Where flags the noon-tide Air, and, as we pass,
We fear to breathe the putrefying Mass:
But fearless yonder Matron; she disdains
To sigh for Zephyrs from ambrosial Plains;
But mends her Meshes torn, and pours her Lay
All in the stifling Fervour of the Day.

Her naked Children round the Alley run,
And roll'd in Dust, are bronz'd beneath the Sun;
Or gambol round the Dame, who, loosely drest,
Woos the coy Breeze to fan the open Breast:
She, once a Handmaid, strove by decent art
To charm her Sailor's Eye and touch his Heart;
Her Bosom then was veil'd in Kerchief clean,
And Fancy left to form the Charms unseen.

But when a Wife, she lost her former Care,

Nor thought on Charms, nor time for Dress could spare;
Careless she found her Friends who dwelt beside,
No rival Beauty kept alive her Pride:

Still in her bosom Virtue keeps her place,

But Decency is gone, the Virtue's Guard and Grace. See that long boarded Building!-By these Stairs Each humble Tenant to that home repairs— By one large Window lighted-it was made For some bold Project, some design in Trade : This fail'd, and one, a Humourist in his way, (Ill was the humour,) bought it in decay; Nor will be sell, repair, or take it down, "Tis his, what cares he for the talk of Town? "No! he will let it to the Poor;-a Home "Where he delights to see the Creatures come:" 'They may be Thieves ;'-" Well, so are richer Men;" 'Or Idlers, Cheats, or Prostitutes;'-"What then?" 'Outcasts pursued by Justice, vile and base;'"They need the more his Pity and the Place:"

Convert to System his vain Mind has built,
He gives Asylum to Deceit and Guilt.

In this vast Room, each Place by habit fix'd,
Are Sexes, Families, and Ages mix'd,-
To Union forc'd by Crime, by Fear, by Need,
And all in Morals and in Modes agreed;
Some ruin'd Men, who from Mankind remove;
Some ruin'd Females, who yet talk of Love;
And some grown old in Idleness-the prey
To vicious Spleen, still railing through the Day;
And Need and Misery, Vice and Danger bind
In sad Alliance each degraded Mind.

That Window view!-oil'd Paper and old Glass
Stain the strong Rays, which, though impeded, pass,
And give a dusty Warmth to that huge Room,
The conquer'd Sunshine's melancholy gloom;
When all those Western Rays, without so bright,
Within become a ghastly glimmering Light,
As pale and faint upon the Floor they fall,
Or feebly gleam on the opposing Wall:

That Floor, once Oak, now piec'd with Fir unplan'd,
Or, where not piec'd, in places bor'd and stain’d;
That Wall once whiten'd, now an odious sight,
Stain'd with all Hues, except its ancient White;
The only Door is fasten'd by a Pin,

Or stubborn Bar, that none may hurry in:
For this poor Room, like Rooms of greater pride,
At times contains what prudent Men would hide.
Where'er the Floor allows an even space,
Chalking and marks of various Games have place;
Boys, without foresight, pleas'd in Halters swing;
On a fix'd Hook Men cast a flying Ring;

While Gin and Snuff their female Neighbours share,
And the black Beverage in the fractur'd Ware.

On swinging Shelf are things incongruous stor❜d,— Scraps of their food, the Cards and Cribbage-board,— With Pipes and Pouches; while on Peg below, Hang a lost Member's Fiddle and its Bow: That still reminds them how he 'd dance and play, Ere sent untimely to the Convicts' Bay.

Here by a Curtain, by a Blanket there,

Are various Beds conceal'd, but none with care;
Where some by Day and some by Night, as best
Suit their Employments, seek uncertain Rest;
The drowsy Children at their pleasure creep
To the known Crib, and there securely sleep.
Each end contains a Grate, and these beside
Are hung Utensils for their Boil'd and Fry'd-
All us'd at any hour, by Night by Day,
As suit the Purse, the Person, or the Prey.

Above the Fire, the Mantle-Shelf contains
Of China-Ware some poor unmatch'd Remains;
There many a Tea-cup's gaudy fragment stands,
All plac'd by Vanity's unwearied hands;
For here she lives, e'en here she looks about,
To find some small consoling Objects out:

Nor heed these Spartan Dames their House, nor sit
'Mid Cares domestic,-they nor sew nor knit;
But of their Fate discourse, their Ways, their Wars,
With arm'd Authorities, their 'Scapes and Scars:
These lead to present Evils, and a Cup,

If Fortune grant it, winds Description up.
High hung at either end, and next the Wall,
Two ancient Mirrors show the forms of all,
In all their force;-these aid them in their Dress,
But with the Good, the Evils too express,

Doubling each look of Care, each token of Distress.

LETTER XIX.

THE POOR OF THE BOROUGH.

THE PARISH-CLERK.

Nam dives qui fieri vult,

Et citò vult fieri; sed quæ reverentia legum,
Quis metus, aut pudor est unquam properantis avari?

Juvenal. Sat. 14.

Nocte brevem si fortè indulsit cura soporem,
Et toto versata thoro jam membra quiescunt,
Continuò templum et violati Numinis aras,
Et quod præcipuis mentem sudoribus urget,
Te videt in somnis; tua sacra et major imago
Húmanâ turbat pavidum, cogitque fateri.

Juvenal. Sat. 13.

LETTER XIX.

THE PARISH-CLERK

Began his Duties with the late Vicar, a grave and austere Man; one fully orthodox; a Detecter and Opposer of the Wiles of Satan.-His Opinion of his own Fortitude. The more Frail offended by these Professions. -His good Advice gives further Provocation.-They invent Stratagems to overcome his Virtue. - His Triumph.—He is yet not invulnerable: is assaulted by Fear of Want, and Avarice.-He gradually yields to the Seduction. He reasons with himself and is persuaded.-He offends, but with Terror; repeats his Offence; grows familiar with Crime: is detected.— His Sufferings and Death.

WITH Our late Vicar, and his Age the same,
His Clerk, hight Jachin, to his Office came;

The like slow Speech was his, the like tall slender

Frame:

But Jachin was the gravest Man on ground,

And heard his Master's Jokes with look profound;

For worldly Wealth this Man of Letters sigh'd,
And had a sprinkling of the Spirit's Pride:

But he was sober, chaste, devout and just,
One whom his Neighbours could believe and trust:
Of none suspected, neither Man nor Maid

By him were wrong'd, or were of him afraid.