A Complete Edition of the Poets of Great Britain..: Swift. Thompson. Watts ...

Befides, that flow-pac'd fign Bootes,
As 'tis mifcall'd, we know not who 'tis :
But Partridge ended all difputes;
He knew his trade, and call'd it * boots.
The borned moon, which heretofore
Upon their fhoes the Romans wore,
Whose wideness kept their toes from corns,
And whence we claim our fboring-horns,
Shows how the art of cobling bears
A near resemblance to the spheres.

A fcrap of parchment hung by geometry
(A great refinement in barometry)
Can, like the stars, foretel the weather;
And what is parchment else but leather?
Which an aftrologer might ufe
Either for almanacks or fboes.

Thus Partridge by his wit and parts
At once did practise both thefe arts:
And as the boding owl (or rather
The bat, becaufe her wings are leather)
Steals from her private cell by night,
And flies about the candle-light;
So learned Partridge could as well
Creep in the dark from leathern cell,
And in his fancy fly as far
To peep upon a twinkling ftar.

Befides, he could confound the spheres,
And fet the planets by the ears;
To fhow his kill, he Mars could join
To Venus in afpe& malign;
Then call in Mercury for aid,

And cure the wounds that Venus made.
Great scholars have in Lucian read,
When Philip king of Greece was dead,
His foul and Spirit did divide,
And each part took a different fide:
One rose a star; the other fell
Beneath, and mended thoes in hell.

Thus Partridge ftill fhines in each art,
The cobling and ftar-gazing part;
And is install'd as good a ftar
As any of the Cæfars are.

Triumphant ftar! fome pity fhow
On coblers militant below,

Whom roguish boys, in ftormy nights,
Torment by piffing out their lights;
Or through a chink convey their fmoke,
Inclos'd artificers to choke.

Thou, high exalted in thy fphere,
May'ft follow ftill thy calling there.
To thee the Bull will lend his bide,
By Phoebus newly tann'd and dry'd;
For thee they Argo's hulk will tax,
And fcrape her pitchy fides for zax :
Then Ariadne kindly lends
Her braided hair to make the ends:
The points of Sagittarius' dart
Turns to an awl by heavenly art;
And Vulcan, wheedled by his wife,
Will forge for thee a paring-knife.
For want of room by Virgo's fide,
She 'll ftrain a point, and fet aftride,
To take thee kindly in between ;
And then the figns will be thirteen.

See bis almanack.

you

THE EPITAPH.

HERE, five feet deep, lies on his back, A cobler, farmonger, and quack; Who to the fars in pure good will Does to his best look upward ftill. Weep, all customers that ufe His pills, his almanacks, or shoes: And you that did your fortunes feek, Step to his grave but once a-week. This earth which bears his body's print, You'll find has fo much virtue in 't, That I durft pawn my ears 'twill tell Whate'er concerns you full as well, In phyfic, folen-goods, or love, As he himself could when above.

MERLIN'S PROPHECY. 1709.

SEVEN and ten addyd to nine, Of Fraunce her woe this is the fygne; Tamys rivere twys y-frozen, Walke fans wetyng fhoes ne hozen. Then comyth foorthe, ich understonde, From towne of ftoffe to fattyn londe, An hardie chiftan*, woe the morne, To Fraunce that evere he was born. Then fhall the fyfhet beweyle his boffe; Nor fhall grin berrys make up the loffe. Yonge Symnele || fhall again miscarrye; And Norways pryd § again fhall marrey : And from the tree where blofums feele, Rife fruit fhall come, and all is wele. Reaums fhall daunce honde in honde **, And it shall be merye in old Inglonde; Then old Inglonde fhall be no more, And no man fhall be forie therefore. Geryon + fhall have three hedes agayne, Till Hapfburge ‡‡ makyth them but twayne.

