“Quem modo stravisti longo in certamine, Tempus,Hic recubat Britonum clarus in orbe pugil.Jam primum stratus; præter te vicerat omnes;De te etiam victor, quando resurget, erit.”
“Quem modo stravisti longo in certamine, Tempus,Hic recubat Britonum clarus in orbe pugil.Jam primum stratus; præter te vicerat omnes;De te etiam victor, quando resurget, erit.”
“Quem modo stravisti longo in certamine, Tempus,Hic recubat Britonum clarus in orbe pugil.Jam primum stratus; præter te vicerat omnes;De te etiam victor, quando resurget, erit.”
Which may be thustranslated:—
Here lies, O Time! the victim of thy hand,The noblest boxer on the British strand:His nervous arm each bold opposer quell’d,In feats of strength by none but thee excell’d:Till, springing up, at the last trumpet’s call,He conquers thee, who wilt have conquer’d all.
Here lies, O Time! the victim of thy hand,The noblest boxer on the British strand:His nervous arm each bold opposer quell’d,In feats of strength by none but thee excell’d:Till, springing up, at the last trumpet’s call,He conquers thee, who wilt have conquer’d all.
Here lies, O Time! the victim of thy hand,The noblest boxer on the British strand:His nervous arm each bold opposer quell’d,In feats of strength by none but thee excell’d:Till, springing up, at the last trumpet’s call,He conquers thee, who wilt have conquer’d all.
The inscription underneath takes notice of his wife’s fortune, and the estates he purchased; that he rebuilt his farm-houses, was skilled in architecture and medicine, and that he wrote a book on wrestling, called “The Cornish Hug Wrestler.”
This gentleman was remarkable for his skill in that exercise; he trained many of his servants and neighbours to it, and when those manly (though now thought unpolished) diversions were in fashion, he exhibited his pupils in public with no smalléclat.
By his will he left a guinea to be wrestled for at Bradmore everymidsummer-day, and money to the ringers, of whom he also made one. He displayed his learning in several curious inscriptions. Over a seat by the road-side,Hic sedeas, viator si tu defessus es ambulando. The honour of a visit from a judge on the circuit, was commemorated at the horse-block by,Hinc Justiciarius Dormer equum ascendere solebat.
1340. On the twenty-fourth of June, Edward III. fought a great naval battle off Sluys on the coast of Flanders, and gained a complete victory over the French. Edward’s force did not exceed two hundred and forty sail; the French had four hundred sail, and forty thousand men. The English took two hundred and thirty of the ships, and killed thirty thousand Frenchmen, and two of their admirals. Edward’s presence animated his archers, who were as invincible then, as they were six years afterwards on the plains of Cressy.
Mean Temperature 59·57.
[225]Town and Country Magazine, 1789.
[225]Town and Country Magazine, 1789.
1826.—The first Sunday after Midsummer Day.
Mr. Brand says, “It is the duty of the rector of St. Mary at Hill, in which parish Billingsgate is situated, to preach a sermon every year,on the first Sunday after midsummer-day, before the society of Fellowship Porters, exhorting them to be charitable towards their old decayed brethren, and ‘to bear one another’s burthens.’”
It is remarkable that Mr. Brand, who was the rector of this church, and who quotes largely from the churchwardens’ accounts of that parish, in illustration of manifold customs whereon he treats, says nothing further respecting his “duty,” as rector, towards the Fellowship Porters: he does not even subjoin how long the annual sermon appeared to have been preached, nor does he say so much as a recent compiler who notices the custom asfollows:—
“Annually on the Sunday after midsummer-day, according to ancient custom, the fraternity of Fellowship Porters of the city of London repair to the church of St. Mary at Hill in the morning, where, during the reading of the psalms, they reverently approach the altar, two and two, on the rails of which are placed two basins, and into these they put their respective offerings. They are generally followed by the congregation, and the money offered is distributed among the aged poor and inferior members of thatfraternity.”[226]
The birds now begin to be very active in devouring the fruits, and cherryclacks are set up to drive them away; the perpetual flapping of which, in the light breezes by night, are too well-known to the student by the nightly lamp.
