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Lobbin Clout.

Ah, woful day! ah, woful noon and morn! Ontmo near e!ms the flacken'd cord I hung, When Arst by thee my younglings' white wers Now 'high, now low, my Blouzelinda swung.

Thorn;
With the rude wind het rumpled garment rose, Then first, l' ween, I cft a lover's eye,
And thow'd her taper leg, and scarlet hose. My sheep were filly, but more filly 1.
Cuddy.

Beneath the shears they felt no lasting smart, Across the fallen oak the plank I laid,

They loft hat fleeces, while I lost a heart.

30 And myself puis'd against the tottering 'maid, Ah, Colin? canit thou leave thy sweetheart truc? High leap'd the plank; adown Buxonra fell; What I have done for thce, will Cicely do? I spy'd—but faithful sweethearts uever tell. Will she thy linen wath, or hofen darni, Lobin Closit.

And knit thce gloves made of her own spun yarn ? This riddie, Cudly, if chou canst explain, Will the with hofwife's hand provide thy meat ? This wily riddle puzzles every swain.

And every Sunday morn thy neckcloth plait, 6. What flower is that which bears the virgin's Which o'er thy kersey doublet spreading wide,

In service-time drew Cicely's eyes afile? * The richest metal joined with the same ?". Where'er l'gad, I cannot hide my care, Cuddy.

My new disasters in my look appear. Answer, thou carle, and judge this riddle right, White as the curd my ruddy cheek is grown, I'll frankly own thee for a cimning wight. So thin my features that I'm hardly knowi, 54 What flower is that which royal honour craves, Our neighbours tell me oft, in joking talk, Adjoin the virgin, and 'tia ftrowo'on graves ?" Of ashes, leather, oatmeal, bran, and chalk; Cloddipole.

Unwittingly of Marian they divine, Forbear, cnotending louts, give o'er your strains! And wist not that with thoughtful love I pine. An oaken staff each merits for his pains.

Yet Colin Clout, untoward thepherd swain,, But see the sun-beams bright to labour warn, Walks whistling blithe, while pitiful I plain. And gild the thatch of goodman Hodge's barn. Whilom with thee 'twas Marian's dear delight Your herds for want of water stand a-dry,

To uroil all day, and merry-make at night. 50 They're weary of your songs--and so anı I. If in the poil you guide the crooked share,

Your early breakfast is my conftant care ; TUESDAY; OR, THE DITTY. And'when with even hand you ftrow the grain,

I fright'the thievish rooks from off the plain. Marian.

In misliig days, when I may thresher heard, Young Colin Clout, a'lad of peerless meed, With nappy beer I to the barn repair'd; Full well could dance, and deftly ture the recd; Loft in the music of the whirling fail, In every wood his carols (weet were known, To gaze on the I left the smoking pail : At every wake his nimble feats were shown. In harvest when the fun was mounted high, When in the ring the rustic routs he threw, My leathern bottle did thy draught fupply ; The damsels' pleasures with his conquests grew; Whene'er you mow'd, I follow'd with the sake, Or when allant the cudgel threats his head, And have full oft been sun-burnt for thy take: His danger (nites the breast of every maid, When in the welkin gathering showers were seen, But chief of Marian. Marian lov'd the swain, I lagg'd the last with Colin on the green; 'The parson's maid, and neatest of the plain; And when at eve returning with thy car, Mariin, that soft could stryke the udder'd cow, Awaiting heard the jingling bells from far, Or leilen with her fieve the barley-mow; Straight on the fire the footy pot l' plac'd, Marbled with sage the hardening cheese she press’d, To warm thy broth i burnt my hands for haste. And yellow butter Marian's skill confess'd; When hungry thou flood'a faring, like an oal, But Marian now, devoid of coontry cares,

I nic'd the luncheon from the barley-loaf; 70 Nor yellow butter, nor fage cheese, prepares;

With crumbled bread I thicken'd well thy mess.'' For yearning love the witless maid employs, Ah, love nie more, or love thy pottage less! And love, fay swains,“ all busy heed defiroys." Last Friday's eve, when as the sun was fet, Colin makes mock at all-her piteous smart; 1, near yon file, three fallow gypsies met. Alals that Cicely hight had won his heart, Upon my hand they cast a poring look, Cicely the western lass that tends the kee,

Bid me beware, and thrice their heads they shook: The rival of the parson's maid was the.

