
 He sees no beauty here. 
 
 5« 
 
Come, sweet lajs 
 
 
 ■■■■ '^'"//D ■'■■' 
 
 59 
 
Come, sweet lajs 
 
 On our green 
 
 "The loons are sporting. 
 
 Piping, courting: 
 
 On our green 
 
 'The blitheft lads are seen : 
 
 There, all day. 
 
 Our lajjes dance and play. 
 
 60 
 
Come, sweet lajs 
 
 7^r.i,. 
 
 6i 
 
Come, sweet lafs 
 
 And evry one is gay 
 But I, when you're away. 
 
 62 
 
Come, sweet lajs 
 
 63 
 
Morning in LONDON. 
 
 * ?* 
 
Morning in London 
 
 hardly here and there a hackney coach 
 Appearing showed the ruddy morn's 
 approach. 
 
 q-he slip/hod 'prentice from his mafter's door 
 Had fared the dirt, and sprinkled round the 
 floor. 
 
 66 
 
Morning in London 
 
 67 
 
Morning in London 
 
 Now Moll had whirl'd her mop with dexterous 
 
 airs, 
 Prepard to scrub the entry and the stairs, 
 
 68 
 
Morning in London 
 
 69 
 
Morning in London 
 
 'The youth with broomy stumps began to trace 
 The kennel's edge, where wheels had worn the 
 place. 
 
 70 
 
Morning in London 
 
 71 
 
Morning in London 
 
 'The small coal man was heard with cadence deep, 
 ' T ill drown d in shriller notes of chimney-sweep ; 
 
 72 
 
Morning in London 
 
 n 
 
Morning in London 
 
 Duns at his Lord/hip's gate began to meet; 
 And brick-duft Moll had scream d through half the 
 street. 
 
 74 
 
Morning in London 
 
 75 
 
Morning in London 
 
 The turnkey now his flock returning sees 
 
 Duly let out a-nights to steal for fees ; 
 
 The watchful bailiffs take their silent stands, 
 
 76 
 
Morning in London 
 
 77 
 
Morning in London 
 
 And schoolboys lag with satchels in their hands. 
 
 78 
 
Morning in London 
 
 79 
 
8l 
 
A "Journey to Exeter 
 
 •ay on the day that city dames repair 
 "To take their weekly doje of Hyde-Park air ; 
 When forth we trot : no carts the roads infeft. 
 For still on Sundays country horfes reft. 
 
 82 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 83 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 'Thy gardens, Kenjington, we leave unjeen ; 
 Through Hammerjmith jog on to Turnham- Green 
 
 84 
 
A 'Journey to Exeter 
 
 85 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 'That 'Turnham-Green, which dainty pigeons fed. 
 But feeds no more : for Solomon is dead. 
 
 86 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 87 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 'Three dufty miles reach Brentford's tedious town. 
 For dirty streets and white-legg d chickens known : 
 Thence o'er wide shrubby heaths, and furrowed 
 
 lanes. 
 We come, where Thames divides the meads of 
 
 Staines. 
 We ferry' d o'er ; for late the Winter s flood 
 Shook her frail bridge, and tore her -piles of 
 
 wood. 
 Prepard for war, now Bagfhot Heath we crojs. 
 Where broken gamefters oft repair their lojs. 
 
A 'Journey to Exeter 
 
 89 
 
A 'Journey to Exeter 
 
 At Hartley Row the foaming bit we preji. 
 While the fat landlord welcornd evry guest. 
 Supper was ended, healths the glajfes crown d. 
 Our hofi extoWd his wine at evry round. 
 Relates the Justices'" late meeting there 
 How many bottles drank, and what their cheer ; 
 What lords had been his guefts in days of 
 
 yore. 
 And praijed their wifdom much, their drinking 
 
 more. 
 
 90 
 
A "journey to Exeter 
 
 91 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 Let travellers the morning vigils keep : 
 'The morning rofe, hut we lay faft ajleep. 
 'Twelve tedious miles we bore the sultry sun. 
 And Popham Lane was scarce in sight by one ; 
 'The straggling village harbour d thieves of old, 
 'Twas here the stage-coach' d lajs refignd her 
 
 gold; 
 That gold which had in London purchaj''d 
 
 gowns, 
 And sent her home a Belle to country towns. 
 
 92 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 93 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 Sutton we pa/s, and leave her spacious down. 
 
 And with the setting sun reach Stockhridge town. 
 
 O'er our parcKd tongue the rich metheglin glides. 
 
