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Then she wept, and she groan'd, and she va- | With grief the cause I must relate, nish'd in air.
1 The dismal cause reveal ; Now beggar'd by gaming, distemper'd by 'Twas EVIL COMPANY and DRINK, drink,
[think ; The source of ev'ry ill. Death star'd in his face, yet he dar'd not to A cooper came to live hard by, Despairing of mercy, despising all truth, I Who did his fancy please; He dy'd of old age in the prime of his youth. An idle rambling man was he, On his tomb-stone, good Robert, these ver- Whu oft had cross the seas. ses engrar'd,
sand be saved : This man could tell a merry tale, Which he hop'd some gay fellow might read. And sing a merry song ;
And those who heard him sing or talk, THE EPITAPH.
Ne'er thought the ev’ning long. HERE lies a poor youth, who call'd drinking | But vain and vicious was the song, his bliss.
[in this? And wicked was the tale;
To hear the cooper talk;
Would take his evening walk.
At first he did not care to drink,
But only lik’ the fun;
But soon he from the cooper learnt,
The same sad course to run.
Was all for which he car'd;
But soon he drank as much as he,
To swear like him soon dar'd.
His hammer now neglected lay,
For work he little car'd;
Were strew'd about his yard.
To get him to attend his work,
No prayers could now prevail,
His hatchet and his plane forgot, And all his household stuff,
He never drove a nail.
His cheerful ev’nings now no more
With peace and plenty smil'd; And that he might not lack for aught, No more he sought his pleasing wife, An acre of good land.
Nor hugg'd his smiling child. A pleasant orchard too there was
For not his drunken nights alone, Before his cottage door;
Were with the cooper past; Of cider and of corn likewise,
His days were at the Angel spent, He had a little store.
And still he stay'd the last. Active and healthy, stout and young, No handsome Sunday suit was left, No business wanted he;
Nor decent Holland shirt : Now tell me, reader, if you can;
No nose-gay mark'd the sabbath-morn; What man more blest could be?
But all was rags and dirt. To make his comfort quite complete; No more his church he did frequent, He had a faithful wife;
A symptom ever sad : Frugal, and neat, and good was she, Where once the Sunday is mispent, The blessing of his life.
The week days must be bad. Where is the lord, or where the squire, The cottage mortgag'd for its worth; Had greater cause to praise
The fav'rite orchard sold; The goodness of that bounteous hand He soon began to feel the effects Which blest his prosp'rous days?
Of hunger and of cold. Each night when he return'd from work, The pewter dishes one by one His wite so meek and mild,
Were pawu'd, till none were left ; His little supper gladly dress’d,'
A wife and babe at home remain'd While he caress'd his child,
Of ev'ry help bereft. One bloooming babe was all he had, By chance he call'd at home one night, His only darling dear,
And in a surly mood,
He bade bis weeping wite to get
Immediately some food. () what could ruin such a life,
His empty cupboard well he knew And spoil so fair a lot ?
Must needs be bare of bread ; () what could change so kind a heart, No rasher on the rack he saw, And ev'ry virtue blot?
Whence could he then be fed !
His wife* a piteous sigh did heave, Or I'll join thee in plunder for bread and for And then before him laid,
Derry Down, A basket cover'd with a cloth,
What a whimsey to think thus our bellies to But not a word she said.
(mill! Then to her husband gave a knife,
For we stop all the grinding hy breaking the With many a silent tear,
What a whimsey to think we shall get more In haste he tore the cover off,
to eat And saw his child lie there.
By abusing the butchers who get us the 'There lies thy babe,' the mother said,
[spare diet, Oppress'd with famine sore;
What a whimsey to think we shall mend our O kill us bot—'twere kinder far,
By breeding disturbance by murder and We could not suffer more.
Derry Dorun. The carpenter struck to the heart,
Because I am dry, 'twould be foolish, I Fell on his knees straitway,
think, He wrung his hands- confess'd his sins,
To pull out my tap and to spill all my drink; And did both weep and pray.
Because I am hungry, and want to be ted, From that same hour the cooper more
That is sure no wise reason for wasting my He never would behold;
bread; Nor would he to the ale house go;
And just such wise reasons for minding their Had it been par'd with gold.