They said that many crosses I must prove ; In dreary shade now. Marian lies along,

Some in my wordly gain, but moll in love. And, mixt with fighs, thus wails in plaining song: Next morn I miss'd three hens and our old cock,

And off the hedge two pioners and a smock; 80 Ver. 103-110 were not in the early editions, I bore these lolles with a Christian mind; I'er. 113. Marygold.

And no mishaps could feel while chou' wert kind. Ver. 117. Rofemary.

But since, alas: I grew my Colin's scorn, “ Dic quibus in terris infcripti nomina Regum Help me, ye gypsies; bring him home again,

I've known no pleasure, night, or noon, or morn. * Nascantur Flores."Vikg.

And to a constant lafs give back her fwain. I'er. 120.

“ Et vitula tu dignus et hic.”—VIRG. Have I not sat with thee full many a night, «r.21. Kee, a well cuniry word for kine or cows, When dying embers were our only light,

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Dumops, a king of Egypt, ibat built a pyramid, and died v selancboly. So mapes, after the fanne manner, is est:quaries bave cerjeclured ibat dumps, which is a grierous heaviness of fpirits, comes from the word " Immemor herbarum quos ert mirata juvenca # To mihi, feu magni superas jam faxa Timavi,

Ver. 11. An opera written by ibis author, called, be is also famous for bis jong on the Newmarket borje.

When every creature did in flumbers lie,

Yet suffer me, thou hard of wond'rous meed, Beldes our cat, my Colin Clout, and I?

#l. 90 Amid thy bays to weave this rural weed. No troublous thoughts the cat or Colin move,

Now the sun drove adown the weftera road, While I alone am kept awake by love.

And oxen laid at rell forgot the goad, Remember, Colin, when at last year's wake The clown fatigucu truug'd homeward with his I bought the costly present for thy fake;

ípade, Could't thou speil o'er the poly on thy knife,

Across the ineadouts Nretch'd the lengthen'd shade; And with another change thy Ilace of life? When Sparabella, pemive and forlorn, If thou forget'it, I wot, I can repeat,

Alike with yearning love and labour worn, My memary can tell the verse fo [weet ;

Lean’il on her rake, and straight with doleful guise " As this is gras'd upon this knife of thine, Did this sad plaint in mournful notes devise. " So is thy image on this heart of mine."

Come night as dark as pitch, surround my head, Bu koe is me! Such presents lucklefs prove, Fron Sparabella Bumkinet is fled ; For knives, they tell me, always sever love.

The ribbon that his valorous cudgel won, Thus Marian waild, her eyes with tears brim Laf Sunday happier Clumsilis put on. full,

Sure if he'd eyes (but love they say has none) When Goody Dobbins brought her cow to bull. I whilom by that ribbon had been known. With apron blue to dry her tears she fought ; Ah, well-a-day! I'm fhent with baneful smart, Then saw the cow well serv'd, and took a groat.

For with the ribbon he bekow'd his heart.

" My plaint, ye lasīts, with this burthen aid,

“ 'Tis hard so true a damiel dies a maid." WEDNESDAY; OR, THE DUMP3 *.

Shall heavy Clumsulis with me compare?

View this, ye lovers, and like me despair.
Sparabella.

Her blubber'd lip by smutty pipes is worn,
The wailings of a maiden ( recite,,

And in her breath tobacco whiffs are borne! A insiden fair that Sparabella bight.

The clearly cheese-press she could never turn, Such frzins ne'er, warble in the linnet's throat, Her aukward fit did ne'er employ the churn; Nor the gay goldánch chaunts so sweet a note. Ife'er she brew'd, the drink would straight go four,

magpye chatter'd, nor the painted jay, Before it ever felt the thunder's power; No ox was heard to low, nor als to bray ;

No housewifery the dowdy creature knew; No rugling breezes play'd the leaves among, To sum up all, her tongue confefs'd the ihrew. While thus her madrigal the damsel sung.

My plaint, ye lases, with this burchen aid, A while, o d'Orfey, lend an ear or twain “'Tis hard so true a damfel dies a maid." Not

, though in homely guise, my verse dililain ; 10 I've often seen my visage in yon lake, Whether thou seek's new kingdoms in the fun,

Nor are my features of the homeliest make : 50 Whether thy mufe does at Newmarket run, Though Clumsilis may boast a whiter dye, Or does with goslips at a feat regale,

Yet, the black Doe ourns in my rolling eye ; And heighten her conceits with lack and ale, And firelt blocons drop with every blast, Or elle cat wakes with Jian and Hodge rejoice,

But the brown beauty will like hollies last. Where d'Urfey's lyrics twell in every voice;

Fler wan complexion's like the wither'd lock,

While Katherine pears adorn my ruddy check. or dumbs, made use of to express a fit of Yet the, alas: the witless lout hath won, the fullens. Some bave pretended that it is derived from And by her gain poor Sparabell's undone !

