XV.
ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND.
THE SECOND PART.
Was written by JOHN GRUBB, M.A. of Christ Church, Oxford. The occasion of its being composed is said to have been as follows. A set of gentlemen of the university had formed themselves into a club, all the members of which were to be of the name of _George_: Their anniversary feast was to be held on _St. George's_ day. Our author solicited strongly to be admitted; but his name being unfortunately _John_, this disqualification was dispensed with only upon this condition, that he would compose a song in honour of their Patron Saint, and would every year produce one or more new stanzas, to be sung on their annual festival. This gave birth to the following humorous performance, the several stanzas of which were the produce of many successive anniversaries.[437]
This diverting poem was long handed about in manuscript, at length a friend of _Grubb's_ undertook to get it printed, who, not keeping pace with the impatience of his friends, was addressed in the following whimsical macaronic lines, which, in such a collection as this, may not improperly accompany the poem itself.
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_Expostulatiuncula_, sive _Querimoniuncula_ ad _Antonium_ [_Atherton_] ob Poema _Johannis Grubb_, Viri #tou pany# ingeniosissimi in lucem nondum editi.
_Toni!_ Tune sines divina poemata Grubbi Intomb'd in secret thus still to remain any longer, #Tounoma sou# shall last, #Ô Grubbe diamperes aei#, Grubbe tuum nomen vivet dum nobilis ale-a Efficit heroas, dignamque heroe puellam. Est genus heroum, quos nobilis efficit alea-a Qui pro niperkin clamant, quaternque liquoris Quem vocitant Homines Brandy, Superi Cherry-brandy, Sæpe illi longcut, vel small-cut flare Tobacco Sunt soliti pipos. Ast si generosior herba (Per varios casus, per tot discrimina rerum) Mundungus desit, tum non funcare recusant Brown-paper tostâ, vel quod fit arundine bed-mat. Hic labor, hoc opus est heroum ascendere sedes! Ast ego quo rapiar! quo me feret entheus ardor Grubbe, tui memorem? Divinum expande poema. Quæ mora? quæ ratio est, quin Grubbi protinus anser Virgilii, Flaccique simul canat inter olores?
At length the importunity of his friends prevailed, and Mr. Grubb's song was published at Oxford, under the following title:
_The British Heroes._ A New Poem in honour of St. George, By Mr. _John Grubb_, School-master of Christ-Church, _Oxon._ 1688.
Favete linguis: carmina non prius Audita, musarum sucerdos Canto.--
HOR.
Sold by Henry Clements. Oxon.
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The story of king Arthur old Is very memorable, The number of his valiant knights, And roundness of his table: The knights around his table in 5 A circle sate d'ye see: And altogether made up one Large hoop of chivalry. He had a sword, both broad and sharp, Y-clepd Caliburn, 10 Would cut a flint more easily, Than pen-knife cuts a corn; As case-knife does a capon carve, So would it carve a rock, And split a man at single slash, 15 From noddle down to nock. As Roman Augur's steel of yore Dissected Tarquin's riddle, So this would cut both conjurer And whetstone thro' the middle. 20 He was the cream of Brecknock, And flower of all the Welsh: But George he did the dragon fell, And gave him a plaguy squelsh.[438] St. George he was for England; St. Dennis was for France; 25 Sing, _Honi soit qui mal y pense_.
Pendragon, like his father Jove, Was fed with milk of goat; And like him made a noble shield Of she-goat's shaggy coat: 30 On top of burnisht helmet he Did wear a crest of leeks; And onions' heads, whose dreadful nod Drew tears down hostile cheeks. Itch, and Welsh blood did make him hot, 35 And very prone to ire; H' was ting'd with brimstone, like a match, And would as soon take fire. As brimstone he took inwardly When scurf gave him occasion, 40 His postern puff of wind was a Sulphureous exhalation. The Briton never tergivers'd, But was for adverse drubbing, And never turn'd his back to aught, 45 But to a post for scrubbing. His sword would serve for battle, or For dinner, if you please; When it had slain a Cheshire man, 'Twould toast a Cheshire cheese. 50 He wounded, and, in their own blood Did anabaptize Pagans: But George he made the dragon an Example to all dragons. St. George he was for England; St. Dennis was for France; 55 Sing, _Honi soit qui mal y pense_.
