ROBIN RED BREAST, WITH THE BEASTS, AN OLD CAT'S PROPHECY;

Taken out of an old copy of verses supposed to be written by John Lidgate, a monk of Bury.

ONE that had in her infant state,
While playing at her father's gate,
Seen and was most hugely smitten
With young dog and dirty kitten,
Had took them up and lug'd them in,
And made the servants wash them clean'.
When she to a fit age was grown,
To be sole mistress of her own,
Then to her favour and strange trust
She rais'd these two; in rank the first
The dog: who, with gilt collar grac'd,
Strutted about. The cat was plac'd
O'er all the house to domineer,
And kept each wight of her in fear;
While he o'er all the plains had power,
That savage wolves might not devour

Her flocks. She gave him charge great care
To take: but beasts uncertain are!

Now see by these what troubles rise
To those who in their choice unwise
Put trust in such; for he soon join'd
With beast of prey the dog combin'd,
Who kill'd the sheep, and tore the hind;
While he would stand, and grin, and bark,
Concealing thus his dealings dark.
A wolf, or so, sometimes he'd take,
And then, O what a noise he'd make !
But with wild-beasts o'er-run yet are
The plains: some die for want of fare,
Or torn, or kill'd; the shepherds find
Each day are lost of every kind.

Thy silly sheep lament in vain ;
Of their hard fate, not him, complain.
The shepherds, and the servants all,
Against the traitor loudly bawl:

But there was none that dar'd to tell
Their lady what to them befel;
For puss a fox of wondrous art
Brought-in, to help, and take their part,
By whose assistance to deceive,
She made her every lye believe.

One lucky day, when she was walking
In her woods, with servants talking,
And stopp'd to hear how very well
A red-breast sung, then him to dwell
With her she call'd: he came, and took
His place next to a favourite rook;

The political drift of this intended prophecy is still more evident than that of the preceding poem; the satire being abundantly more personal. N.

Where Robin soon began to sing
Such songs as made the house to ring;
He sung the loss and death of sheep,
In notes that made the lady weep:
How for his charge the dog unfit,
Took part with foes, and shepherds bit;
Ev'n from his birth he did him trace,
And show him cur of shabby race;
The first by wandering beggars fed,
His sire, advanc'd, turn'd spit for bread;
Himself each trust had still abus'd;
To steal what he should guard, was us'd
From puppy: known where-e'er he came
Both vile and base, and void of shame.

The cat he sung, that none could match
For venom'd spite, or cruel scratch;
That from a witch transform'd she came,
Who kitten'd three of equal fame :
This first, one dead, of tabby fur
The third survives, much noise of her
Had been: a cat well known, with ease
On errands dark, o'er land and seas,
She'd journies take to cub of bear,
From these intriguing beasts, who swear
They'll bring him to defend the wrong
That they have done. Again he sung,
How tabby once, in moon-light night,
Trotted with letter fox did write;

In which he sends his best respects
To the she-bear, and thus directs:
"Madam," said he, "your cub safe send,
None shall his worship soon offend;"
It's all I can at present do

To serve him, as his friends well know."

At this the beasts grew in such rage, That none their fury could assuage; Nay, puss her lady would have scratch'd, And tore her eyes, but she was watch'd; For she'd set up her back, and mew, And thrice ev'n in her face she flew. The dog, like an ungrateful spark, At her would dare to snarl and bark. Her tenants wondering stood to hear That she their insolence would bear; And offer'd their assistance to Soon make them better manners know: But she, to avoid all farther rout, Her window opening, turn'd Bob out; Hoping that then her beasts would live In peace, and no disturbance give.

Yet nothing she can do avails,
Their rage against her still prevails;
Though puss was warn'd to fear their fate
In lines (by old prophetic cat
Writ before her transformation,
When she was in the witch's station)
Foretelling thus: "When beasts are grown
To certain heights, before unknown
Of human race, some shall aloud
Inflame and arm a dreadful crowd,
Who in vast numbers shall advance,
And to new tunes shall make them dance:
When this begins, no longer hope,
For all remains is axe and rope."

But, not deterr'd by this, they dar'd,
With some who of their plunder shar'd,
T'affront their lady, and conspire
To many with her money hire;
Contemning her, to pay undue
Regards unto this bestial crew:

Though these resembled human shapes,
They were indeed no more than apes;
Who some in house, and some in wood,
And others in high boxes stood,

That chattering made such noise and stir,
How all was due to fox and cur;
Till, by their false deluding way,
She found her flocks begin to stray.

