448 L'ALLEGIt 0; On a funfhine holy-day, Till the live-long day-light fail Then to the fpicy nut-brown ale, With ftories told of many a feat, How faery Mab the junkets eat, She was pincht, and pull'd the Paid, And he by friers lanthorn led Tells how the drudging Goblin fwet, To earn his cream-bowl duly fet, When in one night, ere glimpfe of morn, His fhadowy flail hath threfh'd the corn, That ten day-lab'rers could not end Then lies him down the lubbar fiend, And ftretch'd out all the chimney's length Balks at the fire his hairy ftrength, And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the firft cock his matin rings. Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, By whilp'ring winds loon lull'd afleep. Towred cities pleafe us then, And the bufy hum of 'men, Where throngs of knights and barons bold In weeds of peace high triumphs hold, With fore of ladies, whole bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize Of wit, or arms, while both contend To win her grace, whom all commend, There let Hymen oft appear In faffron robe, with taper clear, And pomp, and feaft, and revelry, With mafk, and antique pageantry, Such fights as youthful poets dream On fummer eves by haunted fream. Then to the wt11-trod flage anon, If Johnfon's learned fock be on, 100 IOS I10 I IS 120 12$ 130
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