The Sleeping Bard; Or, Visions of the World, Death, and HellWynne, Ellis
General
The Sleeping Bard; Or, Visions of the World, Death, and Hell
Wynne, Ellis
Allegories; Christian life; Religious literature, Welsh; Welsh literature -- 18th century; Welsh literature -- Translations into English
minute, or the _body_ of a harlot newly buried, and will go into her in
lieu of a _soul_, rather than you should abandon so good a design.
Here there are handsome houses with very pleasant gardens, teeming
orchards, and shadowy groves, adapted to all kinds of secret meetings, in
which one can hunt birds and a certain fair coney; here there are
delightful rivers for fishing, and wide fields hedged around, in which it
is pleasant to hunt the hare and fox. All along the street you could see
farces being acted, juggling going on, and all kinds of tricks of
legerdemain; there was plenty of licentious music, vocal and
instrumental, ballad singing, and every species of merriment; there was
no lack of male and female beauty, singing and dancing; and there were
here many from the street of Pride, who came to receive praise and
adoration. In the interior of the houses I could see people on beds of
silk and down, wallowing in voluptuousness; some were engaged at billiard-
playing, and were occasionally swearing or cursing the table keeper;
others were rattling the dice or shuffling the cards. My guide pointed
out to me some from the street of Lucre, who had chambers in this street;
they had run hither to reckon their money, but they did not tarry long
lest some of the innumerable tempting things to be met with here should
induce them to part with their pelf, without usury. I could see throngs
of individuals feasting, with something of every creature before them;
oh, how every one did gorge, swallowing mess after mess of dainties,
sufficient to have feasted a moderate man for three weeks, and when they
could eat no more, they belched out a thanks for what they had received,
and then gave the health of the king and every jolly companion; after
which, they drowned the savour of the food, and their cares besides, in
an ocean of wine; then they called for tobacco, and began telling stories
of their neighbours--and, I observed, that all the stories were well
received, whether true or false, provided they were amusing and of late
date, above all if they contained plenty of scandal: there they sat, each
with his clay pistol puffing forth fire and smoke, and slander to his
neighbour. At length I was fain to request my guide to permit me to move
on; the floor was impure with saliva and spilt drink, and I was
apprehensive that certain heavy hiccups which I heard, might be merely
the prelude to something more disagreeable.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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