| Two College Sophs of Cambridge Growth, | ||
| Both special Wits, and Lovers both, | ||
| Conferring as they us’d to meet, | ||
| On Love and Books in Rapture sweet; | ||
| 5 | (Muse, find me Names to fix my Metre,° | regular rhythm |
| Cassinus this, and t’other Peter) | ||
| Friend Peter to Cassinus goes, | ||
| To chat a while, and warm his Nose: | ||
| But, such a Sight was never seen, | ||
| 10 | The Lad lay swallow’d up in Spleen;° | melancholy |
| He seem’d as just crept out of Bed; | ||
| One greasy Stocking round his Head, | ||
| The t’other he sat down to darn | ||
| With Threads of diff’rent colour’d Yarn. | ||
| 15 | His Breeches torn exposing wide | |
| A ragged Shirt,° and tawny Hyde. | linen underclothes | |
| Scorcht were his Shins, his Legs were bare, | ||
| But, well embrown’d with Dirt and Hair. | ||
| A Rug was o’er his Shoulders thrown; | ||
| 20 | A Rug; for Night-gown he had none. | |
| His Jordan° stood in Manner fitting | pot | |
| Between his Legs, to spew or spit in. | ||
| His antient Pipe in Sable dy’d, | ||
| And half unsmoakt, lay by his Side, | ||
| 25 | Him thus accoutred° Peter found, | decked out |
| With Eyes in Smoak and Weeping drown’d: | ||
| The Leavings of his last Night’s Pot | ||
| On Embers plac’d, to drink it hot. | ||
| Why, Cassy, thou wilt doze thy Pate:° | top of the head | |
| 30 | What makes thee lie a-bed so late? | |
| The Finch, the Linnet and the Thrush, | ||
| Their Mattins° chant in ev’ry Bush: | morning church service | |
| And, I have heard thee oft salute | ||
| Aurora° with thy early Flute. | goddess of the dawn | |
| 35 | Heaven send thou hast not got the Hypps.° | depression |
| How? Not a Word come from thy lips? | ||
| Then gave him some familiar Thumps, | ||
| A College Joke to cure the Dumps. | ||
| The Swain° at last, with Grief opprest, | young country man | |
| 40 | Cry’d, Cælia! thrice, and sigh’d the rest. | |
| Dear Cassy, though to ask I dread, | ||
| Yet, ask I must. Is Cælia dead? | ||
| How happy I, were that the worst? | ||
| But I was fated to be curs’d. | ||
| 45 | Come, tell us, has she play’d the Whore? | |
| Oh Peter, wou’d it were no more! | ||
| Why, Plague confound her sandy Locks: | ||
| Say, has the small or greater Pox | ||
| Sunk down her Nose, or seam’d her Face? | ||
| 50 | Be easy, ’tis a common Case. | |
| Oh Peter! Beauty’s but a Varnish, | ||
| Which Time and Accidents will tarnish: | ||
| But, Cælia has contriv’d to blast | ||
| Those Beauties that might ever last. | ||
| 55 | Nor can Imagination guess, | |
| Nor Eloquence Divine express, | ||
| How that ungrateful charming Maid, | ||
| My purest Passion has betray’d. | ||
| Conceive the most invenom’d Dart,° | arrow | |
| 60 | To pierce an injur’d Lover’s Heart. | |
| Why, hang her, though she seem’d so coy, | ||
| I know she loves the Barber’s Boy. | ||
| Friend Peter, this I could excuse; | ||
| For, ev’ry Nymph has Leave to chuse; | ||
| 65 | Nor, have I Reason to complain: | |
| She loves a more deserving Swain. | ||
| But, oh! how ill hast thou divin’d | ||
| A Crime that shocks all human Kind; | ||
| A Deed unknown to Female Race, | ||
| 70 | At which the Sun should hide his Face. | |
| Advice in vain you would apply— | ||
| Then, leave me to despair and dye. | ||
| Yet, kind Arcadians, on my Urn | ||
| These Elegies and Sonnets burn, | ||
| 75 | And on the Marble grave° these Rhimes, | carve |
| A Monument to after-Times: | ||
| “Here Cassy lies, by Cælia slain, | ||
| And dying, never told his Pain.” | ||
| Vain empty World farewel. But hark, | ||
| 80 | The loud Cerberian triple Bark. | |
| And there — behold Alecto stand, | ||
| A Whip of Scorpions in her Hand. | ||
| Lo, Charon from his leaky Wherry,° | small boat | |
| Beck’ning to waft me o’er the Ferry. | ||
| 85 | I come, I come, — Medusa, see, | |
| Her Serpents hiss direct at me. | ||
| Begone; unhand me, hellish Fry; | ||
| Avaunt — ye cannot say ’twas I. | ||
| Dear Cassy, thou must purge° and bleed;° | give laxative — draw blood | |
| 90 | I fear thou wilt be mad indeed. | |
| But now, by Friendship’s sacred Laws, | ||
| I here conjure thee, tell the Cause; | ||
| And Cælia’s horrid Fact relate; | ||
| Thy Friend would gladly share thy Fate. | ||
| 95 | To force it out my Heart must rend; | |
| Yet, when conjur’d by such a Friend— | ||
| Think, Peter, how my Soul is rack’d. | ||
| These Eyes, these Eyes beheld the Fact. | ||
| Now, bend thine Ear; since out it must: | ||
| 100 | But, when thou seest me laid in Dust, | |
| The Secret thou shalt ne’er impart; | ||
| Not to the Nymph that keeps thy Heart; | ||
| (How would her Virgin Soul bemoan | ||
| A Crime to all her Sex unknown!) | ||
| 105 | Nor whisper to the tattling Reeds, | |
| The blackest of all Female Deeds. | ||
| Nor blab it on the lonely Rocks, | ||
| Where Echo sits, and list’ning mocks. | ||
| Nor let the Zephyr’s° treach’rous Gale | west wind | |
| 110 | Through Cambridge waft the direful Tale. | |
| Nor to the chatt’ring feather’d Race,° | birds | |
| Discover Cælia’s foul Disgrace. | ||
| But, if you fail, my Spectre dread | ||
| Attending nightly round your Bed; | ||
| 115 | And yet, I dare confide in you; | |
| So, take my Secret, and adieu. | ||
| Nor wonder how I lost my Wits; | ||
| Oh! Cælia, Cælia Cælia sh——. |