Classic Poem

Collen,Thenot.

Coll. What Clod-pates, Thenot , are our Brittish swains,
How lubber-like they loll upon the plains?
No life, no spirit in 'em; every Clown
Soone as he layes his Hook and Tarbox down,
That ought to take his Reed, and chant his layes,
Or nimbly run the winding of the Maze,
Now gets a bush to roam himselfe, and sleepe;
Tis hard to know the shepheard from the sheepe.
And yet methinks our English pastures be
As flowery as the Lawnes of Arcadie ,
Our Virgins blith as theirs, nor can proud Greece
Boast purer ayre, nor sheer a finer fleece.
The Yet view their out-side, Collen , you would say
They have as much brawn in their necks as they
Fair Tempe braggs of; lusty armes that swell
With able sinews, and might hurle as well
The weightie sledge; their leggs, and thighs of bone,
Great as Colossus , yet their strength is gone.
They look like yonder man of wood, that stands
To bound the limits of the Parish lands.
Dost thou ken, Collen , what the cause might be
Of such a dull and generall Lethargie?
Coll. Swain, with their sports their soules were ta'ne away,
Till then they all were active, every day
They exercis'd to weild their limbs, that now
Are numb'd to every thing, but flail and plow.
Early in May up got the jolly rout
Call'd by the Lark, and spred the feilds about:
One for to breath himselfe, would coursing be
From this same Beech, to yonder Mulberie.
A second leapt, his supple nerves to try,
A third was practising his melody.
This a new Jigg was footing, others were
Busied at wrestling, or to throw the Barre:
Ambitious which should beare the bell away,
And kisse the Nut-brown Lady of the May .
This stirr'd 'em up; a Jolly swain was he
Whom Peg , and Susan after Victory
Crown'd with a garland they had made, beset
With Daisies, Pincks and many a Violet,
Cowslip, and Gilliflower. Rewards though small
Encourage vertue; but if none at all
Meet her, she languisheth, and dyes, as now
Where worth's deny'd the honour of a bough.
And, Thenot , this the cause I read to be
Of such a dull and generall Lethargie.
The . Ill thrive the Lowt that did their mirth gain-say,
Wolves haunt his flocks, that took those sports away!
Coll. Some melancholy swains about have gone
To teach all zeal their owne complection:
Choler they will admit sometimes I see,
But Fleagme, and Sanguine no Religions be.
These teach that Dauncing is a Jezabell ;
And Barley-break, the ready way to Hell.
The Morrice Idols, Whitsun'-ales can be
But prophane Reliques of a Jubilee!
These in a Zeal, t' expresse how much they doe
The Organs hate, have silenc'd Bag-pipes too;
And harmlesse May-poles, all are rail'd upon
As if they were the towers of Babilon .
Some think not fit there should be any sport
I'th Country, 'tis a dish proper to th' Court.
Mirth not becomes 'em, let the sawcy swain
Eate Beef, and Bacon, and goe sweat again.
Besides, what sport can in their pastimes be
When all is but ridiculous fopperie?
The. Collen , I once the famous Spain did see,
A nation glorious for her gravitie;
Yet there an hundred Knights on warlike steeds
Did skirmish out a fight arm'd but with Reeds;
At which a thousand Ladies eyes did gaze,
Yet was no better then our Prison-base.
What is the Barriers but a Courtly way
Of our more down right sport, the Cudgell-play?
Foot-ball with us may be with them Baloone,
As they at Tilt, so we at Quintaine runne.
And those old Pastimes relish best with me,
That have least Art, and most simplicitie.
Collen , they say at Court there is an Art
To dance a Ladies honour from her heart;
Such wiles poor shepheards know not, all their sence
Is dull to any thing but Innocence.
The Country Lasse, although her dance be good,
Stirs not anothers Galliard in the Blood.
And yet their Sports by some controul'd have been,
Who think there is no mirth but what is sin.
O might I but their harmlesse Gambols see
Restor'd unto an ancient libertie,
Where spotlesse dalliance traces o're the Plains,
And harmlesse Nymphs jet it with harmlesse swains!
To see an age againe of Innocent Loves
Twine close as Vines, yet kisse as chast as Doves,
Me thinks I could the Thracian Lyre have strung,
Or tun'd my whistle to the Mantuan song.
