Note (a) — Sot-weed Factor;

Condemn'd by Fate to way-ward Curse, Of Friends unkind, and empty Purse; Plagues worse than fill'd Pandora's Box, I took my leave of Albion's Rocks: With heavy Heart, concerned that I Was forc'd my Native Soil to fly, And the Old World must bid good-buy But Heav'n ordain'd it should be so, And to repine is vain we know: Freighted with Fools from Plymouth sound To Mary-Land our Ship was bound, Where we arrived in dreadful Pain, Shock'd by the Terrours of the Main; For full three Months, our wavering Boat, Did thro' the surley Ocean float, And furious Storms and threat'ning Blasts, Both tore our Sails and sprung our Masts; Wearied, yet pleas'd we did escape Such Ills, we anchor'd at the (a) Cape; But weighing soon, we plough'd the Bay, To (b) Cove it in (c) Piscato-way, Intending there to open Store, I put myself and Goods a-shoar: Where soon repair'd a numerous Crew, In Shirts and Drawers of (d) Scotch-cloth Blue With neither Stockings, Hat nor Shooe. These Sot-weed Planters Crowd the Shoar, In hue as tawny as a Moor: Figures so strange, no God design'd, To be a part of Humane kind: But wanton Nature, void of Rest, Moulded the brittle Clay in Jest. At last a Fancy very odd Took me, this was the Land of Nod; Planted at first, when Vagrant Cain, His Brother had unjustly slain; Then Conscious of the Crime he'd done From Vengeance dire, he hither run, And in a hut supinely dwelt, The first in Furs and Sot-weed dealt. And ever since his Time, the Place, Has harbour'd a detested Race; Who when they cou'd not live at Home, For refuge to these Worlds did roam; In hopes by Flight they might prevent, The Devil and his fell intent; Obtain from Tripple-Tree reprieve, And Heav'n and Hell alike deceive; But e're their Manners I display, I think it fit I open lay My Entertainment by the way: That Strangers well may be aware on, What homely Diet they must fare on. To touch that Shoar where no good Sense is found, But Conversation's lost, and Manners drown'd. I cros't unto the other side, A River whose impetuous Tide, The Savage Borders does divide; In such a shining odd invention, I scarce can give its due Dimention. The Indians call this watry Waggon (e) Canoo, a Vessel none can brag on; Cut from a Popular-Tree or Pine, And fashion'd like a Trough for Swine: In this most noble Fishing-Boat, I boldly put myself afloat; Standing erect, with Legs stretch'd wide, We paddled to the other side: Where being Landed safe by hap, As Sol fell into Thetis' Lap. A ravenous Gang bent on the stroul, Of (f) Wolves for Prey, began to howl; This put me in a pannick Fright, Least I should be devoured quite; But as I there a musing stood, And quite benighted in a Wood, A Female Voice pierc'd, thro' my Ears, Crying, You Rogue drive home the Steirs. I listen'd to th' attractive sound, And straight a Herd of Cattel found Drove by a Youth, and homeward bound; Cheer'd with the fight, I straight thought fit, To ask where I a Bed might get. The surley Peasant bid me stay, And ask'd from whom (g) I'de run away. Surprized at such a saucy Word, I instantly lugg'd out my Sword; Swearing I was no Fugitive, But from Great-Britain did arrive, In hopes I better there might Thrive. To which he mildly made reply, I beg your Pardon, Sir, that I Should talk to you Unmannerly; But if you please to go with me, To yonder House, you'll welcome be. Encountring soon the smoaky Seat, The Planter old did thus me greet: "Whether you come from Goal or Colledge, You're welcome to my certain Knowledge; And if you please all Night to stay, My Son shall put you in the way. Which offer I most kindly took, And for a Seat did round me look; When presently amongst the rest, He plac'd his unknown English Guest, Who found them drinking for a whet, A Cask of (h) Syder on the Fret, Till Supper came upon the Table, On which I fed whilst I was able. So after hearty Entertainment, Of Drink and Victuals without Payment; For Planters Tables, you must know, Are free for all that come and go. While (i) Pon and Milk, with (k) Mush well stoar'd, In Wooden Dishes grac'd the Board; With (l) Homine and Syder-pap, (Which scarce a hungry dog wou'd lap) Well stuff'd with Fat from Bacon fry'd, Or with Mollossus dulcify'd. Then out our Landlord pulls a Pouch, As greasy as the Leather Couch On which he sat, and straight begun To load with Weed his Indian Gun; In length, scarce longer than one's