[108]
The times wherein old pumpkin was a saint,
When men fared hardly, yet without complaint,
On vilest cates; the dainty Indian maize
Was eat with clam-shells out of wooden trays,
Under thatched roofs, without the cry of rent,
And the best sauce to every dish, content,—
These golden times (too fortunate to hold)
Were quickly sinned away for love of gold.
Twas then among the bushes, not the street,
If one in place did an inferior meet,
“Good morrow, brother! Is there aught you want? Take freely of me what I have, you ha'n't.
”
Plain Tom and Dick would pass as current now,
As ever since “ Your servant, sir,” and bow.
Deep-skirted doublets, puritanic capes,
Which now would render men like upright apes,
Was comelier wear, our wise old fathers thought,
Than the cast fashions from all Europe brought.
Twas in those days an honest grace would hold
Till an hot pudding grew at heart a-cold,
And men had better stomachs for religion,
Than now for capon, turkey-cock, or pigeon;
When honest sisters met to pray, not prate,
About their own and not their neighbors' state,
During Plain Dealing's reign, that worthy stud
Of the ancient planter-race before the Flood.
These times were good: merchants cared not a rush
For other fare than jonakin and mush.
And though men fared and lodged very hard,
Yet innocence was better than a guard.
Twas long before spiders and worms had drawn
Their dingy webs, or hid with cheating lawn
New England's beauties, which still seemed to me
Illustrious in their own simplicity.
Twas ere the neighboring Virgin Land had broke
The hogsheads of her worse than hellish smoke;
Twas ere the Islands sent their presents in,
Which but to use was counted next to sin;
Twas ere a barge had made so rich a freight
As chocolate, dust-gold, and bits of eight;
Ere wines from France and Muscovado too,
Without the which the drink will scarcely do.
From Western Isles, ere fruits and delicacies
When men fared hardly, yet without complaint,
On vilest cates; the dainty Indian maize
Was eat with clam-shells out of wooden trays,
Under thatched roofs, without the cry of rent,
And the best sauce to every dish, content,—
These golden times (too fortunate to hold)
Were quickly sinned away for love of gold.
Twas then among the bushes, not the street,
If one in place did an inferior meet,
“Good morrow, brother! Is there aught you want? Take freely of me what I have, you ha'n't.
”
Plain Tom and Dick would pass as current now,
As ever since “ Your servant, sir,” and bow.
Deep-skirted doublets, puritanic capes,
Which now would render men like upright apes,
Was comelier wear, our wise old fathers thought,
Than the cast fashions from all Europe brought.
Twas in those days an honest grace would hold
Till an hot pudding grew at heart a-cold,
And men had better stomachs for religion,
Than now for capon, turkey-cock, or pigeon;
When honest sisters met to pray, not prate,
About their own and not their neighbors' state,
During Plain Dealing's reign, that worthy stud
Of the ancient planter-race before the Flood.
These times were good: merchants cared not a rush
For other fare than jonakin and mush.
And though men fared and lodged very hard,
Yet innocence was better than a guard.
Twas long before spiders and worms had drawn
Their dingy webs, or hid with cheating lawn
New England's beauties, which still seemed to me
Illustrious in their own simplicity.
Twas ere the neighboring Virgin Land had broke
The hogsheads of her worse than hellish smoke;
Twas ere the Islands sent their presents in,
Which but to use was counted next to sin;
Twas ere a barge had made so rich a freight
As chocolate, dust-gold, and bits of eight;
Ere wines from France and Muscovado too,
Without the which the drink will scarcely do.
From Western Isles, ere fruits and delicacies