Brave Warwick Guy, at dinner time, Challeng'd a gyant savage; And streight came out the unweildy lout Brim-full of wrath and cabbage: 60 He had a phiz of latitude, And was full thick i' th' middle; The chekes of puffed trumpeter, And paunch of squire Beadle.[439] But the knight fell'd him, like an oak, 65 And did upon his back tread; The valiant knight his weazon cut, And Atropos his packthread. Besides he fought with a dun cow, As say the poets witty, 70 A dreadful dun, and horned too, Like dun of Oxford city: The fervent dog-days made her mad, By causing heat of weather, Syrius and Procyon baited her, 75 As bull-dogs did her father: Grafiers, nor butchers this fell beast, E'er of her frolick hindered; John Dosset[440] she'd knock down as flat, As John knocks down her kindred: 80 Her heels would lay ye all along, And kick into a swoon; Frewin's[441] cow-heels keep up your corpse, But hers would beat you down. She vanquisht many a sturdy wight, 85 And proud was of the honour; Was pufft by mauling butchers so, As if themselves had blown her. At once she kickt, and pusht at Guy, But all that would not fright him; 90 Who wav'd his winyard o'er sir-loyn, As if he'd gone to knight him. He let her blood, frenzy to cure, And eke he did her gall rip; His trenchant blade, like cook's long spit, 95 Ran thro' the monster's bald-rib: He rear'd up the vast crooked rib, Instead of arch triumphal: But George hit th' dragon such a pelt, As made him on his bum fall. 100 St. George he was for England; St. Dennis was for France; Sing, _Honi soit qui mal y pense_.
Tamerlain, with Tartarian bow, The Turkish squadrons slew; And fetch'd the pagan crescent down, 105 With half-moon made of yew: His trusty bow proud Turks did gall, With showers of arrows thick, And bow-strings, without strangling, sent Grand Viziers to old Nick: 110 Much turbants, and much Pagan pates He made to humble in dust; And heads of Saracens he fixt On spear, as on a sign-post: He coop'd in cage Bajazet the prop 115 Of Mahomet's religion, As if't been the whispering bird, That prompted him; the pigeon. In Turkey leather scabbard, he Did sheathe his blade so trenchant: 120 But George he swinged the dragon's tail, And cut off every inch on't. St. George he was for England; St. Dennis was for France; Sing, _Honi soit qui mal y pense_.
The amazon Thalestris was 125 Both beautiful, and bold; She sear'd her breasts with iron hot, And bang'd her foes with cold. Her hand was like the tool, wherewith Jove keeps proud mortals under: 130 It shone just like his lightning, And batter'd like his thunder. Her eye darts lightning, that would blast The proudest he that swagger'd, And melt the rapier of his soul, 135 In its corporeal scabbard. Her beauty, and her drum to foes Did cause amazement double; As timorous larks amazed are With light, and with a low-bell: 140
With beauty, and that lapland-charm,[442] Poor men she did bewitch all; Still a blind whining lover had, As Pallas had her scrich-owl. She kept the chastness of a nun 145 In armour, as in cloyster: But George undid the dragon just As you'd undo an oister. St. George he was for England; St. Dennis was for France; Sing, _Honi soit qui mal y pense_. 150
Stout Hercules, was offspring of Great Jove, and fair Alcmene: One part of him celestial was, One part of him terrene. To scale the hero's cradle walls 155 Two fiery snakes combin'd, And, curling into swaddling cloaths, About the infant twin'd: But he put out these dragons' fires, And did their hissing stop; 160 As red-hot iron with hissing noise Is quencht in blacksmith's shop. He cleans'd a stable, and rubb'd down The horses of new-comers; And out of horse-dung he rais'd fame, 165 As Tom Wrench[443] does cucumbers. He made a river help him through; Alpheus was under-groom; The stream, disgust at office mean, Ran murmuring thro' the room: 170 This liquid ostler to prevent Being tired with that long work, His father Neptune's trident took, Instead of three-tooth'd dung-fork. This Hercules, as soldier, and 175 As spinster, could take pains; His club would sometimes spin ye flax, And sometimes knock out brains: H' was forc'd to spin his miss a shift By Juno's wrath and hér-spite; 180 Fair Omphale whipt him to his wheel, As cook whips barking turn-spit. From man, or churn he well knew how To get him lasting fame: He'd pound a giant, till the blood, 185 And milk till butter came. Often he fought with huge battoon, And oftentimes he boxed; Tapt a fresh monster once a month, As Hervey[444] doth fresh hogshead. 190 He gave Anteus such a hug, As wrestlers give in Cornwall: But George he did the dragon kill, As dead as any door-nail. St. George he was for England; St. Dennis was for France; 195 Sing, _Honi soit qui mal y pense_.
The Gemini, sprung from an egg, Were put into a cradle: Their brains with knocks and bottled ale, Were often-times full addle: 200 And, scarcely hatch'd, these sons of him, That hurls the bolt trisulcate, With helmet-shell on tender head, Did tustle with red-ey'd pole-cat. Castor a horseman, Pollux tho' 205 A boxer was, I wist: The one was fam'd for iron heel; Th' other for leaden fist. Pollux to shew he was god, When he was in a passion 210 With fist made noses fall down flat By way of adoration:
This fist, as sure as French disease, Demolish'd noses' ridges: He like a certain lord[445] was famd' 215 For breaking down of bridges. Castor the flame of fiery steed, With well-spur'd boots took down; As men, with leathern buckets, quench A fire in country town. 220 His famous horse, that liv'd on oats, Is sung on oaten quill; By bards' immortal provender The nag surviveth still. This shelly brood on none but knaves 225 Employ'd their brisk artillery: And flew as naturally at rogues, As eggs at thief in pillory.[446] Much sweat they spent in furious fight, Much blood they did effund: 230 Their whites they vented thro' the pores; Their yolks thro' gaping wound: Then both were cleans'd from blood and dust To make a heavenly sign; The lads were, like their armour, scowr'd, 235 And then hung up to shine; Such were the heavenly double-Dicks, The sons of Jove and Tyndar: But George he cut the dragon up, As he had bin duck or windar.[447] 240 St. George he was for England; St. Dennis was for France; Sing, _Honi soit qui mal y pense_.
