On the Ingenious Art of RINGING.
What Musick is there that compar'd may be
To well-tun'd Bells enchanting melody!
Breaking with their sweet sound the willing Air,
And in the listning ear the Soul ensnare;
The ravisht Air such pleasure loth to lose,
With thousand Echoes still prolongs each close;
And gliding streams which in the Vallies trills,
Assists its speed unto the neighbouring Hills;
Where in the rocks & caves, with hollow gounds,
The warbling lightsome Element rebounds.
This for the Musick: In the Action's Health,
And every Bell is a _Wit's_ Common-wealth
For here by them we plainly may discern,
How that Civility we are to learn.
The Treble to the Tenor doth give place,
And goes before him for the better grace:
But when they chance to change, 'tis as a dance,
They foot _A Galliard, à la mode de France_.
An Eighteenscore's a figure dance, but _Grandsire_
Hath the Jig-steps! & Tendrings Peal doth answer
The manner of _Corants_: A plain Six-score,
Is like a _Saraband_, the motion slower.
When Bells Ring round, and in their Order be,
They do denote how Neighbours should agree;
But if they Clam, the harsh sound spoils the sport,
And 'tis like Women keeping _Dover_ Court
For when all talk, there's none can lend an ear
The others story, and her own to hear;
But pull and hall, straining for to sputter
What they can hardly afford time to utter.
Like as a valiant Captain in the Field,
By his Conduct, doth make the Foe to yield;
Ev'n so, the leading Bell keeping true time,
The rest do follow, none commits a Crime:
But if one Souldier runs, perhaps a Troop
Seeing him gone, their hearts begin to droop;
Ev'n so the fault of one Bell spoils a Ring,
(And now my _Pegasus_ has taken Wing.)
Upon the Presentation of GRANDSIRE BOB To the COLLEDGE-YOUTHS,
By the AUTHOR of that PEAL.
Gentlemen of the Noble Crew
Of _Colledge-Youths_, there lately blew
A wind, which to my Noddle flew
(upon a day when as it Snew;)
Which to my Brains the Vapors drew
And there began to work and brew,
'Till in my _Pericranium_ grew
_Conundrums_, how some Peal that's New
Might be compos'd? and to pursue
These thoughts (which did so whet and hew
My flat Invention) and to shew
What might be done, I strait withdrew
Myself to ponder--whence did accrue
This _Grandsire Bob_, which unto you
I Dedicate, as being due
Most properly; for there's but few
Besides, so ready at their Q----
(Especially at the first View)
To apprehend a thing that's New;
Though they'l pretend, and make a shew,
As if the intricat'st they knew;
What _Bob_ doth mean, and _Grandsire True_,
And read the course without a Clue
Of this new Peal: Yet though they screw
Their shallow Brains, they'l ne're unglue
The Method on't (and I'm a Jew)
If I don't think this to be true,
They see no more on't than blind _Hugh_.
Well, let their tongues run _Titere tu_,
Drink muddy Ale, or else _French Lieve_,
Whil'st we our Sport and Art renew,
And drink good Sack till Sky looks blew,
So _Grandsire_ bids you All adieu.