The toast An heroick poem: In four Books, Written originally in Latin, by Frederick Scheffer: Now done into English, and illustrated with Notes and Observations, by Peregrine Odonald [i.e. William King] |
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| 3. | BOOK THE THIRD. |
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 | The toast |  |
81
BOOK THE THIRD.
Indicio Solis—Quis Solem fallere possit?
Ovid.
Ovid.
Γυνη μετα γυναικος ως Ανηρ ανδρογυνους ερωτας ασχημονουσα.
Lucian.
Apollo subveni mihi atque adjuva;
Confige sagittis Fures Thesaurarios.
Plaut. Aulular.
Confige sagittis Fures Thesaurarios.
Plaut. Aulular.
83
Mighty Goddess, who whilom thro' Hudibras spoke,
You, who taught Frier Ihon, and Pança to joke;
To my Cottage repair, and my Carol renew:
Let the Prelude be short, and the Story be true:
Let me borrow your Spirit to dight the old Toast,
And advance a foul Kern to a Treasurer's Post.
Half remains yet unsung, and I grieve 'twas delay'd:
'Tis a Tribute I owe, and the Debt must be paid.
You, who taught Frier Ihon, and Pança to joke;
84
Let the Prelude be short, and the Story be true:
Let me borrow your Spirit to dight the old Toast,
And advance a foul Kern to a Treasurer's Post.
Half remains yet unsung, and I grieve 'twas delay'd:
'Tis a Tribute I owe, and the Debt must be paid.
O! do thou, most redoubtable Piercy, attend,
Whilst a Column I raise to thy Mistress and Friend.
Nor impatient, as whilom, my Merit deny:
Such a Builder as thou; such a Poet am I.
Tho' a Goth, and unbred, and unfashion'd by Vol;
In our Manners I trow, the Resemblance is small.
To the Great I ne'er cring'd; nor am dubb'd by his Grace;
Nor betray'd my old Friend to succeed to his Place;
Nor the Stranger's Possessions unjustly I sought;
Nor my Verse is the Work of another Man's Thought.
Whilst a Column I raise to thy Mistress and Friend.
85
Such a Builder as thou; such a Poet am I.
Tho' a Goth, and unbred, and unfashion'd by Vol;
In our Manners I trow, the Resemblance is small.
To the Great I ne'er cring'd; nor am dubb'd by his Grace;
Nor betray'd my old Friend to succeed to his Place;
Nor the Stranger's Possessions unjustly I sought;
Nor my Verse is the Work of another Man's Thought.
86
And do thou, O Lord Pam, thy Anathemas spare,
And to second Sir Piercy's rude Insults forbear:
Nor be mov'd, if I stand at thy Elbow next Winter;
Nor endeavour to bribe, or to frighten my Printer:
Nor pronounce me prophane, and my Poem a Libel;
Since Hermaphrodites no where are found in the Bible.
And to second Sir Piercy's rude Insults forbear:
Nor be mov'd, if I stand at thy Elbow next Winter;
Nor endeavour to bribe, or to frighten my Printer:
Nor pronounce me prophane, and my Poem a Libel;
Since Hermaphrodites no where are found in the Bible.
For, unseemly if thus on a Tribad you fawn,
And unhallow the fair Hierarchical Lawn;
Or defame the good Bard, to exalt the black Frow,
In the Language thou learn'st from thy Father at Plow;
I'll record thee in Farce: Tho' again thou'rt translated,
And again, and so oft, till your Pamship's Primated;
I'll translate thee once more, lest thy Works should escape us,
And create thee High-priest of our Irish Priapus.
And unhallow the fair Hierarchical Lawn;
87
In the Language thou learn'st from thy Father at Plow;
I'll record thee in Farce: Tho' again thou'rt translated,
And again, and so oft, till your Pamship's Primated;
I'll translate thee once more, lest thy Works should escape us,
And create thee High-priest of our Irish Priapus.
HERE, by changing the Scene, now my Fancy grows strong,
O assist me, my Muse, to embellish my Song!
As a Sibyl pronounce, but without Agitation
Of your Body or Mind, Scheffer's Vaticination.
For, of Epode or Epic higher rais'd is the Merit,
In the Bard if there breathe a prophetical Spirit.
Nor obscure be my Numbers: no Censure I fear:
'Tis Apollo, who whispers these Truths in my Ear.
When the P---y shall lose all its Splendor and Power,
And a brutal Beotian command in the Tower;
When the Lords of the Mountains their Forces assemble,
And Britannia, as shook by an Earthquake, shall tremble;
When the Drums ecclesiastic, unheard in this Age,
Beat to Arms in all Pulpits, and kindle our Rage;
While the Warrior A---p his Province alarms,
And instructs Saints and Sinners to handle their Arms,
And impels Knights and Squires, whether sober or Sots,
To renounce the Fox-chace, and to hunt down the Scots;
When unmilitant Peers by a warlike Cockade,
Or, allur'd by the Gain, sudden Heroes are made;
When a Group of young Templars shall act a grave Farce,
And bedight Father Coke with the Armour of Mars;
And the stout Leather-sellers no Perils shall shun,
Since Bellona has taught 'em to shoot in a Gun;
When the City is govern'd by Time-serving H---,
And the Nation is farm'd by a G---n and G---;
When the Patriots are Placemen, the People are Slaves;
When the P---s are Kings, and the ---s are Knaves;
When a Youth (this I add, lest ye fancy, I rage,
As the Prophets, who always dire Evils presage)
Crown'd with Laurel appears, who, the Destinies tell us,
If his Thread they shall lengthen, will be a Marcellus;
Then expect, in the Senate, where Lælius shall sit,
For his Virtues rever'd, and renown'd for his Wit,
On the Bench, for rare Merit design'd, shall be seen
Other Pams, puff'd in Lawn, but ignoble their Mien;
Who disdaining, like H---t, old Apostolic Marks,
Are become sacred Bishops, yet never were Clerks.
How the Goddess, who rules the vast Dunciad, will smile,
When she robes with bright Ermin her M---, and L---!
When, around the old K--- while her Bat-wings are spread,
She adorns with a Mitre a Busto of Lead!
Judge, my Friends, of the rest by the Men I here name,
And believe ev'ry Pam-Priest in Britain the same:
Nor an Argus can spy in that Cast any Odds,
Who submit to all Kings, and who worship all Gods.
Is a Hengist our Ruler? the Cross they abhor,
And begin a Te Deum to Woden and Thor.
Or suppose a young Bacchus (observe, 'tis a Thing,
Which I only suppose) here receiv'd as a King;
They attend on his Car with Evohes and Hollas.
Or, is Mahomet come? they are Mufties and Mollas.
Be a Pharaoh the Lord of the British Dominions:
Lo! the Pams offer Incense to Oxen and Onions.
Or, imagine a Tartar possess'd of the Throne;
See 'em croud to a Pagod, and worship a Stone!
Nor accuse, ye great Priests, my oracular Rhymes:
Nor alledge, that all Craftsmen conform to the Times:
Nor insist, thro' all Changes this Merit you've gain'd;
When your Gods have been false, all your Prayers have been feign'd.
I contend, (and I borrow my Logic from Paul)
If ye honour one Idol, ye honour 'em all.
And there is (nor it moves you, that two or three Jews,
Or the wild Cameronians Obedience refuse)
What your Pamships approach with Rev'rence and Pleasure:
'Tis the Image set up by King Nebucadnezzar.
Whether English or Irish, young Pam-Priests and old,
Ever worship in Truth, if the God be of Gold.
“Future Acts, through thy Favour, while thus I relate;
“Is it lawful to ask, What will be my own Fate?
“Shall my Eyes, sacred Pæan, these Wonders behold?
“Will thy Kindness still last, if I live to be old?
“My Predictions, I fear, will be hardly believ'd,
“Or in Jest, as a Star-gazing Knave's, be receiv'd;
“If so knowing I seem, to myself yet unknown;
“If I tell others Fortunes, unskill'd in my own.
Thus, unless 'twas a Vision, his Godship I tried;
Thus, methought, from his Tripod Apollo replied.
“In thy Days will all happen, which here is foretold:
“Nor my Favour shall fail thee, when thou art grown old.
“Where the Muses and I oft have chosen our Seat,
“I'll provide thee ('twas always thy Wish) a Retreat.
“Unambitious, unstain'd by Corruption thy Breast,
“And the Passion, which most has disturb'd thee, at Rest;
“Looking down on the Great, and despising thy Foes,
“There enjoy, O my Scheffer, a learned Repose.
“And, as now you discuss, with a Freedom of Mind,
“What is worthy yourself, what is due to Mankind;
“I will hallow thy Lips with a Spark of my Fire,
“And the Love of thy Country the Theme shall inspire.
“Lo! to Britain's great Goddess a Temple you raise:
“Lo! I deck thee, old Bard, with a Chaplet of Bays.
“While the Muses their Tribute to Liberty bring;
“And, protected by us, you may censure a King.