Are us’d by these blockheads who rush into His wife forgave him all the past;
Derry Down. And sooth'd his sorrowing mind,
I would not take comfort from others' disAnd much he griev'd that e'er he wrong'd
(blesses ; The worthiest of her kind.
| But still I would mark how God our land By lab'ring hard, and working late,
For though in old England the times are By industry and pains,
but sad, His cottage was at length redeem’d,
Abroad I am told they are ten times as bad; And sav'd were all his gains.
In the land of the Pupe there is scarce any His Sundays now at church were spent,
gram, His home was his delight;
And is worse still, they say, both in HolThe following verse himself he made,
land and Spain.
Let us look to the harvest our wants to beAnd read it ev'ry night,
guile, The drunkard murders child and wife,
| See the lands with rich crops how they ev'ry Nor matters it a pin,
where smile ! Whether he stabs them with his knife,
Meantime to assist us, by each western Or starves them with his gin. | breeze! '
(seas! Some corn is brought daily across the salt JOf tea we'll drink little, of gin not at all, And we'll patiently wait, and the prices will fall..
Derry Down. THE RIOT:
But if we're not quiet, then let us not wonOR, HALT A LOAF IS BETTER THAN NO BREAD.
If things grow much worse by our riot and la c Dialogue between Jack Anvil and Tom Hod.
And let us remember, whenever we meet, To the tune of ' A cobler there was.' The more ale we drink, boys, the less we
shall cat, Written in
a year of scarcity and On those days spent in riot no bread you Alarm.
brought home, TOM.
Had you spent them in labour you must have COME neighbours, no longer be patient and
Derry Down. quiet,
A dinner of herbs, says the wise man, with Come let us go kick up a bit of a riot ;
quiet, I'm hungry, my lads, but I've little to eat. Is better than beef amid discord and riot. So we'll pull down the mills, and we'll seize If the thing could be help'd I'm a foe to all all the meat : (saw, . strife,
[life; Ill give you good sport, boys, as ever you And I pray for a peace ev'ry night of my So a fig for the justice, a fig for the law. | But in matters of state not an inch will I
Derry Down... budge, Then his pitchfork Tom seiz'd-hold a mo- | Because I conceive I'm no very good judge. ment, says Jack, [crack,
Derry Down. 11 show thee thy blunder, brave boy, in a But though poor, I can work, my brave boy, And it I don't prove we had better be still, with the best, li assist thee strait way to pull down ev'ry Let the king and the parliament manage
[cheat, the rest; 17 show thee how passion thy reason does Ilament both the war and the taxes together,
Though I verily think they don't alter the • See Berquin's Gardener,
The king, as I take it, with very good rea- , How thankful was Joseph when matters son,
[good health, May prevent a bad law, but can't help a bad How sincere were his carols of praise for season,
Derry Down. And how grateful for any increase in his The parliament men, although great is their wealth ! power,
In trouble hc bow'd him to God's holy will; Yet they cannot contrive us a bit of a shower; How contented was Joseph when matters And I never yet heard, though our rulers are went ill !
When rich and when poor he alike underThat they know very well how to manage That all things together were working for the skies;
(clar'd, For the best of them all, as they found to If the land was afflicted with war, he detheir cost,
| 'Twas a needful correction for sins which he Were not able to hinder last winter's hard shar'd,
[to cease, frost.
Derry Down. And when merciful Heav'n bade slaughter Besides, I must share in the wants of the How thankful was Joe for the blessing of times,
(dear, Because I have had my full share in its When taxes ran high, and provisions were crimes;
Still Joseph declar'd he had nothing to fear; And I'm apt to believe the distress which is It was but a trial he well understood, sent,
From Him who made all work together for Is to punish and cure us of all discontent.
good. But harvest is coming-potatoes are come! Though his wife was but sickly, his gettings Our prospect clears up; ye complainers bel.. but small,
Derry down. / Yet a mind so submissive prepar'd him for And though I've no money, and though I've He liv'd on his gains were they greater or no lands, (good hands. L. less,
[bless I've head on my shoulders, and a pair of And the giver he ceas'd not each moment to So I'll work the whole day, and on Sundays Wheu another child came he receiv'd him I'll seek [week. with joy,
[the boy ; At church how to bear all the.wants of the And Providence bless'd who had sent him The gentlefolks too will afford us supplies :|But when the child dy'd-said poor Joe I'm They'll subscribe—and they'll give up their content, puddings and pies,
For God had a right to recall what he lent.
