Let it's liquors be port, punch, porter and ale,
In wine says the Proverb there's truth and no care;
Each member may then in libations regale,
And toast that first blessing of heaven, the Fair.
The fumes of tabac sooth the ennui of thinking, Give a truce to the mind to reflect on its lass; Long tubes are of course an appendage to drinking, For a whiff now and then adds new zest to the glass.
Well pleas'd with their banquet, now fully completed, They arose, and took each a full bumper in hand; Live for ever our Club! with three cheers they re peated,
Be it envied by all other clubs in the Land.
To the Tune of "Phillis the Lovely."
The following old Legendary Ballad is printed from an unique copy in the possession of Mr. Raw, of Ipswich.
You young men and maidens of beauty most bright,
Give ear to my story of love and delight;
I know that most people will of it approve,
It shews that some maidens are crafty in love.
It is an old saying we often do hear,
That maids go a courting when it is leap year;
A comical courtship this proves in the end,
Most people will smile ere my song's at an end.
Young Cupid he ranges about now and then,
And maidens are wounded as well as the men ;
For all must submit to his conquering bow,
As now by experience you soon all shall know.
A handsome young lady in London did dwell,
Whose parents were dead, it is known very well
She had the possession, all in her own hands,
Of great store of riches, and houses, and lands.
A gentleman out of the country did ride,
And at a great milliner's shop in Cheapside
He took up his lodgings, as I do declare,
When many a beautiful lady came there,
Fine gloves, and rich ribbons, and fans there to buy,
And such other nick-nacks as pleased their eye;
The gentleman of them did take a full view,
And often would pass a fine compliment too.
This beautiful lady amongst all the rest,
She came to the milliner's shop I protest,
And seeing this gentleman, she, for her part,
That instant was wounded by Cupid's sharp dart.
This honoured beautiful lady by birth
Thought him the handsomest creature on earth;
So sweet was his carriage, such eloquent ways,
In person so graceful, exceeding all praise.
When business was over, this man to be plain,
Took coach and then rode back to Suffolk again,
At which the young lady was grieved full sore,
For he was the person that she did adore.
The ardour of love was enkindled so great,
Her fond heart lay panting and fearfully beat;
So deep was she wounded, she could no more rest,
The tortures of love so inflamed her breast.
Then said the young beautiful lady, I find
That now I am greatly perplex'd in my mind;
In love I am deeply entangled, she cry'd,
Oh! that I could be, but that gentleman's bride.
Methinks how delighted I'd be with the choice,
I do like his temper, and likewise his voice:
His courteous behaviour, in every degree,
So fine is, so sweet, and so pleasing to me,
I never shall rest 'till I find out his name,
And learn by some method from what place he came;
But now if my passion to him I unfold,
I fear he would slight me and call me too bold.
But rather than I will quite languish and die,
In a very
short time I am resolved to try,
Perhaps I by policy then may contrive,
To gain him I fancy, my heart to revive.
Soon after, this beautiful young lady gay,
In man's fine apparel herself did array ;
And for this spruce gentleman enquiry made,
Because now to love him her heart was betray'd.
They told her from St. Edmund's Bury he came,
Which is in the county of Suffolk by name;
Disguised she rode down to Suffolk we find,
In order to ease her poor troubled mind.
In the fair town of Bury then, as it is told,
This damsel then sought for this gentleman bold,
And in a short time did find out where he dwelt,
But who can express now the passion she felt.
This lady then went to a tavern hard by,
But drest like a man that no one might esspy
That she was a woman, thus in her disguise,
You'll say that she acted both cunning and wise.
She sent for this gentleman with a design
To come and take part of a bottle of wine;
And soon to the tavern this gentleman came,
To visit this stranger of honour and fame.
The lady was like a young man to behold,
And said, sir, excuse me for being so bold;
Though I am a stranger no harm do I mean,
In fair London city your face I have seen.
The gentleman straitway replied in mirth,
You are not a person of breeding and birth ;
Is not your intention, I ask, me to cheat?
Now what is your business, pray let me intreat.
Sir, I came from London (I hope no offence)
To you in great business, and 'ere I go hence,
The truth of the matter you too soon shall know:
This set him a sighing, when she talked so.
They called for a supper, and when it was o'er,
The gentleman said, sir, I do you implore
To tell me your business. Then in her disguise,
She acted her part now both cunning and wise.
Sir, I have a sister, a lady by birth,
She is the most beautiful creature on earth;
And she is worth hundreds and thousands a year,
To tell you the truth she does love you most dear.
My sister lies languishing now for your sake,
And therefore compassion I hope you will take,
And slight not a captive, in love so confin'd,
Your answer I hope will be loving and kind.
The gentleman answer'd without more ado,
You question me hardly, but now tell me true,
If that your faces resemble alike,
Then I with your sister a bargain will strike.
Dear sir, she is like me in every part :
Why then I can love her with all my fond heart;
If there be no bubble nor trick in the case,
Your sister's kind proffer I mean to embrace.
She said, I must ride on to Cambridge with speed;
But since you have answer'd so kindly indeed,
I will ride to London, before you get there,
And, sir, you shall find that all matters are fair.
The gentleman then, between hope and despair,
His journey to London forthwith did repair;
He found where this beautiful lady did dwell,
And of her good fame he was pleased right well.
The lady got home, as before she had said,
And he was admitted by her waiting maid
To the young lady's presence; approaching the room,
To pay her his visit he then did presume.
Dear honour'd lady, excuse me nor blame,
From Bury St. Edmund's in Suffolk I came,
I had the good fortune your brother to see,
Who told me you had a great value for me.
Sir, what do you mean? I declare on my death,
I have not a brother alive on the earth!
This filled the gentleman with much discontent,
And he said, on a fool's errand then I am sent.
So taking his leave, on his going away,
This beautiful lady she caus'd him to stay;
And then unto supper she did him invite,
The charms of her beauty his soul to delight.
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