Still Robin does for her his care
And zeal express; on whom yet are
His thoughts all fix'd. On her he dreams
Each night. Her praises are his themes
In songs all day. Now perch'd on tree,
Finding himself secure and free,
He pertly shakes his little wings,
Sets his throat: again he sings,
"That she had left no other way
To save her flocks, and end this fray,
But soon to her assistance take

up

One who could make these monsters shake;
A well-known huntsman, who has skill
The fiercest beasts to tame or kill:
At her command he'd come, and he

Would make her great, and set them free;
That, should these beasts some evil day
Bring cub into her grounds, she may
Depend that not herself they'll spare,
Since to insult her now they dare:
All she at best can hope for then,
Is to be safe shut up in den;
Since by sure signs all these ingrate
Are known to bear her deadly hate."

He ends his song, and prays to Heaven That she may have the wisdom given, Before it be too late, to take

Such resolutions as may make

Her safe, and that these beasts no more
To ravage in the plains have power.

BRITAIN'S PALLADIUM;

OR,

Then Neptune his majestic silence broke, And to the trembling sailors mildly spoke: "Throughout the world Britannia's flag display; 'Tis my command, that all the globe obey; Let British streamers wave their heads on high, And dread no foe beneath Jove's azure sky; The rest let Nereus tell

"If I have truth," says Nereus," and foresee The intricate designs of Destiny;

I, that have view'd whatever fleets have rode
With sharpen'd keels to cut the yielding flood;
I, that could weigh the fates of Greece and Rome,
Phoenician wealth, and Carthaginian doom;
Must surely know what, in the womb of Time,
Was fore-ordain'd for Britain's happy clime;
How wars upon the watery realin shall cease,
And Anna give the world a glorious peace;
Restore the spicy traffic of the east,
And stretch her empire to the distant west:
Her fleets descry Aurora's purple bed,
And Phoebus' steeds after their labours fed.
The southern coasts, to Britain scarcely known,
Shall grow as hospitable as their own:

No monsters shall be feign'd, to guard their store,
When British trade secures their golden ore:
The fleecy product of the Cotswold field
Shall equal what Peruvian mountains yield:
Iron shall there intrinsic value show,

And by Vulcanian art more precious grow.
"Britannia's royal fishery shall be

Improv'd by a kind guardian deity:
That mighty task to Glaucus we assign,

FRANCE'

Et thure, et fidibus juvat

Placare, et vituli sanguine debito Custodes Numidæ Deos.

Hor. lib. i. Od. xxxvi. ad Pomponium Numidam, ob cujus ex Hispaniâ redditum gaudio exultat.

WHAT noise is this, that interrupts my sleep?
What echoing shouts rise from the briny deep?
Neptune a solemn festival prepares,

And peace through all his flowing orb declares:
That dreadful trident which he us'd to shake,
Make Earth's foundations and Jove's palace quake,
Now, by his side, on ouzy couch reclin'd,
Gives a smooth surface and a gentle wind:
Innumerable Tritons lead the way,
And crowds of Nereids round his chariot play.

Lord Bolingbroke set out for France (accompanied by Mr. Hare, one of his under-secretaries, Mr. Prior, and the Abbé Gualtier) Aug. 2; and arrived again in London, Aug. 21, 1712. N.

He shall direct them how to strike the whale,
How to avoid the danger, when prevail;
What treasure lies upon the frozen coast
Not yet explor'd, nor negligently lost.

"In vast Arcadia's plains, new theme for fame, Towns shall be built, sacred to Anna's2 name: The silver fir and lofty pine shall rise

From Britain's own united colonies;
Which to the mast shall canvas-wings afford;
And pitch, to strengthen the unfaithful board;
Norway may then her naval stores with-hold,
And proudly starve for want of British gold.

"O happy isle! to such advantage plac'd,
That all the world is by thy counsels grac'd;
Thy nation's genius, with industrious arts,
Renders thee lovely to remotest parts.
Eliza first the sable scene withdrew,
And to the ancient world display'd the new;
When Burleigh at the helm of state was seen,
The truest subject to the greatest queen;
The Indians, from the Spanish yoke made free,
Bless'd the effects of English liberty;

2 Annapolis, the capital of Nova Scotia.

convey'd;

Nor rests inquiry here; his curious eye Descries new constellations in the sky,

In which vast space, ambitious mariners

stars.

