XI. ON THE UNIVERSITY CARRIER, WHO SICKENED IN THE TIME OF HIS VACANCY, BEING FORBID TO HERE lies old Hobson;1 Death hath broke his girt And thinking now his journey's end was come, In the kind office of a chamberlin Showed him his room where he must lodge that night, Pulled off his boots, and took away the light: If any ask for him, it shall be said, Hobson has supped, and 's newly gone to bed. XII. ANOTHER ON THE SAME. HERE lieth one, who did most truly prove While he might still jog on and keep his trot; 1 Mr. Thomas Hobson was a carrier, and the first man in this island who let out hackney horses. He lived in Cambridge, and, observing that the scholars rid hard, his manner was to keep a large stable of horses, with boots, bridles, and whips, to furnish the gentlemen at once, without going from college to college to borrow, as they have done since the death of this worthy man. I say, Mr. Hobson kept a stable of forty good cattle, always ready and fit for travel Made of sphere-metal, never to decay Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime Too long vacation hastened on his term. Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quickened, Nay," quoth he, on his swooning bed out-stretched; If I mayn't carry, sure I'll ne'er be fetched, But vow, though the cross doctors all stood hearers, Yet (strange to think) his wain was his increase: Only remains this superscription. ling; but when a man came for a horse, he was led into the stable, where there was great choice, but he obliged him to take the horse which stood next to the stable-door; so that every customer was alike well served, according to his chance, and every horse ridden with the same justice; from whence it became a proverb, when what ought to be your choice was forced upon you, to say "Hobson's choice." This memorable man stands drawn in fresco at an inn (which he used) in Bishopsgate-street, with an hundred pound bag under his arm, with this inscription upon the said bag, "The fruitful mother of a hundred more."--Spectator, No. 509. XIII. L'ALLEGRO.1 HENCE loathéd Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, In Stygian cave forlorn, 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy, Find out some uncouth cell, Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous wings, And the night raven sings; There under ebon shades, and low-browed rocks, As ragged as thy locks, In dark Cimmerian3 desert ever dwell. But come thou goddess fair and free, In Heaven ycleped Euphrosyne, 1 This and the following poem are exquisitely beautiful in them. selves, but appear much more beautiful when they are considered as they were written, in contrast with each other. There is a great variety of pleasing images in each of them; and it is remarkable that the poet represents several of the same objects as exciting both mirth and melancholy, and affecting us differently according to the different dispositions and affections of the soul. This is nature and experience. He derives the title of both poems from the Italian, which language was then principally in vogue. L'Allegro is the cheerful, merry man; and, in this poem, he describes the course of mirth, in the country and in the city, from morning till noon, and from noon till night: and possibly he might have this in his thoughts, when he said afterwards in his " Areopagitica," "There be delights, there be recreations and jolly pastimes that will fetch the day about from sun to sun, and rock the tedious year as in a delightful dream." Vol. i. p. 154.-Newton. 2 Erebus, the conjecture of Upton and Newton, is more agreeable to mythology. 3 The Cimmerians lived in caves, and never saw the light of the See Homer, Od. xi. 14; Tibull. iv. i. 65. sun. 4 The more ancient opinion makes the graces spring from Jupiter and Eurynome. 5 This is merely Milton's fiction, as no such account is given elsewhere. As he met her once a maying, And fresh-blown roses washed in dew, Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, And love to live in dimple sleek; On the light fantastic toe, And in thy right hand lead with thee, Where the great sun begins his state, 1 So called, probably because those nations which dwell on mountains have preserved their liberty longest and most perse veringly, Robed in flames and amber light, Under the hawthorn in the dale. Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures To the tanned haycock in the mead. Till the livelong daylight fail; 1 Dressed, adorned. 2 Feed at large. 3 The constellation of Ursa Minor, or the Little Bear. 4 A three-stringed fiddle. |