Gorgon a twisted adder wore For knot upon her shoulder: She kemb'd her hissing periwig, 245 And curling snakes did powder. These snakes they made stiff changelings Of all the folks they hist on; They turned barbars into hones, And masons into free-stone: 250 Sworded magnetic Amazon Her shield to load-stone changes; Then amorous sword by magic belt Clung fast unto her haunches. This shield long village did protect, 255 And kept the army from-town, And chang'd the bullies into rocks, That came t' invade Long-Compton.[448] She post-diluvian stores unmans, And Pyrrha's work unravels; 260 And stares Deucalion's hardy boys Into their primitive pebbles. Red noses she to rubies turns, And noddles into bricks: But George made dragon laxative; 265 And gave him a bloody flix. St. George he was for England; St. Dennis was for France; Sing, _Honi soit qui mal y pense_.
By boar-spear Meleager got, An everlasting name, 270 And out of haunch of basted swine, He hew'd eternal fame. This beast each hero's trouzers ript, And rudely shew'd his bare-breech, Prickt but the wem, and out there came 275 Heroic guts and garbadge. Legs were secur'd by iron boots No more, than peas by peascods: Brass helmets, with inclosed sculls, Wou'd crackle in's mouth like chestnuts. 280 His tawny hairs erected were By rage, that was resistless; And wrath, instead of cobler's wax, Did stiffen his rising bristles. His tusk lay'd dogs so dead asleep, 285 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, 290 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, 295 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. 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, 305 The hinnible to bestride. Bright silver feet, and shining face Had that stout hero's mother; As rapier's silver'd at one end, And wounds you at the other. 310 Her feet were bright, his feet were swift, As hawk pursuing sparrow: Her's had the metal, his the speed Of Braburn's[449] silver arrow. Thetis to double pedagogue 315 Commits her dearest boy; Who bred him from a slender twig To be the scourge of Troy: But ere he lash't the Trojans, h' was In Stygian waters steept; 320 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, 325 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. 330 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, 335 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. 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 345 A devilish thump at Cannæ: Moors thick, as goats on Penmenmure, Stood on the Alpes's front: Their one-eyed guide,[450] like blinking mole, Bor'd thro' the hindring mount: 350 Who, baffled by the massy rock, Took vinegar for relief; Like plowmen, when they hew their way Thro' stubborn rump of beef. As dancing louts from humid toes 355 Cast atoms of ill favour To blinking Hyatt,[451] when on vile crowd He merriment does endeavour, And saws from suffering timber out Some wretched tune to quiver: 360 So Romans slunk 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 365 A grumbling in his gizzard. 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; 370 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, 375 And swarms of volunteers: The warlike wasp encourag'd 'em, With animating hum; And the loud brazen hornet next, He was their kettle-drum: 380 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, 385 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, 390 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, 395 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[452] was his razor. 400 St. George he was for England; St. Dennis was for France; Sing, _Honi soit qui mal y pense_.
[Illustration]
_John Grubb_, the facetious writer of the foregoing song, makes a distinguished figure among the Oxford wits so humorously enumerated in the following distich:
Alma novem genuit célebres 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; 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. Ætatis suæ 51.
FOOTNOTES:
[437] To this circumstance it is owing that the editor has never met with two copies, in which the stanzas are arranged alike, he has therefore thrown them into what appeared the most natural order. The verses are properly long Alexandrines, but the narrowness of the page made it necessary to subdivide them: they are here printed with many improvements.
[438] [blow.]
[439] Men of bulk answerable to their places, as is well known at Oxford.
[440] A butcher that then served the college.
[441] A cook, who on fast nights was famous for selling cow-heel and tripe.
[442] The drum.
[443] Who kept Paradise gardens at Oxford.
[444] A noted drawer at the Mermaid tavern in Oxford.
[445] Lord Lovelace broke down the bridges about Oxford, at the beginning of the Revolution. See on this subject a Ballad in Smith's Poems, p. 102. London, 1713.
[446] It has been suggested by an ingenious correspondent that this was a popular subject at that time:--
Not carted bawd, or Dan de Foe, In wooden ruff ere bluster'd so.
Smith's Poems, p. 117
[447] [perhaps a contraction of windhover, a kind of hawk.]
[448] See the account of Rolricht Stones, in Dr. Plott's _Hist. of_ _Oxfordshire_.
[449] Braburn, a gentleman commoner of Lincoln college, gave a silver arrow to be shot for by the archers of the university of Oxford.
[450] Hannibal had but one eye.
[451] A one-eyed fellow, who pretended to make fiddles, as well as play on them; well known at that time in Oxford.
[452] The name of St. George's sword.