THE HORSEMEN %\ 



With wondrous art he counts the straggl'ug Hock, 



And by the sun iufornis you what's o'clock. 



How are our shepherds fall'n from ancient days ! 



Ko Amaryllis chants alternate lays; 



From her no list'ning echoes learn to sing, 



Nor with his reed the jocund valleys ring. 



Here sheep the pasture hide, there harvests bend, 



See Sarum's steeple o'er yon hill ascend ; 



Our horses faintly trot beneath the heat, 



And our keen stomachs know the hour to eat. 



Who can forsake thy walls, and not admire 



The proud cathedral and the lofty spire ? 



What sempstress has not proved thy scissors good ? 



From hence first came th' intriguing riding-hood. 



Amid three boarding-schools well stock'd with misses, 



Shall three knight-errant s starve for want of kisses ? 



O'er the green turf the miles slide swift awa}'. 



And Blandford ends the labours of the day. 



******* 



The morning rose; the supper reck'ning paid. 

 And our due fees dischajg'd to man and maid, 

 The ready ostler near the stirrup stands. 

 And as we mount, our halfpence load his hands. 

 Now the steep hill fair Dorchester o'trlooks. 

 Bordered by meads, and wash'd by .silver brooks. 

 Here sleep my two companions, eyes supprest. 

 And propt in elbow-chairs they snoring rest; 

 1 weaiy sit, and with my pencil trace 

 Their painful postures and their eyeless face ; 

 Then dedicate each glass to some fair name. 

 And on the sash the diamond scrawls my flame. 

 Now o'er true Roman way our horses sound ; 

 Grsevius would kneel and kiss the sacred gronnd. 

 On either side fair fertile valleys lie, 

 Tlie distant prospects tire the travelling eye. 

 Through Bridport's stony lanes our route Ave take. 

 And the pioud steep ascend to Morecombe's lake. 

 As hearses pass'd, our landlord robb'd the pall. 

 And with the mournful scutcheon hung his hall. 



