I from abroad a pris'ner brought,
Was soon the English language taught,
And pleas'd my lord so well,
He introduc'd me to his spouse,
Where I in comfort dwell;
For when the sky's serene and clear,
I walk abroad to take the air,
And to observe what passes;
Where learning half the tricks in town,
I make remarks on ev'ry clown,
And laugh at lads and lasses:
When tired with that I call a coach,
(Bold and regardless of reproach)
Then whistle, sing, and cough;
And having teaz'd the man awhile,
With the imposture pleas'd I smile,
And bid the knave walk off.

My patron is wisdom—If wisdom you prize,
In me put your confidence, borrow my eyes;
Who into a millstone can see full as far,
As the best of you all, by the light of a star;
Cou'd the Royal Society purchase my skill,
Or the wise men of Gresham like me have their will;
They ne'er had admitted pretenders to science,
And for learned members bid Europe defiance.
In short—had some wise ones but my penetration,
It had long ago much better far'd with the nation.

In me behold the height of human art,
Hear what the elements to me impart;
My origin I owe to mother Earth,
Fire was the midwife forwarded my birth;
Air gave me wings, and added to my voice,
And Neptune made me his peculiar choice,
To me committed his dominions vast:
Jove wav'd his sceptre, and the fiat pass'd;
I took possession without more delay,
And hold the liquid empire to this day.

I am short, let me tell ye,
But have a big belly,
Which a boddice lac'd round me restrains;
I have also a head,
But may truly be said,
To carry no guts in my brains:
My skull is so soft,
That when taken aloft,
You would swear I should soon shake asunder;
For which I am beat,
Till set down on my feet,
And roar all the time loud as thunder,
But the great ones of late,
Who all pity'd my fate,
Resolving to alter my station,
Made me known to the fair,
Who can now with an air,
Call upon me for their recreation.

I in gold and silver dress'd,
Am by belles and beaux caress'd;
Who on each day attend,
As their counsellor and friend,
Here they practice harmless guiles,
Artful glances, killing smiles:
Here they all their beauty show,
Here they string the bended bow:
Here the quiver's fraught with darts,
Which they aim at lovers hearts;
And never make a visit twice,
Without asking my advice.

I am white at the neck as Susannah the fair,
Tho' my body sometimes is all cover'd with hair;
As a flounder am flat, as a beetle am blind,
Yet good services do to the race of mankind:
The copses and coverts I traverse each day,
To drive from their holds and destroy beasts of prey;
Having two rows of teeth for engagement design'd,
They all fly before me like chaff before wind;
Now tell but my name, ye mammas or misses,
And those who stand by shall reward you with kisses.

One winter's evening very dark,
As I cross'd o'er St. James's Park,
I got an odd but civil friend
To light me to my journey's end;
His cap to me did plain appear
Like that of the fierce grenadier;
Black was the cloak which wrapp'd him round,
And his feet never touch'd the ground;
He seem'd of the infernal race,
With flaming fire about his face;
While from his nostrils issu'd smoke,
Yet all the way he never spoke:
Thus guarded I was carry'd home;
But soon as to the door I come,
An opake body interpos'd,
And the surprizing scene was clos'd.

When our master or mistress my service befriends,
I keep moving all day to make them amends;
I inform them when breakfast and dinner is ready,
And am in my duty surprisingly steady;
I speak when I'm bid, and if not hold my tongue,
Thus accomplish'd, I'm welcome to old and to young;
Ev'n for their devotion instructions I give,
And can teach the extravagant heir how to live;
But with them to the playhouse when I take a trip,
If not narrowly watch'd I oft give them the slip;
But tho' when well us'd I'm to all very civil,
When slighted I'm sullen and false as the devil.

Tho' good fellows we are,
We can't hope to be sav'd;
From our very first day,
To our last we're enslav'd,
Our office is hardest,
And food sure the worst,
Being cramm'd with raw flesh,
Till we're ready to burst;
Tho' low in our state,
Ev'n Kings we support;
And at balls have
The principal share of the sport.