Finger. His Pipe smoak'd out with aweful Grace, With aspect grave and solemn pace; The reverend Sire walks to a Chest, Of all his Furniture the best, Closely confined within a Room, Which seldom felt the weight of Broom; From thence he lugs a Cag of Rum, And nodding to me, thus begun: I find, says he, you don't much care For this our Indian Country Fare; But let me tell you, Friend of mine, You may be glad of it in time, Tho' now your Stomach is so fine; And if within this Land you stay, You'll find it true what I do say. This said, the Rundlet up he threw, And bending backwards strongly drew: I pluck'd as stoutly for my part, Altho' it made me sick at Heart, And got so soon into my Head I scarce cou'd find my way to Bed; Where I was instantly convey'd By one who pass'd for Chamber-Maid, Tho' by her loose and sluttish Dress, She rather seemed a Bedlam-Bess: Curious to know from whence she came, I prest her to declare her Name. She Blushing, seem'd to hide her Eyes, And thus in Civil Terms replies; In better Times, e'er to this Land, I was unhappily Trapann'd; Perchance as well I did appear, As any Lord or Lady here, Not then a Slave for twice two (m) Year. My Cloaths were fashionably new, Nor were my Shifts of Linnen Blue; But things are changed, now at the Hoe, I daily work, and Bare-foot go, In weeding Corn or feeding Swine, I spend my melancholy Time. Kidnap'd and Fool'd, I hither fled, To shun a hated Nuptial (n) Bed, And to my cost already find, Worse Plagues than those I left behind. Whate'er the Wanderer did profess, Good-faith I cou'd not chuse but guess The Cause which brought her to this place, Was supping e'er the Priest laid Grace. Quick as my Thoughts, the Slave was fled, (Her Candle left to shew my Bed) Which made of Feathers soft and good, Close in the (o) Chimney-corner stood; I threw me down expecting Rest, To be in golden Slumbers blest: But soon a noise disturb'd my quiet, And plagu'd me with nocturnal Riot; A Puss which in the ashes lay, With grunting Pig began a Fray; And prudent Dog, that feuds might cease, Most strongly bark'd to keep the Peace. This Quarrel scarcely was decided, By stick that ready lay provided; But Reynard, arch and cunning Loon, Broke into my Appartment soon: In hot pursuit of Ducks and Geese, With fell intent the same to seize: Their Cackling Plaints with strange surprize, Chac'd Sleep's thick Vapours from my Eyes; Raging I jump'd upon the Floar, And like a Drunken Saylor Swore; With Sword I fiercely laid about, And soon dispers'd the Feather'd Rout The Poultry out of Window flew, And Reynard cautiously withdrew: The Dogs who this Encounter heard, Fiercely themselves to aid me rear'd, And to the Place of Combat run, Exactly as the Field was won. Fretting and hot as roasting Capon, And greasy as a Flitch of Bacon; I to the Orchard did repair, To Breathe the cool and open Air; Expecting there the rising Day, Extended on a Bank I lay; But Fortune here, that fancy Whore, Disturb'd me worse and plagu'd me more, Than she had done the night before: Hoarse croaking (p) Frogs did 'bout me ring, Such Peals the Dead to Life wou'd bring, A Noise might move their Wooden King. I stuffed my Ears with Cotten white, For fear of being deaf out-right, And curst the melancholy Night; But soon my Vows I did recant, And Hearing as a Blessing grant; When a confounded Rattle-Snake, With hissing made my Heart to ake: Not knowing how to fly the Foe, Or whither in the Dark to go; By strange good Luck, I took a Tree, Prepar'd by Fate to set me free; Where riding on a Limb a stride, Night and the Branches did me hide, And I the Devil and Snake defy'd. Not yet from Plagues exempted quite, The curst Muskitoes did me bite; Till rising Morn' and blushing Day, Drove both my Fears and Ills away; And from Night's Errors set me free. Discharg'd from hospitable Tree; I did to Planter's Booth repair, And there at Breakfast nobly Fare On rashier broil'd of infant Bear: I thought the Cub delicious Meat, Which ne'er did ought but Chesnuts eat; Nor was young Orsin's flesh the worse, Because he sucked a Pagan Nurse. Our Breakfast done, my Landlord stout, Handed a Glass of Rum about; Pleas'd with the Treatment I did find, I took my leave of Oast so kind; Who to oblige me, did provide, His eldest son to be my Guide, And lent me Horses of his own, A skittish Colt, and aged Rhoan, The four-leg'd prop of his Wife Joan: Steering our Barks