 And the red dainty trout our knife divides. 
 
 Sad melancholy evry vi/age wears ; 
 
 What, no election come in seven long years ! 
 
 Of all our race of Mayors, shall Snow alone 
 
 Be by Sir Richard's dedication known ? 
 
 Our streets no more with tides of ale shall float. 
 
 Nor cobblers feaft three years upon one vote. 
 
 Next morn, twelve miles led o'er tK unbounded 
 
 plain. 
 Where the cloak'd shepherd guides his fleecy 
 
 No leafy how'rs a noon-day shelter lend. 
 Nor from the chilly dews at night defend: 
 With wondrous art, he counts the straggling flock. 
 And by the sun informs you what's a clock. 
 
 94 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 95 
 
A "Journey to Exeter 
 
 How are our shepherds falFn from ancient days ! 
 No Amaryllis chants alternate lays ; 
 From her no lift'ning echoes learn to sing. 
 Nor with his reed the jocund valleys ring. 
 Here sheep the pafture hide, there harvefis bend. 
 See Sarums steeple o'er yon hill afcend ; 
 Our hor/es faintly trot beneath the heat. 
 And our keen stomachs know the hour to eat. 
 
 96 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 97 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 Who can forjake thy walls, and not admire 
 The -proud cathedral, and the lofty spre ? 
 What semfftrejs has not proved thy scifjors good? 
 From hence firft came tK intriguing riding-hood. 
 Amid three boarding-schools well stocked with 
 
 mijjes 
 Shall three knight-err ants starve for want of 
 
 ki/Jes? 
 O'er the green turf the miles slide swift away. 
 And Blandford ends the labours of the day. 
 
 98 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 '•' ■.'m\^y 
 
 99 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 'The morning roje ; the supper reckoning paid. 
 And our due fees dif charged to man and maid ; 
 The ready oftler near the stirrup stands. 
 And as we mount, our half-pence load his hands. 
 
 lOO 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 lOI 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 Now the steep hill fair Dorchefter overlooks. 
 Border d by meads, and waflid by silver brooks. 
 Here sleep my two companions' eyes suppreji, 
 And propt in elbow-chairs they snoring reft : 
 J weary sit, and with my pencil trace 
 'Their painful poftures, and their eyelefs face ; 
 Then dedicate each glafs to some fair name. 
 And on the safh the diamond scrawls my flame. 
 
 102 
 
A 'Journey to Exeter 
 
 103 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 ow oer true Roman way our horjes sounds 
 Grisvius would kneel, and kijs the 
 
 sacred ground. 
 On either side low fertile valleys lie, 
 'The diftant profpects tire the travelling eye. 
 Through Bridporfs stony lanes our rout we take. 
 And the proud steep dejcend to Morcombe's lake. 
 As hearjes pajfd, our landlord robbed the pall. 
 And with the mournful ^scutcheon hung his hall. 
 On unadulterate wine we here regale. 
 And strip the lobjier of his scarlet mail. 
 
 104 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 105 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 We climFd the hills, when starry night arofe. 
 And Axminfter affords a kind repoje. 
 The maid subdud by fees, her trunk unlocks. 
 And gives the cleanly aid of dowlas smocks. 
 
 1 06 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 107 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 Meantime our shirts her bujy fingers rub. 
 While the soap lathers oer the foaming tub. 
 We rife, our beards demand the barber s art ; 
 A female enters, and performs the part. 
 "The weighty golden chain adorns her neck. 
 And three gold rings her skilful hand bedeck ; 
 Smooth oer our chin her eafy fingers move. 
 Soft as when Venus stroked the beard of Jove. 
 Now from the steep, 'midfi scatter d cots and 
 
 groves. 
 Our eye through Honitons fair valley roves. 
 
 1 08 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 rog 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 Behind us soon the bujy town we leave. 
 Where fineft lace indujlrious lajjes weave. 
 Now swelling clouds rolTd on ; the rainy load 
 Streamed down our hats, and smolzd along the 
 
 road ; 
 When (O hleft sight I') a friendly sign we sfyd. 
 Our spurs are slackened from the horfe's side ; 
 
 no 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 III 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 For sure a civil hoft the houje commands. 
 Upon whoje sign this courteous motto stands, — 
 " "This is the ancient hand, and eke the pen ; 
 Here is for horjes hay, and meat for men.'' 
 How rhyme would flourifh, did each son of fame 
 Know his own genius, and direct his flame ! 
 'Then he that could not Epic fights rehearfe. 
 Might sweetly mourn in Elegiac verfe. 
 But were his Mufe for Elegy unfit. 
 Perhaps a Diftich might not strain his wit ; 
 
 111 
 
A journey to "Exeter 
 
 
 
 "3 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 If Epigram offend, his harmle/s lines 
 
 Might in gold letters swing on ale-houfe signs. 
 
