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Article THE COUNTRY CURATE. Page 1 of 2 →
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Country Curate.
THE COUNTRY CURATE .
TTN t ' other hundred , o ' er yon swarthy moor , JL Deep in the mire with tawny rush beset , Where bleak sea breezes echo from the shore , And foggy damps infect the noontide heat , There lies a country curate ' s dismal seat : View well those barren heaths with sober eye * And wonder how a man can live so wretchedly .
See , to the farmer's yard where close ally'd A ragged church th' adjacent dikes commands ; One bell the steeple fills , ( the tinker ' s pride !) The beams are wreath'd . about with hempen , bands , Wove , as the roof decay'd , by pious hands : Drops , from the thatch , still keep the white-wash wet , God bless the holy man that dares to preach in it .
The house stands near , this church's foster brother , On crutches both , aclvanc'd in hoary eld ; A double rail runs from the one to t ' other , And saves the curate from the dirty field , Where muck of various kind and hue is mell'd ; O'er this , each Sunday , to the church he climbs , And , to preserve his ancient cassock , risks his limbs " .
Him liveth near , in dirty neighbourhood , His clerke , a blacksmith , he of sallow hue ; Whose empty cellarlong hath open stood , A certain sign of " penury or rue ; Him would the curate fain persuade to brew ; Still happy man , if I should leave untold The shrew , who of his life shrill government dotli hold .
The well known power of an English wife Ne day nor night she ceases to explain ; Her wit unrein'd promotes eternal strife , Her beauty makes her arrogant and vain , And both conspire to sharpen her disdain ; While rank ill-nature poisons all his joys , Conf ' us'd in endless squabble and unceasing noise .
Eight years hath heaven plagu'd ' em with a boy , Who hates a sister younger by a year ; Whose hungry meagre looks , sans life or joy , They view , and frown upon the wrangling pair , ( Who like two rav ' nous locusts do appear On one small noiv ' r ) repent that e ' er they sped , Since Cupid ' s golden shafts they find are ti pp'd with lead
Each sun arises in a noisome fog ; 'Tir'd of their beds , they rise as soon as light : With like disgust their summers on they drag , And o ' er a few stray chips the winter ' s night : ( Such is the marry'd Essex-curate ' s plight . ) Tho' seasons change , no sense of change they know , But look , with discontent , on all things here below ,
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Country Curate.
THE COUNTRY CURATE .
TTN t ' other hundred , o ' er yon swarthy moor , JL Deep in the mire with tawny rush beset , Where bleak sea breezes echo from the shore , And foggy damps infect the noontide heat , There lies a country curate ' s dismal seat : View well those barren heaths with sober eye * And wonder how a man can live so wretchedly .
See , to the farmer's yard where close ally'd A ragged church th' adjacent dikes commands ; One bell the steeple fills , ( the tinker ' s pride !) The beams are wreath'd . about with hempen , bands , Wove , as the roof decay'd , by pious hands : Drops , from the thatch , still keep the white-wash wet , God bless the holy man that dares to preach in it .
The house stands near , this church's foster brother , On crutches both , aclvanc'd in hoary eld ; A double rail runs from the one to t ' other , And saves the curate from the dirty field , Where muck of various kind and hue is mell'd ; O'er this , each Sunday , to the church he climbs , And , to preserve his ancient cassock , risks his limbs " .
Him liveth near , in dirty neighbourhood , His clerke , a blacksmith , he of sallow hue ; Whose empty cellarlong hath open stood , A certain sign of " penury or rue ; Him would the curate fain persuade to brew ; Still happy man , if I should leave untold The shrew , who of his life shrill government dotli hold .
The well known power of an English wife Ne day nor night she ceases to explain ; Her wit unrein'd promotes eternal strife , Her beauty makes her arrogant and vain , And both conspire to sharpen her disdain ; While rank ill-nature poisons all his joys , Conf ' us'd in endless squabble and unceasing noise .
Eight years hath heaven plagu'd ' em with a boy , Who hates a sister younger by a year ; Whose hungry meagre looks , sans life or joy , They view , and frown upon the wrangling pair , ( Who like two rav ' nous locusts do appear On one small noiv ' r ) repent that e ' er they sped , Since Cupid ' s golden shafts they find are ti pp'd with lead
Each sun arises in a noisome fog ; 'Tir'd of their beds , they rise as soon as light : With like disgust their summers on they drag , And o ' er a few stray chips the winter ' s night : ( Such is the marry'd Essex-curate ' s plight . ) Tho' seasons change , no sense of change they know , But look , with discontent , on all things here below ,