My Lords and Gentlemen advance,
Come with a chearful countenance,
And tell abroad my praise,
Whether you in the senate sit,
Or at the bar display your wit,
'Tis I your spirits raise;
I from the hero banish fear,
I whisper in the poet's ear,
And teach him how to sing;
At my approach care steals away,
And all the troubles of the day,
Immediately take wing:
'Tis I th' afflicted souls relieve,
To the desponding comfort give,
And make the statesman bold;
The balm I yield, if well apply'd,
Extends its friendly influence wide,
And aids both young and old.

While tears fall down, behold how gay,
How beautiful my dress;
Not Flora in the month of May
Does greater joy express,
And as on her the short-liv'd pride,
Sol's friendly beams bestow,
So I my charms, extended wide,
To the same patron owe;
The elements are all combin'd
To form my transient beauty,
And I as God himself design'd,
Do my appointed duty:
Thus plac'd aloft to catch the eye,
Like Beacon on a hill,
I tell not who comes to destroy,
Yet obviate future ill.

Tho' big my belly, long my nose,
And with one arm I strut;
I make the fair their foes expose,
And keep my own mouth shut:
Before me they their secrets tell,
The news of all the day;
And for my silence I'm fed well,
But empty sent away:
Yet tho they love my company,
And seem to me so civil;
Sometimes you'd swear they thought that I
Had dealings with the devil.

Emblem of youth and innocence,
With walls enclos'd for my defence,
And with no care oppress'd,
I boldly spread my charms around,
Till some rude lover breaks the mound,
And takes me to his breast;
Here soon I sicken and decay,
My beauty lost, I'm turn'd away,
And thrown upon the street;
Where I despis'd and rolling lie,
See no Samaritan pass by,
But num'rous insults meet:—
Ladies, contemplate well my fate,
Reflect upon my wretched state;
Implore th' Almighty's aid,
Lest you (which Heav'n avert) like me
Shou'd come to want and misery,
Be ruin'd and betray'd.

Look at the rainbow in the sky,
See summer morning clouds pass by;
Go search the gardens and the fields,
Observe what bounteous nature yields;
You'll scarcely find a flower or plant,
Whose beauty I or colour want:
Thus furnish'd, I oblige the fair,
And change my colour ev'ry year;
Attend the Gen'ral—grace the Lord,
And to both sexes joy afford:
But hold, methinks too far I go,
Being oft the messenger of woe:
Consult the glass with decent air,
My nature, use, and name declare.

Who was he, that by a kiss
Lost a more substantial bliss;
Sold his crown for paltry pelf,
Sneak'd away and hang'd himself?
Beware, ye mercenaries all,
Lest the same fate should you befall.

If old stories say true,
I could once talk like you;
But for fear of becoming a slave,
I was instantly mute,
And grew cunning to boot,
Determin'd my freedom to save;
Now to the fop and the fool,
And the rude boy at school,
All endeavour to practice my art;
But their efforts are vain,
They pretenders remain,
And must—till the world they depart;
To observe how I grin,
With snub nose, lips, and chin,
Would the laughter excite of a lord;
And for mimicry too,
I my betters out-do,
And more innocent pleasure afford.

I, a busy active creature,
Fashion'd for the sport of nature,
Nimbly skip from tree to tree,
Under a well-wrought canopy;
And, for cleanliness and air,
Am a pattern to the fair,
I, to arms and blood a stranger,
Apprehensive of no danger,
Like the ant for winter store,
Searching treasure to explore,
On a sudden hear the foe,
Cause and object of my woe;
By whom I'm soon a prisoner made,
Chain'd and in a dungeon laid;
Bid Chloe then and Mira tell
What's my name, and where I dwell.

Of all the arts in which we shine,
Or sciences acquir'd,
There's none so difficult as mine,
Less practis'd, more admir'd;
Behold my whimsical attire,
How aukward my address;
The trade which I take up for hire,
Millions unknown profess.
I fiddle, sing, prate, laugh and cry,
To draw the thoughtless in;
And num'rous other antics try,
To bait the subtle grin:
But when surrounded with a crowd,
To shew myself more funny,
I tell my master's fame aloud,
And ease them of their money.