 "Then Hobbinol might propagate his bays 
 
 And 'Tuttle-fields record his simple lays ; 
 
 Where rhymes like theje might lure the nurjes' 
 
 eyes 
 While gaping infants squall for farthing pies — 
 " Threat here, ye shepherds blithe, your damfels 
 
 sweet. 
 For pies and cheefe cakes are for damfels meet." 
 
 Then Maurus in his proper sphere might shine. 
 And thefe proud numbers grace great William's 
 
 sign ,-— 
 " This is the man, this the Naffovian, whom 
 I named the brave deliverer to corned 
 But now the driving gales sufpend the rain. 
 We mount our steeds, and Devon's city gain. 
 Hail, happy native land ! — but I forbear 
 What other counties muft with envy hear. 
 
 114 
 
A Journey to Exeter 
 
 its 
 

How happy could I be with either " 
 
 ow happy could I be with either. 
 Were tether dear charmer a-way 
 
 ii8 
 
How happy could I be with either 
 
 
 119 
 
How happy could I be with either 
 
 But while you thus, teaje me to-gether 
 
 120 
 
How happj could I be with either 
 
 /&i~ 
 
 121 
 
How hafpy could I be with either 
 
 To neither a word will I say. 
 
 122 
 
How happy could I be with either 
 
 
 ■^\av.\^^ 
 
 ■•(ii«Wv 
 
 Ri tol de rol lol de rol li do, &'c. 
 
 from The Beggar's Opera 
 
 123 
 
vv.VWWiiT 
 
" A Hunting ive will go " 
 
 he dujky night rides down the Jky, 
 And ujhers in the morn ; 
 The Hounds all join in glorious cry. 
 The Hounds all join in glorious cry. 
 
 126 
 
A hunting we will go 
 
 iz; 
 
A hunting we will go 
 
 The hunt/man winds his horn. 
 'The hunt/man winds his horn. 
 And a hunting we will go, 
 A hunting we will go, 
 A hunting we will go, 
 A hunting we will go. 
 
 128 
 
A hunting we will go 
 
 129 
 
A hunting we will go 
 
 'The wife around her hujhand throws. 
 
 Her arms, and begs his stay ; 
 
 My dear, it rains, it hails, it snows, 
 
 Tou will not hunt to-day ? 
 
 But a hunting we will go, 
 
 A hunting we will go, 
 
 A hunting we will go, 
 
 A hunting we will go. 
 
 130 
 
A hunting we will go 
 
 131 
 
A hunting we will go 
 
 A brufhing fox in yonder wood. 
 
 Secure to find we seek ; 
 
 For why, I carried, sound and good, 
 
 A cartload there lafi week. 
 
 And a hunting we will go, 
 
 A hunting we will go, 
 
 A hunting we will go, 
 
 A hunting we will go. 
 
 132 
 
A hunting we will go 
 
 133 
 
A hunting we will go 
 
 Away he goes, he flies the rout, 
 
 I'heir steeds all spur and switch ; 
 
 Some are thrown in, and some thrown out. 
 
 And some thrown in the ditch. 
 
 134 
 
A hunting we will go 
 
 >'hA^'''l'^/,. 
 
 ..'■'".•■■H'i^--.'..'i;t'>'-jj|K<«!°"^ 
 
 135 
 
A hunting we will go 
 
 But a hunting we will go, 
 
 A hunting we will go, 
 
 A hunting we will go, 
 
 A hunting we will go. 
 
 136 
 
A hunting we will go 
 
 m 
 
A hunting we will go 
 
 At length his strength to faintnejs worn. 
 
 Poor Reynard ceajes flight ; 
 
 Then hungry, homeward we return, 
 
 To feaft away the night. 
 
 Then a drinking we will go, 
 
 A drinking we will go, 
 
 A drinking we will go, 
 
 A drinking we will go. 
 
 138 
 
A hunting ' we will go 
 
 139 
 
'^ Oh ! dear! what can the matter be'? 
 
 h ! dear ! what can the matter be ? 
 
 Dear ! dear ! what can the matter be ? 
 Oh ! dear I what can the matter be ? 
 Johnny^s so long at the fair. 
 
