408 The Tabernacle, or Sunday in Lvntiun. [APRIL, 



Half a sigh and half a groan 

 Opens thus his holy moan : 



" Away away, ye sinners all ! 

 Falling all, and born to fall ; 

 Here, among two thousand souls, 

 Not a tenth shall 'scape the coals. 

 From the ceiling to the floor, 

 Dare I count of saints a score ? 

 What are all without, within ? 

 Sin and shame, and shame and sin. 

 First, ye women sex called fair 

 Look within what see ye there ? 

 Hear me, your especial martyr ! 

 (I myself once caught a Tartar; 

 Looking rashly for a catch, 

 Soon I found I met my match). 

 Light as feathers in your bonnets ; 

 Full of novels, songs, and sonnets ; 

 Stings of aspics in your lips ; 

 Poison in your fingers' tips ; 

 From the forehead to the feet 

 All one .dangerous, deep deceit ; 

 Patches, petticoats, and paint 

 Who now sees a female saint ? ' 

 Fallen angels ! down ye go 

 To the hottest hearth below ! 



ff Now, ye smiling gentlemen, 

 Think ye to escape your den? 

 Know ye that Old Nick's fireside 

 Is for men and maids full wide ? 

 There you'll have no tender glancing; 

 Life is there no morris-dancing ! 

 Down ye go, ten thousand feet, 

 In a new, blue sulphur sheet ! 

 There you'll have no Lord Mayor's feasts, 

 Turning aldermen to beasts ; 

 There you'll clear no cent, per cents. ; 

 There you'll have no quarters' rents; 

 There no gallop after foxes ; 

 There no pit-tier opera-boxes ; 

 There no pleasant slice of place ; 

 There ' no notice from his Grace ;' 

 There no flirting in the bevy, 

 Gathered at the royal levee ; 

 There no three hours' trip to Brighton, 

 Bile and purse at once to lighten ; 

 There no continental trip, 

 Life, like new champagne, to sip ; 

 Husband, placeman, swindler, rover, 

 There your wild-oat days are over ! 



" I own it, there are joys in life, 

 (I speak to those without a wife), 

 When down its early stream we glide, 

 Like straws or feathers on the tide ; 

 When all the hours are morning hours, 

 And all the landscapes fruits and flowers ; 

 And all the sky above is blue, 

 And inly whispering, ' This will do V 



