That thing, I mean, among the kale:
And here's to buy a pot of ale.

The clerk faid to her, in a heat,
What! fell my mafter's country feat,
Where he comes every week from town!
He would not fell it for a crown.
Poh! fellow, keep not fuch a pother;
In half an hour thou 'It make another.
Says Nancy, I can make for mifs
A finer houfe ten times than this;
'The Dean will give me willow-fticks,
And Joe my apron-full of bricks.

THE VIRTUES OF

Yet ftill fo happy was his fate,
He caught his fifb, and fav'd his bait.
Sid's brethren of the conjuring tribe
A circle with their rod defcribe,
Which proves a magical redoubt
To keep mifchievous fpirits out.
Sid's rod was of a larger stride,
And made a circle thrice as wide,
Where Spirits throng'd with hideous din,
And he ftood there to take them in:
But, when th' inchanted rod was broke,
They vanish'd in a tinking smoke.
Achilles' fceptre was of wood,

Like Sid's, but nothing near fo good;
That down from anceftors divine
Tranfmitted to the hero's line,

THE rod was but a harmlefs wand,
While Mofes held it in his hand;
But, foon as e'er he laid it dozun,
"Twas a devouring ferpent grown.
Our great magician, Hamet Sid,
Reveries what the prophet did :
His red was honeft English wood,
That enfelefs in a corner ftood,
Till, metamorphos'd by his grasp,
It grew an all-devouring afp;

Would hifs, and fting, and roll, and twist,
By the mere virtue of his fift;
But, when he laid it down, as quick
Refum'd the figure of a stick.

So to her midnight-feafts the hag
Rides on a broomflick for a nag,
That, rais'd by magick of her breech,
O'er fea and land conveys the witch;
But with the morning-dawn refumes
The peaceful state of common brooms.
They tell us fomething ftrange and odd
About a certain magic rod †,

That, bending down its top, divines
Whene'er the foil has golden mines;
Where there are none, it ftands erect,
Scorning to fhow the leaft refpect.
As ready was the wand of Sid

To bend where golden mines were hid;
In Scottish hills found precious ore t,
Where none e'er look'd for it before;
And by a gentle bow divin'd,
How well a cully's purfe was lin'd:
To a forlorn and broken rake
Stood without motion, like a stake.

The red of Hermes was renown'd
For charms above and under ground;
To fleep could mortal eye-lids fix,
And drive departed fouls to Styx.
That rod was juft a type of Sid's,
Which o'er a British fenate's lids
Could feat er opium full as well,
And drive as many fouls to bell.

Sid's rod was fiender, white, and tall,
Which of' he us'd to fib withal;
A place was faften'd to the hook,
And many score of gadgeons took :

Came an beir-loom, as Homer fings.
Though this defcription looks fo big,
The fceptre was a faplefs twig,
Which, from the fata! day, when first
It left the foreft where 'twas nurs'd,
As Homer tells us o'er and o'er,
Nor leaf, nor fruit, nor bloffom, bore.
Sid's fceptre, full of juice, did shoot
In golden boughs, and golden fruit;
And he, the dragon never fleeping,
Guarded each fair Hefperian pippin.
No bobby-horfe, with gorgeous top,
The dearest in Charles Mather's fhop,
Or glittering tinfel of May-fair,
Could with this rod of Sid compare.

.

Dear Sid, then, why wert thou fo mad To break thy rod like naughty lad! You should have kits'd it in your distress, And then return'd it to your mistress; Or made it a Newmarket + fwitch, And not a rod for thy own breech. But fince old Sid has broken this, His next may be a rod in pifs.

ATLAS; OR, THE MINISTER OF STAT

TO THE LORD TREASURER OXFORD, 1710.

ATLAS, we read in ancient fong,
Was fo exceeding tall and ftrong,
He bore the fkies upon his back,
Juft as a pedlar does his pack:
But, as a pediar overprefs'd
Unloads upon a stall to reft;
Or, when he can no longer ftand,
Defires a friend to lend a hand;
So Atlas, left the ponderous fpheres
Should fink, and fall about his ears,
Got Hercules to bear the pile,
That he might fit and rest a while.
Yet Hercules was not fo ftrong,

Nor could have borne it half fo long.
Great ftatesmen are in this condition;
And Atlas is a politician,

A premier minifter of state;
Alcides one of fecond rate.

