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No womanish or wailing grief has part,
The grain, or herb, or plant, that each demands;
And share the joys your bounty may create; To mark the matchless workings of the pow'r, That shuts within it's seed the future flow'r, Bids these in elegance of form excel,
In colour these, and those delight the smell, Sends Nature forth the daughter of the skies, To dance on Earth, and charm all human eyes;
To teach the canvass innocent deceit,
Employs, shut out from more important views,
THE YEARLY DISTRESS,
TITHING TIME AT STOCK, IN ESSEX.
Verses addressed to a country Clergyman, complaining of the disagreeableness of the day annually appointed for receiving the dues at the parsonage.
COME, ponder well, for 'tis no jest,
This priest he merry is, and blithe
But oh! it cuts him like a sithe,
He then is full of fright and fears,
And long before the day appears
For then the farmers come jog, jog,
Along the miry road,
Each heart as heavy as a log,
To make their payments good.
In sooth, the sorrow of such days
When he that takes and he that pays
Now all unwelcome at his gates
The clumsy swains alight,
With rueful faces and bald pates→→
He trembles at the sight.
And well he may, for well he knows
So in they come-each makes his leg, And flings his head before,
And looks as if he came to beg,
And not to quit a score.
"And how does miss and madam do,
"The little boy and all?
"All tight and well. And how do you, "Good Mr. What-d'ye-call?"
The dinner comes, and down they sit:
One wipes his nose upon his sleeve,
One spits upon the floor,
Yet, not to give offence or grieve,
The punch goes round, and they are dull
And lumpish still as ever;
They only weigh the heavier.
At length the busy time begins.
"Come, neighbours, we must wag-" The money chinks, down drop their chins, Each lugging out his bag.