The Cherryclack.The lamplight student wan and pale,In his chamber sits at ease,And tries to read without avail;For every moment the light breezeSprings up and nestles in the trees.And then he startles at the soundOf the noisy cherryclack,That drives its flippant windsails roundWith Lybs still puffing at his back,Provoking endless click-a-tee-clack.The scholar tries and tries againTo read, but can’t; confounds the cherries,And swears that every effort’s vainTo answer all his master’s queries;For Greek and Latin quite a jeer is,Where every chorus, every verseIs interrupted, for alack!When he begins one to rehearse,The thread is broke, himself thrown back,By this perpetual click-a-tee-clack.[227]
The Cherryclack.
The lamplight student wan and pale,In his chamber sits at ease,And tries to read without avail;For every moment the light breezeSprings up and nestles in the trees.And then he startles at the soundOf the noisy cherryclack,That drives its flippant windsails roundWith Lybs still puffing at his back,Provoking endless click-a-tee-clack.The scholar tries and tries againTo read, but can’t; confounds the cherries,And swears that every effort’s vainTo answer all his master’s queries;For Greek and Latin quite a jeer is,Where every chorus, every verseIs interrupted, for alack!When he begins one to rehearse,The thread is broke, himself thrown back,By this perpetual click-a-tee-clack.[227]
The lamplight student wan and pale,In his chamber sits at ease,And tries to read without avail;For every moment the light breezeSprings up and nestles in the trees.
And then he startles at the soundOf the noisy cherryclack,That drives its flippant windsails roundWith Lybs still puffing at his back,Provoking endless click-a-tee-clack.
The scholar tries and tries againTo read, but can’t; confounds the cherries,And swears that every effort’s vainTo answer all his master’s queries;For Greek and Latin quite a jeer is,
Where every chorus, every verseIs interrupted, for alack!When he begins one to rehearse,The thread is broke, himself thrown back,By this perpetual click-a-tee-clack.[227]
Mean Temperature 61·55.
[226]Lambert’s Hist. of London, vol. ii p. 461.[227]Dr. Forster’s Perennial Calendar.
[226]Lambert’s Hist. of London, vol. ii p. 461.
[227]Dr. Forster’s Perennial Calendar.
The harvest in Provence begins about midsummer; the process of gathering it in is very different from ours. It is cut, bound up in sheaves, and carried away immediately to the thrashing-floor, where it is stacked up. The thrashing-floor, oraire, (to give it the name by which it is called in the country,) is out in the open field; it is of a circular form, and paved sometimes with stone, sometimes with a stiff clay beaten down till it becomes nearly as hard as stone. In the parts near theaire, while one man cuts the corn and binds the sheaves, another takes them upon his back, two or three at a time, and carries them away to theaire; when the distance is somewhat greater, the sheaves are loaded upon an ass or mule; and when the distance is considerable, then a cart is employed, provided the ground be not too steep to admit of it, which happens not unfrequently. In no case is the corn left standing where it is cut, but carried away immediately.
When all is in this manner collected at theaire, it is spread out thick upon it, and one or two horses or mules blindfolded, with a man standing in the middle and holding the reins, are made to run round and round, till the corn is separated from the straw; after which the one is put into sacks and stored up in the granary, and the other put into a loft for winter food for the cattle. No such thing as a barn is to be seen, at least in the southern parts of Province.
Rain during harvest is so very unusual, that this whole process may be carried on without fear of interruption from wet, or of the corn being injured for want of shelter.
The scripture injunction, “not to muzzle the ox that treadeth out the corn,” is explained by seeing this mode of thrashing. It is said both to be a more expeditious and effectual process than the flail; but it appears very hard work to the animals, especially being performed under the influence of such a burning sun. Our mode of thrashing is, perhaps, equally hard work to mankind.