Raleigh, with hopes of new discoveries fir'd,
And all the depths of human wit inspir'd,
Rov'd o'er the western world in search of fame,
Adding fresh glory to Eliza's name;
Subdued new empires that will records be
Immortal of a queen's virginity 3.

"But think not, Albion, that thy sons decay,
Or that thy princes have less power to sway;
Whatever in Eliza's reign was seen,
With a redoubled vigour springs again:
Imperial Anna shall the seas controul,

And spread her naval laws from pole to pole;
Nor think her conduct or her counsels less,
In arts of war, or treaties for a peace;
In thrifty management of Britain's wealth,
Embezzled lately, or purloin'd by stealth.
No nation can fear want, or dread surprise,
Where Oxford's prudence Burleigh's loss supplies;
On him the public most securely leans,
To ease the burthen of the best of queens:
On him the merchants fix their longing eyes,
When war shall cease, and British commerce rise.
"Alcides' strength and Atlas' firmer mind
To narrow straights of Europe were confin'd.
The British sailors, from their royal change,
May find a nobler liberty to range.

Oxford shall be their pole-star to the south,
And there reward the efforts of their youth:
Whence, through his conduct, traffic shall increase,
Ev'n to those seas which take their name from
peace+.

"Peace is the sound must glad the Britons' ears: But see! the noble Bolingbroke appears; Gesture compos'd and looks serene declare Th' approaching issue of a doubtful war. Now my cerulean race, safe in the deep, Shall hear no cannons' roar disturb their sleep; But smoothest tides and the most halcyon gales Shall to their port direct Britannia's sails.

"Ye Tritons, sons of gods! 'tis my command, That you see Bolingbroke in safety land; Your concave shells for softest notes prepare, Whilst Echo shall repeat the gentlest air; The river-gods shall there your triumphs meet, And, in old Ocean mix'd, your hero greet; Thames shall stand wondering, Isis shall rejoice, And both in tuneful numbers raise their voice; The rapid Medway, and the fertile Trent, In swiftest streams, confess their true content; Avon and Severn shall in raptures join, And Fame convey them to the northern Tine. Tweed then no more the Britons shall divide, But peace and plenty flow on either side; Triumphs proclaim, and mirth and jovial feasts, And all the world invite for welcome guests." Faction, that through the land so fatal spread, No more shall dare to raise her Hydra's head; But all her votaries in silence mourn The happiness of Bolingbroke's return;

3 Alluding to the first settlement of Virginia. 4 The Pacific Ocean,

A stubborn race, and quench'd a raging flame;
Retriev'd the Britons from unruly Fate,
And overthrow the Phaetons of state!
These wise exploits through Gallia's nation ran,
And fir'd their souls, to see the wond'rous man:
The aged counsellors, without surprise,
Found wit and prudence sparkling in his eyes;
Wisdom that was not gain'd in course of years,
Or reverence owing to his hoary hairs,
But struck by force of genius; such as drove
The goddess Pallas from the brain of Jove.
The youth of France, with pleasure, look'd to see
His graceful mien and beauteous symmetry :
The virgins ran, as to unusual show,
When he to Paris came, and Fontainbleau;
Viewing the blooming minister desir'd,

And still, the more they gaz'd, the more admir'd.
Nor did the court, that best true grandeur knows,
Their sentiments by lesser facts disclose,
By common pomp, or ceremonious train,
Seen heretofore, or to be seen again;
But they devis'd new honours, yet unknown,
Or paid to any subject of a crown.

[skies,

The Gallic king, in age and counsels wise, Sated with war, and weary of disguise, With open arms salutes the British peer, And gladly owns his prince and character. As Hermes from the throne of Jove descends, With grateful errand, to Heaven's choicest friends; As Iris from the bed of Juno flies, To bear her queen's commands through yielding Whilst o'er her wings fresh beams of glory flow, And blended colours paint her wondrous bow; So Bolingbroke appears in Louis' sight, With message heavenly; and, with equal light, Dispels all clouds of doubt, and fear of wars, And in his mistress' name for peace declares: Accents divine! which the great king receives With the same grace that mighty Anna gives.

