"Let fops with fickle falsehood range

"The paths of wanton love,

"While weeping maids lament their change, "And sadden ev'ry grove:

"But endless blessings crown the day

"I saw fair Esham's dale!

"And ev'ry blessing find its way

"To Nancy of the Vale.

"'Twas from Avona's banks the maid

"Diffus'd her lovely beams,

"And ev'ry shining glance display'd

"The Naiad of the streams.

"Soft as the wild-duck's tender young,

"That float on Avon's tide,

"Bright as the water-lily, sprung,

"Her shape was like the reed so sleek,

"So taper, straight, and fair;

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"Her dimpled smile, her blushing cheek,

"How charming sweet they were!

"Far in the winding vale retir'd,

"This peerless bud I found,

"And shadowing rocks and woods conspir'd 35 "To fence her beauties round.

"That Nature in so lone a dell
"Should form a nymph so sweet!
"Or Fortune to her secret cell
"Conduct my wand'ring feet!

"Gay lordlings sought her for their bride, "But she would ne'er incline:'

"Prove to your equals true," she cry'd,

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"Struck with her charms and gentle truth,

"I clasp'd the constant fair;

"To her alone I gave my youth,

“And vow my future care.

"And when this vow shall faithless prove,

"Or I those charms forego,

"The stream that saw our tender love,

"That stream shall cease to flow.

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THE RAPE OF THE TRAP.

A BALLAD, 1737.

'Twas in a land of learning,

The Muses' fav'rite city,

Such pranks of late

Were play'd by a rat,
As-tempt one to be witty.

All in a college study,

Where books were in great plenty,
This rat would devour

More sense in an hour

Than I could write-in twenty.

Corporeal food, 't is granted,
Serves vermine less refin'd, Sir;

But this a rat of taste,

All other rats surpass'd,

And he prey'd on the food of the mind, Sir.

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His breakfast half the morning

He constantly attended;

And when the bell rung

For ev'ning song

His dinner scarce was ended!

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He spar'd not ev'n heroics,
On which we poets pride us,
And would make no more
Of King Arthurs* by the score
Than-all the world beside does.

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Was bought, you need not doubt on 't,

And such was the gin,

Were a lion once got in,

He could not, I think, get out on 't.

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With cheese, not books, 't was baited;

But more of Trap and bait, Sir,
Why should I sing, or either?

Since the rat, who knew the sleight,
Came in the dead of night,

And dragg'd 'em away together.

Both Trap and bait were vanish'd

'Thro' a fracture in the flooring, Which tho' so trim

It now may seem

Had then-a dozen or more in.

Then answer this, ye sages!
Nor deem I mean to wrong ye,

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Dan Prior's Mice, I own it,
Were vermine of condition;
But this rat, who merely learn'd
What rats alone concern'd,
Was the greater politician.

That England's topsyturvy'
Is clear from these mishaps, Sir;
Since Traps we may determine,
Will no longer take our vermine,
But vermine* take our Traps, Sir.

* Written at the time of the Spanish depredations.

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