“As you sink into Age, you shall rise into Fame;
“And the noblest of Britons shall honour thy Name:
“Fane, and Tufton, and Lee to thy Verse shall attend;
“And a Boyle shall be known thy Companion and Friend.
“Then, whene'er thou'rt perplex'd, or of Bus'ness afraid,
“See Aristo! how kindly he lends thee his Aid:
“How polite and humane! in his Honour what Trust!
“Did he e'er urge the Cause, which he knew was unjust?
“Did he ever fair Virtue and Merit expose,
“Like Ierne's rude Pleaders, like --- and B---s?
“Tho' unread in no Law, for the Bar how unfit,
“Who with Truth mingles Learning, and Manners with Wit!
“Nor forget thy old Chum; who, whene'er thou complain,
“Still attends thy sick Couch, and relieves thee from Pain.
“That a Spirit so blith in thy Numbers is found,
“And at Sixty thy Mind, as thy Body, is sound,
“To his Skill and his learned Prescriptions you owe:
“What Machaon was once, such is now my Monro.
O assist me, my Muse, to embellish my Song!
As a Sibyl pronounce, but without Agitation
Of your Body or Mind, Scheffer's Vaticination.
88
In the Bard if there breathe a prophetical Spirit.
Nor obscure be my Numbers: no Censure I fear:
'Tis Apollo, who whispers these Truths in my Ear.
When the P---y shall lose all its Splendor and Power,
And a brutal Beotian command in the Tower;
When the Lords of the Mountains their Forces assemble,
And Britannia, as shook by an Earthquake, shall tremble;
When the Drums ecclesiastic, unheard in this Age,
Beat to Arms in all Pulpits, and kindle our Rage;
89
And instructs Saints and Sinners to handle their Arms,
And impels Knights and Squires, whether sober or Sots,
To renounce the Fox-chace, and to hunt down the Scots;
When unmilitant Peers by a warlike Cockade,
Or, allur'd by the Gain, sudden Heroes are made;
90
And bedight Father Coke with the Armour of Mars;
And the stout Leather-sellers no Perils shall shun,
Since Bellona has taught 'em to shoot in a Gun;
91
And the Nation is farm'd by a G---n and G---;
92
When the P---s are Kings, and the ---s are Knaves;
When a Youth (this I add, lest ye fancy, I rage,
As the Prophets, who always dire Evils presage)
Crown'd with Laurel appears, who, the Destinies tell us,
If his Thread they shall lengthen, will be a Marcellus;
Then expect, in the Senate, where Lælius shall sit,
For his Virtues rever'd, and renown'd for his Wit,
93
Other Pams, puff'd in Lawn, but ignoble their Mien;
Who disdaining, like H---t, old Apostolic Marks,
Are become sacred Bishops, yet never were Clerks.
How the Goddess, who rules the vast Dunciad, will smile,
When she robes with bright Ermin her M---, and L---!
When, around the old K--- while her Bat-wings are spread,
She adorns with a Mitre a Busto of Lead!
94
And believe ev'ry Pam-Priest in Britain the same:
Nor an Argus can spy in that Cast any Odds,
Who submit to all Kings, and who worship all Gods.
Is a Hengist our Ruler? the Cross they abhor,
And begin a Te Deum to Woden and Thor.
Or suppose a young Bacchus (observe, 'tis a Thing,
Which I only suppose) here receiv'd as a King;
They attend on his Car with Evohes and Hollas.
Or, is Mahomet come? they are Mufties and Mollas.
95
Lo! the Pams offer Incense to Oxen and Onions.
Or, imagine a Tartar possess'd of the Throne;
See 'em croud to a Pagod, and worship a Stone!
Nor accuse, ye great Priests, my oracular Rhymes:
Nor alledge, that all Craftsmen conform to the Times:
Nor insist, thro' all Changes this Merit you've gain'd;
When your Gods have been false, all your Prayers have been feign'd.
I contend, (and I borrow my Logic from Paul)
If ye honour one Idol, ye honour 'em all.
96
Or the wild Cameronians Obedience refuse)
What your Pamships approach with Rev'rence and Pleasure:
'Tis the Image set up by King Nebucadnezzar.
Whether English or Irish, young Pam-Priests and old,
Ever worship in Truth, if the God be of Gold.
“Future Acts, through thy Favour, while thus I relate;
“Is it lawful to ask, What will be my own Fate?
97
“Will thy Kindness still last, if I live to be old?
“My Predictions, I fear, will be hardly believ'd,
“Or in Jest, as a Star-gazing Knave's, be receiv'd;
“If so knowing I seem, to myself yet unknown;
“If I tell others Fortunes, unskill'd in my own.
Thus, unless 'twas a Vision, his Godship I tried;
Thus, methought, from his Tripod Apollo replied.
“In thy Days will all happen, which here is foretold:
“Nor my Favour shall fail thee, when thou art grown old.
“Where the Muses and I oft have chosen our Seat,
“I'll provide thee ('twas always thy Wish) a Retreat.
98
“And the Passion, which most has disturb'd thee, at Rest;
“Looking down on the Great, and despising thy Foes,
“There enjoy, O my Scheffer, a learned Repose.
“And, as now you discuss, with a Freedom of Mind,
“What is worthy yourself, what is due to Mankind;
“I will hallow thy Lips with a Spark of my Fire,
“And the Love of thy Country the Theme shall inspire.
“Lo! to Britain's great Goddess a Temple you raise:
“Lo! I deck thee, old Bard, with a Chaplet of Bays.
99
“And, protected by us, you may censure a King.
“As you sink into Age, you shall rise into Fame;
“And the noblest of Britons shall honour thy Name:
“Fane, and Tufton, and Lee to thy Verse shall attend;
“And a Boyle shall be known thy Companion and Friend.
“Then, whene'er thou'rt perplex'd, or of Bus'ness afraid,
“See Aristo! how kindly he lends thee his Aid:
“How polite and humane! in his Honour what Trust!
“Did he e'er urge the Cause, which he knew was unjust?
100
“Like Ierne's rude Pleaders, like --- and B---s?
“Tho' unread in no Law, for the Bar how unfit,
“Who with Truth mingles Learning, and Manners with Wit!
“Nor forget thy old Chum; who, whene'er thou complain,
“Still attends thy sick Couch, and relieves thee from Pain.
“That a Spirit so blith in thy Numbers is found,
“And at Sixty thy Mind, as thy Body, is sound,
“To his Skill and his learned Prescriptions you owe:
“What Machaon was once, such is now my Monro.
101
This observant I heard, and was pleas'd with the Theme:
Yet, if haughty Court-Chaplains imagine, I dream,
And pronounce my prophetical Proem a Crime,
I appeal, to confound all their Cavils, to Time.
But I'm sure, I'm awake, while my Tale I pursue;
And the Wonders, which follow, are known to be true.
Yet, if haughty Court-Chaplains imagine, I dream,
And pronounce my prophetical Proem a Crime,
I appeal, to confound all their Cavils, to Time.
But I'm sure, I'm awake, while my Tale I pursue;
And the Wonders, which follow, are known to be true.
In the Champain above, which old Poets descry,
Overlooking vast Worlds, and adorning the Sky,
Stands a spacious fair Palace, possess'd by the Sun;
Built before Time was measur'd, or Ages begun;
And, as Connoisseurs own, in an excellent Tast,
Of Materials so firm, it for ever must last.
Nor to this be compar'd any Fabric below,
Whether fashion'd for Use, or invented for Shew:
Nor the new House of Commons, nor Parmeno's Folly,
Nor the College, or Castle, or Villa-Conolly;
Nor Britannia's strong Towers, where reside the Lord-Jaylors,
Nor the Courts she has made for her Kings and her Sailors;
Nor a Chatsworth, or Blenheim, nor Paul's House of Prayer,
Nor the Mansion design'd for a London Lord-Mayor;
Nor the Plans, which on Paper Palladio projected,
Nor the Structures Friend Gibbs hath so neatly erected;
Nor the Chapels of Rome, or the Inns of Almain,
Nor the gaudy Versailles, or Escurial of Spain;
Nor a Nero's huge Pile (may we never behold
Such an Architect here!) cover'd over with Gold.
Much inferior I deem that magnificent House,
By Aladdin contriv'd, to oblige his fair Spouse;
Or the vast Pandæmonium, in Story so fam'd,
Which the Cunning of Mammon, or Milton hath fram'd.
All the Seats, where rich Muses have lodg'd their own Lares,
And the Domes Madam D'Anois has rais'd for her Fairies;
All erected by Syd for the Planets' Debate;
All invented by P---ce for the Good of the State;
All the Grottos, where Witches for Solace repair,
And the Castles, which Alchymists build in the Air.
Overlooking vast Worlds, and adorning the Sky,
102
Built before Time was measur'd, or Ages begun;
And, as Connoisseurs own, in an excellent Tast,
Of Materials so firm, it for ever must last.
