HASTY-PUDDING. 



Now the strong foliage bears the standards high, 

 And shoots the tall top-gallants to the sky ; 

 The suckling ears their silky fringes bend, 

 And pregnant grown, their swelling coats distend; 

 The loaded stalk, while still the burthen grows, 

 O'erhangs the space that runs between the rows ; 

 High as a hop-field waves the silent grove, 

 A safe retreat for little thefts of love, 

 When the. pledg'd roasting-ears invite the maid, 

 To meet her swain .beneath the new-form'd shade; 

 His gen'rous hand unloads the cumbrous hill, 

 And the green spoils her ready basket fill ; 

 Small compensation for the two-fold bliss, 

 The promis'd wedding and the present Ifiss. 



Slight depredations these ; but now the moon 

 Calls from his hollow tree the sly racoon ; 

 And while by night he bears his prize away, 

 The bolder squirrel labours thro' the day. 

 Both thieves alike, but provident of time, 

 A virtue, rare, that almost hides their crime. 

 Then let them steal the little stores they can, 

 And fill their gran'ries from the toils of man ; 

 We've one advantage where they take no part, 

 With all their wiles they ne'er have found the art 

 To boil the Hasty-Pudding ; here we shine 

 Superior far to tenants of the pine ; 

 This envied boon to man shall still belong, 

 Unshar'd by them in substance or in song. 



At last the closing season browns the plain, 

 And ripe October gathers in the grain ; 

 Deep-loaded carts the spacious corn-house fill, 

 The sack distended marches to the mill ; 

 The lab'ring mill beneath the burden groans, 

 And show'rs the future pudding from the stones ; 

 Till the glad house-wife greets the powder'd gold, 

 And the new crop exterminates the old. 



CANTO 111. 



The days grow short ; but tho' the falling sun 

 To the glad swain proclaims his day's \vork done, 

 1* 



