And wrath, instead of cobler's wax,
Did stiffen his rising bristles.
His tusk lay'd dogs so dead asleep,

Nor horn, nor whip cou'd wake 'um :
It made them vent both their last blood,
And their last album-grecum.

But the knight gor'd him with his spear,
To make of him a tame one,

And arrows thick, instead of cloves,
He stuck in monster's gammon.

For monumental pillar, that
His victory might be known,

He rais'd up, in cylindric form,

A collar of the brawn.

He sent his shade to shades below,

In Stygian mud to wallow:

And eke the stout St. George eftsoon,
He made the dragon follow.

285

290

295

300

St. George he was for England; St. Dennis was for

France;

Sing, Honi soit qui mal y pense.

Achilles of old Chiron learnt

The great horse for to ride;

H' was taught by th' Centaur's rational part,

The hinnible to bestride.

Bright silver feet, and shining face

305

Had that stout hero's mother;

As rapier's silver'd at one end,

And wounds you at the other.

Her feet were bright, his feet were swift,

As hawk pursuing sparrow:

Her's had the metal, his the speed

Of Braburn's * silver arrow.

Thetis to double pedagogue
Commits her dearest boy;

Who bred him from a slender twig

To be the scourge of Troy :

310

315

*Braburn, a gentleman commoner of Lincoln college, gave a silver arrow to be shot for by the archers of the university of Oxford.

But ere he lasht the Trojans, h' was
In Stygian waters steept;
As birch is soaked first in piss,
When boys are to be whipt.
With skin exceeding hard, he rose
From lake, so black and muddy,
As lobsters from the ocean rise,
With shell about their body:
And, as from lobster's broken claw,
Pick out the fish you might:

So might you from one unshell'd heel
Dig pieces of the knight.

His myrmidons robb'd Priam's barns
And hen-roosts, says the song;
Carried away both corn and eggs,

Like ants from whence they sprung.
Himself tore Hector's pantaloons,
And sent him down bare-breech'd
To pedant Radamanthus, in
A posture to be switch'd.

But George he made the dragon look,

As if he had been bewitch'd.

320

325

330

335

340

St. George he was for England; St. Dennis was for

France;

Sing, Honi soit qui mal y pense.

Full fatal to the Romans was
The Carthaginian Hanni-

bal; him I mean, who gave them such
A devilish thump at Cannæ :

345

Moors thick, as goats on Penmenmure,
Stood on the Alpes's front:

Their one-eyed guide,* like blinking mole,
Bor'd thro' the hindring mount:

Who, baffled by the massy rock,

Took vinegar for relief;

Like plowmen, when they hew their way
Thro' stubborn rump of beef.

* Hannibal had but one eye.

350

As dancing louts from humid toes

Cast atoms of ill savour

To blinking Hyatt,* when on vile crowd
He merriment does endeavour,

And saws from suffering timber out
Some wretched tune to quiver:

So Romans stunk and squeak'd at sight
Of Affrican carnivor.

The tawny surface of his phiz

Did serve instead of vizzard :

But George he made the dragon have
A grumbling in his gizzard.

355

360

365

St. George he was for England; St. Dennis was for

France;

Sing, Honi soit qui mal y pense.

The valour of Domitian,

It must not be forgotten;

Who from the jaws of worm-blowing flies,
Protected veal and mutton.

A squadron of flies errant,

Against the foe appears;

With regiments of buzzing knights,
And swarms of volunteers:

The warlike wasp encourag'd 'em,
With animating hum;

And the loud brazen hornet next,
He was their kettle-drum:

The Spanish don Cantharido

Did him most sorely pester,

And rais'd on skin of vent'rous knight
Full many a plaguy blister.

A bee whipt thro' his button hole,
As thro' key hole a witch,

And stabb'd him with her little tuck
Drawn out of scabbard breech:
But the undaunted knight lifts up
An arm both big and brawny,

370

375

390

385

390

A one-eyed fellow, who pretended to make fiddles as well as

play on them; well-known at that time in Oxford.

And slasht her so, that here lay head,
And there lay bag and honey:
Then 'mongst the rout he flew as swift,
As weapon made by Cyclops,
And bravely quell'd seditious buz,

By dint of massy fly-flops.
Surviving flies do curses breathe,

And maggots too at Cæsar :

But George he shav'd the dragon's beard,
And Askelon * was his razor.

395

400

St. George he was for England; St. Dennis was for

John Grubb, the facetious writer of the foregoing song, makes a distinguished figure among the Oxford wits so humourously enumerated in the following distich:

"Alma novem genuit celebres Rhedycina poetas

Bub, Stubb, Grubb, Crabb, Trap, Young, Carey, Tickel, Evans." These were Bub Dodington (the late lord Melcombe), Dr. Stubbes, our poet Grubb, Mr. Crabb, Dr. Trapp, the poetry-professor, Dr. Edw. Young, the author of "Night-Thoughts," Walter Carey, Thomas Tickel, Esq., and Dr. Evans, the epigrammatist.

As for our poet Grubb, all that we can learn further of him, is contained in a few extracts from the University Register, and from his epitaph. It appears from the former that he was matriculated in 1667, being the son of John Grubb, "de Acton Burnel in comitatu Salop. pauperis." He took his degree of Bachelor of Arts, June 28, 1671: and became Master of Arts, June 28, 1675. He was appointed Head Master of the Grammar School at Christ Church: and afterwards chosen into the same employment at Gloucester, where he died in 1697, as appears from his monument in the church of St. Mary de Crypt, in Gloucester, which is inscribed with the following epitaph:

H. S. E.

JOHANNES GRUBB, A.M.

Natus apud Acton Burnel in agro Salopiensi
Anno Dom. 1645.

Cujus variam in linguis notitiam,
et felicem erudiendis pueris industriam,
gratâ adhuc memoriâ testatur Oxonium:
Ibi enim Ædi Christi initiatus,
artes excoluit;

The name of St. George's sword.

Pueros ad easdem mox excolendas
accuratè formavit:
Huc demum

unanimi omnium consensu accitus,
eandem suscepit provinciam,
quam feliciter adeo absolvit,
ut nihil optandum sit

nisi ut diutius nobis interfuisset :
Fuit enim

propter festivam ingenij suavitatem,
simplicem morum candorem, et
præcipuam erga cognatos benevolentiam,
omnibus desideratissimus.

Obiit 2do die Aprilis, Anno Dni. 1697.
Etatis suæ 51.

XVI.

MARGARET'S GHOST.

THIS Ballad, which appeared in some of the public newspapers in or before the year 1724, came from the pen of David Mallet, Esq.; who in the edition of his poems, 3 vols. 1759, informs us that the plan was suggested by the four verses quoted above in page 119, which he supposed to be the beginning of some ballad now lost.

"These lines," says he, "naked of ornament and simple, as they are, struck my fancy; and bringing fresh into my mind an unhappy adventure much talked of formerly, gave birth to the following poem, which was written many years ago."

The two introductory lines (and one or two others elsewhere) had originally more of the ballad simplicity, viz. "When all was wrapt in dark midnight, And all were fast asleep," &c.

'Twas at the silent solemn hour,
When night and morning meet;
In glided Margaret's grimly ghost,
And stood at William's feet.

Her face was like an April morn,
Clad in a wintry cloud :

5