Nor to this be compar'd any Fabric below,
Whether fashion'd for Use, or invented for Shew:
Nor the new House of Commons, nor Parmeno's Folly,
Nor the College, or Castle, or Villa-Conolly;
Nor Britannia's strong Towers, where reside the Lord-Jaylors,
Nor the Courts she has made for her Kings and her Sailors;
103
Nor the Mansion design'd for a London Lord-Mayor;
Nor the Plans, which on Paper Palladio projected,
Nor the Structures Friend Gibbs hath so neatly erected;
Nor the Chapels of Rome, or the Inns of Almain,
Nor the gaudy Versailles, or Escurial of Spain;
Nor a Nero's huge Pile (may we never behold
Such an Architect here!) cover'd over with Gold.
104
By Aladdin contriv'd, to oblige his fair Spouse;
Or the vast Pandæmonium, in Story so fam'd,
Which the Cunning of Mammon, or Milton hath fram'd.
89
And the Domes Madam D'Anois has rais'd for her Fairies;
All erected by Syd for the Planets' Debate;
All invented by P---ce for the Good of the State;
All the Grottos, where Witches for Solace repair,
And the Castles, which Alchymists build in the Air.
But perhaps you'll suspect, that my Song is a Fable,
When I tell you this Hotel is only a Stable;
That capacious Gold Mangers, with Rubies thick set,
In the Salon are plac'd, like a modern Buffet;
That his Godship's fair Daughters sweep clean all the Rooms,
And, excelling all House-wives, are Hand-maids, and Grooms;
That his fiery fierce Steeds, with Ambrosia high fed,
At their Pleasure these Virgins can guide with a Thread;
That so swift are the Coursers, they think it mere Play,
Or a Breathing—to measure the Globe in a Day.
Nor unween I, that modern Copernican Sages
Ridicule the Sun's Hotel, his Chariot and Stages;
And pretend, with their Glasses his Nags may be seen;
That they travel above, like our Horse on the Green,
Made to prance and curvet with so martial a Grace,
Yet unable to move half an Inch from his Place.
But advance these new Sophists such Doctrines as list 'em;
Let the Poet adhere to Dan Ovid's old System.
When I tell you this Hotel is only a Stable;
That capacious Gold Mangers, with Rubies thick set,
In the Salon are plac'd, like a modern Buffet;
90
And, excelling all House-wives, are Hand-maids, and Grooms;
That his fiery fierce Steeds, with Ambrosia high fed,
At their Pleasure these Virgins can guide with a Thread;
That so swift are the Coursers, they think it mere Play,
Or a Breathing—to measure the Globe in a Day.
Nor unween I, that modern Copernican Sages
Ridicule the Sun's Hotel, his Chariot and Stages;
91
That they travel above, like our Horse on the Green,
Made to prance and curvet with so martial a Grace,
Yet unable to move half an Inch from his Place.
But advance these new Sophists such Doctrines as list 'em;
Let the Poet adhere to Dan Ovid's old System.
Now it dawn'd—and the vigilant Purple-face Morning,
Of the Sun's near Approach, gave his Houshold due Warning.
All the Horæ look'd out; drove away ev'ry Star,
And, before his Arrival, got ready his Car.
Tho' so late he had tippled, he had not misreckon'd:
When he mounted, of Six it just wanted a Second.
In his Mounting what Grace! in his Driving what Skill!
Nor his Horses he spar'd, tho' the Way was up Hill;
Never stopping to kiss a young Wife, or to drink;
Never whistling or swearing, --- because he can't think.
As he urg'd on his Stage, he revolv'd in his Mind
All the Toasts of last Night,—how his own was defin'd:
And resolv'd to inspect, since she liv'd in his Way,
If, as Mars had asserted, his Consort was Grey.
For in Matters important, the God is too wise,
When his own are the best, to trust other Folks Eyes.
Well he wot too, the Warrior was apt to defame
Holy Rites of young Hymen, and ev'ry chaste Dame;
To relate an old Tale, but to swear it was new;
And repeat it so oft, till he fancied 'twas true.
True suppose it; his Spouse fail'd in conjugal Duty;
Was expensive and lewd, yet she might be a Beauty.
Many Belles are observ'd to lead whimsical Lives,
And some excellent Toasts, who are very bad Wives.
So to judge for himself, and the Donna survey;
As he roll'd over Dublin, he stopt on the Quay;
And dispelling the Clouds, which obstructed his Sight,
Darted in at her Bed-Chamber Windows his Light.
Of the Sun's near Approach, gave his Houshold due Warning.
All the Horæ look'd out; drove away ev'ry Star,
And, before his Arrival, got ready his Car.
Tho' so late he had tippled, he had not misreckon'd:
When he mounted, of Six it just wanted a Second.
92
Nor his Horses he spar'd, tho' the Way was up Hill;
Never stopping to kiss a young Wife, or to drink;
Never whistling or swearing, --- because he can't think.
As he urg'd on his Stage, he revolv'd in his Mind
All the Toasts of last Night,—how his own was defin'd:
And resolv'd to inspect, since she liv'd in his Way,
If, as Mars had asserted, his Consort was Grey.
For in Matters important, the God is too wise,
When his own are the best, to trust other Folks Eyes.
Well he wot too, the Warrior was apt to defame
Holy Rites of young Hymen, and ev'ry chaste Dame;
93
And repeat it so oft, till he fancied 'twas true.
True suppose it; his Spouse fail'd in conjugal Duty;
Was expensive and lewd, yet she might be a Beauty.
Many Belles are observ'd to lead whimsical Lives,
And some excellent Toasts, who are very bad Wives.
So to judge for himself, and the Donna survey;
As he roll'd over Dublin, he stopt on the Quay;
And dispelling the Clouds, which obstructed his Sight,
Darted in at her Bed-Chamber Windows his Light.
There he saw—How unpleasing the Scene I unfold!
But the Tale will be spoil'd, or the Truth must be told.
Sacred Mithra, since now I have brought thee so nigh,
Be propitious—and keep me a while in thine Eye:
Nor thy Name I invoke, (well I know the vast Odds)
As before I address'd to those foolish old Gods.
Be propitious; for lo! the rude Satire I frame
Adds a Topic of Praise, and enlarges thy Fame.
Since to emulate thee, the foul Fiends I defied;
Give me Courage:—But still let me fight by thy Side.
So shall I, unappal'd, meet Hermaphrodites Form,
Tho' she rides in a Whirl-wind, and spouts out a Storm,
Arm'd with all the dire Spells, which three Husbands destroy'd,
When the Wretches grew weak, or the Beldam was cloy'd;
Tho' she comes, well supported by all her black Host,
By the Piercy, and t'other fierce Knight of the Post;
Felly raging, and vengeful, imputing to me,
That unbid, I recorded thy righteous Decree.
Nor I'll fear the Imp-Fury, tho' dreadful she shakes,
And commands her black Locks to be chang'd into Snakes:
On herself shed the Venom, unable to sting
Any Bard, who from thee has a Licence to sing.
But the Tale will be spoil'd, or the Truth must be told.
94
Be propitious—and keep me a while in thine Eye:
Nor thy Name I invoke, (well I know the vast Odds)
As before I address'd to those foolish old Gods.
Be propitious; for lo! the rude Satire I frame
Adds a Topic of Praise, and enlarges thy Fame.
Since to emulate thee, the foul Fiends I defied;
Give me Courage:—But still let me fight by thy Side.
So shall I, unappal'd, meet Hermaphrodites Form,
Tho' she rides in a Whirl-wind, and spouts out a Storm,
95
When the Wretches grew weak, or the Beldam was cloy'd;
Tho' she comes, well supported by all her black Host,
By the Piercy, and t'other fierce Knight of the Post;
Felly raging, and vengeful, imputing to me,
That unbid, I recorded thy righteous Decree.
Nor I'll fear the Imp-Fury, tho' dreadful she shakes,
And commands her black Locks to be chang'd into Snakes:
On herself shed the Venom, unable to sting
Any Bard, who from thee has a Licence to sing.
But beware, my good Muse, lest thy Work grow too long,
And, digressing so oft, thou embarass the Song.
To the Quay, where you left our great Master, repair;
And be bold to report what his Godship saw there.
And, digressing so oft, thou embarass the Song.
96
And be bold to report what his Godship saw there.
There he saw the huge Mass tumble out of her Bed;
Like Bellona's her Stature, the Gorgon's her Head;
Hollow Eyes with a Glare, like the Eyn of an Ox;
And a Forehead deep furrow'd, and matted grey Locks;
With a toothless wide Mouth, and a Beard on her Chin,
And a yellow rough Hide in the Place of a Skin;
Brawny Shoulders up-rais'd; Cow-Udders; Imp's Teat;
And a Pair of bow'd Legs, which were set on Splay Feet.
With the Figure the God was surpriz'd and offended,
When he mark'd how these various Defects were amended;
How her Back was laid flat with an Iron Machine,
And her Breasts were lac'd down, with a sweet Bag between:
How she shaded her Eyes, and the squalid black Beard
Was so smoothly shav'd off, scarce a Bristle appear'd;
How she clear'd the old Ruins, new plaister'd her Face,
And apply'd Red or White, as it suited the Place:
With a Set of Watts' Teeth, and a Cap of Deard's Hair,
Like a Virgin she bloom'd, and at sixty seem'd Fair.
