Imatges de pÓgina

Clever TOM CLINCH going to be


Written in the Year 1727.

AS clever Tom Clinch, while the rabble

was bawling, Rode ftately through Holbourn to die in

his calling; He stopt at The George for a bottle of fack, And promis’d to pay for it when he came

back His waistcoat and stockings, and breeches

were white; His cap had a new cherry ribband to tye't. The maids to the doors and the balconies


And said,! he's a proper young


But, as from thewindowsthe ladies he spy'd, Like a beau in the box, he bow'd low on

each side; And, when his last speech the loud hawkers

did cry,

He swore from his cart, it was all a damn'd lye.



The hangman for pardon fell down on his

Tim gave him a kick in the guts for his fee:
Then said, I must speak to the people a little,
But I'll fee yon all damn'd before I will

My honest friend +Wild may he long hold

his place, He lengthen’d my life with a whole year

of grace.

Take courage, dear comrades, and be not

afraid, Nor slip this occasion to follow your trade; My conscience is clear, and my spirits are

calm, And thus I go off without pray’r-book

or psalm;
Then follow the practice of clever Tom

Who hung like a hero, and never would



* A cant word for con- under-keeper of Newgate, fofling at the gallows. who was hanged for receiving

+ Thenoted thief-catcher, stolen goods.


On cutting down the old THORN at


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Written in the Year 3727.


T Market-bill, as well appears

By chronicle of ancient date,
There stood for many


years A spacious thorn before the gate.

Hither came ev'ry village-maid,

And on the boughs her garland hung,
And here, beneath the spreading shade,

Secure from satyrs fat and sung.
+ Sir Archibald that val’rous knight,

Then lord of all the fruitful plain,
Would come to listen with delight,

For he was fond of rural strain.

(Sir Archibald, whose fav’rite name

Shail stand for ages on record,
By Scottish bards of highest fame,

I Wise Hawthornden and Stirling’slord).

* A village near the seat of I Drummond of HawthornSir Arthur Acheson, where the des, and Sir William Alexander dean sometimes made a long earl of Sterling, who were both visit.

friends to Sir Archibald, and - + Sir Archibald Acheson, se- famous for their poctry. cretary of state for Scotland,


But time with iron teeth I ween,

Haş canker'd all its branches round; No fruit or blossom to be seen,

Its head reclining tow'rds the groupd. This aged, fickly, sapless thorn,

Which must alas no longer stand, Behold the cruel dean in scorn

Cuts down with facrilegious hand. Dame Nature, when she saw the blow,

Astonish'd gave a dreadful shriek ;
And mother Tellus trembled fo,

She scarce recover'd in a week.
The sylvan pow’rs with fear perplex’d,

In prudence and compassion sent (For none could tell whose turn was next)

Sad omens of the dire event,
The magpye, lighting on the stock,

Stood chatt'ring with incessant din; And with her beak gave many a knock,

To rouže and warn the nymph within, The owl foresaw, in pensive mood,

The ruin of her ancient feat; And Aed in hafte with all her brood To seek a more secure retreat,



Laft trotted forth the gentle swine,

To ease her itch against the stump, And dismally was heard to whine,

All as the scrubb’d her meazly rump. The nymph, who dwells in ev'ry tree

(If all be true that poets chant), Condemn’d by fate's supreme decree,

Must die with her expiring plant. Thus when the gentle Spina found

The thorn committed to her care, Receiv'd its last and deadly wound,

She fled and vanish'd into air. But from the root a dismal groan

First issuing struck the murd'rer's ears ; And in a fhrill revengeful tone

This prophecy he trembling hears. “ Thou chief contriver of my fall,

“ Relentless dean, to mischief born; '? My kindred oft thine hide fhall gall,

Thy gown and caffock oft be torn. “ And thy confed’rate dame, who brags

« That the condemn'd me to the fire, Shall rent her petticoats to rags,

And wound her legs with ev'ry briar.


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