During the time of harvest, which is considered as lasting till the corn is all thrashed and laid up, the peasant makes the cornstack his bed: he sleeps upon it, attended by his dog, as a precaution against nocturnal depredators; and the air and ground are both so dry, that he has nothing to apprehend fromdamps.[228]
On the twenty-sixth of June, 1752, died cardinal Julius Alberoni. He was born in 1664; his father, a gardener near Parma, who obtained for him a small post in the cathedral where he took priests orders, was enabled by the fortune of war to serve Campistron, the French poet, who was secretary to the duke of Vendome, and who introduced him to that warrior, to whom Alberoni betrayed the granaries of his countrymen. Vendome perceived his talent for political intrigue, and in reward of this treason, appointed him to conduct a correspondence with the princess d’Ursins who governed the affairs of Spain. In quality of agent to the duke of Parma, Alberoni was settled at the Spanish court, and contrived to marry the princess to Philip V. The new queen gave him her confidence, and obtained for him a cardinal’s hat; he was made a grandee of Spain, and became prime minister, in which capacity he endeavoured to excite the Turks against the emperor, attempted the restoration of the pretender to the throne of England, aimed at dispossessing the duke of Orleans from the regency of France, and securing it for Philip V., and by these and other ambitious endeavours, raised a host ofenemies against Philip, who could only obtain peace with France and England on condition of banishing Alberoni. He left Spain with immense property in his possession, and with the will of Charles II. by which Philip derived his title to the Spanish monarchy. The document was recovered from him by force, and the pope caused him to be arrested at Geneva for intriguing against the Turks. He went to Rome; the college of cardinals inquired into his conduct, and confined him for a year to the Jesuits’ college, and Clement XII. appointed him legate to Romana, where, at the age of seventy, he plotted the destruction of the little republic of San Marino, and was ludicrously defeated when he imagined brilliant success. Alberoni was baffled in almost every scheme of national aggression. He accumulated great wealth, a universal reputation for political intrigue, and at the age of eighty-seven, died rich andinfamous.[229]
“Now” in this month, as in the month of July, and as, for example, in June, 1826, “we occasionally have one of those sultry days which make the house too hot to hold us, and force us to seek shelter in the open air, which is hotter;—when the interior of the blacksmith’s shop looks awful, and we expect the foaming porter pot to hiss, as the brawny forger dips his fiery nose into it;—when the birds sit open-mouthed upon the bushes; and the fishes fry in the shallow ponds; and the sheep and cattle congregate together in the shade, and forget to eat;—when pedestrians along dusty roads quarrel with their coats and waistcoats, and cut sticks to carry them across their shoulders; and cottagers’s wives go about their work gown-less; and their daughters are anxious to do the same, but that they have the fear of the vicar before their eyes;—when every thing seen beyond a piece of parched soil quivers through the heated air; and when, finally, a snow-white swan, floating above its own image, upon a piece of clear cool water into which a weeping-willow is dipping its green fingers, is a sight not to be turned fromsuddenly.”[230]
Mean Temperature 60·15.
[228]Miss Plumptre.[229]General Biographical Dictionary, vol. 1.[230]Mirror of the Months.
[228]Miss Plumptre.
[229]General Biographical Dictionary, vol. 1.
[230]Mirror of the Months.