An eminent toyman in Fleet-ftreet.

+ Lord Godolphin is fatirifed by Mr. Pope for Arong attachment to the turf. See his Moral Effays

Suppose then Atlas ne'er so wife ;

Yet, when the weight of kingdoms lies
Too long upon his fingle shoulders,
Sink down he muft, or find upholders.

A TOWN ECLOGUE. 1710.

SCENE, THE ROYAL EXCHANGE. Corydon.

Now the keen rigour of the winter's o'er,
No bail defcends, and frofts can pinch no more;
Whit other girls confefs the genial spring,
And laugh aloud, or amorous ditties fing,
Secure from cold their lovely necks display,
And throw each useless chafing-dish away;
Why fits my Phillis difcontented here,
Nor feels the turn of the revolving year?
Why on that brow dwell forrow and difmay,
Where loves were wont to sport, and smiles to
play!

{around,

Phillis. Ah, Corydon furvey the 'Change Through all the 'Change no wretch like me is found:

Alas! the day, when I, poor heedless maid,
Was to your rooms in Lincoln's-Inn betray'd;
Then how you fwore, how many vows you made!
Ye htening zephyrs, that o'erheard his love,
Waft the foft accents to the Gods above.
Alas! the day; for (oh, eternal fhame!)
Ild you handkerchiefs, and loft my fame.
Car. When I forget the favour you beftow'd,
Red herrings fhall be spawn'd in Tyburn Road,
Fleet-freet transform'd become a flowery green,
And mats be fung where operas are feen;
The wealthy cit, and the St. James's beau,
Shill change their quarters, and their joys forego;
Stock jobbing this to Jonathan's fhall come,
At the Groom Porter's that play off his plum.
Phil. But what to me does all that love avail,
I while I doze at home o'er porter's ale,
Each night with wine and wenches you regale?,
My re-long hours in anxious cares are past,
And raging hunger lays my beauty waste.

templars ipruce in vain I glances throw,
And with fhrill voice invite them as they go.
Erpes'd in vain my gloffy ribbands fhine,
And unregarded wave upon the twine.

The week flies round; and, when my profit's known,

I hardly clear enough to change a crown.

Cor. Hard fate of virtue, thus to be distrest,

Thou faireft of thy trade, and far the beft!

As fruitmen's ftalls the fummer-market grace,
And ruddy peaches them; as first in place
Pam-cake is feen o'er fmaller paftry ware,
And ice on that; fo Phillis does appear
In play-boufe and in park, above the reft
Of belies mechanic, elegantly dreft.

Poil. And yet Crepundia, that conceited fair,
Amidt her toys, affects a faucy air,

And views me

hourly with a fcornful eye.

Cor. She might as well with bright Cleora vie. Ph. With this large petticoat I strive in vain To hide my folly paft, and coming pain: Tis now no fecret; the, and fifty more, Overve the fymptoms I had once before:

VOL. IX.

A fecond babe at Wapping must be plac'd, When I scarce bear the charges of the last.

Cor. What I could raife I fent; a pound of plums,

4

Five fhillings, and a coral for his gums;

To morrow I intend him fomething more.

Phil. I fent a frock and pair of fhoes before.
Cor. However, you fhall home with me to-night,
Forget your cares, and revel in delight.

I have in store a pint or two of wine,
Some cracknels, and the remnant of a chine.

And now on either fide, and all around,
The weighty fhop-boards fall and bars refound;
Each ready fempftrefs flips her pattens on,
And ties her hood, preparing to be gone.

Е Р І Т А РН,

INSCRIBED ON A MARBLE TABLET, IN BERKE LEY CHURCH.

H. S. E.

Carolus Comes de Berkeley, Vicecomes Durfley, Baro Berkeley, de Berkeley Caft. Mowbray, Segrave,

Et Bruce, è Nobiliffimo ordine Balnei Eques, Vir ad genus quod fpectat & Proavos ufquequaque Nobilis,

Et longo, fi quis alius Procerum ftemmate editus; Muniis etiam, tam illuftri ftirpi dignus infignitus. Siquidem à Gulielmo III ad ordines fœderats Belgii

Ablegatus & Plenipotentiarius Extraordinarius Rebus, non Britanniæ tantùm, fed totius fere Europæ

(Tunc temporis præfertim arduis) per annos V. incubuit.

