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Remembering thee, O green and silent dell!
April 28th, 1798.
Illustrated in the Story of the Mad Ox.
An Ox, long fed with musty hay,
And work’d with yoke and chain, Was turn’d out on an April day, When fields are in their best array, And growing grasses sparkle gay
At once with Sun and rain.
II. The grass was fine, the Sun was bright :
With truth I may aver it; The Ox was glad, as well he might, Thought a green meadow no bad sight, And frisked, to shew his huge delight,
Much like a beast of spirit.
The Ox is only gladt
Halloo ! the Ox is mad.
Plunge! through the hedge he drove-
He's mad! he's mad, by Jove !
* Stop, Neighbours, stop!” aloud did call
A sage of sober hue.
“And damme! who are you?”
Oh! hapless sage, his ears they stun,
And curse him o'er and o'er“ You bloody-minded dog ! cries one, “ To slit your windpipe were good fun,“ 'Od blast you for an *impious son
“ Of a presbyterian w—re.”
VII. 6 You'd have him gore the parish-priest,
“ And run against the altar“ You fiend !” The sage his warnings ceas'd, And north and south, and west and east, Halloo ! they follow the poor beast,
Mat, Dick, Tom, Bob and Walter.
Old Lewis, ('twas his evil day)
Stood trembling in his shoes ;
And gave him his death's bruise.
* One of the many fine words which the most uneducated had about this time a constant opportunity of acquiring, from the sermons iu the pulpit and the proclamations in the corners.
(No tale, tho' in print, morę true is)
A tear for good old Lewis !
All follow'd, boy and dad,
THEY DROVE THE POOR OX MAD.
Why e'en a Rat may plague you:
They're both alike the Ague.