Let hares and hounds in coupling {traps unite. 59

The clucking hen make friendfhip with the kite; s, ibat died of tbe Fume dijłemper. But our Englifo from Merops, anorber Egyptiau

Ver. 17. Meed, an old wort for fame or renowa.
Ver. 18.

-" Hanc fine tempora circum
dumplin
, the beaviest kind of pudding that is eaten in this

“ Inter vi&rices ederam cibi ferpere laurou.” trg; mucho ufcat in Norfolk, and other counties of

Virg. Ver. 25.“ Incumbens tereti Damon fit cæpit " olivæ."

Virg.
Ver. 33. Shent, an old word, finifying lurt or

harmed
quorum ftupefa de ca: mine lyrces,
Ei mucata luos sequierunt flumina curfus."

Mopso Nisa datur, quid non spereVIRG.

nius amantes?" -Ving.

“ Nec fuin adeo informis, nuper me in

" littore vidi." Viro. -Virg.

“ Aiba ligustra cadunt, vaccinia nigra

leguntur.” VIRG. or the Kingdom of Birds ;"

“ Jungentur jam gryphes equis; ævoque sequenti “ Cuin canibus timidi venient ad pocula daruz.”

VIRG.,

Dumps,

beazbi to bave come

England,

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Ver. 37

Ver. 9.

Ver. 49.

"Sive or am Illyrici legis aquoris"

Ver. 53.

# The World in the Sun,

l'er. 59

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Let the fox simply wear the nuptial noose, That stool, the dread of every scolding queag
And join in wedlock with the wadd'ling goose ; Yet, sure a lover should not die so mean !
For love hath brought a stranger thing to pass, There plac'd aloft, I'll rave and rail by fits,
The faireft shepherd weds the foulest lafs.

Through all the parish fay I've lost my wits; 115 “ My plaint, ye laffes, with this barthen aid, And thence, if courage holds, myself I'll throw, " 'Tis hard so true a damsel dies a maid.”

And quench my passio: in the lake below. Sooner shall cats disport in waters clear,

“ Ye laffes, cease your burden, cease to moan, And speckled mackrel graze the meadows fair; “ And, by my case forewarn'd, go mind your own." Sooner thall screech-owls balk in sunny day,

The sun was fet ; the night came on apace, And the flow ass on trees, like squirrels, play; 70 And falling dews bewet around the place; Sooner shall snails on insect pinions rove;

The bat takes airy rounds on leathern wings, Than I forget my shepherd's wonted love. And the hoarse owl his woful dirges fings;

“My plaint, ye laffes, with this burthen aid, The prudent maiden deems it now too late, 'Tis hard so true a damsel dies a maid."

And till to-morrow comes defers her face. I20
Ah! didit thou know what proffers I withstood,
When late I met the 'squire in yonder wood!

THURSDAY; OR, THE SPELL.
To me he sped, regardless of his game,
While all my cheek was glowing red with shame;

Hobnelia.
My lip he kiss’d, and prais'd my healthful look,
Then from his purse of filk a guinea took, 80

HOBNELIA, feated in a dreary vale,
Into my hand he forc'd the tempting gold,

In pensive mood rehears'd her piteous tale; While I with modelt fruggling broke his hold.

Her piteous tale the winds in fighs bemoan, He swore that Dick, in livery striped with lace,

And pining Echo answers groan for groan. Should wed me foon, to keep me from disgrace ;

I rue the day, a rueful day I trow, But I nor footman priz'd, nor golden see;

The woful day, a day indeed of wo! For what is lace or gold compar'd to thee?

When Lubberkin to town his cattle drove, “ My plaint, ye lasses, with this burthen aid,

A maiden fine bedight he hapt to love ; " 'Tis hard so true a damsel dies a maid.”

The maiden fine bedight his love retains, Now plain I ken whence love his rise begun;

And for the village he forsakes the plains. 10 Sure he was born some bloody butcher's son, 90

Return, my Lubberkin, these ditties hear; Bred up in shambles, where our younglings Nain

Spells will I try, and spells shall ease my care. Erft taught him mischief, and to sport with pain.