Like Bellona's her Stature, the Gorgon's her Head;
97
And a Forehead deep furrow'd, and matted grey Locks;
With a toothless wide Mouth, and a Beard on her Chin,
And a yellow rough Hide in the Place of a Skin;
Brawny Shoulders up-rais'd; Cow-Udders; Imp's Teat;
And a Pair of bow'd Legs, which were set on Splay Feet.
With the Figure the God was surpriz'd and offended,
When he mark'd how these various Defects were amended;
How her Back was laid flat with an Iron Machine,
And her Breasts were lac'd down, with a sweet Bag between:
98
Was so smoothly shav'd off, scarce a Bristle appear'd;
How she clear'd the old Ruins, new plaister'd her Face,
And apply'd Red or White, as it suited the Place:
With a Set of Watts' Teeth, and a Cap of Deard's Hair,
Like a Virgin she bloom'd, and at sixty seem'd Fair.
99
Thus you see an old Hulk, many Years Weather-beaten,
All the Timbers grown rotten, the Plank all Worm-eaten;
Which the Owners, who doom her to make one more Trip,
Scrape and calk, tar and paint, till she seems a new Ship.
But alas! for the Wretches, whose Gods have forgot 'em,
That are bound to adventure in such a foul Bottom.
All the Timbers grown rotten, the Plank all Worm-eaten;
Which the Owners, who doom her to make one more Trip,
Scrape and calk, tar and paint, till she seems a new Ship.
But alas! for the Wretches, whose Gods have forgot 'em,
That are bound to adventure in such a foul Bottom.
Here his Godship (inclin'd to examine the whole,
Which compos'd this odd Creature) look'd into her Soul.
He conceiv'd a faint Hope, that within he should find
Hidden Beauties, good Sense, and a virtuous fair Mind:
Which, he knew, for Exteriors would make full Amends,
And enrol her a Toast among Platonic Friends.
But again he was baulk'd:—For a Soul he espy'd
Full of Envy, black Malice, base Leasing, and Pride;
Hypocritical, sordid, vain-glorious, ingrate;
In her Frienships most false, and relentless in Hate.
He beheld, at one View, all the Acts of her Life;
How experienc'd a Miss; how abandon'd a Wife!
That advancing in Years, all her Wants she supply'd,
By an Art, which the fam'd Messalina ne'er try'd.
Tho' her Gallants were few, or not made to her Mind;
Yet her Joyance was full, if the Jewess was kind.
Which compos'd this odd Creature) look'd into her Soul.
He conceiv'd a faint Hope, that within he should find
Hidden Beauties, good Sense, and a virtuous fair Mind:
Which, he knew, for Exteriors would make full Amends,
And enrol her a Toast among Platonic Friends.
100
Full of Envy, black Malice, base Leasing, and Pride;
Hypocritical, sordid, vain-glorious, ingrate;
In her Frienships most false, and relentless in Hate.
He beheld, at one View, all the Acts of her Life;
How experienc'd a Miss; how abandon'd a Wife!
101
By an Art, which the fam'd Messalina ne'er try'd.
Tho' her Gallants were few, or not made to her Mind;
Yet her Joyance was full, if the Jewess was kind.
While the God, that no Room might be left for a Doubt,
Turn'd her upside and down, and then inside and out;
And survey'd all her Parts—many more, than is fit
For the Bard to describe;—but still found himself bit:
While he ponder'd, by Turns, much enrag'd and asham'd
To behold the fine Toast, which his Highness had nam'd:
Heark! the Voice of a Fury invades his nice Ear;
And so dreadful her Curses!—he trembled to hear.
Such the Morning Oraisons she us'd to repeat,
Since the Bead-roll of Aves were grown obsolete.
She began with great Jove, whom she curs'd for his Spleen,
Here to fix her Abode, and not make her Vice-Queen:
And she curs'd him again for his Meanness of Spirit,
Who assign'd her a Pension far short of her Merit.
Then, because at Threescore she was out of her Prime,
And her Tresses were hoary, she curs'd Father Time.
Ought her Head, like Mount Ætna's, be cover'd with Snow,
While she feels the fierce Flames, which consume her below?
Then she curs'd her next Kin, who refus'd to abjure,
And the useless old Matrons, untaught to procure.
All the Bankers she curs'd;—for they weigh foreign Gold:
And she curs'd the poor Players;—for their House is too old.
Then she curs'd from her Soul, since her Luck was so ill,
Ace of Hearts, and Groom Porter, and odious Quadrille;
All the Duns, who want Manners, or Patience to wait;
All the Rich, who pass by, and the Poor at her Gate;
Little Priests, and great Prelates, who fix the Church-Pales,
From the Red-Hats of Rome, to the Fidlers of Wales;
All the Belles of this Isle, who abhor the French Mode;
And the Bards, who address an old Witch in an Ode.
Next, the Morning she curs'd, 'twas so hot and so light;
(If the Sun had been set, she had then curs'd the Night)
Little thinking Don Phœbus that Instant was near her,
That the God, whom she thus was blaspheming, could hear her.
Let us honour the God, who to Mortals so kind,
Order'd all her vain Curses be stopt by the Wind!
And I fancy, since now he hath mark'd her mad Airs,
He'll enforce this Command, if she offers up Prayers.
Turn'd her upside and down, and then inside and out;
102
For the Bard to describe;—but still found himself bit:
While he ponder'd, by Turns, much enrag'd and asham'd
To behold the fine Toast, which his Highness had nam'd:
Heark! the Voice of a Fury invades his nice Ear;
And so dreadful her Curses!—he trembled to hear.
Such the Morning Oraisons she us'd to repeat,
Since the Bead-roll of Aves were grown obsolete.
She began with great Jove, whom she curs'd for his Spleen,
Here to fix her Abode, and not make her Vice-Queen:
And she curs'd him again for his Meanness of Spirit,
Who assign'd her a Pension far short of her Merit.
103
And her Tresses were hoary, she curs'd Father Time.
Ought her Head, like Mount Ætna's, be cover'd with Snow,
While she feels the fierce Flames, which consume her below?
Then she curs'd her next Kin, who refus'd to abjure,
And the useless old Matrons, untaught to procure.
All the Bankers she curs'd;—for they weigh foreign Gold:
And she curs'd the poor Players;—for their House is too old.
104
Ace of Hearts, and Groom Porter, and odious Quadrille;
All the Duns, who want Manners, or Patience to wait;
All the Rich, who pass by, and the Poor at her Gate;
Little Priests, and great Prelates, who fix the Church-Pales,
From the Red-Hats of Rome, to the Fidlers of Wales;
All the Belles of this Isle, who abhor the French Mode;
And the Bards, who address an old Witch in an Ode.
Next, the Morning she curs'd, 'twas so hot and so light;
(If the Sun had been set, she had then curs'd the Night)
105
That the God, whom she thus was blaspheming, could hear her.
Let us honour the God, who to Mortals so kind,
Order'd all her vain Curses be stopt by the Wind!
And I fancy, since now he hath mark'd her mad Airs,
He'll enforce this Command, if she offers up Prayers.
Here she ceas'd for a while to unlock the Canteen:
Sure Relief! when loud Talk has created the Spleen.
Twas the Price she receiv'd for a Virgin betray'd,
Fill'd with Liquor nectareous, true Eau de Barbade.
Sure Relief! when loud Talk has created the Spleen.
Twas the Price she receiv'd for a Virgin betray'd,
Fill'd with Liquor nectareous, true Eau de Barbade.
When, imbibing fresh Vigour, the Dame at a Sup
Had exhausted the large aromatical Cup;
How her hollow Orbs redden'd, recruiting their Ire,
And her Breath from her drinking redoubled its Fire!
Had exhausted the large aromatical Cup;
How her hollow Orbs redden'd, recruiting their Ire,
And her Breath from her drinking redoubled its Fire!
106
Now she swells with new Matter, devoting whole Nations;
And the Castle re-ecchoes her dire Imprecations.
But behold what a Change Love is pleas'd to perform!
[Nor a Power less mighty, could quiet the Storm]
She has heard the soft rap. Lo! her Gallants appear:
First approaches majestic the tall Grenadier.
All her Fury the Sight of such Manhood suppress'd;
And a train of soft Passions re-enter her Breast.
She embrac'd the great Soldier; she measur'd his Length;
Into Action she warm'd, and experienc'd his Strength:
Nor so much had false Dalilah's Spouse in his Locks:
Nor the Witch was more pleas'd, when she strove in the Box.
Introduc'd in good Order, succeed to the Fight
A Mechanic, a Courtier, a Collier, and Knight:
As he finish'd to each she assign'd a new Day,
And, extolling his Labours, advanc'd a Week's Pay.
Thus dismiss'd the Male Gallants, in-crawl'd her own Imp
In a scaly small Body, contors'd like a Shrimp.
In a Rapture she stroak'd it, and gave it the Teat,
By the Suction to raise sympathetical Heat.
