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SIXTH PASTORAL.
Long-silken laces hang upon the twine, 75And rows of pins and amber bracelets shine;How the tight lass, knives, combs and scissars spys,And looks on thimbles with desiring eyes.Of lott'ries next with tuneful note he told,Where silver spoons are won and rings-of gold. 80The lads and lasses trudge the street along,And all the fair is crouded in his song.The mountebank now treads the stage and sells,His pills, his balsams, and his ague spells;Now o'er and o'er the nimble tumbler springs, 85And on the rope the vent'rous maiden swings;Jack-pudding in his parti-coloured jacket,Tosses the glove, and jokes at ev'ry packet.Of raree-shows he sung, and Punch's feats,Of pockets pick'd in crowds, and various cheats. 90 Then sad he sung the Children in the wood:Ah barb'rous uncle, stain'd with infant blood!How blackberrys they pluck'd in desarts wild,And fearless at the glitt'ring faulchion smil'd;Their little corps the robin-red-breast found, 95And strow'd with pious bill the leaves around.Ah gentle birds!, if this verse lasts so long,[1]Your names shall live for ever in my song. For buxom Joan he sung the doubtful strife,[2]How the sly sailor made the maid a wife. 100To louder strains he ra1s'd his voice, to tellWhat woeful wars in Chevy-chase befell,When Piercy drove the dear with hound and horn,Wars to be wept by children yet unborn!Ah With'rington, more years thy life had crown'd, 105If thou hadst never heard the horn or hound!
Yet