Now hardly here and there an hackney coach Appearing, fhow'd the ruddy morn's approach. Now Betty from her mafter's bed had flown, And foftly ftole to difcompofe her own; The flipfhod 'prentice from his master's door Had par'd the dirt, and sprinkled round the floor. Now Moll had whirl'd her mop with dextrous ai Prepar'd to fcrub the entry and the flairs. The youth with broomy flumps began to trace The kennel's edge, where wheels had worn the plac The fmall-coal-man was heard with cadence dec. Till drown'd in thriller notes of chimney-sweep. Duns at his Lordship's gate began to meet ; And brick-duft Moll had feream'd through half th The turnkey now his flock returning fees, [fireet Duly let out a-nights to teal for fees:

The watchful bailiffs take their filent ftands,
And school-boys lag with fatchels in their hands.

A DESCRIPTION OF

A CITY-SHOWER.

In Imitation of Virgil's Georgics. 1710.

CAREFUL obfervers may fortel the hour
(By fure prognoftics) when to dread a shower.
While rain depends, the penfive cat gives o'er
Her frolicks, and purfues her tail no more.
Returning home at night, you 'll find the fink
Strike your offending fenfe with double stink.
If you be wife, then go not far to dine;
You'll fpend in coach-hire more than fave in wine.
A coming fhower your fhooting corns prefage,
Old aches will throb, your hollow tooth will rage.
Sauntering in coffee-houfe is Dulman seen;
He damns the climate, and complains of fpicen.
Mean while the fouth, rising with dabbled wings,||
A fable cloud athwart the welkin flings,
That fwill'd more liquor than it could contain,
And, like a drunkard, gives it up again.
Brifk Sufan whips her linen from the rope,
While the first drizzling fhower is borne aflope:
Such is that fprinkling which fome careless quean
Flirts on you from her mop, but not fo clean :
You fly, invoke the gods; then, turning, flop
To rail; fhe, finging, ftill whirls on her
mop.
Not yet the duft had fhunn'd th' unequal ftrife,
Bat, aided by the wind, fought still for life;
And, wafted with its foe by violent guft,
'Twas doubtful which was rain, and which was duft.
Ah! where muft needy poet feek for aid,
When dust and rain at once his coat invade?
Sole coat! where dust cemented by the rain
Ereas the nap, and leaves a cloudy stain !
Now in contiguous drops the flood comes down,
Threatening with deluge this devoted town.
To fhops in crowds the daggled females fly,
Pretend to cheapen goods, but nothing buy.
The templar spruce, while every spout's abroach,
brays till 'tis fair, yet feems to call a coach.
The tuck'd-up fenftrefs walks with hasty strides,
While ftreams run down her oil'd umbrella's fides.
Here various kinds, by various fortunes led,
Commence acquaintance underneath a shed.
Triumphant Tories and defponding Whigs
Forget their feuds, and join to fave their wigs.
Box'd in a chair, the beau impatient fits,
While spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits,
And ever and anon with frightful din

The leather founds; he trembles from within.
So when Troy chairmen bore the wooden steed,
Pregnant with Greeks impatient to be freed,
(Thefe bully Greeks, who, as the moderns do,
Intead of paying chairmen, ran them through)
Laocoon ftruck the outfide with his fpear,
And each imprison'd hero quack'd for fear.

Now from all parts the fwelling kennels flow,
And bear their trophies with them as they go:
Filths of all hues and odours feem to tell
What street they fail'd from by their fight and smell.
They, as each torrent drives, with rapid force,
From Smithfield or St.'Pulchre's fhape their courfe,
And in huge confluence join'd at Snowhill ridge,
And from the conduit prone to Holbourn bridge.

Sweepings from butchers' stalls, dung, guts, and” blood,

Drown'd puppies, ftinking fprats, all drench'd in mud,

Dead cats, and turnip-tops, come tumbling down the flood.

ON THE LITTLE HOUSE BY THE CHURCH-YARD
OF CASTLENOCK. 1710.

WHOEVER pleaseth to inquire
Why yonder fteeple wants a fpire,
The gray old fellow poet * Joe
The philofophic caufe will fhow.
Once on a time a western blast
At least twelve inches overcast,
Reckoning roof, weathercock, and all,
Which came with a prodigious fall;
And turning topsy-turvy round,
Light with its bottom on the ground;
For, by the laws of gravitation,
It fell into its proper station.

