Done by the AUTHOR in his Youth.
CHAUCER.
OMEN ben full of Ragerie,
Yet fwinken nat fans fecrefie.
Thilke moral fhall ye understond,
From Schoole-boy's Tale of fayre Irelond:
Which to the Fennes hath him betake,
To filche the gray Ducke fro the Lake.
Right then, there passen by the way
His Aunt, and eke her Daughters tway.
Ducke in his Trowfes hath he hent,
Not to be spied of Ladies gent.
"But ho! our Nephew, (crieth one)
"Ho! quoth another, Cozen John;
And stoppen, and lough, and callen out,-
This filly Clerk full low doth lout:
They afken that, and talken this,
"Lo here is Coz, and here is Miss.
But, as he glozeth with Speeches foote,
The Ducke fore tickleth his Erfe roote:
Fore-piece and buttons all-to-brest,
Forth thruft a white neck, and red creft.
Te-he, cry'd Ladies; Clerke nought spake:
Mifs ftar'd; and gray Ducke crieth Quaake.
"O.Moder, Moder, (quoth the daughter)
"Be thilke fame thing Maids longer a'ter?
"Bette is to pyne on coals and chalke,
"Then truft on Mon, whofe yerde can ta'ke.
N ev'ry Town, where Thamis rolls his Tyde,
A narrow Pass there is, with Houfes low;
Where ever and anon, the Stream is ey❜d,
And many a Boat soft sliding to and fro.
There oft are heard the notes of Infant Woe,
The fhort thick Sob, loud Scream, and fhriller Squall:
How can ye, Mothers, vex your Children fo?
Some play, fome eat, fome cack against the wall,
And as they crouchen low, for bread and butter call.
And on the broken pavement, here and there,
Doth many a stinking sprat and herring lie;
A brandy and tobacco fhop is near,
And hens, and dogs, and hogs are feeding by;
And here a failor's jacket hangs to dry.
At ev'ry door are fun-burnt matrons seen,
Mending old nets to catch the fcaly fry;
Now fmging fhrill, and fcolding eft between ;
Scolds anfwer foul-mouth'd fcolds; bad neighbour-
hood I ween.
The fnappifh cur (the paffengers annoy)
Clofe at my heel with yelping treble flies;
The whimp'ring girl, and hoarfer-screaming boy,
Join to the yelping treble, fhrilling cries;
The fcolding Quean to louder notes doth rise,
And her full pipes those fhrilling cries confound;
To her full pipes the grunting hog replies;
The grunting hogs alarm the neighbours round,
And curs, girls, boys, and fcolds, in the deep base
are drown'd.
Hard by a Sty, beneath a roof of thatch,
Dwelt Obloquy, who in her early days
Baskets of fish at Billingsgate did watch,
Cod, whiting, oyfter, mackrel, fprat, or plaice:
There learn'd fhe fpeech from tongues that never cease,
Slander befide her, like a Mag-pie, chatters,
With Envy, (fpitting Cat) dread foe to peace;
Like a curs'd Cur, Malice before her clatters,
And vexing ev'ry wight, tears clothes and all to tatters,
Her dugs were mark'd by ev'ry Collier's hand,
Her mouth was black as bull-dogs at the stall :
She fcratched, bit, and fpar'd ne lace ne band,
And bitch and rogue her anfwer was to all;
Nay, c'en the parts of fhame by name would call:
Yea, when the paffed by or lane or nook,
Would greet the man who turn'd him to the Wall, And by his hand obfcene the porter took,
Nor ever did afkance like modest Virgin look.
Such place hath Deptford, navy building town,
Woolwich and Wapping, smelling strong of pitch;
Such Lambeth, envy of each band and gown,
And Twick'nam fuch, which fairer scenes enrich,
Grots, ftatues, urns, and Jo-n's Dog and Bitch,
Ne village is without, on either fide,
All up the filver Thames, or all adown;
Ne Richmond's felf, from whofe tall front are ey'd Vales, fpires, meandring ftreams, and Windfor's tow'ry pride.
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