Obrazy na stronie
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Such, and so bright an aspect now he bears,
As when through clouds th' emerging sun appears,
And thence exerting his refulgent ray,

Dispels the darkness, and reveals the day.
Force he prepar'd, but check'd the rash design;
For when, appearing in a form divine,

The nymph surveys him, and beholds the grace
Of charming features and a youthful face,
In her soft breast consenting passions move,
And the warm maid confess'd a mutual love.

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IMITATIONS

OF ENGLISH POETS.

[Done by the Author in his Youth.]

I. CHAUCER.

WOMEN ben full of ragerie,

Yet swinken nat sans secresie.
Thilke moral shall ye understond,
From schoole-boy's tale of fayre Irelond;
Which to the fennes hath him betake,
To filch the grey ducke fro the lake.
Right then there passen by the way
His aunt, and eke her daughters tway.
Ducke in his trowses hath he hent,
Not to be spy'd of ladies gent.
But ho! our nephew,' crieth one,
"Ho!" quoth another, "Cozen John;"
And stoppen, and lough, and callen out,—
This silly clerke full low doth lout:

They asken that, and talken this,

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Lo, here is Coz, and here is Miss."

But, as he glozeth with speeches soote,
The ducke sore tickleth his erse roote:
Fore-picce and buttons all-to-brest

Forth thrust a white neck and red crest.
Te-hee;' cry'd ladies; clerke nought spake:
Miss star'd, and grey ducke crieth "quaake.”

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'O moder, moder!' quoth the daughter,
'Be thilke same thing maids longen a'ter?
Bette is to pine on coals and chalke,

Then trust on mon, whose yerde can talke.'

II. SPENSER.

The Alley.

I.

IN

ev'ry town where Thamis 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 shriller squall:

How can ye, mothers, vex your children so?
Some play, some eat, some cack against the wall,
And, as they crouchen low, for bread and butter
call.

II.

And on the broken pavement, here and there,
Doth many a stinking sprat, and herring, lie;
A brandy and tobacco shop is near,

And hens, and dogs, and hogs, are feeding by ;
And here a sailor's jacket hangs to dry.
At ev'ry door are sunburnt matrons seen,
Mending old nets to catch the scaly fry;

Now singing shrill, and scolding oft between: Scolds answer foul-mouth'd scolds-bad neighbor, hood I ween.

III.

The snappish cur (the passenger's annoy)
Close at my heel, with yelping treble flies;
The whimp'ring girl, and hoarser screaming boy,
Join to the yelping treble shrilling 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;
The grunting hogs alarm the neighbours round;
And curs, girls, boys, and scolds, in the deep base
are drown'd.

IV.

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

Cod, whiting, oyster, mackrel, sprat, or plaice:
There learn'd she speech from tongues that never

cease.

Slander beside her like a magpie chatters,
With envy, (spitting Cat) dread foe to peace;
Like a curs'd cur, Malice before her clatters,
And vexing ev'ry wight, tears clothes and all to

tatters.

V.

Her dugs were mark'd by ev'ry collier's hand ¿
Her mouth was black as bulldogs at the stall;

She scratched, bit, and spar'd ne lace, ne band,
And bitch and rogue her answer was to all;
Nay, ev'n the parts of shame by name would call:
Yea, when she passed by or lane, or nook,
Would greet the man who turn'd him to the wall;
And by his hand obscene the porter took,
Nor ever did askance like modest virgin look.

VI.

Such place hath Deptford, navy-building town,
Woolwich and Wapping, smelling strong of pitch;
Such Lambeth, envy of each band and gown,
And Twick'nam such, which fairer scenes enrich,
Grots, statues, urns, and Jo-n's dog and bitch.
Ne village is without, on either side,

All

up the silver Thames, or all adown;

Ne Richmond's self, from whose tall front are ey'd Vales, spires, meand'ring streams, and Windsor's tow'ry pride.

III. WALLER.

On a Lady singing to her lute.

FAIR charmer! cease, nor make your voice's prize
A heart resign'd the conquest of your eyes:
Well might, alas! that threaten'd vessel fail,
Which winds and lightning both at once assail.
We were too bless'd with these enchanting lays,
Which must be heav'nly when an angel plays;

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