Then by Hecate she swore, she was sated with Men;
Sung a wanton Sapphoic, and stroak'd it agen;
And agen—And then thrice she erected her Rod:
(For the Numbers in Magic must always be odd.)
See the Force of her Spells mighty Circe's surpass,
And the Beldams, which made Apuleius an Ass!
See a Reptile transform'd to a Shape near the Human,
And the Imp, that erst enter'd, resemble a Woman!
Not a Woman—like those, which the Mussulmen use,
Or the Grandees of Britain for Mistresses chuse:
The indelible Mark, on her Forehead impress'd,
God's Revenge, and old Shylock's curs'd Lineage confess'd;
With the Locks of a Negress half mingled with Grey,
And a Carcase ill-moulded of dirty Red Clay;
Clammy, livid, cold Lips, with a crooked long Nose;
And a Skin full of Spots from her Head to her Toes.
Nor a Daughter of Eve has a Body so foul;
Nor has Envy herself so envenom'd a Soul.
But to Myra most dear! nor so fair in her Sight,
Was Anacthon or Cydno thus form'd for Delight:
O ma Vie, ma Femme! What a Shape, and a Face!
Then impatient she rush'd to a closer Embrace.
Let the rest be untold!—And thus ever forbear,
Lest thy Numbers, O Scheffer, offend the chaste Fair.
And do thou, O my Clara, this Freedom excuse;
Since a Vengeance so just has created the Muse;
Or a Passion more noble. I hang out my Lights,
To direct foreign Sailors in dreery long Nights:
I expose to their Ken (and dear-bought was my Wit)
Both the Pools, which ingulph'd me, and Rocks, where I split.
When a Pair of foul Tribads I rudely unveil,
'Tis Charybdis I shew you, 'tis Scylla's Dog-Tail.
And the Castle re-ecchoes her dire Imprecations.
But behold what a Change Love is pleas'd to perform!
[Nor a Power less mighty, could quiet the Storm]
She has heard the soft rap. Lo! her Gallants appear:
First approaches majestic the tall Grenadier.
All her Fury the Sight of such Manhood suppress'd;
And a train of soft Passions re-enter her Breast.
She embrac'd the great Soldier; she measur'd his Length;
Into Action she warm'd, and experienc'd his Strength:
Nor so much had false Dalilah's Spouse in his Locks:
Nor the Witch was more pleas'd, when she strove in the Box.
Introduc'd in good Order, succeed to the Fight
A Mechanic, a Courtier, a Collier, and Knight:
107
And, extolling his Labours, advanc'd a Week's Pay.
Thus dismiss'd the Male Gallants, in-crawl'd her own Imp
In a scaly small Body, contors'd like a Shrimp.
In a Rapture she stroak'd it, and gave it the Teat,
By the Suction to raise sympathetical Heat.
Then by Hecate she swore, she was sated with Men;
Sung a wanton Sapphoic, and stroak'd it agen;
108
(For the Numbers in Magic must always be odd.)
See the Force of her Spells mighty Circe's surpass,
And the Beldams, which made Apuleius an Ass!
See a Reptile transform'd to a Shape near the Human,
And the Imp, that erst enter'd, resemble a Woman!
Not a Woman—like those, which the Mussulmen use,
Or the Grandees of Britain for Mistresses chuse:
The indelible Mark, on her Forehead impress'd,
God's Revenge, and old Shylock's curs'd Lineage confess'd;
109
And a Carcase ill-moulded of dirty Red Clay;
Clammy, livid, cold Lips, with a crooked long Nose;
And a Skin full of Spots from her Head to her Toes.
Nor a Daughter of Eve has a Body so foul;
Nor has Envy herself so envenom'd a Soul.
But to Myra most dear! nor so fair in her Sight,
Was Anacthon or Cydno thus form'd for Delight:
110
Then impatient she rush'd to a closer Embrace.
Let the rest be untold!—And thus ever forbear,
Lest thy Numbers, O Scheffer, offend the chaste Fair.
111
Since a Vengeance so just has created the Muse;
Or a Passion more noble. I hang out my Lights,
To direct foreign Sailors in dreery long Nights:
I expose to their Ken (and dear-bought was my Wit)
Both the Pools, which ingulph'd me, and Rocks, where I split.
When a Pair of foul Tribads I rudely unveil,
'Tis Charybdis I shew you, 'tis Scylla's Dog-Tail.
112
Shall it therefore concern me, who blames or commends?
Friends to Virtue, I know, will be ever my Friends.
For the rest—Let me view 'em with equal Regard,
Whether B---ps, or Bravos, who threaten the Bard:
For the vitious and proud, whether Statesmen, or Fools;
Whether Myra's old Gallants, or Ali's new Tools,
Whether Red-Coats, or Black-Coats, are all of one Sort;
And we see in Curculio the Image of ---
Friends to Virtue, I know, will be ever my Friends.
113
Whether B---ps, or Bravos, who threaten the Bard:
For the vitious and proud, whether Statesmen, or Fools;
Whether Myra's old Gallants, or Ali's new Tools,
Whether Red-Coats, or Black-Coats, are all of one Sort;
And we see in Curculio the Image of ---
Now the God (and who doubts it?) grown sick of his Station,
Paus'd a while—and then broke into this Exclamation;
“Could the Sins of thylke People make Jove thus severe,
“To unhallow the Land, and cause Venom live here?
“Who'd believe such a Creature from B---l had sprung?
“Or that this is the Myra, George Gr---ville hath sung?
As he spake, to the Westward he hied him away;
Lest beyond the due Bounds he should lengthen the Day.
But his Steeds knew their Work; and so swift was their Motion,
That exact to a Minute they plung'd in the Ocean.
Here saluting fair Thetis, he sunk in her Lap;
And, to act without Passion, he took a short Nap.
For whenever he censures, he makes it a Rule,
That his Fancy be warm, but his Judgment be cool.
Then distinctly consid'ring all Matters as predict,
He commanded his Heralds to publish this Edict.
Paus'd a while—and then broke into this Exclamation;
“Could the Sins of thylke People make Jove thus severe,
“To unhallow the Land, and cause Venom live here?
“Who'd believe such a Creature from B---l had sprung?
“Or that this is the Myra, George Gr---ville hath sung?
114
Lest beyond the due Bounds he should lengthen the Day.
But his Steeds knew their Work; and so swift was their Motion,
That exact to a Minute they plung'd in the Ocean.
Here saluting fair Thetis, he sunk in her Lap;
And, to act without Passion, he took a short Nap.
For whenever he censures, he makes it a Rule,
That his Fancy be warm, but his Judgment be cool.
Then distinctly consid'ring all Matters as predict,
He commanded his Heralds to publish this Edict.
For as much as George G---ville, forgetting his Duty,
Has impos'd a foul Creature on me for a Beauty;
And bespoke me so fair, that I taught him my Trade,
And, as oft as he sung, ne'er refus'd him my Aid:
And whereas modern Lays (to my Sorrow) discover,
That the blindest of all is the Rhythmical Lover,
Who implores my Assistance, unseemly to laud
Or the crooked Coquet, or the Quality-Bawd:
Now, for better preventing such heinous Abuses,
I the Lord of Parnass' (with Advice of the Muses)
Make it known to all People, both Commons and Peers,
From the Writers of Epic to low Sonneteers;
That hereafter no Bard, on Pretence he's in Distress,
Shall presume on his Judgment, and chuse his own Mistress;
Or invoke mortal Females of any Degree,
Who have not been approv'd by the Graces, and me.
And whereas wicked Myra hath brought me to shame;
I command the said G---ville to rase out her Name,
And the beautiful Clara insert in her Place,
Or the bright Patroness of the Oxford Borlace.
And whereas, maugre all the old Creature's Disguises,
I discern her true Form, and unnatural Vices;
'Tis my Will, since to wayward Amours she's inclin'd,
She be only permitted to mix with her Kind:
Tho' the Fates to an Hundred should lengthen her Span,
Let the Matron no more be compress'd by a Man.
And whereas I foresee, that a Mind so impure
Will incite the decrepit old Dame to procure;
By the Force of her Spells, with a forward Court Air,
And the Semblance of Virtue to ruin the Fair.
By a special Grace mov'd, I enjoin and command
You the Tutelar Gods, who bear Sway in that Land,
All her Actions to watch, all her Witchcrafts to cross,
And to save other Nymphs, as ye sav'd Lady R---sse.
Has impos'd a foul Creature on me for a Beauty;
115
And, as oft as he sung, ne'er refus'd him my Aid:
And whereas modern Lays (to my Sorrow) discover,
That the blindest of all is the Rhythmical Lover,
Who implores my Assistance, unseemly to laud
Or the crooked Coquet, or the Quality-Bawd:
Now, for better preventing such heinous Abuses,
I the Lord of Parnass' (with Advice of the Muses)
Make it known to all People, both Commons and Peers,
From the Writers of Epic to low Sonneteers;
That hereafter no Bard, on Pretence he's in Distress,
Shall presume on his Judgment, and chuse his own Mistress;
Or invoke mortal Females of any Degree,
Who have not been approv'd by the Graces, and me.