Quam felicia diligentiâ, fide quam intemerata, Ex illo difcas, Lector, quod, fuperftite Patre, In Magnatum ordinem adfcifci meruerit. Fuit à fanctioribus confiliis & Regi Guliel. & Annæ Reginæ,

E Proregibus Hiberniæ fecundus, Comitatuum Civitatumque Gloceft. & Brift. Dominus Locumtenens,

Surriæ et Gloceft. Cuftos Rot. Urbis Gloceft.
magnus
Senefcallus, Arcis fancti de Briavell Caftellanus,
Guardianus Foreftæ de Dean.

Denique ad Turcarum primùm, deinde ad Roman.
Imperatorem

Cum Legatus Extraordinarius defignatus effet, Quo minus has etiam ornaret provincias

Obftitit adverfa corporis valetudo.. Sed reftat adhuc, præ quo fordefcunt cætera, Honos verus, ftabilis, et vel morti cedere nefcius, Quod veritatem Evangelicam ferio amplexus; Ergo Deum pius, erga pauperes munificus, Adverfùs omnes æquus & benevolus, In Chrifto jam placidè obdormit Cum eodem olim regnaturas unà. Natus VIII April. MDCXLIX. denatus XXIV Septem. MDCCX. ætat. fuæ LXII.

THE FABLE OF MIDAS. 1711.

MIDAS, we are in story told,
Turn'd every thing he touch'd to gold:

B

He chip'd his beard; the pieces round
Glitter'd like spangles on the ground:
A codling, ere it went his lip in,
Would straight become a golden pippin:
He call'd for drink; you faw him fup
Potable gold on golden cup :

His empty paunch that he might fill,
He fuck'd his victuals through a quill:
Untouch'd it pafs'd between his grinders,
Or 't had been happy for gold-finders:
He cock'd his hat, you would have faid
Mambrino's helm adorn'd his head:
Whene'er he chanc'd his hands to lay
On magazines of corn or hay,
Gold ready coin'd appear'd, inftead
Of paltry provender and bread;
Hence by wife farmers we are told,
Old hay is equal to old gold;
And hence a critic deep maintains,
We learn'd to weigh our gold by grains.
This fool had got a lucky bit;
And people fancy'd he had wit.
Two gods their skill in mufie try'd,
And both chofe Midas to decide:
He against Phoebus' harp decreed,
And gave it for Pan's oaten reed:
The god of wit, to fhow his grudge,
Clapt affes' ears upon the judge;
A goodly pair erect and wide,
Which he could neither gild nor hide.
And now the virtue of his bands
Was loft among Pactolus' fands,
Against whofe torrent while he swims,
The golden fcurf peels off his limbs :
Fame (preads the news, and people travel
From far to gather golden gravel;
Midas, expos'd to all their jeers,
Had loft his art, and kept his ears.

THIS tale inclines the gentle reader
To think upon a certain leader;
To whom, from Midas down, defcends,
That virtue in the finger's ends.
What else by perquifites are meant,
By penfions, bribes, and three per cent.
By places and commiffions fold,
And turning dung itself to gold?
By ftarving in the midst of store,
As t'other Midas did before?

None e'er did modern Midas choose,
Subject or patron of his Mufe,
But found him thus their merit fcan,
That Phoebus muft give place to Pan:
He values not the poet's praife,
Nor will exchange his plums for bays.
To Pan alone rich mifer's call;
And there's the jeft, for Pan is ALL.
Here English wits will be to feek,
Howe'er, 'tis all one in the Greek.

Befides, it plainly now appears
Our Midas too hath affes' ears;
Where every fool his mouth applies,
And whispers in a toufend lies:
Such grofs delufions could not pafs
Through any ears but of an afs.

But gold defiles with frequent touch;
There's nothing fouls the hand fo much:

And scholars give it for the cause
Of British Midas' dirty paws;
Which while the fenate ftrove to scour,
They wash'd away the chemic power.

While he his utmost ftrength apply'd,
To swim against this popular tide,
The golden spoils flew off apace;
Here fell a penfion, there a place ;
The torrent merciless imbibes
Commiffions, perquifites, and bribes,

By their own weight funk to the bottom;
Much good may do them that have caught 'em
And Midas now neglected ftands,
With affes' ears, and dirty hands.

AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG. 1711. BEING THE INTENDED SPEECH OF A FAMOU ORATOR AGAINST PEACE *.