On the twenty-seventh of June, 1752, about one in the morning, a fire broke out in Lincoln’s-inn new square, by which No. 10 and 11 were entirely consumed. The chambers of R. Wilbraham, the hon. Edward Harley, hon. Charles York, E. Hoskyns, — Chomley, Edmund Sawyer, master in chancery, and — Ansell, Esqs. all in No. 10, with the papers, books, plate, furniture, and wearing apparel were totally destroyed. In the next staircase, No. 11, were Mr. John Sharpe, solicitor to the treasury, and Messrs. Edward Booth, Ambler, Fazakerly, Fellers, and Wilmot. The loss and difficulties in which many families were involved, the titles to whose properties were lodged with the above gentlemen, were not to be computed. Mr. Wilbraham had lately purchased an estate of great value, the title-deeds of which, among other numberless deeds, mortgages, &c. were burnt. His clerk, Mr. Pickering, lost above eleven hundred pounds in money and bank notes of his own and others, and securities for thirty thousand pounds more, also all the title-deeds of lord Leigh’s estate. When the fire was discovered most of the watch were asleep or drunk, and the wife of an upholder in Carey-street, whose husband left his bed to assist the sufferers, hanged herself in hisabsence.[231]
In 1752, was living at Clee-hall, near Ludlow, in Salop, lady Wadeley at the great age of 105. She had been blind for several years, but at that time could see remarkably well. She was then walking about in perfect health, and cutting a new set ofteeth.[232]
The Grave.Why should the grave be terrible?Why should it be a word of fear,Jarring upon the mortal ear?There repose and silence dwell:The living hear the funeral knell,But the dead no funeral knell can hear.Does the gay flower scorn the grave? the dewForget to kiss its turf? the streamRefuse to bathe it? or the beamOf moonlight shun the narrow bed,Where the tired pilgrim rests his head?No! the moon is there, and smiling too!And the sweetest song of the morning birdIs oft in that ancient yew-tree heard;And there may you see the harebell blueBending his light form—gently—proudly,And listen to the fresh winds, loudlyPlaying around yon sod, as gayAs if it were a holiday,And children freed from durance they.Bowring.
The Grave.
Why should the grave be terrible?Why should it be a word of fear,Jarring upon the mortal ear?There repose and silence dwell:The living hear the funeral knell,But the dead no funeral knell can hear.Does the gay flower scorn the grave? the dewForget to kiss its turf? the streamRefuse to bathe it? or the beamOf moonlight shun the narrow bed,Where the tired pilgrim rests his head?No! the moon is there, and smiling too!And the sweetest song of the morning birdIs oft in that ancient yew-tree heard;And there may you see the harebell blueBending his light form—gently—proudly,And listen to the fresh winds, loudlyPlaying around yon sod, as gayAs if it were a holiday,And children freed from durance they.
Why should the grave be terrible?Why should it be a word of fear,Jarring upon the mortal ear?There repose and silence dwell:The living hear the funeral knell,But the dead no funeral knell can hear.Does the gay flower scorn the grave? the dewForget to kiss its turf? the streamRefuse to bathe it? or the beamOf moonlight shun the narrow bed,Where the tired pilgrim rests his head?No! the moon is there, and smiling too!And the sweetest song of the morning birdIs oft in that ancient yew-tree heard;And there may you see the harebell blueBending his light form—gently—proudly,And listen to the fresh winds, loudlyPlaying around yon sod, as gayAs if it were a holiday,And children freed from durance they.
Bowring.
Seal of Edward the First, for the Port of London,Found in the River Thames.
Seal of Edward the First, for the Port of London,Found in the River Thames.
A remarkably fine impression, of which theaboveis a faithful copy both as to size and device, has been transmitted to the editor of theEvery-Day Bookby a gentleman, the initials of whose name are J. L., and from him the following account has been obtained.
The seal itself was drawn by ballast-heavers from the bed of the Thames opposite Queenhithe, in 1809 or 1810, and purchased from them by the late Mr. Bedder, of Basing-lane. He was by profession a bricklayer, but a man of considerable taste, a lover of antiquities, and the possessor of a collection of rare and curious coins in high preservation, which he had accumulated at a considerable expense.
This seal, from the inscription around it, appears to have been an official seal of the port of London. It is of silver, very thick, beautifully executed, and in the finest possible condition. By whom it is now possessed is not known to Mr. J. L., who received the impression from Mr. Bedder himself.
The editor may venture to assert that full justice is done to it in the preceding representation; and as he is unable to give further information, he will be happy to receive and communicate any other particulars respecting the original.
Mean Temperature 60·57.
[231]Gentleman’s Magazine.[232]Ibid.
[231]Gentleman’s Magazine.
[232]Ibid.
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
Wisbech, June 24, 1826.
Dear Sir,—The rural village of Wisbech St. Mary, two miles west of thistown, has long been famous for its annual exhibition of rustic sports, under the patronage of John Ream, Esq., on whose lawn they are celebrated. The enclosed bill is an outline of the amusements for the present year. Knowing you have a pleasure in recording every thing that has a tendency to keep alive the manners and customs of our ancestors, I send it for insertion in theEvery-Day Book.