116
I command the said G---ville to rase out her Name,
And the beautiful Clara insert in her Place,
Or the bright Patroness of the Oxford Borlace.
And whereas, maugre all the old Creature's Disguises,
I discern her true Form, and unnatural Vices;
'Tis my Will, since to wayward Amours she's inclin'd,
She be only permitted to mix with her Kind:
Tho' the Fates to an Hundred should lengthen her Span,
Let the Matron no more be compress'd by a Man.
117
Will incite the decrepit old Dame to procure;
118
And the Semblance of Virtue to ruin the Fair.
By a special Grace mov'd, I enjoin and command
You the Tutelar Gods, who bear Sway in that Land,
All her Actions to watch, all her Witchcrafts to cross,
And to save other Nymphs, as ye sav'd Lady R---sse.
Thus APOLLO decreed—When to stop further Fury,
Who should enter the Closet but little Mer-cury.
Ken ye not the young Thief?—But you'll think my Head wrong,
If without a new Patron I sing a new Song:
And Thalia consents, that instead of a Fee
I inscribe this quaint Episode, Bocca, to thee:
That with Patience I sit, where the C---r dotes;
Where the Register Lion scowls over his Notes;
And presumes, tho' unask'd, his own Rules to report,
To instruct hoarse Iocco, and biass the Court.
While Miracides gapes like an Idiot at stool:
How unhappy the Bard, who contends with a Fool!
See the Orator there in his Glory appear!
See me tremble, great Bocca, to view thee so near!
Let the Stagyrite yield, when the Pleader disputes;
And avaunt my black Hero, when Bocca computes!
When he proves by his Brief (and the Problem is new)
That a Dozen and ten will make Thirty and two.
Or, if ten from the Thirty and two you substract,
Nought remains. “This, my Lord, is a state of the Fact.
Then behold, how sagacious he points out the Flaws,
While his Figures and Tropes heavy hang on my Cause!
To supply all Defects, and develope the Trust,
How polite his Remarks, and his Reas'ning how just!
His Conclusion so apt, it admits no Reply!
For, my Lord, in a Word, the whole Deed is a Lie.
But alas! if your Logic, O Bocca, should fail ye,
And the Judge turn averse; Crier, call P---r D---
To expound the Knight's Will, and support the Imp's League,
Who, of all the uncoiff'd, is so fit as the Teague?
Hear Iocco, and Prime! chuse ye, Sirs, utrum horum!
Arrha! P---r is fast after coming before 'um.
Tho' the Dean laughs aside, and Apollo detests
Teague's unmusical Voice, and his wretched low Jests;
To the Force of his Brogue all his Brethren submit,
And the Juries of Connaught have found him a Wit.
Who should enter the Closet but little Mer-cury.
113
If without a new Patron I sing a new Song:
And Thalia consents, that instead of a Fee
I inscribe this quaint Episode, Bocca, to thee:
That with Patience I sit, where the C---r dotes;
Where the Register Lion scowls over his Notes;
And presumes, tho' unask'd, his own Rules to report,
To instruct hoarse Iocco, and biass the Court.
114
How unhappy the Bard, who contends with a Fool!
See the Orator there in his Glory appear!
See me tremble, great Bocca, to view thee so near!
Let the Stagyrite yield, when the Pleader disputes;
And avaunt my black Hero, when Bocca computes!
When he proves by his Brief (and the Problem is new)
That a Dozen and ten will make Thirty and two.
Or, if ten from the Thirty and two you substract,
Nought remains. “This, my Lord, is a state of the Fact.
115
While his Figures and Tropes heavy hang on my Cause!
To supply all Defects, and develope the Trust,
How polite his Remarks, and his Reas'ning how just!
His Conclusion so apt, it admits no Reply!
For, my Lord, in a Word, the whole Deed is a Lie.
But alas! if your Logic, O Bocca, should fail ye,
And the Judge turn averse; Crier, call P---r D---
To expound the Knight's Will, and support the Imp's League,
Who, of all the uncoiff'd, is so fit as the Teague?
116
Arrha! P---r is fast after coming before 'um.
Tho' the Dean laughs aside, and Apollo detests
Teague's unmusical Voice, and his wretched low Jests;
To the Force of his Brogue all his Brethren submit,
And the Juries of Connaught have found him a Wit.
This Address now suffice: Nor repute it a Crime;
Since the Muses can make my low Numbers sublime;
Crown with Ivy my Head, and a Monument raise,
Tho' my Theme be despis'd; tho' an Insect I praise,
By Corruption produc'd, like a Mite, in old Cheese,
Or exhal'd by thy Sun-beams, O W---st, from foul Lees.
With Apostrophes thus I repair my Neglects;
Thus I pay you, great Robemen, my grateful Respects.
Ariosto as oft his high Subject suspends
And deserts all his Heroes, to honour his Friends.
And a greater than he, learned Sirs, ye know, who
Left the Muses and Phœbus, to wait upon you.
Since the Muses can make my low Numbers sublime;
117
Tho' my Theme be despis'd; tho' an Insect I praise,
By Corruption produc'd, like a Mite, in old Cheese,
Or exhal'd by thy Sun-beams, O W---st, from foul Lees.
With Apostrophes thus I repair my Neglects;
Thus I pay you, great Robemen, my grateful Respects.
Ariosto as oft his high Subject suspends
And deserts all his Heroes, to honour his Friends.
118
Left the Muses and Phœbus, to wait upon you.
But, resuming my Tale, now again I begin.
While Apollo sat frowning, young Hermes came in.
As it happen'd, the Courier, scarce ever at rest,
Had by Jove been commanded to settle the West;
To unite a Free-State, make the Prime Scientifick,
And to render a War-breathing Monarch pacifick.
For Mythologists say, that this excellent God
Can incline all to Peace by the Touch of his Rod;
Cause a Fleet or an Army to serve for a Shew,
And prevent the fierce Warriors from striking a Blow:
Or in case he permits the hot Youth to engage;
'Tis a Battle in Jest, without Mixture of Rage:
As among the Train-Bands, not a Soldier shall fall;
And the Fight, as at Mulberg, shall end in a Ball.
When the Nuncio had sped, and his Bus'ness was done;
He resolv'd, now so near him, to sup with the Sun.
They saluted, as Gods well descended, well-bred:
How the Wit flew about! how polite all they said!
One reported the Errand, on which he was sent here,
And the other related his last Night's Adventure.
Thety raillied her Gallant about the old Toast;
And she vow'd, the Debauch made him look like a Ghost.
Much delighted she seem'd (for a Goddess may judge ill)
With the Warrior's Mishap, and the Tale of the Cudgel.
While Apollo sat frowning, young Hermes came in.
119
Had by Jove been commanded to settle the West;
To unite a Free-State, make the Prime Scientifick,
And to render a War-breathing Monarch pacifick.
For Mythologists say, that this excellent God
Can incline all to Peace by the Touch of his Rod;
Cause a Fleet or an Army to serve for a Shew,
And prevent the fierce Warriors from striking a Blow:
Or in case he permits the hot Youth to engage;
'Tis a Battle in Jest, without Mixture of Rage:
As among the Train-Bands, not a Soldier shall fall;
And the Fight, as at Mulberg, shall end in a Ball.
120
He resolv'd, now so near him, to sup with the Sun.
They saluted, as Gods well descended, well-bred:
How the Wit flew about! how polite all they said!
One reported the Errand, on which he was sent here,
And the other related his last Night's Adventure.
Thety raillied her Gallant about the old Toast;
And she vow'd, the Debauch made him look like a Ghost.
Much delighted she seem'd (for a Goddess may judge ill)
With the Warrior's Mishap, and the Tale of the Cudgel.
Tho' I hate (quoth young Hermes) that Bully Sir Mars;
And would fain unteach Mortals all Knowledge of Wars:
Yet disgrac'd, and deserted, I pity my Foe;
And we all should be touch'd, when a God falls so low.
Had I known the Knight's Body unfitly was made,
Of Materials so course, so unsuiting his Trade;
When he march'd into Dick's, I'd have mix'd in the Crowd,
And enwrap'd him, when Bellew approach'd, in a Cloud.
Better furnish'd was Vol --- from his Cradle accurst,
Ever conscious of Guilt, and prepar'd for the worst.
For the Moment our Smith-God had learnt his Disgrace,
From an old Plate of Copper he cut out a Face;
Made a Scull of cast Iron, and lin'd it with Lead:
Nor a Bomb is so heavy and hard, as his Head.
And would fain unteach Mortals all Knowledge of Wars:
Yet disgrac'd, and deserted, I pity my Foe;
And we all should be touch'd, when a God falls so low.
Had I known the Knight's Body unfitly was made,
Of Materials so course, so unsuiting his Trade;
When he march'd into Dick's, I'd have mix'd in the Crowd,
And enwrap'd him, when Bellew approach'd, in a Cloud.
121
Ever conscious of Guilt, and prepar'd for the worst.