Coll. Then tune thy whistle boy, and string thy Lyre,
That age is come againe, thy brave desire
Pan hath approv'd; dauncing shall bee this yeare
Holy as is the motion of a Spheare.
The. Collen , with sweeter breath Fame never blew
Her sacred Trump, if this good newes be true!
Coll. Knowst thou not Cotswold hils? Th : Through all the land
No Finer wooll runnes through the spinsters hand.
But silly Collen , ill thou dost divine,
Canst thou mistake a Bramble for a Pine?
Or think this Bush a Cedar? or suppose
Yo'n Hamlet, where to sleepe each shepheard goes
In circuit, buildings, people, power and name
Equalls the Bow string'd by the silver Thame?
As well thou maist their sports with ours compare,
As the soft wooll of Lambs, with the Goates haire.
Coll. Last evening Lad, I met a noble swaine,
That spurr'd his sprightfull Palfrey ore the plain,
His head with ribbands crown'd, and deckt as gay
As any Lasse upon her Bridall day:
I thought (what easy faiths we sheapheards prove!)
This, not the Bull, had been Europa's Jove!
I ask't the cause, they told me this was he
Whom this daies Triumph crownd with Victory.
Many brave steeds there were, some you should finde
So fleet as they had been sonnes of the winde:
Others with hoofs so swift, beat o're the race
As if some engine shot 'em to the place.
So many and so well wing'd Steeds there were,
As all the Brood of Pegasus had been there.
Rider, and horse could not distinguish'd be,
Both seem'd conjoyn'd a Centaure's Progeny.
A numerous troop they were, yet all so light
Earth never groan'd, nor felt 'em in their flight.
Such Royall Pastimes Cotswold mountains fill,
When gentle swains visit her glorious hill:
Where with such packs of Hounds they hunting goe,
As Cyrus ne're did winde his Bugle to!
Whose noise is musicall; and with full cries
Beats o're the feilds, and Ecchoes through the skies.
Orion hearing wish'd to leave his Spheare,
And call his Dogge from heaven, to sport it there.
Watt though he fled for life, yet joy'd withall
So brave a dirge sung forth his funerall.
Not Syrens sweetlier rill, Hares as they flie
Look back, as glad to listen, loth to die.
The . No doubt but from this brave Heroick fire
In the more noble hearts, sparks of desire
May warme the colder Boores, and emulous strife
Give the old Mirth and Innocence a new life.
When thoughts of fame their quickned souls shall fill
At every glaunce that shewes 'em Cotswold hill.
Coll. There shepheard, there, the solemn games be playd,
Such as great Theseus , or Alcides made:
Such as Apollo wishes he had seene,
And Jove desires had his invention beene!
The Nemean , and the Isthmian pastimes still
Though dead in Greece , survive on Cotswold hill.
The . Oh happy hill! the gentle Graces now
Shall trip o're Thine and leave Citherons brow:
Parnassus clift shall sink below his spring,
And every Muse shall on thy frontlet sing.
The Goddesses againe in strife shall be,
And from mount Ida make appeale to thee;
Olympus pay thee homage and in dread
The aged Alpes shall bow his snowy head;
Flora with all her store thy Temples Crowne,
Whose height shall reach the stars: Gods looking down
Shall blesse the Incense that thy flowers exhale
And make thee both a Mountain and a Vale.
How many Ladies on thy top shall meet,
And presse thy tresses with their od'rous feet?
Whose eyes when wondring men see from afarre,
They'le think thee Heaven and each of them a starre,
But gentle Collen say what God or man
Fame we for this great worke, Daphnis or Pan?
Col. Daphnis is dead, and Pan hath broke his Reed,
Tell all your flocks 'tis Joviall Dover's deed.
Behold the shepheards in their ribbands goe,
And shortly all the Nymphs shall wear 'em too:
Amaz'd to see such glory met together,
Blesse Dovers pipe, whose Musick call'd 'em hither
Sport you my Rams at sound of Dovers name;
Big-bellied ewes make hast to bring a Lambe
For Dovers fold: Goe maids and Lillies get
To make him up a glorious Coronet.
Swains keep his holy-day and each man swear
To Saint him in the Shepheards Calendar .