296 THE POEMS OF POPE. wife! But after many a hearty struggle past, I condescended to be pleas'd at last. Soon as he said, ' My mistress and my Do what you list the term of all your life;' I took to heart the merits of the cause, And stood content to rule by wholesome laws; Receiv'd the reins of absolute command, With all the government of house and land, And empire o'er his tongue and o'er his hand. As for the volume that revil'd the dames, 'Twas torn to fragments, and condemn'd to flames. Now Heaven on all my husbands gone bestow Pleasures above for tortures felt below: That rest they wish'd for grant them in the grave, And bless those souls my conduct help'd to save! IMITATIONS OF ENGLISH POETS. CHAUCER. WOMEN ben full of ragerie, Yet swinken nat sans secresie, From schoole-boy's tale of fayre Irelond; But ho! our nephew," crieth one; They asken that, and talken this, Lo, here is coz, and here is miss.' But, as he glozeth with speeches soote, Forth thrust a white neck and red crest. "Te-hee," cried ladies; clerke nought spake : Miss star'd, and grey ducke crieth " quaake.” "O moder, moder!" quoth the daughter, "Be thilke same thing maids longen a'ter? Bette is to pine on coals and chalke, Then trust on mon whose yerde can talke." SPENSER. THE ALLEY. In every town where Thamis rolls his tyde, How can ye, mothers, vex your children so? And on the broken pavement, here and there, And hens, and dogs, and hogs, are feeding by; |