I am chief of a clan, which by God was appointed
To establish his throne, and preserve his anointed;
The grandeur observe of my house and attire,
And tell me what mortal can raise his head higher;
My servants are num'rous, their wages well paid,
Who for constant attendance insure future aid;
To all ranks and degrees of mankind I am civil,
And do all that I can to deter them from evil.
Nay,—Those suppliant all who my levee attend,
In me find a servant, a father, a friend:
And some, who my service and sov'reign deny'd,
Have liv'd to repent of that crime ere they dy'd.

When you the fortune hunter meet,
Upon a gaudy day,
Compleatly rigg'd from head to feet,
In Monmouth Street array;
Then turn your wand'ring eye to me,
My vanity admire;
Observe, here the like fallacy
Lurks under my attire;
For all the fin'ry round me thrown,
I'm forc'd to beg or borrow;
And shou'd my neighbours claim their own,
Must naked go to-morrow.

How many millions for my sake have dy'd,
What frauds and villanies have not been try'd!
And all the grandeur which my race adorns
Is like the rose beset around with thorns;
Nay, when possess'd, such your enjoyments are,
I to my owners trouble bring and care.
Ev'n they, by whom I am so highly priz'd,
If good are hated, and if bad despis'd.
Thus 'twixt the plague of getting me and losing,
By some I'm thought not worth a wise man's chusing.

Come hear and see a taudry thing,
Fluttering with expanded wing;
Like the lark that upward tends,
And like her too, when she descends
Toss'd by the owner to and fro,
Her beauty and its own to show;
Suff'ring much at ball and play
And working ev'ry holiday;
But what is still more strange to tell,
When by Belinda manag'd well,
Its pow'r th' admiring youth perplexes,
For her it cools, but burns Alexes.

I ne'er offend thee,
Yet thou dost me whip,
Which don't amend me,
Tho' I dance and skip:
When I'm upright, me you always like best,
And barb'rously whip me when I want rest

My proper title I forsake,
And often that of others take;
Sometimes a king in stately pride,
With lofty majesty I stride;
Sometimes with sprightly nymphs and swains,
I trip it o'er the flow'ry plains;
Sometimes I fleet aloft in air,
And oftentimes quite disappear:
In various shapes I'm known to be,
And children often start at me.

My nose is long, my back is broad and round,
And in my belly oft two holes are found;
No load I carry, yet I puff and blow,
As much as heavy loaded porters do.

When in my youth, I was my mother's pride;
We always went together, side by side;
No harm I wrought, by either word or deed;
For to be plain, I could not write or read;
But soon as man seiz'd on my tender frame,
Depriv'd of life, his pupil I became,
And tho' of late so innocent and mild,
With blackest deeds my virtues now defil'd;
My tongue he slits, and I begin to prate
Of friends and foes, of politics and state.

Legs I have got, yet seldom do I walk;
I backbite many, yet I never talk:
In secret places most I seek to hide me,
For he who feeds me never can abide me

While young and gay, and deck'd with utmost pride,
I long'd and thought it heav'n to be a bride:
At length a wealthy merchant view'd my charms,
Tall and genteel, I took him to my arms;
But he, in spite of all the med'cines try'd,
That very night light headed grew and dy'd:
Instructed by this merchant's fortune go,
Nor dream of lasting happiness below.

'Tis true I have both face and hands,
And move before your eye;
Yet when I go my body stands,
And when I stand I lie.

Of all dame nature's progeny,
There's scarce one being more than me
Alive despis'd and hated;
But tho' I am a filthy creature,
Without one amiable feature,
It strongly is debated,
Whether I don't excel the man,
Who thro' the paths of vice has ran,
And does no good while living;
But left a torn estate behind,
To put his family in mind,
He'd nothing worth the giving;
While I, whene'er impartial death
Pierces my heart or stops my breath,
My income ne'er destroy;
But for all favours done,
Return the living three for one,
And give the houshold joy.

