SONG XL.*

GENTLY stir, and blow the fire,
Lay the mutton down to roast;
Dress it quickly, I desire,

In the dripping put a toast,
That I hunger may remove;
Mutton is the meat I love,

On the dresser see it lie,

Oh! the charming white and red!

Finer meat ne'er met my eye,

On the sweetest grass it fed:

Let the jack go swiftly round,
Let me have it nicely brown'd.

On the table spread the cloth,

Let the knives be sharp and clean :
Pickles get and sallad both,

Let them each be fresh and green :
With small beer, good ale, and wine,
Oh! ye gods, how I shall dine!

* A sort of parody on some verses by A. Bradley, beginning thus:

Gently strike the warbling lyre,

Chloe seems inelin'd to rest;

Soothe her soul to soft desire,

Softest sounds will suit her best, &c.

SONG XLI.

THE POWER OF MUSIC.

(Imitated from the Spanish.*)

BY DR. LISLE.

WHEN Orpheus went down to the regions below,
Which men are forbidden to see,

He tun'd up his lyre, as old histories show,
To set his Euridice free.

All hell was astonish'd a person so wise
Should rashly endanger his life,

And venture so far-but how vast their surprise!
When they heard that he came for his wife.

To find out a punishment due to his fault,
Old Pluto long puzzled his brain;
But hell had not torments sufficient he thought,
-So he gave him his wife back again.

But pity succeeding found place in his heart,
And pleas'd with his playing so well,
He took her again in reward of his art;
Such merit had music in hell!

* [An answer to this has been written in the way of echo, and in defence of the fair-sex, whom the Spanish author treated with such libellous sarcasm.]

SONG XLII.

THE GOSSIPS.

Two gossips they merrily met,
At nine in the morning full soon;
And they were resolv'd for a whet,
To keep their sweet voices in tune.
Away to the tavern they went;

Here Joan, I vow and protest,

That I have a crown yet unspent,

'Come let's have a cup of the best.'

And I have another, perhaps

A piece of the very same sort ;

Why should we sit thrumming of caps, 'Come, drawer, and fill us a quart! And let it be liquor of life, 'Canary, or sparkling wine! For I am a buxom young wife, ' And I love to go gallant and fine.'

The drawer, as blithe as a bird, Came skipping with cap in his hand, 'Dear ladies, I give you my word, 'The best shall be at your command.' A quart of canary he drew,

Joan fill'd up a glass and begun, 'Here gossip's a bumper to you :''I'll pledge you, girl, were it a tun.'

And, pray gossip, did'nt you hear 'The common report of the town? 'A squire of five hundred a year

6 Is married to Doll of the Crown: 'A draggle-tail'd slut, on my word, 'Her clothes hanging ragged and foul; 'In troth he would fain have a bird, 'That would give a groat for an owl.

' And she had a sister last year, 'Whose name they call'd Galloping Peg; 'She'd take up a straw with her ear,

6

́ I warrant her right as my leg!

A brewer he got her with child,

'But e'en let them brew as they bake;

'I knew she was wanton and wild,
'But I'll neither meddle nor make.'

Nor I, gossip Joan, by my troth,

Though nevertheless I've been told, 'She stole seven yards of broad cloth, 'A ring and a locket of gold;

'A smock and a new pair of shoes;

A flourishing madam was she :

'But Margery told me the news,

'We were at a gossiping club,

Where we had a chirruping cup,

"Of good humming liquor, strong bub! 'Your husband's name there it was up, For bearing a powerful sway,

'All neighbours his valour have seen ;

For he is a cuckold they say,—
A constable, gossip, I mean.

Dear gossip, a slip of the tongue,
'No harm was intended in mind:
'Chance words they will mingle among
'Our others, we commonly find.
I hope you won't take it amiss.”-

6 No, no, that were folly in us;
And if we perhaps get a kiss,

Pray what are our husbands the worse?'

SONG XLIII.

OF AN OLD COURTIER AND A NEW.

WITH an old song made by an old ancient pate,
Of an old worshipful gentleman, who had a great estate,
Who kept an old house at a bountiful rate,
And an old porter to relieve the poor at his gate;
Like an old courtier of the queen's,

[And the queen's old courtier.]

With an old lady, whose anger one good word assuages, Who every quarter pays her old servants their wages, Who never knew what belongs to coachmen, footmen, and pages,

But kept twenty thrifty old fellows with blue coats and badges;

Like an old courtier, &c.