“ With my sharp heel I three times mark the The father only Glly sheep annoys,

ground, The lon the lillier Shepherdess destroys.

u And turn me thrice around, around, around.” Does son or father greater mischief do?

When first the year I heard the cuckow fing, The fire is cruel, fo the fon is too.

And call with welcome note the budding spring, " My plaint, ye laffes, with this burthen aid, I straightway set a-running with such halte, " 'Tis hard fo truc a damfel dies a maid.” (Alow; Deborah that won the smock scarce ran so fast; Farewell

, ye woods, ye meads, ye streans that Till spent for lack of breath, quite weary grown,' A sudden death shall rid me of iny woe.

Upon a rifing bank I'fat adown, This penknife keen my windpipe shall divide.

Then doff's my shoe, and by my troth, I swear, What! shall I fall as squeaking pigs have dy'd!

Therein I fpy'd this yellow frizzled hair, No:-To some tree this carcale l'il sufpend.

As like to Lubberkin's in curl and hue, But worrying curs find such untimely end !

As if upon his comely pate it grew. I'll speed me to the pond, where the high fool “ With my sharp heel I three times mark the On the long plavk hangs o'er the muddy pool,

ground,

“ And turn nte thrice around, around, around." Ver. 67.

At cve last midsummer no fleep I fought, " Ante leves ergo pafcentur in æthere cervi,

But to the field a bag of hemp-feed brought; “ Et freta deftituert nudos in litcore pisces

I scatter'd round the feed on every fide, Hi Quàm noftro illius labetur pectore vulrus"

And three times in a trembling accent cry'd, 30 VIRG.

“ This hemp-seed with my virgin hand i fow, Ver. 89. To ken. Scire. Cbaucer, to ken, and kend;

« Who shall my true love be, the crop shall mow." notus 1. §. cunnan. Gotb. kunnan. Germanis, kennen. 1 Atrait look'd back, and, if my eyes speak truth, Danis, kiende. Iflandis, kunoa. Bely:., kennen. This

With his keen scythe behind me came the youth. word is of general use, but not very common, tbough not

“ With my sharp heel I three times mark the

ground, unknown to ibe vulgar Ken for prospicere is well

“ And turn me thrice around, around, atound." known, and used to discover by the eye-RAY, F. R. S.

Laft Valentine, the day when birds of kind " Nunc scio quid fit amor, &c.

Their paramours with mutual chirpings find; " Crudelis mater magis an puer improbus ille ? * Improbus ille púer, crudelis tu quoque mater.'

VIRG. Ver. 8. Dight, or bedight, from the Saxor work

" -vivite fylvæ : dighcan, which fignifies to set in order. * Præceps aërii speculâ de montis in undas Ver. 21. Doff and don, contreded from the wordt " Deferar." Virg.

do off and do on,

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Ver. 99.

I rearly rose, just at the break of day,

I pare this pippin round and round again,
Before the sun had chas'd the stars away ; 40 My shepherd's name to flourish on the plain,
M-field I went, amid the morning dew

I Aing th' unbroken paring o'er my head,
To milk my kine (for so should huswives do); Upon the grass a perfect L is read;
Thee firft i spy'd ; and the first swain we see, Yet on my heart a fairer L is seen,
In spite of fortune shall our true-love be.

Than what the paring makes upon the green. See, Lubberkin, each bird his partner take ;

“ With my sharp heel | three tinies mark the And canst thou then thy sweetheart dear forsake? ground, " With my sharp heel I three times mark the " And rurn me thrice around, around, around." ground.

This pippin thall another trial make, * And turn me thrice around, around, around." See from the core two kernels brown I take; too

Laft May.day fair I search'd to find a snail, This on my cheek for Lubherkin is worn;
That might my secret lover's name reveal. So And Boobyclod on t' other side is borne.
Upon a gooseberry-bush a snail I found

But Boobyclod soon drops upon the ground, (For always snails near sweetest fruit abound). A certain token that his love's unfound; I seiz'd the vermine, whom I quickly sped, While Lubberkin Atıcks firmly to the last : And on the earth the milk-white embers spread. Oh were his lips to mine but join'd so fast! Slow crawld the snail, and, if a right can spell, " With my sharp heel I three times mark the lo che soft alhes mark'd a curious L;

ground, Oh, may this wond'rous omen lucky prove ! " And turn me thrice around, around, around." For L is found in Lubberkin and Love. [ground, As Lubberkin once slept beneath a tree,

"With my sharp heel I three times mark the ! twitch'd his dangling garter from his knee, 110 " And turn me tbrice around, around, around.”. He wist not when the hempen Atring i drew.

