He took a tavern-bed that night;
And, with the morrow's sun,
By way of Sekledabskus went,
With carpet-bag and gun.

A week passed on; and next we find
Our native tourist come

To that sequestered village called
Genasagarnagum.

From thence he went to Absequoit,
And there-quite tired of Maine-
He sought the mountains of Vermont,
Upon a railroad train.

Dog Hollow, in the Green Mount State,
Was his first stopping-place;
And then Skunk's Misery displayed
Its sweetness and its grace.

By easy stages then he went
To visit Devil's Den ;

And Scrabble Hollow, by the way,

Did come within his ken.

Then via Nine Holes and Goose Green He travelled through the State;

And to Virginia, finally,

Was guided by his fate.

Within the Old Dominion's bounds
He wandered up and down;
To-day, at Buzzard Roost ensconced,
To-morrow, at Hell Town.

At Pole Cat, too, he spent a week,
Till friends from Bull Ring came,
And made him spend a day with them
In hunting forest-game.

Then, with his carpet-bag in hand,
To Dog Town next he went ;
Though stopping at Free Negro Town,
Where half a day he spent.

From thence, into Negationburg

His route of travel lay;

Which having gained, he left the State,

And took a southward way.

North Carolina's friendly soil
He trod at fall of night,
And, on a bed of softest down,
He slept at Hell's Delight.

Morn found him on the road again,
To Lousy Level bound;

At Bull's Tail, and Lick Lizard too,
Good provender he found.

The country all about Pinch Gut
So beautiful did seem

That the beholder thought it like
A picture in a dream.

But the plantations near Burnt Coat
Were even finer still,

And made the wondering tourist feel
A soft delicious thrill.

At Tear Shirt, too, the scenery
Most charming did appear,

With Snatch It in the distance far,

And Purgatory near.

But, spite of all these pleasant scenes,
The tourist stoutly swore

That home is brightest, after all,

And travel is a bore.

So back he went to Maine, straightway;

A little wife he took;

And now is making nutmegs at

Moosehicmagunticook.

A modest love of praise I do not blame

A man, in many a country town, we know

A poore widow, somedeal stope in age

A shifting knave about the town

A spending hand that alway poureth out

A Tailor, a man of an upright dealing

Alas! how dismal is my tale

All the Bard's rhymes, and all his inks
All upstarts, insolent in place
Almighty God, Maker of all

An oaken broken elbow-chair

As Bathian Venus t'other day

As he that makes his mark is understood

As I went to the wake that is held on the green
As it befell one Saturday at noon

.

As some raw youth in country bred
At Wapping I landed, and called to hail Mog
Away, fond dupes! who, smit with sacred lore

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Come, a brimmer, my bullies, drink whole ones or nothing

Come, lasses and lads, take leave of your dads
Confound the Cats! all Cats-alway

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384

Cooper, whose name is with his country's woven.
Cosmelia's charms inspire my lays .

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417

402

203

298

467

Here, for the nonce.

Dear friend, since I am now at leisure

Dear mother, dear mother, the Church is cold
Dear Sir, your letter come to han'
Death went upon a solemn day
Distracted with care

Do what you come for, captain, with your news

Fair Doris, break thy glass; it hath perplexed
Farewell, rewards and fairies

Fathers of wisdom, a poor wight befriend.
Fight on, brave soldiers, for the cause

For a man that is almost blind

Freeborn Pindaric never does refuse

Friar Bacon walks again

From an extempore prayer and a godly ditty
From Oberon, in fairy-land.

Hail, glorious edifice, stupendous work

Happy the man who, void of cares and strife
Harriet at school was very much the same
He that spendeth much

Holland, that scarce deserves the name of land

Home of the Percy's high-born race

419

How fond are men of rule and place

186

I asked of my dear friend orator Prig

299

I breathe, sweet Ghib, the temperate air of Wrest

I marched three miles through scorching sand

reside at Table Mountain, and my name is Truthful James

I went from England into France

Lords, knights, and squires, the numerous band
Love drunk, the other day, knocked at my breast

Margarita first possessed

May the Babylonish curse

Most gracious and omnipotent

Must then my crimes become thy scandal too

My brother Jack was nine in May.

My days pass pleasantly away

My passion is as mustard strong

Nature and Fortune, blithe and gay

130

408

138

169

152

136

132

329

126

349

332
436

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Now hardly here and there an hackney-coach
Now that, thanks to the powers below

Now thou hast loved me one whole day.

O fair maid of Passage

390

80

307

O thou whose all-consoling power
O thou! whose daring works sublime

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252

Oh! be the day accurst that gave me birth

314

Oh how my lungs do tickle! ha ha ha!

86

Oh what a pain is love

403

Old Nick, who taught the village school
On Thames's bank, a gentle youth.

One day, it matters not to know

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209

327

349

460

44

125

Rebellion hath broken up house

Pagget, a schoolboy, got a sword, and then

Peter, like famed Christina, queen of Sweden
Pope has the talent well to speak

Rhyme, the rack of finest wits

See who ne'er was nor will be half read
Shadow, just like the thin regard of men

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