And am,Dear Sir,Yours, with very great respect,J. P.
[COPY.]
“Trembling age, with happy smile,Youth’s high-mettled Gambols view,And by fancy warm’d awhile,Scenes of former bliss renew;Love repeats his tender tale,Cheeks responsive learn to glow,And while Song and Jest prevail,Nut-brown tankards circling flow.Wouldst thou wish such joys to share,Haste then to the Village Fair.”
“Trembling age, with happy smile,Youth’s high-mettled Gambols view,And by fancy warm’d awhile,Scenes of former bliss renew;Love repeats his tender tale,Cheeks responsive learn to glow,And while Song and Jest prevail,Nut-brown tankards circling flow.Wouldst thou wish such joys to share,Haste then to the Village Fair.”
“Trembling age, with happy smile,Youth’s high-mettled Gambols view,And by fancy warm’d awhile,Scenes of former bliss renew;Love repeats his tender tale,Cheeks responsive learn to glow,And while Song and Jest prevail,Nut-brown tankards circling flow.Wouldst thou wish such joys to share,Haste then to the Village Fair.”
Wisbech St. Mary’sRACES,And annual exhibition of Rustic Sports,Will this Year be celebrated with the usual Splendour, onWednesday and Thursday, June 28th and 29th, 1826.
This Annual Festivalis now considered as a superior Establishment to a Country Fair or other Merry-making, by the Numerous Respectable and Fashionable Assemblage of Company, who regularly attend from all parts of the Neighbourhood. Undisturbed by those scenes of intoxication and disorder, so usually prevalent at Village Feasts, the greatest harmony prevails throughout, and the superior Accommodation afforded by the Landlord of the WHEEL INN to all classes of well-behaved and respectable Visiters, cannot fail to render WISBECH ST. MARY’S RACES popular and attractive; or, in language morepoetical—
“To gild with Joy the Wings of Time.”
“To gild with Joy the Wings of Time.”
“To gild with Joy the Wings of Time.”
The Sports to consist of Horse, Pony, and Donkey Racing;—Wheelbarrow Racing;—Jumping in Sacks;—Jingling Matches, and Foot Racing; all for
FREE PRIZES.
And to add a greater stimulus to the aspiring PLOUGH BOY, and for the encouragement of Agriculture in general, the Stewards purpose having
A Ploughing Match,
When will be givena Sovereignfor the best, and aHalf-sovereignfor the second best Furrow, to be determined by impartial Judges chosen on the ground. The first Plough to start on Thursday Morning at Ten o’Clock precisely.
By the Ploughthe Poor Weaverdepends for his bread—By the Plough we in turn behold the rich mow—By the Plough all our tables with plenty are spread—Then who but must wishSuccess to the Plough!
By the Ploughthe Poor Weaverdepends for his bread—By the Plough we in turn behold the rich mow—By the Plough all our tables with plenty are spread—Then who but must wishSuccess to the Plough!
By the Ploughthe Poor Weaverdepends for his bread—By the Plough we in turn behold the rich mow—By the Plough all our tables with plenty are spread—Then who but must wishSuccess to the Plough!
A full Band is engaged to play loyal and popular Tunes during the Amusements, which will commence each Evening precisely at Five o’clock.
There’ll be a sound of revelry by night,And Saint Mary’s Village will assemble thenHer Maids and Ploughmen: and brightThe lights will shine o’er fair women and brave men;A thousand hearts beat happily! and whenMusic arises with its voluptuous swell,Soft eyes look love to eyes, which speak again,And all go merry as a marriage bell.
There’ll be a sound of revelry by night,And Saint Mary’s Village will assemble thenHer Maids and Ploughmen: and brightThe lights will shine o’er fair women and brave men;A thousand hearts beat happily! and whenMusic arises with its voluptuous swell,Soft eyes look love to eyes, which speak again,And all go merry as a marriage bell.