Let others boast of blood, the spoil of foes, Rapine and murder, and of endless woes, Detested pomp! and trophies gain'd from far, With spangled ensigns, streaming in the air; Count how they made Bavarian subjects feel The rage of fire, and edge of harden'd steel; Fatal effects of foul insatiate pride; That deal their wounds alike on either side, No limits set to their ambitious ends; For who bounds them, no longer can be friends. By different methods Bolingbroke shall raise His growing honours and immortal praise.

He, fir'd with glory and the public good, Betwixt the people and their danger stood: Arm'd with convincing truths, he did appear; And all he said was sparkling, bright, and clear. The listening senate with attention heard, And some admir'd, while others trembling fear'd; Not from the tropes of formal eloquence, But Demosthenic strength and weight of sense, Such as fond Oxford to her son supplied, Design'd her own, as well as Britain's pride; Who, less beholden to the ancient strains, Might show a nobler blood in English veins;

Out-do whatever Homer sweetly sung
Of Nestor's counsels, or Ulysses' tongue.

Oh! all ye nymphs, whilst time and youth allow,
Prepare the rose and lily for his brow.
Much he has done, but still has more in view;
To Anna's interest and his country true.
More I could prophesy; but must refrain:
Such truths would make another mortal vain!

You know the captives she has made,
The torment of her chain:
Let her, let her be once betray'd,
Or rack her with disdain!
See tears flow from her piercing eyes,
She bends her knee divine;

Her tears, for Damon's sake, despise;
Let her kneel still, for mine.
Pursue thy conquest, charming youth,
Her haughty beauty vex,

Till trembling virgins learn this truth-
Men can revenge their sex!

TO THE

DUKE OF BEAUFORT1.

A PARAPHRASE ON NAUDÆUS'S ADDRESS TO
CARDINAL DE BAGNI,

THE time will come (if Fate shall please to give
This feeble thread of mine more space to live)
When I shall you and all your acts rehearse,
In a much loftier and more fluent verse;
To Ganges' banks, and China farther east,
To Carolina, and the distant west,
Your name shall fly, and every where be blest;
Through Spain and tracts of Lybian sands shall go
To Russian limits, and to Zembla's snow.
Then shall my eager Muse expand her wing,
Your love of justice and your goodness sing;
Your greatness, equal to the state you hold;
In counsel wise, in execution bold;

How there appears, in all that you dispense,
Beauty, good-nature, and the strength of sense.
These let the world admire. From you a smile
Is more than a reward of all my toil.

MISCELLANY POEMS.

SONG.

You say you love; repeat again,
Repeat th' amazing sound,
Repeat the ease of all my pain,

The cure of every wound,

What you to thousands have denied,
To me you freely give;
Whilst I in humble silence died,
Your mercy bids me live.

So upon Latmos' top each night,

Endymion sighing lay;

Gaz'd on the Moon's transcendent light,
Despair'd, and durst not pray.
But divine Cynthia saw his grief,
Th' effect of conquering charms:
Unask'd the goddess brings relief,
And falls into his arms.

THE LAST BILLET.

SEPTEMBER and November now were past,
When men in bonfires did their firing waste:
Yet still my monumental log did last :
To begging boys it was not made a prey
On the king's birth or coronation day.
Why with those oaks, under whose sacred shade
Charles was preserv'd, should any fire be made?
At last a frost, a dismal frost, there came,
Like that which made a market upon Thame:
Unruly company would then have made
Fire with this log, whilst thus its owner pray'd:
"Thou that art worship'd in Dodona's grove,
From all thy sacred trees fierce flames remove:
Preserve this groaning branch, O hear my prayer,
Spare me this one, this one poor billet spare;
That, having many fires and flames withstood,
Its ancient testimonial may last good,

In future times to prove, I once had wood!"

TO LAURA.

IN IMITATION OF PETRARCH.

Ar sight of murder'd Pompey's head
Cæsar forgets his sex and state,
And, whilst his generous tears are shed,
Wishes he had at least a milder fate,
At Absalom's untimely fall,

David with grief his conquest views:
Nay, weeps for unrelenting Saul,

And in soft verse the mournful theme pursues.

The mightier Laura, from Love's darts secure,
Beholds the thousand deaths that I endure,
Each death made horrid with most cruel pain;
Yet no frail pity in her looks appears;
Her eyes betray no careless tears,
But persecute me still with anger and disdain.