This is the little ftrutting pile,
You fee juft by the church-yard ftile;
The walls in tumbling gave a knock;
And thus the fteeple got a fhock;
From whence the neighbouring farmer calls
The steeple, Knock; the vicar, † Walls.

The vicar once a week creeps in,
Sits with his knees up to his chin;
Here conns his notes, and takes a whet,
Till the fmall ragged flock is met.

A traveller, who by did pafs,
Obferv'd the roof behind the grass;
On tiptec ftood, and rear'd his fnout,
And faw the parfon creeping out;
Was much furpris'd to fee a crow
Venture to build his neft so low.

A school-boy ran unto 't, and thought,
The crib was down, the blackbird caught.
A third, who loft his way by night,
Was forc'd for safety to alight;
And, ftepping o'er the fabric-roof,
His horfe had like to spoil his hoof.

Warburton took it in his noddle,
This building was defign'd a model
Or of a pigeon-house or oven,
To bake one loaf, and keep one dove in.

Then Mrs. Johnfon § gave her verdict,
And every one was pleas'd that heard it:
All that you make this ftir about,
Is but a ftill which wants a fpout.
The reverend Dr. || Raymond guefs'd
More probably than all the reft;
He faid, but that it wanted room,
It might have been a pigmy's tomb.
The Doctor's family came by,
And little mifs began to cry;
Give me that houfe in my own hand!
Then madam bade the chariot stand,
Call'd to the clerk, in manner mild,
Pray, reach that thing here to the child;

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 master'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 'lt make another.
Says Nancy, I can make for mifs
A finer houfe ten times than this;
The Dean will give me willow-fticks,
And Joc 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.
bid's rod was of a larger ftride,
And made a circle thrice as wide,
Where fpirits throng'd with hideous din,
And he stood there to take them in:
But, when thinchanted rod was broke,
They vanifh'd in a stinking smoke.
Achilles' fceptre was of wood,
Like Sid's, but nothing near fo good;

That down from ancestors divine
Tranfmitted to the hero's line,

SID HÄMET THE MAGICIAN's ROD. 1710. Thence, through a long descent of kings,

THE rod was but a harmless wand,
While Mofes held it in his hand;
But, foor as e'er he laid it down,
"Twas a devouring ferpent grown.
Our great magician, Hamet Sid,
Reverses what the prophet did:
His rod was honeft English wood,
That fenfelefs in a corner ftood,
Till, metamorphos'd by his grafp,
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 ftick.

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 ftate of common brooms.
They tell us fomething strange 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 ‡,
Where none e'er look'd for it before;
And by a gentle bozu divin'd,
How well a cully's purfe was lin'd:
To a forlorn and broken rake
Stood without motion, like a stake.

The rod 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 fcatter opium full as well,
And drive as many fouls to bell.

Sid's rod was flender, white, and tall,
Which oft' he us'd to fifb withal;
A plaice was faften'd to the hook,
And many score of gudgeons took :

Came an beir-loom, as Homer fings.
Though this defcription looks fo big,
The fceptre was a faplefs twig,
Which, from the fatal day, when first
It left the foreft where 'twas nurs'd,
As Homer telis us o'er and o'er,
Nor leaf, nor fruit, nor bloffom, bore.
Sid's fceptre, full of juice, did fhoot
In golden boughs, and golden fruit;
And he, the dragon never fleeping,
Guarded each fair Hefperian pippin.
No bobby-borfe, with gorgeous top,
The dearest in Charles Mather's fhop,
Or glittering tinsel 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 fhould have kifs'd it in your distress, And then return'd it to your mistress; Or made it a Newmarket † switch, 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 STATE.

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,
Just as a pedlar does his pack:
But, as a pedlar 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 reft a while.

Yet Hercules was not fo ftrong,

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

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

* An eminent toyman in Fleet-street.