There’ll be a sound of revelry by night,And Saint Mary’s Village will assemble thenHer Maids and Ploughmen: and brightThe lights will shine o’er fair women and brave men;A thousand hearts beat happily! and whenMusic arises with its voluptuous swell,Soft eyes look love to eyes, which speak again,And all go merry as a marriage bell.
Tickets for the Ball to be had at the bar of the Wheel Inn.
(Leach, Printer, Wisbech.)
Mean Temperature 60·85.
On the twenty-ninth of June, 1813, died at his house in St. Alban’s-street, London, Valentine Green, Esq. A.R.S., keeper of the British Institution; greatly respected for his superior talents as a mezzotinto engraver, for the purity and universality of his taste in works of art, for the general urbanity of his manners, and for that invariable benignity of disposition, which, in popular language, is usually styled “goodness of heart.”
Mr. Green, besides his distinguished merit as an artist, acquired considerable reputation as an author, by publishing, in 1796, a valuable work, entitled, “The History and Antiquities of the City and Suburbs of Worcester,” in two quarto volumes; a performance of great research and labour. He was born at Salford, near Chipping-Norton, in Oxfordshire, October 3,1739.[233]
Mean Temperature 61·70.
[233]Butler’s Chron. Exercises.
[233]Butler’s Chron. Exercises.
All the world knows that London is famous for porter; it is not of this porter we speak to-day, but of a personage who derives his quality from the means by which he has attained the honour of doing credit to the corporation. The individual alluded to, was publicly made known by a police report of the thirtieth of June, 1826,viz.—
Mr. Alderman Wood came to the Mansion-house for the purpose of contradicting a statement which appeared in theCouriernewspaper, that he had persecuted a poor man, named Brown, and procured his discharge, for sticking up bills against him (Alderman Wood). He thought it worth while not to let such a statement go unanswered; for he never exercised such an influence in the course of his life, and he never heard of such a man until the charge was made in the newspaper. He wished to know whether there really was such a man connected with the Mansion-house establishment.
The Lord Mayor said, he believed there was such a man, not belonging to the Mansion-house, but to the Mansion-house porter. The fact was, that their porter, like the porter to the “Castle of Indolence,” had become so exceedingly fat, that he had employed a valet to do the only work which there was for him to do—namely, to sweep the gateway. This valet was the aforesaid Brown, in whom the liberty of the subject, and the constitution, was alleged to have been violated. How, or why, he had quitted the Mansion-house, the porter alone could tell.
The porter was then sent for, and he waddled into the justice-room. In answer to his lordship’s inquiries, he stated that he had employed Brown at half-a-crown per week, to sweep the door and do other work for him.
TheLord Mayor.—When did he absent himself from his duty?—The porter replied, it was about three weeks ago.
TheLord Mayor.—Did you discharge him from his office on constitutional grounds, or for acting against Mr. Alderman Wood?
ThePorter.—Bless your worship, no: I can’t tell why he went off.
Alderman Wood professed himself satisfied with this contradiction: he thought the affair unworthy of fartherattention. He had been challenged to prove his statement respecting the bills, and he had provedit.[234]
From this description of the “initial” to the Mansion-house, he seemed “a fit and proper person” to be taken by a “limner,” and represented, by the art of the engraver, to the readers of theEvery-Day Book. An artist every way qualified was verbally instructed to view him; but instead of transmitting his “faithful portrait,” he sent a letter, of which the following is a
Copy.To Mr. Hone.
Dear Sir,—I went this morning to the Mansion-house and had an interview with the porter, butthatporter was very different to what I expected to have found. Instead of a very fat lazy fellow, fatted by indolence, I found a short active little man, about five feet high, not fat, nor lean, buta comfortable size, dressed in black, powdered hair, and top boots, pleasing and easy in his manners, and such a one that every one would suppose would get an inferior person to do his dirty work. There is nothing extraordinary in him to be remarkable, therefore I made no sketch of him; but proceeded to Limehouse on a little business, and from thence home, and feel so excessively tired that I send this scrawl, hoping you will excuse me coming myself.