Behold yon powder'd beau, how fine and fair:
Great Britain's glory, but his father's care;
Observe his equipage, how grand, how neat,
In ev'ry article alike compleat;
See him look down with scorn upon his fire,
While gaping passengers his pride admire.
Would you his residence or haunts explore,
Accept his key and open wide the door.
When bus'ness in the senate calls you there,
You'll soon behold this noble upstart near;
Or if for pleasure you to Vauxhall stray,
'Tis ten to one you pass him on the way;
But thro' the city should you chance to range,
You'll never find the booby upon change.
Like those fine gentlemen whom courts inclose,
He trade despises, though from trade he rose.

The END.

Illustrated Shilling Series
OF
Forgotten Children's Books.

PUBLISHERS' NOTE.

The little books printed about a hundred years ago "for the amusement of little masters and misses" must now be looked for in the cabinets of the curious. The type is quaint, the illustrations quainter and the grayish tinted paper abounds in obtrusive specks of embedded dirt. For the covers, gaudy Dutch gilt paper was used, or paper with patchy blobs of startlingly contrasted colours laid on with a brush by young people. The text, always amusing, is of course redolent of earlier days.

1899-1900.
LONDON: PUBLISHED BY
The Leadenhall Press, Ltd: 50, Leadenhall Street, E.C.
Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent & Co., Ltd:
New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 153-157 Fifth Avenue.

1. THE DAISY; or, Cautionary Stories in Verse, adapted to Ideas of Children from Four to Eight Years Old. 1807.

Re-prints of this laughter-laden little book, written by Mrs. Elizabeth Turner, followed each other right up to about 1850: in the illustrated edition before the reader, nothing is omitted and nothing is added.

With a view to greater profit, the publisher discarded the pretty copperplates which adorned the first edition (now a thing of price) substituting roughly cut wooden blocks.

2. THE COWSLIP; or, More Cautionary Stories in Verse. By the author of that much-admired little work, entitled The Daisy. 1811.

Under this title in 1811 Mrs. Turner wrote some more Cautionary Stories which became almost as popular as The Daisy. She also wrote other books of poetry for children, including The Crocus, The Pink, and Short Poems; but none had the charm or vogue of The Daisy and The Cowslip.

3. NEW RIDDLE-BOOK. By John-the-Giant-Killer, Esquire. 1778.

This covetable little book, published by F(rancis) Newbery, Jun. and T(homas) Carnan, the son and step-son of John Newbery, had been issued by their father at least twenty years earlier than the date on the title-page. The opening note concerning Francis, the nephew of John Newbery, relates to family differences which need not here be referred to. There would seem to be no copyright in riddles, at any rate one finds the same hoary-heads in other collections.

The destructive fingers of little riddle-readers have been the means of causing thousands of copies of this amusing book to disappear, and to obtain an original copy is now almost impossible. The quaintness of the wood-cut pictorial answers should appeal to the modern reader.

It is intended to continue this Illustrated Shilling Series of
Forgotten Children's Books.
OTHER VOLUMES ARE IN PREPARATION.

SMILES AND LAUGHTER IN EVERY PAGE.

PAGES AND PICTURES FROM FORGOTTEN CHILDREN'S BOOKS. Brought together and introduced to the Reader by Andrew W. Tuer, F.S.A. Four hundred illustrations; five hundred pages, handsomely bound, top edge gilt, silk book-marker. LONDON: The Leadenhall Press, Ltd: 50, Leadenhall-street, E.C. [Six Shillings.

One hundred large paper copies at a Guinea, net.

SMILES AND LAUGHTER IN EVERY PAGE.

STORIES FROM OLD-FASHIONED CHILDREN'S BOOKS brought together and introduced to the Reader by Andrew W. Tuer, F.S.A. Adorned with 250 amusing cuts. Nearly 500 pages: handsomely and attractively bound. LONDON: The Leadenhall Press, Ltd: 50, Leadenhall-street, E.C. [Six Shillings.

THESE ARE QUITE INDEPENDENT VOLUMES.
Book back cover

Transcriber's Note:

Obvious punctuation errors were corrected.

Capitalization of opening verses were made consistent; e.g. "I Am" changed to "I am".