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SPENSER [ ] THE ALLEY - Alexander Pope, The Complete Poetical Works of Alexander Pope [1903]

Edition used:

The Complete Poetical Works of Alexander Pope. Cambridge Edition, ed. Henry W. Boynton (Boston and New York: Houghton, Mifflin and Co., 1903).

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SPENSER [ ]

THE ALLEY

    • In ev’ry Town where Thamis rolls his tyde,
    • A narrow pass there is, with houses low,
    • Where ever and anon the stream is eyed,
    • And many a boat soft sliding to and fro:
    • There oft are heard the notes of Infant Woe,
    • The short thick Sob, loud Scream, and shriller Squall:
    • How can ye, Mothers, vex your children so?
    • Some play, some eat, some cack against the wall,
    • And as they crouchen low, for bread and butter call.
    • And on the broken pavement, here and there,
    • Doth many a stinking sprat and herring lie;
    • A brandy and tobacco shop is neare,
    • And hens, and dogs, and hogs, are feeding by;
    • And here a sailor’s jacket hangs to dry.
    • At ev’ry door are sunburnt matrons seen,
    • Mending old nets to catch the scaly fry;
    • Now singing shrill, and scolding eft between;
    • Scolds answer foul-mouth’d Scolds; bad neighbourhood I ween.
    • The snappish cur (the passengers’ annoy)
    • Close at my heel with yelping treble flies;
    • The whimp’ring Girl, and hoarser screaming Boy,
    • Join to the yelping treble shrilling cries;
    • The scolding Quean to louder notes doth rise,
    • And her full pipes those shrilling cries confound;
    • To her full pipes the grunting hog replies;
    • The grunting hogs alarm the neighbours round,
    • And Curs, Girls, Boys, and Scolds, in the deep bass are drown’d.
    • Hard by a sty, beneath a roof of thatch,
    • Dwelt Obloquy, who in her early days
    • Baskets of fish at Billingsgate did watch,
    • Cod, whiting, oyster, mackrel, sprat, or plaice:
    • There learn’d she speech from tongues that never cease.
    • Slander beside her like a magpie chatters,
    • With Envy (spitting cat), dread foe to peace;
    • Like a curs’d cur, Malice before her clatters,
    • And vexing ev’ry wight, tears clothes and all to tatters.
    • Her dugs were mark’d by ev’ry Collier’s hand,
    • Her mouth was black as bull-dogs at the stall:
    • She scratchëd, bit, and spared ne lace ne band,
    • And bitch and rogue her answer was to all.
    • Nay, ev’n the parts of shame by name would call:
    • Yea, when she passed by or lane or nook,
    • Would greet the man who turn’d him to the wall,
    • And by his hand obscene the porter took,
    • Nor ever did askance like modest virgin look.
    • Such place hath Deptford, navy-building town,
    • Woolwich and Wapping, smelling strong of pitch;
    • Such Lambeth, envy of each band and gown,
    • And Twick’nam such, which fairer scenes enrich,
    • Grots, statues, urns, and Jo—n’s dog and bitch.
    • Ne village is without, on either side,
    • All up the silver Thames, or all adown;
    • Ne Richmond’s self, from whose tall front are eyed
    • Vales, spires, meand’ring streams, and Windsor’s tow’ry pride.

[Page 15.]Spenser: The Alley.

[Stanza vi., line 5.]Jo—n. Old Mr. Johnston, the retired Scotch Secretary of State, who lived at Twickenham. (Carruthers.)