AN Orator difinal of Nottinghamshire,
Who has forty years let out his confcience to hir
Out of zeal for his country, and want of a place
Is come up, vi& armis, to break the Queen's peac
He has vamp'd an old speech; and the court,
their forrow,

Shall hear him harangue against Prior to-morrow
When once he begins, he never will flinch,
But repeats the fame note a whole day, like
Finch.

I have heard all the speech repeated by Hoppy, And, "Miftakes to prevent, I've obtained copy."

ftories,

How I always pretended to be for the Tories.
I anfwer; the Tories were in my good graces,
Till all my relations were put into places:
But ftill I'm in principle ever the fame,
And will quit my best friends, while I'm No
in-game.

When I and fome others fubfcribed our names
To a plot for expelling my master King James;
I withdrew my fubfcription by help of a blot,
And fo might difcover or gain by the plot:
I had my advantage, and stood at defiance,
For Daniel was got from the den of the lions:

*The Lord Treasurer having hinted a wif one evening that a ballad might be made on the Earl of Nottingham, this fong was written and printed the next morning.

יט

3

I came is without danger, and was I to blame?
For, rather than bang, I would be Not-in-game.
I fwore to the Queen, that the Prince of Ha-

nover

During her facred life would never come over:
I made use of a trope; that" an heir to invite,
"Was like keeping her monument always in
“ fight.”

But, when I thought proper, I alter'd my note;
And in her own hearing I boldly did vote,

That her Majefty stood in great need of a Tutor,
And must have an old or a young Coadjutor:
For why; I would fain have put all in a flame,
Because, for some reasons, I was Not-in-game.
Now my new benefactors have brought me a-
bout,

And I'll vote against Peace, with Spain, or without Though the Court gives my nephews, and brothers, and coufins,

And all my whole family, places by dozens;
Yet, fince I know where a full-purfe may be found,
And hardly pay eighteen-pence tax in the pound;
Since the Tories have thus disappointed my hopes,
And will neither regard my figures nor tropes;
l' speech against peace while Dismal's my name,
And be a true Whig, while I am Not-in-game.

THE WINDSOR PROPHECY. 1711.

WHEN a holy black Swede, the fon of Bob", With a faint at his chin, and a feal † at his fob, Shall not fee one ‡ New-year's-day in that year, Then let old England make good cheer: Windfor§ and Bristow § then shall be Jain'd together in the Low-countree §. Then fall the tall black Daventry Bird || Speak against peace right many a word; And some shall admire his conying wit, For many good groats his tongue shall flit. But, fpight of the Harpy that crawls on all four, There shall be peace, pardie, and war no more. But England must cry alack and well-a-day, If the fick be taken from the dead fea. And, dear Englond, if aught I understond, Beware of Carrots ** from Northumberland. \ Carrets fown Thynne a deep root may get, If fo be they are in Somer fet:

Dr. John Robinson, bishop of Bristol, one of the plenipotentiaries at Utrecht.

He was dean of Windfor, and lord privyJeal.

The bishop fet out from England the latter end of December, O. S.; and on his arrival at Utrecht, by the variation of the ftyle, be found January fumebat advanced.

Allading to the deanery and bishoprick being refed by the fame perfon, then at Utrecht. Earl of Nottingham.

** The Duchess of Somerset.

Thomas Thynne, of Longleate, Efq. a gentleman of very great eftate, married the above lady after the death of her firft bufband, Henry Cavendi, Earl of Ogle, only fon to Henry Duke of Newcastle, to whom he had been betrothed in ber infancy.

19

THIS day (the year I dare not tell)
Apollo play'd the midwife's part;
Into the world Corinna fell,

And he endow'd her with his art.
But Cupid with a Satyr comes:

Both foftly to the cradle creep;
Both ftroke her hands, and rub her gums,
While the poor child lay faft asleep.

Then Cupid thus: This little maid,

Of love shall always fpeak and write. And I pronounce (the Satyr faid)

The world fall feel her fcratch and bite. Her talent she display'd betimes;

For in twice twelve revolving moons, She feem'd to laugh and fquall in rhymes, And all her geftures were lampoons. At fix years old the subtle jade

Stole to the pantry door, and found The butler with my lady's maid: And you may fwear the tale went round.