For the Moment our Smith-God had learnt his Disgrace,
From an old Plate of Copper he cut out a Face;
Made a Scull of cast Iron, and lin'd it with Lead:
Nor a Bomb is so heavy and hard, as his Head.
Then to me thus beseeching—“Dear Hermes my Child,
“Since (how justly, Heav'n knows) I again am exil'd,
“And Mechanicks (hard Fate!) tho' divine is their Birth,
“Very rarely grow rich, or respected on Earth;
“To a Brother be gracious; thy Science reveal;
“Tune my Voice to thy Notes, and instruct me to steal.
Much I pitied the Kern; and to screen him from Want,
All my Craft I infus'd, and I taught him to cant;
How to bubble rich Bankers, and Senates deceive;
How to make a Retreat, when he ventured to thieve.
And so fast he improv'd; tho' he seems a non sol,
Not a Robber on Earth fares so well, as old Vol:
Many Chests of good Moidores are sunk in his Hole;
And unenvy'd he keeps all the Treasure he stole.
“Since (how justly, Heav'n knows) I again am exil'd,
“And Mechanicks (hard Fate!) tho' divine is their Birth,
“Very rarely grow rich, or respected on Earth;
122
“Tune my Voice to thy Notes, and instruct me to steal.
Much I pitied the Kern; and to screen him from Want,
All my Craft I infus'd, and I taught him to cant;
How to bubble rich Bankers, and Senates deceive;
How to make a Retreat, when he ventured to thieve.
And so fast he improv'd; tho' he seems a non sol,
Not a Robber on Earth fares so well, as old Vol:
Many Chests of good Moidores are sunk in his Hole;
And unenvy'd he keeps all the Treasure he stole.
123
Donna Thetis, admiring how Vol got his Gold,
Here requested fair Hermes the Scheme to unfold:
Nor she ask'd him in vain—For the wing-footed Youth
Thus began with a Smile; and his Tale was all Truth.
Many Figures and Changes poor Vol had essay'd;
But was ever by some Poetaster betray'd:
Till at length having travers'd the Globe all around,
He selected a Spot of Unclassical Ground.
Such Ierne was then; till by Jove's high Command,
All the Muses descended to hallow the Land;
And a Genius arose, with a Voice so divine,
We imagin'd his Numbers were Clio's or To Apollo.
Thine.
Here assuming a Title, and changing his Name,
Vol address'd the good Viceroy, a Man of great Fame.
As the Heroes and Gods, he was honest and brave;
Yet alas! he prefer'd both the Coward and Knave:
For the Man who speaks Truth, is inclin'd to believe;
And a Fool, who can flatter, will often deceive.
Vol dissembled his State, and cajol'd the Grandee,
By pretending long Service at Land and at Sea;
That he fled into England, and fought at the Boyn,
And is now an Adept in all Species of Coin.
That he ever was firmly attach'd to his Grace;
As he soon would perceive—if he gave him a Place.
So the good-natur'd Duke my Disciple advances,
Makes him Sur-intendant of the Royal Finances.
Now behold him look big at the Head of his Board,
With the Sneer of a Courtier, and Train of a Lord;
But disdaining like Men to grow rich by Degrees,
All his Craft well applying to multiply Fees:
Such a Craft, as to --- and me was unknown.
Let the Glory be Vol's! for the Scheme was his own.
Here requested fair Hermes the Scheme to unfold:
Nor she ask'd him in vain—For the wing-footed Youth
Thus began with a Smile; and his Tale was all Truth.
Many Figures and Changes poor Vol had essay'd;
But was ever by some Poetaster betray'd:
Till at length having travers'd the Globe all around,
He selected a Spot of Unclassical Ground.
Such Ierne was then; till by Jove's high Command,
All the Muses descended to hallow the Land;
And a Genius arose, with a Voice so divine,
We imagin'd his Numbers were Clio's or To Apollo.
Thine.
Here assuming a Title, and changing his Name,
Vol address'd the good Viceroy, a Man of great Fame.
124
Yet alas! he prefer'd both the Coward and Knave:
For the Man who speaks Truth, is inclin'd to believe;
And a Fool, who can flatter, will often deceive.
Vol dissembled his State, and cajol'd the Grandee,
By pretending long Service at Land and at Sea;
That he fled into England, and fought at the Boyn,
And is now an Adept in all Species of Coin.
125
As he soon would perceive—if he gave him a Place.
So the good-natur'd Duke my Disciple advances,
Makes him Sur-intendant of the Royal Finances.
Now behold him look big at the Head of his Board,
With the Sneer of a Courtier, and Train of a Lord;
But disdaining like Men to grow rich by Degrees,
All his Craft well applying to multiply Fees:
Such a Craft, as to --- and me was unknown.
Let the Glory be Vol's! for the Scheme was his own.
Thine, O Vol, be the Glory, and mine be the Bays!
While so trimly I sing, and thus eccho thy Praise.
Criticising like Piercy, with 'sdeinful Regard,
Ne aread me a mean, unmechanical Bard:
Tho' to arch the wide Dome, I perchance am unfit,
And distaste the rough Works of Unclassical Wit;
Tho' abhorring base Fraud, I have surely no Skill,
To supplant the right Heir, or to frame a quaint Will;
Yet, if aught such a Prophet as I can divine,
Long my Numbers shall live, to be Records of thine.
While so trimly I sing, and thus eccho thy Praise.
Criticising like Piercy, with 'sdeinful Regard,
Ne aread me a mean, unmechanical Bard:
Tho' to arch the wide Dome, I perchance am unfit,
And distaste the rough Works of Unclassical Wit;
126
To supplant the right Heir, or to frame a quaint Will;
127
Long my Numbers shall live, to be Records of thine.
Near the Bridge, where, high-mounted, the Brass Monarch rides,
Looking down the rough Liffy, and marking the Tides;
Near the Dome, where great Publicans meet once a Day,
To collect Royal Imposts, and stop their own Pay;
Far within a Recess, a large Cavern was made,
Which to Plenty is sacred, the Place of Grilliade:
Here the Goddess supplies a Succession of Steaks,
To Mechanicks and Lordlings, old Saints and young Rakes;
Here Carnivorous Kerns find a present Relief,
And the Britains with Glee recognize their own Beef.
By the Fame of the House, Vol invited to dine,
(So the Fates had decreed it) here form'd the Design
Of accompting his Treasure by Ferrumination,
Unassisted by Figures, or Book-Calculation.
For the Collier, whose Stomach incites him to look in
Ev'ry Kitchen of Note, to remark on the Cooking,
(Where the Glutton no Dish, that was dainty e'er spar'd,
Tho' to welcome a Vice-roy, the Feast were prepar'd)
Here survey'd with Attention the Grilling Utensil;
Which he measur'd, and sketch'd on a Card with his Pencil.
Half a Rump he devoured, and drank off his Pot sole;
Then bespoke with a Leer the good Master of Sot's Hole.
“Honest Landlord, your Steaks were exceeding well drest:
“Since I now know the Way, I'll be often your Guest.
“On the Fast-Days and Lord's-Days, I'll send in my Wine;
“And I'll bring you a Club of young Courtiers to dine.
“Many thanks to your Honour! O ever depend
“On a Treasurer's Word! But to bind me your Friend,
“As a Token between us, I'll take this Machine:
(Here he seiz'd a huge Gridir'n the Cook had made clean.
Nor a nobler can Birmingham Artists produce,
Nor a Cyclops could forge one so fit for his Use.)
“For in Parliament Time, when to fix the Taxation,
“I prepare with great Labour the Debts of the Nation;
“In the Hurry, if e'er I find Leisure to eat,
“I'm oblig'd in my Office to cook my own Meat.
“There I pay due Attendance both early and late!
“There I dine upon Chops—for the good of the State!
“But mistake me not, Friend: Be it far from my Thought,
“Or to beg, or to borrow the Goods you have bought:
“I'll refund the whole Sum this Utensil first cost:
“To befriend me no Man shall complain he has lost.
Thus the Bargain concluded, the Money is paid;
To the Treasury Board the Gridiron's convey'd:
Upon which the Cashier now incessantly pours
All the Wealth of Ierne: descend the rich Showers
From the Cup-boards, Scrutoirs, and the wide Canvass Bags,
From the long Leathern Purses, and dirty coarse Rags.
Here mishapen thick Cobs, and odd Pieces of Gold,
(Once the hoard of a Miser) grown squalid and old,
And a few, which the Gods (tho' their Faces were new)
With a Virtue magnetick were pleas'd to endue,
That appearing self-balanc'd remain'd on the Bars,
Vol assign'd the good Queen for the Use of her Wars:
But the Coins, that slipt thro', he accounted mere Pelf;
Proper Perquisites those he allotted himself.
Thus encreasing in Wealth, and advancing in Years,
He resolv'd to rise higher, and roll with the Peers:
When arriv'd a young Viceroy well skill'd in Greek Books,
Who discover'd the Smith by his Leer, and ill Looks:
He had read him at Lemnos ycleped God Hop,
And remark'd him near Ætna at Work in his Shop:
He was early inform'd, how my Brother was bred;
And discern'd the Materials, which furnish'd his Head.
