Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/295

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page needs to be proofread.

COUNTESS OF WINCHILSEA ���157 ���The lazy way, she travell'd in before, He minds her not ; but up the Boy he sets Upon her Back, and on the Crupper gets. Thus on they jog, when of Three Men that pass'd, 50 The eldest thinking Age to be disgraced, Call'd to the Youth, ho! you, young Man for shame! Come down, lest Passengers your Manners blame, And say, it ill becomes your tender Years To ride before a Grandsire with grey Hairs. Truly, the Gentlemen are in the right, The Miller cries, and makes the Boy alight ; Then forward slides himself into his place, And with a Mind content, renews his pace: But much he had not gain'd upon his way, 60 �Before a Troop of Damsels, neat and gay, (Partial to Youth) to one another cry'd, See, how with walking by that Dotard's side, The Boy is tir'd; whilst with a Prelate's state He rides alone, and dangling in the Seat, Hangs like a Calf thrown up, across the Beast. The Miller, thinking to have spoiled that Jest, Reply'd, he was too Old for Veal to pass, But after more on him, and on his Ass, He stands convinc'd, and takes his Son again 70 To ride at ease himself, still next the Mane. Yet ere he'd thirty Paces borne the Lad, The next they met, cry'd Are these Fellows mad! Have they no Pity thus t'o'erload the Jade! Sure, at the Fair, they for her Skin may trade. See, how's she spent, and sinks beneath their strokes! The Miller, whom this most of all provokes, Swears by his Cap, he shews his want of Brains, Who thus to please the World, bestows his Pains. Howe'er we'll try, if this way't may be done; 80 ��� �