§ Lady Maham's maiden name was Hill. Infcribed to the phyfician who attended Mr. Harley whilft he lay wounded.

She made a fong, how little mifs

Was kifs'd and flobber'd by a lad: And how, when master went to p---, Mifs came, and peep'd at all he had. At twelve a wit and a coquette;

Marries for love, half whore, half wife; Cuckolds, elopes, and runs in debt;

Turns authorefs, and is Curll's for life.

TOLAND'S INVITATION TO DISMAL, TO DINE WITH THE CALVES-HEAD CLUB *. Imitated from Horace, Lib. I. Epift. 5. Ir, dearest Difmal, you for once can dine Upon a fingle dish, and tavern-wine, Toland to you this invitation sends, To eat the calves-head with your trusty friends. Sufpend awhile your vain ambitious hopes, Leave hunting after bribes, forget your tropes. To-morrow we our myftic feaft prepare, Where thou, our lateft profelyte, fhalt share: When we, by proper figns and symbols, tell, How, by brave hands, the royal traitor fell; The meat fhall represent the tyrant's head, The wine his blood our predeceffors fhed; Whilft an alluding hymn fome artist fings, We toaft, "Confufion to the race of kings!" At monarchy we nobly show our spight, And talk what fools call treafon all the night. Who, by difgraces or ill-fortune funk, Feels not his foul enliven'd when he's drunk? Wine can clear up Godolophin's cloudy face, And fill Jack Smith with hopes to keep his place: By force of wine, ev'n Scarborough is brave, Hal grows more pert, and Somers not fo grave; Wine can give Portland wit, and Cleveland sense, Montague learning, Bolton eloquence : Cholmondoley, when drunk, can never lose his And Lincoln then imagines he has land. [wand;

My province is, to fee that all be right, Glaffes and linen clean, and pewter bright; From our myflerious club to keep out fpies, And Torics (drefs'd like waiters) in difguife. You fhall be coupled as you beft approve, Seated at table next the men you love. Sunderland, Orford, Boyle, and Richmond's Grace, [place. Will come, and Hampden fhall have Walpole's Wharton, unless prevented by a whore, Will hardly fail; and there is room for more. But I love elbow-room whene'er I drink; And honeft Harry is too apt to ftink.

Let no pretence of bufinefs make you stay; Yet take one word of counfel by the way. If Guernsey calls, fend word you're gone abroad; He'll teaze you with King Charles and Bifhop Laud,

*This poem, and that which follows it, are two of the penny papers mentioned in Swift's Journal to Stella, Aug. 7. 1714. They are here printed from folio copies in the Lambeth Library.

Right Honourable Henry Boyle, mentioned twice before.

SPIGHT of Dutch friends and English foes,
Poor Britain fhall have peace at last:
Holland got towns, and we got blows;
But Dunkirk 's ours, we 'll hold it faft:
We have got it in a string,

And the Whigs may all go fwing,
For among good friends I love to be plain;
All their falfe deluded hopes

Will or ought to end in ropes:
But the Queen fball enjoy her own again.
Sunderland's run out of his wits,

And Difmal double-Difmal looks;
Wharton can only fwear by fits,
And ftrutting Hal is off the hooks;
Old Godolophin full of spleen
Made falfe moves, and loft his queen;
Harry look'd fierce, and shook his ragged mane:
But a Prince of high renown

Swore he 'd rather lofe a crown,
Than the Queen should enjoy her own again.
Our merchant-ships may cut the Line,

And not be inapt by privateers;
And commoners who love good wine,
Will drink it now as well as peers:
Landed-men fhall have their rent,
Yet our stocks rise cent. per cent.
The Dutch from hence fhall no more million
drain:

We'll bring on us no more debts,
Nor with bankrupts fill Gazettes;
And the Queen fhall enjoy her own again.
The towns we took ne'er did us good:
What fignified the French to beat?.
We fpent our money and our blood,

To make the Dutchmen proud and great:
But the Lord of Oxford swears,
Dunkirk never shall be theirs.

The Dutch-hearted Whigs may rail and complain;

But true Englishmen may fill

A good health to General Hill;
For the Queen now enjoys her own again.

HORACE, BOOK I. EP. VII. ADDERSSED TO THE EARL OF OXFORD. 1713.

HARLEY, the nation's great fupport, Returning home one day from court, (His mind with public cares poffefs'd, All Europe's business in his breaft).