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A very little little flock
Shades thrice the ground that it would ftock; Whilst the small ftripling following them, 15 Appears a mighty Polypheme.
These being brought into the fold,
And by the thrifty master told,
He thinks his wages are well paid,
Since none are either loft or ftray'd.
Now lowing herds are each-where heard,
Chains rattle in the villains yard,
The cart's on tayl set down to rest,
Bearing on high the cuckolds creft.
The cock now to the rooft is preft,
For he must call up all the reft;
The fow's fast pegg'd within the sty,
To ftill her squeaking progeny.
The hedg is ftript, the clothes brought in, Nought's left without should be within, 26 The bees are hiv'd, and hum their charm, Whilft every houfe does feem a fwarm.
Each one has had his fupping mess,
The cheese is put into the prefs;
The pans and bowls clean scalded all,
Rear'd up against the milk-house wall.
And now on benches all are fat
In the cool air to fit and chat,
Till Phœbus, dipping in the Weft,
Shall lead the world the way to reft.
THE fun is fet, and gone to sleep
With the fair princess of the deep,
Whose bosom is his cool retreat,
When fainting with his proper heat.
His steeds their flaming noftrils cool
In fpume of the cerulean pool;
Whilft the wheels dip their hiffing naves
Deep in Columbus' western waves.
From whence great rowls of smoke arise
To over hade the beauteous skies;
Who bid the world's bright eye adieu
In gelid tears of falling dew.
And now from the Iberian‹ vale'
Night's fable steeds her chariot hale,'
Where double cypress curtains skreen
The gloomy melancholick queen.
Thefe, as they higher mount the sky,
Ravish all colour from the eye,
And leave it but an useless glass,
Which few, or no reflections grace.
The crystal arch o're Pindus' crown
Is on a fudden dusky grown,
And all's with fun'ral black o'refpread,
As if the day, which fleeps, were dead.
No ray of light the heart to chear,
But little twinkling stars appear;
Which like faint dying embers ly,
Fit nor to work, nor travel by.
Perhaps to him they torches are,
Who guides' Night's fovereigns drowsy car,
And him they may befriend so near,
But us they neither light nor chear.
Or else those little fparks of light
Are nayls that tyre the wheels of night,
Which to new stations still are brought,
As they rowl o'r the gloomy vault.
Or nayls that arm the horses hoof,
Which trampling o're the marble roof,
And ftriking fire in the air,
We mortals call a shooting star.
That's all the light we now receive,
Unless what belching vulcans give,
And those yield fuch a kind of light
As adds more horror to the night.
XII. Nyctimine now freed from day, From fullen bufh flies out to prey, And does with feret note proclaim Th' arrival of th' ufurping dame.
V. 30. guide.
The rail now cracks in fields and meads,
Toads now forfake the nettle-beds,
The tim❜rous hare goes to relief,
And wary men bolt out the theef.
Now in falfe floors and roofs above,
The luftful cats make ill-tun'd love,
The ban-dog on the dunghil lies,
And watchful nurse fings lullabies.
The fire's new rak't, and hearth swept clean,
By Madg, the dirty kitchin-quean,
The fafe is lock't, the mouse-trap set,
The leaven laid, and bucking wet.
Philomel chants it whilst she bleeds,
The bittern booms it in the reeds,
And Reynard entering the back yard,
The Capitolian cry is heard.
The goblin now the fool alarms,
Haggs meet to mumble o're their charms; The night-mare rides the dreaming ass, And fairies trip it on the grass,