Classic Poem

In evrich mart that stands on British ground,
In evrich village less y-known to fame,
Dwells there in cot uncouth, afar renowned,
A matron old, whom we school-mistress name,
Who wont unruly brats with birch to tame:
They grieven sore in durance vile y-pent,
Awed by the pow'r of uncontroulèd dame;
And oft-times, on vagaries idly bent,
For task unconned or unkempt hair are sore y-shent.

Nar to this dome is found a patch so green,
On which the tribe their gambols do display:
Als at the door impris'ning board is seen,
Lest weakly wights of smaller size should stray,
Eager, perdie, to bask in sunshine day.
The noises intermixed, which thence resound,
Do learning's little tenement betray,
Where sits the dame, disguised in look profound,
And eyes her fairy throng, and turns her wheel around.

Right well knew she each temper to descry,
To thwart the proud and the submiss to raise,
Some with vile copper prize exalt on high,
And some entice with pittance small of praise:
And other sorts with baleful sprigs affrays.
Eke in her absence she command doth hold,
While with quaint arts the thoughtless crowd she sways;
Forewarned, if little bird their tricks behold,
'Twill whisper in her ear, and all the scene unfold.

Lo! now with state she utters the command.
Eftsoons the urchins to their tasks repair;
Their books of stature small take they in hand,
Which with pellucid horn securèd are,
To save from finger wet the letters fair:
The work so quaint, that on their backs is seen,
St. George's high achievements does declare;
On which thilk wight that has y-gazing been
Kens the forthcoming rod, unpleasing sight, I ween!

But ah! what pen his woeful plight can trace,
Or what device his loud laments explain,
The form uncouth of his disguisèd face,
The pallid hue that dyes his looks amain,
The plenteous show'r that does his cheek distain,
When he in abject wise implores the dame,
Nor hopeth aught of sweet reprieve to gain;
Or when from high she levels well her aim,
And through the thatch his cries each falling stroke proclaim.

The other tribe, aghast, with sore dismay
Attend, and con their tasks with mickle care:
By turns, astonied, evrich twig survey,
And from their fellow's furrowed bum beware,
Knowing, I wist, how each the same may share:
Till fear has taught 'em a performance meet,
And to the well-known chest the dame repair,
Whence oft with sugared cates she doth 'em greet,
And gingerbread y-rare, now, certes, doubly sweet.

Now to their seats they hie with merry glee,
And in beseemly order sitten there,
All but the wight of bum y-gallèd, he
Abhors both bench and stool and form and chair
(This hand in mouth y-fixed, that rends his hair);
And eke with snubs profound, and heaving breast
Convulsions intermitting! does declare
His grievous wrongs, his dame's unjust behest,
And scorns her proffered love, and shuns to be caressed.

Behind some door, in melancholy thought,
Mindless of food, he, dreary caitiff! pines,
Ne for his fellows' joyaunce careth aught,
But to the winds all merriment resigns.
His face besprent with liquid crystal shines,
And many a sullen look askaunce is sent,
Which for his dame's annoyance he designs;
Nathless the more to pleasure him she's bent,
The more doth he, perverse, her 'haviour past resent.

Algates the rest from silk misfortune free,
Stir'n but as nature doth abroad them call;
Then squatten down with hand beneath each knee,
Ne seeken out or secret nook or wall,
But cack in open street—no shame doth them appal.
And may no carl their innocence deride,
While they p–ss boldly in the face of all;
Turning unawed their vestments small aside,
Ne covet hedge ne barn their privy parts to hide.

But when the hour of pleasaunce draweth near,
They usher forth all debonair and gay;
And, standing on the green, with jocund leer,
Salute the stranger passing on his way.
Some builden fragile tenements of clay;
Some to the standing lake their courses bend,
With pebbles smooth at duck-and-drake to play;
Thilk to the huxter's sav'ry cot y-tend,
In pastry kings and queens th' allotted mite to spend.

Here, as each season yields a different store,
Each season's stores in order rangèd been;
Apples with cabbage-net y-covered o'er,
Galling full sore th' unmoneyed wight, are seen,
And gooseb'ry clad in liv'ry red or green;
And here of lovely dye the cath'rine pear,
Fine pear! as lovely for thy juice, I ween.
O! may no wight e'er pennyless come there,
Lest led by thee astray, he shameful theft prepare.

See! cherries here, ere cherries yet abound,
With thread so white in luscious bundles tied,
Scatter like blooming maid their glances round,
And draw with pampered look our eyes aside:
These must be bought, though penury betide;
The plum of purple hue, the nut so brown,
Tempting the passing swain; thilk cakes beside,
Whose much-loved names th' inventress city own,
Rend'ring through Britain's isle Salopia's praises known.