With due submission, tell him you are mine,
And that you trouble him with this design,
Exactly to inform his noble youth

Of what you heard just now from vanquish'd
Truth:

[be

"Conquer'd, undone! "Tis strange that there should
In this confession pleasure ev'n to me.
With well-wrought terms my hold I strongly barr'd,
And rough distinctions were my surly guard.
Whilst I, sure of my cause, this strength possess;
A noble youth, advancing with address,
Led glittering Falsehood on with so much art,
That I soon felt sad omens in my heart.
Words with that grace," said I, "must needs per-
I find myself insensibly betray'd.
[suade;
Whilst he pursues his conquest, I retreat,
And by that name would palliate my defeat.
"But here methinks I do the prospect see
Of all those triumphs he prepares for me,
When Virtue or when Innocence opprest
Fly for sure refuge to his generous breast;
When with a noble mien his youth appears,
And gentle voice persuades the listening peers,
Judges shall wonder when he clears the laws,
Dispelling mists, which long have hid their cause:
Then, by his aid, aid that can never fail,
Ev'n I, though conquer'd now, shall sure prevail:
Thousands of wreaths to me he shall repay,
For that one laurel Errour wears to-day."

A GENTLEMAN TO HIS WIFE. WHEN your kind wishes first I sought, 'Twas in the dawn of youth:

I toasted you, for you I fought,

But never thought of truth. You saw how still my fire increas'd; I griev'd to be denied: You said, "Till I to wander ceas'd, You'd guard your heart with pride." 1, that once feign'd too many lies, In height of passion swore,

By you and other deities,

That I would range no more.

I've sworn, and therefore now am fix'd,
No longer false and vain:

My passion is with honour mix'd,
And both shall ever reign,

I'll search Heaven, Earth, Hell, seas, and air,
And that shall set me free:
Oh, Laura's image will be there

Where Laura will not be.

My soul must still endure the pain,
And with fresh torment rave:
For none can ever break the chain
That once was Laura's slave.

THE SOLDIER'S WEDDING.

A SOLILOQUY BY NAN THRASHERWELL.
Being part of a play called The New Troop.
O My dear Thrasherwell, you're gone to sea,
And happiness must ever banish'd be
From our flock-bed, our garret, and from me!
Perhaps he is on land at Portsmouth now
In the embraces of some Hampshire sow,
Who, with a wanton pat, cries, "Now, my dear,
You're wishing for some Wapping doxy here.”—
"Pox on them all! but most on bouncing Nan,
With whom the torments of my life began:
She is a bitter one!"-You lye, you rogue;
You are a treacherous, false, ungrateful dog.
Did not I take you up without a shirt? [dirt!
Woe worth the hand that scrubb'd off all your
Did not my interest list you in the guard?
And had not you ten shillings, my reward?
Did I not then, before the serjeant's face,
Treat Jack, Tom, Will, and Martin, with disgrace?
And Thrasherwell before all others choose,
When I had the whole regiment to louse?
Curs'd be the day when you produc'd your sword,
The just revenger of your injur'd word!
The martial youth round in a circle stood,
With envious looks of love, and itching blood:
You, with some oaths that signified consent,
Cried Tom is Nan's!" and o'er the sword you
went.

Then I with some more modesty would step:
The ensign thump'd my bum, and made me leap.
Ilcap'd indeed; and you prevailing men
Leave us no power of leaping back again.

THE MAD LOVER.

I'LL from my breast tear fond desire,
Since Laura is not mine:
I'll strive to cure the amorous fire,
And quench the flame with wine.
Perhaps in groves and cooling shade
Soft slumbers I may find:

There all the vows to Laura made,
Shall vanish with the wind.

The speaking strings and charming song
My passion may remove:

Oh, music will the pain prolong,
And is the food of love.

THE OLD CHEESE.

YOUNG Slouch the farmer had a jolly wife,
That knew all the conveniences of life,
Whose diligence and cleanliness supplied
The wit which Nature had to him denied:
But then she had a tongue that would be heard,
And make a better man than Slouch afeard.
This made censorious persons of the town
Say, Slouch could hardly call his soul his own:
For, if he went abroad too much, she'd use
To give him slippers, and lock up his shoes.
Talking he lov'd, and ne'er was more afflicted
Than when he was disturb'd or contradicted:
Yet still into his story she would break
With, ""Tis not so-pray give me leave to speak."
His friends thought this was a tyrannic rule,
Not differing much from calling of him fool;
Told him, he must exert himself, and be
In fact the master of his family.