+ Lord Godolphin is fatirifed by Mr. Pope for frong attachment to the turf. See bis Moral Essays.

Suppofe then Atlas ne'er fo 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;
Whilft other girls confefs the genial fpring,
And laugh aloud, or amorous ditties fing,
Secure from cold their lovely necks display,
And throw each ufelefs chafing-difh 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 fport, and fimiles 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 (wore, how many vows you made!
Ye listening zephyrs, that o'erheard his love,
Waft the foft accents to the Gods above.
Alas! the day; for (oh, eternal shame!)
I fold you handkerchiefs, and loft my fame.

Cor. 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 mafs be fung where operas are seen;
The wealthy cit, and the St. James's beau,
Shall 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, If, while I doze at home o'er porter's ale,

My live-long hours in anxious cares are past,
And raging hunger lays my beauty wafte.
On templars fpruce in vain I glances throw,
And with fhrill voice invite them as they go.
Expos'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 diftreft,
Thou fairest of thy trade, and far the best!
As fruitmen's ftalls the fummer-market grace,
And ruddy peaches them; as firft in place
Plum-cake is feen o'er fmaller pastry ware,
And ice on that; fo Phillis does appear
In play-house and in park, above the rest
Of belles mechanic, elegantly dreft.

Phil. And yet Crepundia, that conceited fair,
Amidft her toys, affects a faucy at,
And views me hourly with a fcornful eye.

Cor. She might as well with bright Cleora vie. Phil. With this large petticoat I strive in vain To hide my folly paft, and coming pain: "Tis now no fecret; fhe, and fifty more, Obferve the symptoms I had once before :'* VOL. IX.

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

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

Five fillings, and a coral for his gums;
To morrow I intend him fomething more.

Phil. I fént 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.

EPITAPH,

INSCRIBED ON A MARBLE TABLET, IN BERKE

LEY CHURCH.

H. S. E.

Carolus Comes de Berkeley, Vicecomes Dursley, 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 fœderati 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 intemeratâ, 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 Glocest. 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 amplexuss
Ergo Deum pius, erga pauperes munificus,
Adverfus 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. 1717.
MIDAS, we are in story told,
Turn'd every thing he touch'd to gold s

He chip'd his beard; the pieces round
Glitter'd like fpangles on the ground i
A codling, ere it went his lip in,
Would ftraight 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 pass'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, instead
Of paltry provender and bread;
Hence by wife farmers we are told,
Old bay 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 hit;
And people fancy'd he had wit.
Two gods their skill in musie try'd,
And both chofe Midas to decide:
He against Phoebas' 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 hands
Was loft among Pactolus' fands,
Against whofe torrent while he swims,
The golden fcurf peels off his limbs :
Fame spreads 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 elfe by perquifites are meant, By penfions, bribes, and three per cent. By places and commissions fold, And turning dung itself to gold? By starving 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 seek, 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 thousand lies: Such grofs delufions could not país 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 caufe
Of British Midas' dirty paws;
Which while the fenate ftrove to scour,
They wash'd away the chemic power.

While he his utmost strength apply'd,
To swim against this popular tide,
The golden fpoils 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 stands,

With affes' ears, and dirty hands.

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

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

Whereas, notwithstanding, I am in great pain, To hear we are making a peace without Spain; But, mof noble Senators, 'tis a great shame There should be a peace, while I'm Not-in-game. The Duke show'd me all his fine houfe; and the Duchefs

From her closet brought out a full purse in her clutches.

I talk'd of a peace, and they both gave a start; His grace fwore by G-d, and her grace let a f---t:

My long old-fashion'd pocket was presently cramm'd

And fooner than vote for a peace I'll be damn'd.

But fome will cry Turn-coat, and rip up old
ftories,

How I always pretended to be for the Tories.
I answer; 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 Net-
in-game.

When I and fome others fubfcribed our names
To a plot for expelling my mafter 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 wish one evening that a ballad might be made on the Earl of Nottingham, this fong was written and printed the next morning.

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