Ye peers! who careless of ambition, chuse To court the labours of the past'ral muse; And all the wond'rous bards who try the lay Where black Cam rolls, or Isis' eddies play, Assist the labours of an humble swain, Rude to the pipe, and novice on the plain. Nine months successive now had rolled round, Since MARIAN first the pleasing mischief found; In vain her hands had cull'd th' abortive weed, Nor aught avail'd the 'pothecary's aid. Her womb began with fatal size to swell, And sick'ning qualms the blushful secret tell: Then all in sad despair she made her moan, Lodona's waters echoed groan for groan. "Ah! faithless COLIN CLOUT! ah, luckless I! "And canst thou, cruel! from thy MARIAN fly? "How often hast thou suck'd my panting breath? "How often swore to love me true till death? "But to the Justice I'll reveal my plight, "And with a constable pursue thy flight. "Ah! how unequal, as our parson preaches, "Are this world's goods! and sure he rightly teaches; "For what to maidens brings eternal stain, "(Sad management!) gives honour to the swain. "'Twas on the blithest morn of all the year, "When new-born May bids every shepherd chear; "When artful maids their rival fancies shew, "And well-wrought garlands bloom on ev'ry bough; "When gaudy fairs bespangle every street, "And lowing cows the novel pasture greet; "Fresh rose I, MARIAN hight, from rustic bed, "The morning dream still hov'ring o'er my head; "Gay shews and sweethearts had employ'd my thought, "The kiss imprinted, and the fairing bought! "From lavander I drew the tucker'd smock, "And hosen boastful of a various clock; "The silver'd knot well scollop'd on my head, "And donn'd the sunday gown berob'd with red. "Thus all bedight, and ready for the fair, "I sat impatient with a wistful air, "Expecting COLIN CLOUT, my perjur'd swain, "Who always follow'd MARIAN on the plain: "With him the moon-light walk I us'd to tread, "With him I danc'd upon the sportive mead; "That very morn had taught the snails to crawl, "And print mysterious letters on the wall. "At length he came, and I with joyous meed "Mounted behind him on the pillion'd steed: "Sweetly I sung, he whistled to the lay, "Sweetly I sung the song, and sung the day: "_What beauteous scenes_ began the tuneful tale! "And next I humm'd _the sweets of Arno's vale_; "Then MOLLY MOGG, fair damsel of the Rose, "And _lovely_ PEGGY, taste of London beaux. "And now in view gay Reading strikes our eyes, "And all the dainties of the fair arise: "Here Birmingham its boasted ware displays, "There leather breeches hight, and bodice stays; "Here posied garters flutter'd in the way, "There painted hobby-horses seem to neigh; "Here belles in gingerbread all gilded over,