He espied, now inspecting with Care the Finances,
Many Blanks, large Arrears, but no Sort of Ballances:
And forbid the Cashier to revisit his Mount,
Till the Troops were all paid, and he clear'd his Account.
Undismay'd Vol appear'd; but affected Delay;
Ask'd a Month, and then two—then another long Day:
Till imprison'd at length, he produc'd a false Rental.
Unavailing that Fraud, he pretended, “'Twas spent all;
“That in all his best Projects, he met with Disasters,
“As was ever the Fate of good-natur'd Pay-Masters;
“That except his Apparel [and mean he was clad]
“He agreed to assign all the Chattels he had.
Then a Largess among the poor Courtiers bestows,
And the Gifts, that were needful to soften his Foes;
Till he finds so much Favour; some think him a Fool;
Politicians report him an Englishman's Tool;
And the Viceroy persuaded (who tho' he had seen,
Ne'er suspected the Use of the Grilling Machine)
That a Chub, in his Trade so unknowing, must fail,
His Excuses accepting, believ'd the feign'd Tale;
Or the State being such, that he could not retrieve it,
Nor recover the Money, he seem'd to believe it.
Looking down the rough Liffy, and marking the Tides;
Near the Dome, where great Publicans meet once a Day,
To collect Royal Imposts, and stop their own Pay;
128
Which to Plenty is sacred, the Place of Grilliade:
Here the Goddess supplies a Succession of Steaks,
To Mechanicks and Lordlings, old Saints and young Rakes;
Here Carnivorous Kerns find a present Relief,
And the Britains with Glee recognize their own Beef.
By the Fame of the House, Vol invited to dine,
(So the Fates had decreed it) here form'd the Design
Of accompting his Treasure by Ferrumination,
Unassisted by Figures, or Book-Calculation.
For the Collier, whose Stomach incites him to look in
Ev'ry Kitchen of Note, to remark on the Cooking,
129
Tho' to welcome a Vice-roy, the Feast were prepar'd)
Here survey'd with Attention the Grilling Utensil;
Which he measur'd, and sketch'd on a Card with his Pencil.
Half a Rump he devoured, and drank off his Pot sole;
Then bespoke with a Leer the good Master of Sot's Hole.
“Honest Landlord, your Steaks were exceeding well drest:
“Since I now know the Way, I'll be often your Guest.
“On the Fast-Days and Lord's-Days, I'll send in my Wine;
“And I'll bring you a Club of young Courtiers to dine.
“Many thanks to your Honour! O ever depend
“On a Treasurer's Word! But to bind me your Friend,
“As a Token between us, I'll take this Machine:
(Here he seiz'd a huge Gridir'n the Cook had made clean.
130
Nor a Cyclops could forge one so fit for his Use.)
“For in Parliament Time, when to fix the Taxation,
“I prepare with great Labour the Debts of the Nation;
“In the Hurry, if e'er I find Leisure to eat,
“I'm oblig'd in my Office to cook my own Meat.
“There I pay due Attendance both early and late!
“There I dine upon Chops—for the good of the State!
“But mistake me not, Friend: Be it far from my Thought,
“Or to beg, or to borrow the Goods you have bought:
“I'll refund the whole Sum this Utensil first cost:
“To befriend me no Man shall complain he has lost.
Thus the Bargain concluded, the Money is paid;
To the Treasury Board the Gridiron's convey'd:
131
All the Wealth of Ierne: descend the rich Showers
From the Cup-boards, Scrutoirs, and the wide Canvass Bags,
From the long Leathern Purses, and dirty coarse Rags.
Here mishapen thick Cobs, and odd Pieces of Gold,
(Once the hoard of a Miser) grown squalid and old,
And a few, which the Gods (tho' their Faces were new)
With a Virtue magnetick were pleas'd to endue,
That appearing self-balanc'd remain'd on the Bars,
Vol assign'd the good Queen for the Use of her Wars:
132
Proper Perquisites those he allotted himself.
Thus encreasing in Wealth, and advancing in Years,
He resolv'd to rise higher, and roll with the Peers:
When arriv'd a young Viceroy well skill'd in Greek Books,
Who discover'd the Smith by his Leer, and ill Looks:
133
And remark'd him near Ætna at Work in his Shop:
134
And discern'd the Materials, which furnish'd his Head.
135
Many Blanks, large Arrears, but no Sort of Ballances:
And forbid the Cashier to revisit his Mount,
Till the Troops were all paid, and he clear'd his Account.
136
Ask'd a Month, and then two—then another long Day:
Till imprison'd at length, he produc'd a false Rental.
Unavailing that Fraud, he pretended, “'Twas spent all;
“That in all his best Projects, he met with Disasters,
“As was ever the Fate of good-natur'd Pay-Masters;
“That except his Apparel [and mean he was clad]
“He agreed to assign all the Chattels he had.
Then a Largess among the poor Courtiers bestows,
And the Gifts, that were needful to soften his Foes;
Till he finds so much Favour; some think him a Fool;
Politicians report him an Englishman's Tool;
And the Viceroy persuaded (who tho' he had seen,
Ne'er suspected the Use of the Grilling Machine)
That a Chub, in his Trade so unknowing, must fail,
His Excuses accepting, believ'd the feign'd Tale;
137
Nor recover the Money, he seem'd to believe it.
O! ye Quaestors hence learn, that no Peril environs
Wily Wight, who computes by the Help of Gridirons:
Who was ever convict of Male-administration,
That so rightly had judg'd, as to rob a whole Nation?
Thus the finny huge Monsters, the Pride of the Sea,
Fancy all the small Fry were created for Prey;
Unresisted, unpunish'd, your Regions they scowr;
Like a Fleet of Dutch Busses, their Millions devour.
Sure the Nereids are cruel, and pleas'd with the Sport;
Or the Robbers have brib'd my good Uncle's whole Court.
Wily Wight, who computes by the Help of Gridirons:
Who was ever convict of Male-administration,
That so rightly had judg'd, as to rob a whole Nation?
Thus the finny huge Monsters, the Pride of the Sea,
Fancy all the small Fry were created for Prey;
Unresisted, unpunish'd, your Regions they scowr;
Like a Fleet of Dutch Busses, their Millions devour.
138
Or the Robbers have brib'd my good Uncle's whole Court.
Quick reply'd the Sea-Goddess: Youth, spare your course Gibes!
Nor the Nereids are cruel, or dare to take Bribes.
All he meets in Distress, the good Sea-God relieves:
Nor among us is found a Protector of Thieves.
I confess, as our Realms are well peopled, the Great
Make a Havock too oft—but 'tis only to eat.
And for this we exile 'em to Greenland by Troops;
Give their Flesh to make Oil, and their Bones to make Hoops.
Nor the Nereids are cruel, or dare to take Bribes.
All he meets in Distress, the good Sea-God relieves:
Nor among us is found a Protector of Thieves.
I confess, as our Realms are well peopled, the Great
Make a Havock too oft—but 'tis only to eat.
And for this we exile 'em to Greenland by Troops;
Give their Flesh to make Oil, and their Bones to make Hoops.
But I beg you look up, and behold the fine Things,
You entrust with Command—Whom, I think, you call ---
Who oppress for their Pleasure; whose Reason is might;
Who, where'er they get Footing, establish a Right:
Who to Regions remote their new Weapons have hurl'd,
And to seize a few Toys, have unpeopled a World.
See the Deputy-Tyrants, your Godship extols,
Haughty Vizirs, and Coscias, Volpones and Vols;
Who destroy what their Masters in Conscience may spare,
And attempt greater Ills, than a Monarch would dare;
Where they govern, such Marks of fell Vengeance bestow,
As the Furies hereafter shall deal them below.
You entrust with Command—Whom, I think, you call ---
139
Who, where'er they get Footing, establish a Right:
Who to Regions remote their new Weapons have hurl'd,
And to seize a few Toys, have unpeopled a World.
See the Deputy-Tyrants, your Godship extols,
Haughty Vizirs, and Coscias, Volpones and Vols;
Who destroy what their Masters in Conscience may spare,
And attempt greater Ills, than a Monarch would dare;
Where they govern, such Marks of fell Vengeance bestow,
As the Furies hereafter shall deal them below.
Since the Rulers of Earth thus are suffer'd to plunder,
Unrestrain'd by their Laws, and unsindg'd by your Thunder;
I suspect, that Corruption hath reach'd all above,
And the Incense of --- has blinded great Jove.
Unrestrain'd by their Laws, and unsindg'd by your Thunder;
I suspect, that Corruption hath reach'd all above,
And the Incense of --- has blinded great Jove.
140
Ceas'd the Goddess, and frown'd. But her jocund young Guest,
Finding Matters grow serious, turn'd all to a Jest.
Soon the Fair one was calm'd by his Piping and Prating;
When a Triton gave Notice, that Supper was waiting.
Finding Matters grow serious, turn'd all to a Jest.
Soon the Fair one was calm'd by his Piping and Prating;
When a Triton gave Notice, that Supper was waiting.
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