23
Here lay overturn'd, in woeful plight,
a pedlar and his pack.
There in a showman's broken box
all London went to rack.
But now the fates decreed to stop
the ruin of the day.
And make the gig and driver toe,
a heavy reckoning pay.
A ditch there lay both broad and deep,
whose dreams were black as styx,
From ev'ry quarter of the town
their muddy currents mix.
Down to its brink in heedless hade,
the frantic horses flew.
And in the midst, with sudden jerk,
their burden overthrew.
The prostrate gig with desperate force
they soon pull’d out again,
And at their heels, in ruin dire,
dragg'd lumbering o'er the plain.
Here lay a wheel, the axle there,
the body still remain’d,
Till sever’d limb from limb, the car
nor name nor shape retain'd.
But Jehu must not be forgot,
left floundering in the flood,
With clothes all drench'd and mouth and eyes
be plaster’d o’er with mud.
