Poetical Works of Johnson, Parnell, Gray, and Smollett Part 12

3 The more to please the sprightly G.o.d, Each sweet engaging Grace Put on some clothes to come abroad, And took a waiter's place.

4 Then Cupid named at every gla.s.s A lady of the sky; While Bacchus swore he'd drink the la.s.s, And did it b.u.mper-high.

5 Fat Comus toss'd his brimmers o'er, And always got the most; Jocus took care to fill him more, Whene'er he miss'd the toast.

6 They call'd, and drank at every touch; He fill'd, and drank again; And if the G.o.ds can take too much, 'Tis said they did so then.

7 Gay Bacchus little Cupid stung, By reckoning his deceits; And Cupid mock'd his stammering tongue, With all his staggering gaits:

8 And Jocus droll'd on Comus' ways, And tales without a jest; While Comus call'd his witty plays But waggeries at best.

9 Such talk soon set 'em all at odds; And, had I Homer's pen, I'd sing ye, how they drank like G.o.ds, And how they fought like men.

10 To part the fray, the Graces fly, Who make 'em soon agree; Nay, had the Furies selves been nigh, They still were three to three.

11 Bacchus appeased, raised Cupid up, And gave him back his bow; But kept some darts to stir the cup Where sack and sugar flow.

12 Jocus took Comus' rosy crown, And gaily wore the prize, And thrice, in mirth, he push'd him down, As thrice he strove to rise.

13 Then Cupid sought the myrtle grove, Where Venus did recline; And Venus close embracing Love, They join'd to rail at wine.

14 And Comus loudly cursing wit, Roll'd off to some retreat, Where boon companions gravely sit In fat unwieldy state.

15 Bacchus and Jocus, still behind, For one fresh gla.s.s prepare; They kiss, and are exceeding kind, And vow to be sincere.

16 But part in time, whoever hear This our instructive song; For though such friends.h.i.+ps may be dear, They can't continue long.

[Footnote 1: 'Estcourt:' d.i.c.k, a comedian and keeper of the b.u.mper Tavern--a companion of Addison, Steele, and the rest.]

A FAIRY TALE,

IN THE ANCIENT ENGLISH STYLE.

1 In Britain's isle and Arthur's days, When midnight Faeries danced the maze, Lived Edwin of the green; Edwin, I wis, a gentle youth, Endow'd with courage, sense, and truth, Though badly shaped he been.

2 His mountain back mote well be said To measure heighth against his head, And lift itself above: Yet spite of all that Nature did To make his uncouth form forbid, This creature dared to love.

3 He felt the charms of Edith's eyes, Nor wanted hope to gain the prize, Could ladies look within; But one Sir Topaz dress'd with art, And, if a shape could win a heart, He had a shape to win.

4 Edwin (if right I read my song) With slighted pa.s.sion paced along, All in the moony light: 'Twas near an old enchanted court, Where sportive Faeries made resort To revel out the night.

5 His heart was drear, his hope was cross'd, 'Twas late, 'twas farr, the path was lost That reach'd the neighbour-town; With weary steps he quits the shades, Resolved, the darkling dome he treads, And drops his limbs adown.

6 But scant he lays him on the floor, When hollow winds remove the door, A trembling rocks the ground: And (well I ween to count aright) At once an hundred tapers light On all the walls around.

7 Now sounding tongues a.s.sail his ear, Now sounding feet approachen near, And now the sounds increase: And from the corner where he lay He sees a train, profusely gay, Come prankling o'er the place.

8 But trust me, gentles! never yet Was dight a masquing half so neat, Or half so rich before; The country lent the sweet perfumes, The sea the pearl, the sky the plumes, The town its silken store.

9 Now whilst he gazed, a gallant dress'd In flaunting robes above the rest, With awful accent cried: What mortal of a wretched mind, Whose sighs infect the balmy wind, Has here presumed to hide?

10 At this the swain, whose venturous soul No fears of magic art control, Advanced in open sight: Nor have I cause of dread, he said, Who view, by no presumption led, Your revels of the night.

11 'Twas grief, for scorn of faithful love, Which made my steps unweeting rove Amid the nightly dew.

'Tis well, the gallant cries again, We Faeries never injure men Who dare to tell us true.

12 Exalt thy love-dejected heart, Be mine the task, or e'er we part, To make thee grief resign; Now take the pleasure of thy chaunce; Whilst I with Mab my partner daunce, Be little Mable thine.

13 He spoke, and all a-sudden there Light music floats in wanton air; The monarch leads the queen: The rest their Faerie partners found, And Mable trimly tripp'd the ground With Edwin of the green.

14 The dauncing past, the board was laid, And siker such a feast was made As heart and lip desire; Withouten hands the dishes fly, The gla.s.ses--with a wish come nigh, And with a wish retire.

15 But now, to please the Faerie King, Full every deal, they laugh and sing, And antic feats devise; Some wind and tumble like an ape, And other some trans.m.u.te their shape In Edwin's wondering eyes.

16 Till one at last that Robin bight, (Renown'd for pinching maids by night) Has hent him up aloof; And full against the beam he flung, Where by the back the youth he hung To spraul unneath the roof.

17 From thence, Reverse my charm, he cries, And let it fairly now suffice The gambol has been shown.

But Oberon answers with a smile, Content thee, Edwin, for a while, The vantage is thine own.

18 Here ended all the phantom-play; They smelt the fresh approach of day, And heard a c.o.c.k to crow; The whirling wind that bore the crowd Has clapp'd the door, and whistled loud, To warn them all to go.

19 Then screaming all at once they fly, And all at once the tapers die, Poor Edwin falls to floor; Forlorn his state, and dark the place, Was never wight in sike a case Through all the land before.

20 But soon as Dan Apollo rose, Full jolly creature home he goes, He feels his back the less; His honest tongue and steady mind Had rid him of the lump behind Which made him want success.

21 With l.u.s.ty livelyhed he talks, He seems a-dauncing as he walks, His story soon took wind; And beauteous Edith sees the youth, Endow'd with courage, sense, and truth, Without a bunch behind.

22 The story told, Sir Topaz moved, The youth of Edith erst approved, To see the revel scene: At close of eve he leaves his home, And wends to find the ruin'd dome All on the gloomy plain.

23 As there he bides, it so befell, The wind came rustling down a dell, A shaking seized the wall: Up spring the tapers as before, The Faeries bragly foot the floor, And music fills the hall.

24 But, certes, sorely sunk with woe Sir Topaz sees the elfin show, His spirits in him die: When Oberon cries, A man is near, A mortal pa.s.sion, cleeped fear, Hang's flagging in the sky.

25 With that Sir Topaz, hapless youth!

In accents faltering aye for ruth, Entreats them pity graunt; For als he been a mister wight Betray'd by wandering in the night To tread the circled haunt.

26 Ah, losel vile! (at once they roar) And little skill'd of Faerie lore, Thy cause to come we know: Now has thy kestrel courage fell; And Faeries, since a lie you tell, Are free to work thee woe.

27 Then Will, who bears the wispy fire, To trail the swains among the mire, The caitiff upward flung; There like a tortoise in a shop He dangled from the chamber-top, Where whilom Edwin hung.

28 The revel now proceeds apace, Deftly they frisk it o'er the place, They sit, they drink, and eat; The time with frolic mirth beguile, And poor Sir Topaz hangs the while, Till all the rout retreat.

29 By this the stars began to wink, They shriek, they fly, the tapers sink, And down ydrops the knight.

For never spell by Faerie laid With strong enchantment bound a glade Beyond the length of night.