Two hazel nuts I threw into the flame, 61 Now mine I quickly doff, of inkle blue.
And to each nut I gave a sweetheart's name ; Together fait I tye the garters twain ;
This with the loudert bounce me fore amaz'd, And while I knit the knot repeat this strain :
That in a flame of brightest colour blaz'd. “ Three times a true-love's knot I tye secure,
As blaz'd the nat, so may thy paffion grow; “ Firm be the knot, firm may his love endure!"
For 'twas thy nut that did so brightly glow. " With my sharp heel I three times mark the
"With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground,
ground,

" And turn me thrice around, around, around." " And turn me thrice around, around, around." As I was wont, I trudg'd last market-day,

As peasecods once I pluck’d, I chanc'd co see, To town, with new-laid eggs preserv'd in hay. 120
One that was closely fili'd with three times three, I made my market long before 'twas night,
Which when I cropp'd I safely home convey'd, 71 My purfe grew heavy, and my basket light.
And o'er the door the spell in secret laid ; Strait to the 'pothecary's shop I went,
My wheel I corn'd, and sung a ballad new, And in love-powder all my money spent.
While from the spindle I the fleeces drew;: [in Behap what will, next Sunday after prayers,
The latch mov'd up, when, who hould first come When to the ale-house Lubberkin repairs,
But
, in his proper person--Lubberkin.

l'hele golden flies into his mug I'll throw,
I broke my yarn, surpris'd the light to see; And soon the (wain with fervent love fhall glow.
Sure lign that he would break his word with me. “ With my sharp heel I three times mark the
Eftsoonis I join'd it with my wonted Night:

ground,

129 So may again his love with mine unite! 80 " And turn me thrice around, around, around." " With my fharp heel I three times mark the But hold-our Lightfoot barks, and cocks his ground,

ears, "And turn me thrice around, around, around.” O'er yonder file sec Lubberkin appears. This lady-fly I take from off the grass,

He comes ! he comes! Hobnelia's not bewray'd, Whose spotted back might scarlet red surpass, Nor shall the crown'd with willow die a maid.

Fly, lady-bird, north, south, or caft, or wet, He vows, he swears, he'll give me a green gown : "Fly where the man is found that I love belt.” O dear! I fall adown, adown, adown! He leaves my hand; see to the west he's flown, To call my true love from the faithlefs town. 89 " With my tharp heel I three times mark the ground,

“ Necte tribus nodis ternos, Amarylli, colores : "And turn me thrice around, around, around." “ Necte, Amarylli, modo; et Veneris dic vincu.

« la nedo." -Viro. Ver. 66. -εγώ δ' επί Δελφιδι δάφναν Αίθω. χ ώς αυτά λαχεει, μεγα καππυρίσασα.

“ Has herbas, atque hæc Ponto mihi le&ta venenz

Ipse dedit Meris,"VIRG.

Tueoc.
Ver. 66. “ Daphnis me malus urit, ego hanc in Ver. 127. -Ποτών κακόν αύριον οίτω. THEOc.

“ Daphnide."-Virg.
“ Transque caput jace; ne refpex - Ver. 131. “ Nescio quid certe est; et Hylax in
YIRG,

limine latrat." -Viro.

Ver. 109.

Ver. 123

Ver. 93:

* eris."

FRIDAY, OR, THE DIRGE'.

Where'er 1 gad, I Blouzelind (kall viero,

Woods, dairy, barn, and mows, our passion knews BUMKINET, GRUBBINOL.

When I direct my eyes to yonder wood,

Fresh rising forrow curdles in my blood.
Bumbinet.

Thither I've often been the damsel's guide,
W1Y, Grabbinol, dost thou so wistful feem?

When rotien sticks our fuel have supply'd; There's forrow in thy look, if right I deemn. There I remember how her faggots large "Tis crue, yon oaks with yellow tops appear, Were frequently these happy shoulders charge. And chilly blasts begin to nip the year ;

Sometimes this crook drew hazel-boughs adown, From the tall elm a shower of leaves is borne,

And stuff'd her apron wide with nuts to brown; so And their lost beauty riven beeches mouro. Or when her feeding hogs had miss'd their way, Yet ev’n this season pleasar.ce blithe affords,

Or wallowing 'mid a feat of acorns lay; Now the squet z'd press foams with our apple Th’untoward creatures to the stye I drove, hoards.