 142 
 
Oh ! dear ! what can the matter be ? 
 
 
 ^'^ 
 
 143 
 
Oh ! dear ! what can the matter be ? 
 
 He fromifd he'd buy me a fairing should pleaje 
 
 me. 
 And then for a kijs. Oh ! he vow'd he would 
 
 teaze me ; 
 He promij'd he'd bring me a bunch of blue 
 
 ribbons 
 To tie up my bonny brown hair. 
 
 144 
 
Oh ! dear ! what can the matter be ? 
 
 Oh ! dear ! what can the matter be ? 
 Dear ! dear I what can the matter be ? 
 Oh ! dear ! what can the matter be ? 
 Johnny's so long at the fair. 
 
 146 
 
Oh ! dear ! what can the matter he ? 
 
 m 
 
Oh ! dear ! what can the matter be ? 
 
 He promifd he'd bring me a bajket of pojies, 
 A garland of lilies, a garland of rofes, 
 A little straw hat, to set off the blue ribbons 
 "That tie up my bonny brown hair. 
 
 148 
 
Oh ! dear ! what can the matter he ? 
 
 149 
 
Sir Dilberry Diddle 
 
 f all the brave captains that ever were seen. 
 Appointed to fight by a king or a queen. 
 By a king or a queen appointed to fight. 
 Sure never a captain was like this brave 
 knight. 
 
 He pulled off his slippers and wrapper of 
 
 silk. 
 And, foaming as furious as whifktd new 
 
 milk. 
 Says he to his lady, " My lady. Til go : 
 My company calls me ; you muft not say no.''' 
 
 152 
 
Sir Bilberry Diddle 
 
 153 
 
Sir Bilberry Diddle 
 
 With eyes all in tears says my lady, says she, 
 
 " O cruel Sir Bilberry, do not kill me ! 
 
 For I never will leave thee, but cling round thy 
 
 middle. 
 And die in the arms of Sir Bilberry Biddies 
 
 Said Biddle again to his lady, " My dear," 
 {And a white pocket-handkerchief wiped off a tear) 
 ^'' To fight for thy charms in the hotteft of wars 
 Will be joy I Thou art Venus'' Says she, '■'■Thou 
 art Mars." 
 
 154 
 
Sir Dilberry Diddle 
 
 155 
 
Sir Dilberry Diddle 
 
 By a place I can't mention, not knowing its name. 
 At the head of his company Dilberry came. 
 And the drums to the window call every eye 
 'To see the defence of the nation pafs by. 
 
 Old Bible-faced women, through spectacles dim. 
 With hemming and coughing, cried " Lord, it is 
 
 him ! " 
 While boys and the girls, who more clearly could 
 
 see. 
 Cried, ^^ Tenders Sir Dilberry Diddle — thafs 
 
 he!" 
 
 156 
 
Sir D Merry Diddle 
 
 =s^ >;^Si>^ 
 
 157 
 
Sir Bilberry Diddle 
 
 Of all the fair ladies that came to the show. 
 
 Sir Diddle's fair lady stood fir ft in the row; 
 
 " Oh, how charming" says she, " he looks all in 
 
 red : 
 How he turns out his toes, how he holds up his 
 
 head ! 
 
 " Do but see his cockade, and behold his dear gun. 
 Which shines like a looking-glafs held in the sun ! 
 Hear his word of command! 'tis so sweet, I am 
 
 sure. 
 Each time I am temped to call out — encore ! " 
 
 158 
 
Sir Bilberry Diddle 
 
 ■ij0mMi^^fiMlmi> 
 
 159 
 
Sir Dilberry Diddle 
 
 The battle was over without any blows, 
 The heroes unharnejs and strip off their clothes ; 
 The dame gives her captain a sip of ro/e-water. 
 Then he, handing her into her coach, steps in 
 after. 
 
 Johns orders are special to drive very slow. 
 For fevers oft follow fatigues, we all know. 
 And prudently cautious, in Venus'" s lap. 
 Beneath her short apron. Mars takes a long nap. 
 
 i6o 
 
Sir Bilberry Diddle 
 
 i6i 
 
Sir Bilberry Diddle 
 
 He dreamt. Fame reports, that he cut all the throats 
 Of the French as they landed in flat-bottomed 
 
 boats. 
 In his sleep if such dreadful deftruction he makes. 
 What havock, ye gods ! we shall have when he 
 
 wakes ! 
 
 ibi 
 
Sir Dilberry Diddle 
 
 163