Derry down. It was Joseph's ill fortune to work in a pit Then before I'm induc'd to take part in a With some who believ'd that profaneness riot, [get by it? I was wit;
(they show'd, I'll ask this short question-what shall I When disasters befel him much' pleasure So I'll e'en wait a little till cheaper the And laugh'd and said-Joseph, will this bread,
'Thead :/ work for good ? For a mittimus hangs o’er each rioter's But ever when these would profanely adAnd when of two evils I'm ask'd which is_ vance best,
That this happen'd by luck, and that hapI'd rather be hungry than hang’d, I protest. [pen’d by chance ;
Derry down. Still Joseph insisted no chance could be Quoth Tom, thou art right, If I rise I'm a
[ground, Turk :
Not a sparrow by accident falls to the So he threw down his pitchfork, and went Among his companions who work'd in the to his work,
And made him the butt of their profligate Was idle Tim Jenkins, who drank and who gam'd,
sasham'd, PATIENT JOE:
Who mock'd at his Bible, and was not OR, THE NEWCASTLE COLLIER.
One day at the pit his old comrades he found,
| And they chaited, preparing to go under Have you heard of a collier of honest re
onest re- ground, nown,
[town? | Tim Jenkins, as usual, was turning to jest, Who dwelt on the borders of Newcastle Joe's notion that all things which happen'd His name it was Joseph-you better may were best. know
As Joe on the ground had unthinkingly laid If I tell you he always was call'd patient Joe. His provision for dinner, of bacon and bread, Whatever betided, he thought it was right, A dog on the watch, seiz'd the bread and the And Providence still he kept ever in sight; meat,
[fileet. To those who love God, let things turn as And off with his prey ran with foot-steps so they would,
Now to see the delight that Tim Jenkins exHe was certain that all work'd together for press'd!
, (best? good.
l'Is the loss of thy dinner too, Joe for the He prais'd his Creator whatever befel; No doubt on't,'said Joe; but as I must eat,
Tis my duty to try to recover my meat,' I Are poorly cloth'd and fed, ,
down under ground. [was lost, Come, neighbour, take a walk with me, Poor Joe soon return'd, though his bacon Through many a London street, For the dog a good dinner had made at his And see the cause of penury cost,
(sneer, In hundreds we shall meet. When Joseph came back he expected a We shall not need to travel tarBut the face of each collier spoke horror and Behold that great man's door; fear;
[all said, He well discerns yon idle crew What a narrow escape hast thou had, they! From the deserving poor. The pit’s fall'n in, and Tim Jenking is dead! He will relieve with liberal hand, How sincere was the gratitude Joseph ex- The child of honest thrift; press'd !
[his breast ! But where long scores at Gin-shops stand, How warm the compassion which glow'd in He will withhold his gift, Thus events great and small, if aright un- Behold that shiv'ring female there, derstood,
(good. 1 Who plies her woful trade ! Will be found to be working together for 'Tis ten to one you'll find that Gin *When my meat,' Joseph cry'd was just That hopeless wretch has made. now stol'n away,
Look down those steps, and view below And I had no prospect of eating to-day,
Yon cellar under ground, How could it appear to a short-sighted There ev'ry want and ev'ry wo sinner,
And ev'ry sin is found. That my life would be sav'd by the loss of Those little wretches trembling there, my dinner,'
With hunger and with cold, Were by their parents' love of Gin,
To sin and misery sold.
Blest be those friends* to human kind . THE GIN SHOP :
Who take these wretches up,
Where they have drunk the bitter dregs OR A PEEP INTO PRISON.
Of their sad parents' cup. Look through the land from north to south, Look through that prison's iron bars, And look from east to west,
Look through that dismal grate, And see what is to Englishmen
And learn what dire misfortune brought Of life the deadliest pest.
So terrible a fate. It is not want, though that is bad,
The debtor and the felon too, Nor war, though that is worse;
Though differing much in sin, But Britons brave endure, alas !
Too oft you'll find were thither brought A self-inflicted curse.
By all-destroying Gin. Gowhere you will, throughout the realm, Yet Heav'n forbid I should confound You'll find the reigning sin,
Calamity with guilt! In cities, villages, and towns,
Or name the debtor's lesser fault - The monster's name is Gin.