Yours respectfully,————
Between this gentleman’s “view of thesubject,” and the preceding “report,” there is a palpable difference; where the mistake lies, it is not in the power of the editor to determine. The letter-writer himself is “of a comfortable size,” and is almost liable to the suspicion of having seen the porter of the Mansion-house, from the opposite passage of the Mansion-house tavern, as through an inverted telescope. The lord mayor’s alleged comparison of the porter at his own gate, with the porter of the “Castle of Indolence,” may justify an extract of the stanzas wherein “thatporter,” and “his man,” are described.
Wak’d by the crowd, slow from his bench aroseA comely full spread porter, swoln with sleep:His calm, broad, thoughtless aspect, breath’d reposeAnd in sweet torpour he was plunged deep,Nor could himself from ceaseless yawning keep;While o’er his eyes the drowsy liquor ran,Thro’ which his half-wak’d soul would faintly peep—Then taking his black staff, he call’d his man,And rous’d himself as much as rouse himself he can.The lad leap’d lightly at his master’s call:He was, to weet, a little rogueish page,Save sleep and play who minded naught at all,Like most the untaught striplings of the age.This boy he kept each band to disengage,Garters and buckles, task for him unfit,But ill becoming his grave personage,And which his portly paunch would not permit,So this same limber page to all performed it.Meantime the master-porter wide display’dGreat store of caps, of slippers, and of gowns;Wherewith he those that enter’d in array’d.Loose, as the breeze that plays along the downs,And waves the summer-woods when evening frowns,O fair undress, best dress! it checks no vein,But every flowing limb in pleasure drowns,And heightens ease with grace, this done, right fainSir porter sat him down, and turned to sleep again.
Wak’d by the crowd, slow from his bench aroseA comely full spread porter, swoln with sleep:His calm, broad, thoughtless aspect, breath’d reposeAnd in sweet torpour he was plunged deep,Nor could himself from ceaseless yawning keep;While o’er his eyes the drowsy liquor ran,Thro’ which his half-wak’d soul would faintly peep—Then taking his black staff, he call’d his man,And rous’d himself as much as rouse himself he can.The lad leap’d lightly at his master’s call:He was, to weet, a little rogueish page,Save sleep and play who minded naught at all,Like most the untaught striplings of the age.This boy he kept each band to disengage,Garters and buckles, task for him unfit,But ill becoming his grave personage,And which his portly paunch would not permit,So this same limber page to all performed it.Meantime the master-porter wide display’dGreat store of caps, of slippers, and of gowns;Wherewith he those that enter’d in array’d.Loose, as the breeze that plays along the downs,And waves the summer-woods when evening frowns,O fair undress, best dress! it checks no vein,But every flowing limb in pleasure drowns,And heightens ease with grace, this done, right fainSir porter sat him down, and turned to sleep again.
Wak’d by the crowd, slow from his bench aroseA comely full spread porter, swoln with sleep:His calm, broad, thoughtless aspect, breath’d reposeAnd in sweet torpour he was plunged deep,Nor could himself from ceaseless yawning keep;While o’er his eyes the drowsy liquor ran,Thro’ which his half-wak’d soul would faintly peep—Then taking his black staff, he call’d his man,And rous’d himself as much as rouse himself he can.
The lad leap’d lightly at his master’s call:He was, to weet, a little rogueish page,Save sleep and play who minded naught at all,Like most the untaught striplings of the age.This boy he kept each band to disengage,Garters and buckles, task for him unfit,But ill becoming his grave personage,And which his portly paunch would not permit,So this same limber page to all performed it.
Meantime the master-porter wide display’dGreat store of caps, of slippers, and of gowns;Wherewith he those that enter’d in array’d.Loose, as the breeze that plays along the downs,And waves the summer-woods when evening frowns,O fair undress, best dress! it checks no vein,But every flowing limb in pleasure drowns,And heightens ease with grace, this done, right fainSir porter sat him down, and turned to sleep again.
Mean Temperature 61·40.
[234]The Times, July 1, 1826.
[234]The Times, July 1, 1826.