ON THE UNIVERSITY CARRIER. 99
On the UNIVERSITY CARRIER; Who ficken'd in the time of his vacancy, being forbid to go to London, by reafon of the plague.
ERE lies old Hobfon; Death hath broke his girt,
And here, alas, hath laid him in the dirt,
Or elfe, the ways being foul, twenty to one,
He 's here fuck in a flough, and overthrown.
'Twas fuch a fhifter, that if truth were known,
Death was half glad when he had got him down;
For he had any time this ten years full
Dodg'd with him, betwixt Cambridge and the Bull.
And furely death could never have prevail'd,
Had not his weekly courfe of carriage fail'd;
But lately finding him so long at home,
And thinking now his journey's end was come,
And that he had ta'en up his latest inn,
In the kind office of a chamberlin
Show'd him his room where he must lodge that night, Pull'd off his boots, and took away the light:
any afk for him, it shall be faid,
Hobfon has fupt, and 's newly gone to bed.
Another on the fame.
ERE lieth one, who did moft truly prove
That he could never die while he could move;
So hung his destiny, never to rot
While he might still jog on and keep his trot,
Made of sphere-metal, never to decay
Until his revolution was at stay.
Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime
'Gainft old truth) motion number'd out his time:
And, like an engin mov'd with wheel and weight,
His principles being ceas'd, he ended strait.
Reft, that gives all men life, gave him his death,
And too much breathing put him out of breath;
Nor were it contradiction to affirm
Too long vacation hasten'd on his term.
Merely to drive the time away he ficken'd,
Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quicken'd;
Nay, quoth he, on his fwooning bed out-stretch'd,
If I mayn't carry, fure I'll ne'er be fetch'd,
But vow, though the crofs doctors all stood hearers,
For one carrier put down to make fix bearers.
Eafe was his chief disease, and to judge right,
He dy'd for heaviness that his cart went light:
His leifure told him that his time was come,
And lack of load made his life burdensome,
That ev'n to his last breath (there be that say't)
As he were press'd to death, he cry'd, More weight!
But had his doings lafted as they were,
He had been an immortal carrier.
Obedient to the moon he spent his date
In courfe reciprocal, and had his fate
Link'd to the mutual flowing of the feas,
Yet (strange to think) his wain was his increase :
His letters are deliver'd all and gone,
Only remains this superscription.
L'ALLEGRO.
HENCE, loathed Melancholy?
Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born,
In Stygian cave forlorn
'Mongft horrid fhapes, and fhrieks, and fights unholy, Find out fome uncouth cell,
Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous wings, And the night-raven fings;
There under ebon fhades, and low-brow'd rocks, As ragged as thy locks,
In dark Cimmerian defert ever dwell.
But come, thou Goddess fair and free,
In Heav'n ycleap'd Euphrofyne,
And by men, heart-easing Mirth,
Whom lovely Venus at a birth
With two fifter Graces more
To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore;
Or whether (as some fages fing)
The frolic wind that breathes the spring,
Zephyr with Aurora playing,
As he met her once a Maying,
There on beds of violets blue,
And fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew,
Fill'd her with thee a daughter fair,
So buxom, blithe, and debonair.
Hafte thee, Nymph, and bring with thee
Jeft and youthful Jollity,
Quips and Cranks, and wanton Wiles,
Nods and Becks, and wreathed Smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple fleek;
Sport that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter holding both his fides.
Come, and trip it as you go
On the light fantastic toe,
And in thy right hand lead with thee,
The mountain nymph, fweet Liberty;
And if I give thee honor due,
Mirth, admit me of thy crew
To live with her, and live with thee,
In unreproved pleasures free ;
To hear the lark begin his flight,
And finging startle the dull night,
From his watch-tower in the fkies,
Till the dappled dawn doth rife;
Then to come in fpite of forrow,
And at my window bid good-morrow,
Through the sweet-briar, or the vine,
Or the twisted eglantine:
While the cock with lively din
Scatters the rear of darkness thin,
And to the stack, or the barn-door,
Stoutly ftruts his dames before:
Oft listening how the hounds and horn
Chearly roufe the flumbering morn,
From the fide of fome hoar hill,
Through the high wood echoing fhrill:
Some time walking not unfeen
By hedge-row elms, on hillocs green,
Right against the eastern gate,
Where the great fun begins his state,
Rob'd in flames and amber light,
The clouds in thousand liveries dight,
While the plow-man near at hand
Whistles o'er the furrow'd land,
And the milkmaid fingeth blithe,
And the mower whets his fithe,
And every shepherd tells his tale
Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Strait mine eye hath caught new pleasures
Whilft the landskip round it measures,
Ruffet lawns, and fallows gray,
Where the nibbling flocks do ftray,
Mountains on whose barren breast
The laboring clouds do often rest,
Meadows trim with daisies pied,
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide.
Towers and battlements it fees
Bofom'd high in tufted trees,
Where perhaps fome beauty lies,
The Cynofure of neighboring eyes.
Hard by, a cottage chimney smokes,
From betwixt two aged oaks,
Where Corydon and Thyrfis met,
Are at their favory dinner fet
Of herbs, and other country meffes,
Which the neat-handed Phillis dreffes;
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