With blood of brother spilt. The prince of darkness never sent
To prison dire misfortune oft Toman a deadlier foe,
The guiltless debtor brings; My name is Legion,' it may say,
Yet oft'ner far it will be found The source of many a wo.
From Gin the misery springs.
See the pale manufacturer there,
How lank and lean he lies !
How haggard is his sickly cheek! His honest name and health.
How dim his hollow eyes ! We say the times are grievous hard, He plied the loom with good success, And hard they are, 'tis true;
'His wages still were high, But, drunkards, to your wives and babes, | Twice what the village lab'rer gains, They're harder made by you.
His master did supply, The drunkard's tax is self-impos’d, No book-debts kept him from his cash, Like every other sin;
All paid as soon as due; The taxes altogether lay
His wages on the Saturday
To fail he never knew.
On wife and children spent ! 'Tis Gin and Gambling sink him down But all must for his pleasures go, To rags, and want, and shame.
All to the Gin-shop went. The kindest husband, chang'd by Gin, See that apprentice, young in years, Is for a tyrant known ;
But hackney'd long in sin, The tenderest heart that nature made, What made him rob his master's till?
Becomes a heart of stone. la many a house the harmless babes
• Thc Philanth.opic Soiets.
Alas! 'twas love of Gin.
So jaunty, spruce, and smart !
Thus Gin ensnard his heart."
'Tis Saint Sepulchre's bell! It tolls, alas, fiis human guilt,
Sme malefactor's knell. 0! woful sound! ()! what could cause
Such punishment and sin?
| Hark! hear his words, he owns the cause
Bad Company and Gin.
Of darkness, fire, and chains,
Those everlasting pains !
As Holy-W'rit declares,
That dreadful portion shares.
THE LADY AND THE PYE: Two gardeners once beneath an oak,
OK KNOW THYSELF.
You must confess dear Will that Nature A WORTHY squire of sober life
Your talk,' quoth Will, is bold and odd, She lor'd to load mankind with blame, What you call Nature, I call God.'
And on their errors build her fame,
Was Eve and the forbidden fruit,
Nor for an apple lost my heav'n;
To gratify my curious mind I trust to whut the Scriptures tell,
I ne'er had ruin'd all mankind; He hath done always all things well.' Nor from a vain desire to know, Quoth Jack, I'm lately grown a wit, Entailid on all my race such wo.' And think all good a lucky hit.
The squire reply'd ; 'I fear 'tis true, To Prove that Providence can err,
The same ill spirit lives in you; Not words but facts the truth aver. | Tempted alike, I dare believe, To this vast oak lift up thine eyes,
You would have disobey'd like Eve.' Then view that acorn's paltry size;
The lady storm’d, and still deny'd Hlw foolish on a tree so tall,
Sin, curiosity, and pride. To place that tiny cup and ball.
The squire, some future day at dinner, Now look again, yon pompion* see, Resolv'd to try this boastful sinner; It weighs two pound at least, nay three; | He griev'd such vanity possest her, Yet this large fruit, where is it found ? And thus in serious terms address'd her: Why, meanly trailing on the ground.
• Madam, the usual splendid feast, Had Providence ask'd my advice,
With which our wedding day is grac'd, I would have chang'd it in a trice ;
With you I must not share to-day
Of all the dainties I've prepar'd,
Enjoy, 'tis what I really wish;
Only observe one prohibition, A wind, which suddenly arose,
Northink it a severe condition ; Beat show'rs of acorns on his nose;
On one small dish which cover'd stands, "Oh! oh :' quoth Jack, I'm wrong I see,
You must not dare to lay your hands : And God is wiser far than me.
Go-Disobey not on your life, For did a show'r of pompions large,
Or henceforth you're no more my wife,' Thus on my naked face discharge,
The treat was serv'd, the squire was gone, I had been bruis'd and blinded quite,
| The murm’ring lady din'd alone : What heav'n appoints I find is right;
She saw whate'er could grace a feast, Whene'er I'm tempted to rebel,
Or charm the eye, or please the taste : I'll think how light the acorns fell;
But while she rang'd from this to that, Whereas on oaks had pompions hung,
From ven'son haunch to turtle fat; My broken skull had stopp'd my tonguc.
On one small dish she chanc'd to light,
By a deep cover hid from sight : • A Gourd.
1.0! here it is yet not for me!