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Fab. II. The Poor Man and the Devil. |
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 | Poems on Affairs of State |  |
63
Fab. II. The Poor Man and the Devil.
A lab'ring
Swain had been at work,
And all his Limbs had tir'd,
By using Shovel, and the Fork,
To rest at Night retir'd.
So sweet's the sleep of Country Swains,
Such undisturb'd Repose
Accompanies their daily pains,
That Peace about them flows.
No dismal Visions do afright,
No Dreams do e'er approach;
Within the Curtains of the Night
They sleep as sound as any Roach.
But now the Swain, in dead of night,
An airy Phantom saw;
A cloven-footed hideous Spright
Him out of Bed did draw:
And led him to an Orchard fair,
Where pointing to a Tree,
Beneath that Stock, he said, is there
A fund of Gold for thee.
But how, reply'd the sleeping Swain,
Shall I this Treasure find,
Or know that self-same Tree again,
No mark being left behind?
Then quoth the Dee'l, shit near the place;
And thus, upon my word,
To morrow when thou view'st the Grass,
Thou't know it by the T---
Thus did the Swain; when he awoke,
And rais'd his drozy Head,
He found not as the Devil spoke,
But found a T--- in Bed.
And all his Limbs had tir'd,
By using Shovel, and the Fork,
To rest at Night retir'd.
So sweet's the sleep of Country Swains,
Such undisturb'd Repose
Accompanies their daily pains,
That Peace about them flows.
No dismal Visions do afright,
No Dreams do e'er approach;
Within the Curtains of the Night
They sleep as sound as any Roach.
But now the Swain, in dead of night,
An airy Phantom saw;
A cloven-footed hideous Spright
Him out of Bed did draw:
And led him to an Orchard fair,
Where pointing to a Tree,
Beneath that Stock, he said, is there
A fund of Gold for thee.
But how, reply'd the sleeping Swain,
Shall I this Treasure find,
Or know that self-same Tree again,
No mark being left behind?
Then quoth the Dee'l, shit near the place;
And thus, upon my word,
To morrow when thou view'st the Grass,
Thou't know it by the T---
Thus did the Swain; when he awoke,
And rais'd his drozy Head,
He found not as the Devil spoke,
But found a T--- in Bed.
64
Thus sleeping Jacks do dream and snore,
And please their foolish mind,
In thinking what they were before,
And what henceforth they'll find.
But if they would right measures take,
And govern'd be by Wit;
When once their Reason do's awake,
They'll find their Cause beshit.
And please their foolish mind,
In thinking what they were before,
And what henceforth they'll find.
But if they would right measures take,
And govern'd be by Wit;
When once their Reason do's awake,
They'll find their Cause beshit.
| Poems on Affairs of State | |