And whistled all the way or told my love. Come, let us hie, and quaff a cheery bowl,

If by the dairy's hatch I chanc'd to hie, Let cyder new“ waih sorrow froni thy soul.” 10 I shall her goodly countenance espy: Grubbinol.

For there her goodly countenance I've feen, Ah, Bumkinet! since thou from hence wert gone, Set off with kerchief starch'd and pinficrs elean. From these lad plains all merriment is flown; Sometimes, like wax, the rolls her butter round, Should I reveal my grief, 'cwould spoil thy cheer, or with the wooden lily prints the pound. 60 And make thine eye o'erflow with many a tear. Whilom I've seen her ikim the clouted cream, Bumkinet.

And press from spungy curds the milky stream: “ Hang sorrow!" Let's to yonder hut repair,

But now, alas! these cars fhall hear po more And with trim sonnets“ caft away our care.” The whining swine furround the dairy door; “ Gillian of Croydon" well thy pipe can play; No more her care shall fill the hollow tray, Thou fing'st most sweet,“ O'er hills and far away."

To fat the guzzling hogs with foods of whey. Of“ Patient Griffel” | devise to fing,

Lament, ye fwine, in grunting spend your grief, And catches quaint hall make the vallies ring. 20 For you, like me, have lost your sole relief. Come, Grubbinol, beneath this shelter, come; When in the barn the founding flaill ply, From hence we view our flocks securely roam. Where from her fieve the chalf was wont to fly ;! Grubbinol.

The poultry there will seem around to stand,' 71 Yes, blithsome lad, a tale I mean to sing, Waiting upon her charitable hand. But with my woe shall distant vallies ring.

No succour meet the poultry now can find, The tale fhall make our kidlings droop their head, for they, like me, have lost their Blouzelind. For, woes is me!-our Blouzelind is dead;

Whenever by yon barley-mow I pass,
Bumkinet.

Before my eyes will trip the tidy lals.
Is Blouzelinda dead? farewell, my glee !

I pitch'd the theaves, (oh, could I do fo now!) No happiness is now reserv'd for me.

Which she in rows pil'd on the growing mow. As the wood-pigeon cooes without his mate, There every deale my heart by love was gain'd, So fall my doleful dirge bewail her fate.

30 There the sweet kiss my courtship has explain d. 80 Of Blouzelinda fair I mean to tell,

Ah, Blouzelind! that mow I ne'er shall see, The peerless maid that did all maids excel.

But thy memorial will revive in me. Henceforth the morn thall dewy forrow shed, Lament, ye fields, and rueful symptoms show ; And evening tears upon the grass be spread; Henceforth let not the smelling primrose grow ; The rolling streams with watery grief thall low, Let weeds, instead of butter-flowers appear, And wirds thall moan aluud--when loud they | And meads, instead of daisies, hemlock bear; blow.

For cow slips sweet, let dandelions spread; Henceforth, as oft' as autumn Mall return, For Blouzelinda, blithsome maid, is dead! The dropping trees, whene'er it rains, thall mourn, Lament, ye swains, and o'er her grave bemoan, The leason quite shall ftrip the country's pride, And spell ye right this verse upon her stone : 90 For 'twas in autumn Blouzelinda dy d. 40 “ Here Blouzelinda lies---Alas, alas!

“ Weep, shepherds--and remember felh is grass." * Dirge, or Dyrge, a mournful dilly, or fong of la

Grubbinol. mentation over the dead; not a contraction of the La Albeit thy songs are sweeter to mine ear, tia Dirige, in the Popis Hymn, Dirige gressus meos, Than to the thirsty catcle rivers clear; as fome pretend. But from the Teutonic Dyrke, Laudare, to praise and catol. Whence it is possible their Ver. 84. Dyrke, and our dirge, was a laudatory fong to comme“ Pro molli violâ, pro purpurco narcisso, :coute and applaud sbe dead. COWELL’s interprcter.

Carduus et fpinis surgit paliurus acutis." Virg. " Incipe, Mepre, prior, fi quos aut Phyllidis ignes “ Et tumulum facite, et cumulo fuperaddite car* Aut Alconis habes laudes, aut jurgia Codri.”

men."

VIRG. VIRG Per. 27. Gee joy; from the Dutch Glooren, te “ Tale cuum carmen nobis, divine poeta, recrcate.

" Quale fopor fellis in gramine : quale per ufum

Ver. 15.

Ver. 90.

Ver. 03.

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