From days unnumber’d hath the custom been
To shear, in summer months, the loaded sheep,
And keep the jocund feast: so still remains
The festival among the rustic race.
Behold, with joy the grazier sees his flock,
Loaded with wool, drop to the board prepar’d,
Where round attend the sturdy sons of toil,
With cleanly shears, well whetted, to divide
The fleece from off the loaded, panting, flock.
Penn’d in the fold, and all hands fit for work,
Lo! forth the boarder brings each man his sheep,
And then the glass goes round; a health all drink
To him who owns the flock, and wish success
May crown the honest master’s care and pains.
All hands to work; the perspiration flows
Fast trickling down the shearers’ weather’d faces;
But, us’d “to toil and sweat,” they labor on,
Unheeding the fatigue. The master sends
Oft round the board the streng-reviving ale,
To cheer his lab’rers; while the ruddy boy
Hands out the sheep to the delighted owner,
For him to use the brand. See how he smiles,
While on the well-shorn back he sets his mark,
And softly whispers, “go, for thou art mine!”
Oft looks he, pleas’d, upon the weighty fleece,
The pile of wool, and the plump, well-fed sides
Of his fat flock; revolving in his mind
The needful gain, to pay him for his care.
Undaunted, then, he thinks him of the day
When rent is due, nor fears the landlord’s face;
But hears of seizures, gaols, and blunt discharge,
With mind unhurt, and honest indignation.
But, lo! the huddling flocks are nearly shorn,
And the kind, hospitable, mistress now
Hastes to prepare the well-provided feast.
The table’s set, and all acquaintance come
To share the healthful food and smiling ale.
The shearers put aside the fleecing-blade,
And join in cheerful chat. The young and strong
In rural pastime spend the joyous hours;
Jump o’er the board, or toss the heavy bar;
Grapple each other, give a harmless fall;
And show their vigor and activity,
In feasts well-pleasing to the rustic throng.
The evening comes; and then the master’s house
Is fill’d with guests. The neighb’ring poor attend,
Right welcome to the board: the nut-brown ale
Briskly goes round, till all have had enough;
Then stops the pitcher; for the prudent host
Will have no drunkards to pollute the feast.
The signal understood, the throng retires,
Praising the author of the friendly treat,
And wishing him success for many years.
His friends remain to pass another hour,
Then part in peace; and wish the owner may
Long share the blessings of increasing flocks,
Feed oft the needy poor, and round diffuse
The gifts with which kind heaven hath fill’d his hand.
So may each honest grazier e’er be graced
With every earthly good, while he bestows
Upon the poor a charitable share,
And aids the sons of poverty and want!
And be the friend with whom we now regale,
A kind approver of my hasty tale;
May he thus act, and ever thus be crown’d,
Until his years have run their posting round:
When they are ended, and he takes his leave
Of all the blessings heaven below doth give,
May he, in better worlds, be ever bless’d,
And, labor ended, share eternal rest!
~ July 6, 1778.
(Joseph Proud)
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