Ungrateful odours common shores diffuse,
And dropping vaults distil unwholesome dews,
Ere the tiles rattle with the smoking shower,
And spouts on heedless men their torrents pour.
All superstition from thy breast repel :
Let credulous boys and prattling nurses tell,
How, if the festival of Paul be clear,

Plenty from liberal horn shall strew the year;
When the dark skies dissolve in snow or rain,
The labouring hind shall yoke the steer in vain;
But, if the threatening winds in tempests roar,
Then War shall bathe her wasteful sword in gore.
How, if on Swithin's feast the welkin lours,
And every penthouse streams with hasty showers,
Twice twenty days shall clouds their fleeces drain,
And wash the pavements with incessant rain.
Let not such vulgar tales debase thy mind;
Nor Paul nor Swithin rule the clouds and wind.
If you the precepts of the Muse despise,
And slight the faithful warning of the skies,
Others you'll see, when all the town's afloat,
Wrapt in th' embraces of a kersey coat,
Or double-bottom'd frieze; their guarded feet
Defy the muddy dangers of the street;
While you, with hat unloop'd, the fury dread
Of spouts high streaming, and with cautious tread
Shun every dashing pool, or idly stop,
To seek the kind protection of a shop.
But business summons; now with hasty scud
You jostle for the wall; the spatter'd mud
Hides all thy hose behind; in vain you scour,
Thy wig, alas! uncurl'd, admits the shower.

So fierce Alecto's snaky tresses fell,

When Orpheus charm'd the rigorous powers of Hell;
Or thus hung Glaucus' beard, with briny dew
Clotted and straight, when first his amorous view
Surpris'd the bathing fair; the frighted maid
Now stands a rock, transform'd by Circe's aid.
Good housewives all the winter's rage despise,
Defended by the riding-hood's disguise;
Or, underneath th' umbrella's oily shed,
Safe through the wet on clinking pattens tread.
Let Persian dames th' umbrella's ribs display,
To guard their beauties from the sunny ray;
Or sweating slaves support the shady load,
When eastern monarchs show their state abroad.
Britain in winter only knows its aid,

To guard from chilly showers the walking maid
But, O! forget not, Muse, the patten's praise,
That female implement shall grace thy lays;
Say from what art divine th' invention came,
And from its origin deduce its name.

Where Lincoln wide extends her fenny soil,
A goodly yeoman liv'd, grown white with toil;
One only daughter bless'd his nuptial bed,
Who from her infant hand the poultry fed:
Martha (her careful mother's name) she bore,
But now her careful mother was no more.
Whilst on her father's knee the damsel play'd,
Patty he fondly call'd the smiling maid;
As years increas'd, her ruddy beauty grew,
And Patty's fame o'er all the village flew.
Soon as the grey-ey'd morning streaks the skies,
And in the doubtful day the woodcock flies,

Her cleanly pail the pretty housewife bears,
And singing to the distant field repairs;

And, when the plains with evening dews are spread,
The milky burthen smokes upon her head,
Deep through a miry lane she pick'd her way,
Above her ancle rose the chalky clay.

Vulcan by chance the bloomy maiden spies,
With innocence and beauty in her eyes:
He saw, he lov'd; for yet he ne'er had known
Sweet innocence and beauty meet in one.
Ah, Mulciber! recall thy nuptial vows,
Think on the graces of thy Paphian spouse;
Think how her eyes dart inexhausted charms,
And canst thou leave her bed for Patty's arms?
The Lemnian power forsakes the realms above,
His bosom glowing with terrestrial love:
Far in the lane a lonely hut he found;

No tenant ventur'd on th' unwholesome ground.
Here smokes his forge, he bares his sinewy arm,
And early strokes the sounding anvil warm:
Jund his shop the steely sparkles flew,
As for the steed he shap'd the bending shoe.
When blue-ey'd Patty near his window came,
His anvil rests, his forge forgets to flame.
To hear his soothing tales, she feigns delays;
What woman can resist the force of praise?

At first she coyly every kiss withstood,
And all her cheek was flush'd with modest blood;
With headless nails he now surrounds her shoes,
To save her steps from rains and piercing dews.
She lik'd his soothing tales, his presents wore,
And granted kisses, but would grant no more.

Yet Winter chill'd her feet, with cold she pines,
And on her cheek the fading rose declines;
No more her humid eyes their lustre boast,
And in hoarse sounds her melting voice is lost.
Thus Vulcan saw, and in his heavenly thought
A new machine mechanic fancy wrought,
Above the mire her shelter'd steps to raise,
And bear her safely through the wintery ways.
Straight the new engine on his anvil glows,
And the pale virgin on the patten rose.

No more her lungs are shook with dropping rheums,
And on her cheek reviving beauty blooms.
The god obtain❜d his suit: though flattery fail,
Presents with female virtue must prevail.

The patten now supports each frugal dame,
Which from the blue-ey'd Patty takes the name.

Book II.

Of walking the Streets by Day.

THUS far the Muse has trac'd, in useful lays, The proper implements for wintery ways; Has taught the walker, with judicious eyes, To read the various warnings of the skies: Now venture, Muse, from home to range the town, And for the public safety risk thy own.

For ease and for dispatch, the morning's best;

No tides of passengers the streets molest.
You'll see a draggled damsel here and there,
From Billingsgate her fishy traffic bear;

On doors the sallow milk-maid chalks her gains;
Ah! how unlike the milk-maid of the plains!
Before proud gates attending asses bray,
Or arrogate with solemn pace the way;
These grave physicians with their milky cheer
The love-sick maid and dwindling beau repair;
Here rows of drummers stand in martial file,
And with their vellum thunder shake the pile,
To greet the new-made bride. Are sounds like these
The proper prelude to a state of peace?

Now Industry awakes her busy sons;

Full-charg'd with news the breathless hawker runs : Shops open, coaches roll, carts shake the ground, And all the streets with passing cries resound.

If cloth'd in black you tread the busy town, Or if distinguish'd by the reverend gown, Three trades avoid : oft in the mingling press The barber's apron soils the sable dress; Shun the perfumer's touch with cautious eye, Nor let the baker's step advance too nigh. Ye walkers too, that youthful colours wear, Three sullying trades avoid with equal care: The little chimney-sweeper skulks along, And marks with sooty stains the heedless throng; When small-coal murmurs in the hoarser throat, From smutty dangers guard thy threaten'd coat; The dustman's cart offends thy clothes and eyes, When through the street a cloud of ashes flies; But, whether black or lighter dyes are worn, The chandler's basket, on his shoulder borne, With tallow spots thy coat; resign the way, To shun the surly butcher's greasy tray,