in Trot or Pace, We sail'd directly for a place In Mary-Land, of high renown, Known by the Name of Battle-Town. To view the Crowds did there resort, Which Justice made, and Law their sport, In that sagacious County Court: Scarce had we enter'd on the way, Which thro' thick Woods and Marshes lay; But Indians strange did soon appear, In hot persuit of wounded Deer; No mortal Creature can express, His wild fantastick Air and Dress; His painted Skin in Colours dy'd, His sable hair in Satchel ty'd, Shew'd Savages not free from Pride; His tawny Thighs, and Bosom bare, Disdain'd a useless Coat to wear, Scorn'd Summer's Heat, and Winter's Air; His manly shoulders such as please Widows and Wives, were bathed in grease, Of Cub and Bear, whose supple Oil Prepar'd his Limbs 'gainst Heat or Toil. Thus naked Pict in Battel fought, Or undisguis'd his Mistress sought; And knowing well his Ware was good, Refus'd to screen it with a Hood; His visage dun, and chin that ne'er Did Raizor feel or Scissers bare, Or knew the Ornament of Hair, Look'd sternly Grim, surprized with Fear, I spur'd my Horse as he drew near: But Rhoan who better knew than I, The little Cause I had to fly; Seem'd by his solemn steps and pace, Resolv'd I shou'd the Specter face, Nor faster mov'd, tho' spur'd and lick'd, Than Balaam's Ass by Prophet kick'd. Kekicknitop (q) the Heathen cry'd; How is it, Tom, my Friend reply'd, Judging from thence the Brute was civil, I boldly fac'd the Courteous Devil; And lugging out a Dram of Rum, I gave his Tawny worship some: Who in his language as I guess, (My Guide informing me no less,) Implored the (r) Devil, me to bless. I thank'd him for his good Intent, And forwards on my Journey went, Discoursing as along I rode, Whether this Race was framed by God, Or whether some Malignant pow'r, Contriv'd them in an evil hour, And from his own Infernal Look, Their Dusky form and Image took: From hence we fell to Argument Whence Peopled was this Continent. My Friend suppos'd Tartarians wild, Or Chinese from their Home exiled, Wandering thro' Mountains hid with Snow And Rills did in the Vallies flow Far to the South of Mexico: Broke thro' the Barrs which Nature cast And wide unbeaten Regions past, Till near those Streams the humane deludge roll'd, Which sparkling shin'd with glittering Sands of Gold And fetch'd (s) Pizarro from the (t) Iberian Shoar, To rob the Natives of their fatal Stoar. I smil'd to hear my young Logician Thus reason like a Politician; Who ne're by Father's Pains and Earning Had got at Mother Cambridge Learning; Where Lubber youth just free from birch Most stoutly drink to prop the Church; Nor with (u) Grey Groat had taken Pains To purge his Head and Cleanse his Reines: And in obedience to the Colledge, Had pleas'd himself with carnal knowledge: And tho' I lik'd the youngster's Wit, I judg'd the Truth he had not hit; And could not chuse but smile to think What they could do for Meat and Drink, Who o'er so many Desarts ran With Brats and Wives in Caravan; Unless perchance they'd got the Trick, To eat no more than Porker sick; Or could with well contented Maws Quarter like (v) Bears upon their Paws. Thinking his Reasons to confute, I gravely thus commenc'd Dispute, And urged that tho' a Chinese Host, Might penetrate this Indian Coast, Yet this was certainly most true, They never cou'd the Isles subdue; For knowing not to steer a Boat, They could not on the Ocean float, Or plant their Sunburnt Colonies, In Regions parted by the Seas; I thence inferr'd (w) Phœnicians old, Discover'd first with Vessels bold These Western Shoars, and planted here, Returning once or twice a Year, With Naval Stoars and Lasses kind, To comfort those were left behind; Till by the Winds and Tempest toar, From their intended Golden Shoar, They suffer'd Ship-wreck, or were drown'd, And lost the World so newly found. But after long and learn'd Contention, We could not finish our dissention; And when that both had talk'd their fill, We had the self same Notion still. Thus Parson grave well read and Sage, Does in dispute with Priest engage; The one protests they are not Wise, Who judge by (x) Sense and trust their Eyes; And vows he'd burn for it at Stake, That Man may God his Maker make; The other smiles at his Religion, And vows he's but a learned Widgeon: And when they have empty'd all their Stoar From Books or Fathers, are not more Convinc'd or wiser than before.