PILGRIMS AND THE PEAS,

91 By PETER PINDAR.

moold gruband zʻynasti

A

BRACE of finners, for no good,

Were order'd to the. Virgin Mary's fhrine, Who at Loretto dwelt, in wax, ftone, wood,~

And in a fair white wig look'd wond'rous fine.

Fifty long miles had thefe fad rogues to travel
With fomething in their fhoes much worse than gravel;
In fhort, their toes fo gentle to amufe,

The priest had order'd peas into their fhoes!
A noftrum famous in old Popifh times.

For purifying fouls that ftunk with crimes
A fort of apoftolic falt,

That Popish parfons for its pow'rs exalt

For keeping fouls of finners fweet,
Juft as our kitchen falt keeps meat.

The knaves fet off on the fame day.

Peas in their fhoes, to go and pray;

But very diff'rent was their speed, I wot : One of the finners gallop'd on

Light as a bullet from a gun;

The other limp'd as if he had been fhot.

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ONE faw the VIRGIN foon-peccavi cried-
Had his foul whitewafh'd all fo clever ;
Then home again he nimbly hied,

10.110
Made fit with faints above to live for ever.
In coming back, however, let me fay,
He met his brother rogue about half way,
Hobbling with outstretch'd bum and bending knees,
Damning the fouls and bodies of the peas;
His eyes in tears, his cheeks and brows in fweat,
Deep fympathizing with his groaning feet.

"How now, the light-toed, whitewash'd pilgrim broke "You lazy lubber ?"

"Odds curfe it!" cried the other, 'tis no joke:

"Are now as foft as blubber,

** Excuse me, Virgin Mary, that I fwear-
As for Loretto, I fhall not get there
No! to the Devil my finful foul muft go,
For damme if I ha'nt loft ev'ry toe.
But, brother finner, do explain

How 'tis that you are not in pain;

What Pow'r hath work'd a wonder for your toes;

"Whilft I just like a fnail am crawling,

Now fwearing, now on faints devoutly bawling,
Whilft not a rafcal comes to cafe my woes ?

How is't that you can like a greyhound go,

"Merry, as if that nought had happen'd, burn ye ?"—— "Why," cried the other, grinning, “you must knew, That juft before I ventur'd on my journey,

To walk a little more at eafe.

I took the liberty to boil

my peas."

THE

Pages Dissing

CONTENT S.

VOLUME I.

No. 1. Evening Reflections, &c.

Night Thoughts among the Tombs

The Rich Man's Dream, &c.

The Grave

An Elegy, &c.

The Epitaph

No. 2. The Pleafures and Purfuits of Human

Written in a Thunder-ftorm, &c, Mrs. Carter 58

Young 56

On Mr. Abraham Cowley's, &c. Denham 57

No. 11. An Effay on Criticifm

Pope 1

Palemon and Lavinia

Thomfon 28