University of Virginia Library

BEAUTY IN DISTRESS.

The radiant Sun, had ta'en his pompous March,
Thro' twice two Houses, of th'ætherial Arch;
Driv'n to the Tropick his triumphant Car,
View'd Scythia's hot and bloody Scenes of War.
Now wheeling's Chariot in the spangled Path,
He puffs at Leo, with his hottest Breath:
Scouring with Speed, thro' this fifth Northern Sign,
He hastes against his Day to make the Line.
In his swift Course, both Light and Heat divides,
Thus from's high Solstice to th'Æquator rides,
Where, th'Ascii lose their Shadows in his Rays,
Melt with the Heat of his Meridian Blaze;
Where's glowing Pencil, limns the Æthiop Black,
And Drought and Heat in their full Vigour act:
This Torrid Zone, is all a burning Coal,
Tho' still they freeze, whose Zenith is the Pole.

2

His Beams wou'd quickly burn the parched Grains,
Did not the Ev'ning Dews refresh the Plains,
And Noon-day Vapours turn to Mid-night Rains:
Earth's kindly Surface ope's her cooling Poers;
Clear pearly Drops, sit on the Tops o' Flow'rs;
And rising Morn regal with healthful Showrs.
Sol's burning Wheels a hot Mid-Summer made,
Swains leave the sunny Braes, for milder Shade;
Soft Nymphs, to flow'ry Arbours, do repair
To be refresh'd, with fanning Zephyres there:
In crystal Streams, they sport the hotter Hours,
Whose gaudy Borders smell of Gilly-Flowers:
'Twas July in her Pride, when th'Earth looks gay,
More sanguine grow'n than in her youthful May,
To golden fin'ry chang'd her silver Gray.
Her Azure Robes and ruddy Cheeks appear;
The sweetest laughing Month in all the Year:
Nature exerts her utmost at this Time;
Her Youth's run off, and she is in her Prime.
Hyperions Daughter with her rosy Feet,
Eight Hours and more, had made her dark Retreat
To Titan's watry Couch, where Sea-Gods are,
Usher'd by Lucifer, the Morning-Star.
Long had her Brother Titan burry'd Night,
The Welkin cloathed with Meridian Light;
When bussy Mortals to the Fields resort;
Some to their Labours, others to their Sport.

3

In Woods are heard the mournful Lovers Cries;
At fair Corrinna's Feet her Damon lies
Off'ring fresh Vows, sent up with ardent Sighs.
Strephon with Nosegays complimenss his Phillis:
Didon in Madrigals his Amaryllis.
Adonis in a Grove t'express his Flame,
Engraves upon a Beech his fair Nymphs Name,
Four magick Letters carves upo' the Tree,
Cloe the Name he gives the charming She:
He thinks each Letter mystery contains,
Such is the Phrensie of the Love-sick Swains:
To make the Draught complete he adds an Heart;
And little Cupid peircing 'twith his Dart.
Beneath the Hawthorn Hedge, glader than Kings,
The merry Stroller with his Doxie sings:
With artless Notes, like Chanticlere they crow,
The Song concludes, A begging we will go.
In new shav'd Meadows, all the heat of Day,
Young John and Jenny, wrestle 'mong the Hay
With mutual Pastime, spend their lazy Hours;
She falls beneath him on a Bed o' Flow'rs.
In warm Embraces sinks 'mongst nat'ral Sweets;
A Bed beyond the Down, with Holland Sheets
They tug, and toy, and guzzle; O! they're glad!
She clasps the trim, the yellow-headed Lad.
He tickling, tempts her to the unblest Feast:
Jenny dare not comply, she minds the Priest.
At length, by rude Intruders they are seen;
Jenny scours off, and wants her Gown o' Green.

4

Then he pursues the Lass he late embrac'd,
Stretching his Arms, to grasp her round the Wast
She gives the Slip; he tumbles down for hast.
A wither'd toothless Hag stands looking on,
Who lov'd the Sport herself, crys, Till her, John:
He jumps to's Feet, and takes a nimbler Race;
Jenny loves to be catched in the Chase.
Holding her fast, he throws her on the Grass,
Lies down himself, and courts his buxom Lass:
Glutting his Eyes with gazing on her Charms,
They chat, and fall asleep in others Arms.
Lyrus lies near the Brook, 'mongst Rows of Ews;
The rhiming Bard their rustick Dalliance views,
Thinks it a proper Subject for his Muse.

SONG.

At the Root of the green Willow,
Grassy Banks their Couch and Pillow,
John and Jenny lay:
In her Bosom,
He'll repose him,
Tir'd with Sport and Play.
Her plump Arms are round her Jewel;
Can so fair a Nymph be cruel,
To a Lad so gay?
Her Breasts are white like Lilly Leaves,
Her Lips like Roses red;
Her Breath a sweeter Perfume gives,
Than e'er Dianas did, &c.

5

Cupid, was on the Ramble all this Day,
(When Gods descend none blyther are than they:)
This Paphian God takes many a phrentick Fit,
So thick his Arrows fly, so sure they hit;
They wound the Fops, and Fools, and Men o' Wit.
He'll arbitrary Government display;
Ev'n o'er the Men of Morals will he sway:
For Beaux and Belles, do easily obey.
There's one wrap'd up in Thought, walkes all alone,
Studying how many Ways to slice a Cone;
Peeping thro' Glasses, to himself he Swears,
That Saturn's Motion, a resemblance bears
Unto the Curve, that he had lately drawn,
And on the truth thereof, his Life he'd pawn:
Call'd Ptolemy a Fool, and Tycho mad,
And with him, all the rest were ev'n as bad.
Runs thro' a tedious Scheme, and he can prove,
That all the Planets in Ellipseis move:
For Nature must have fram'd and made it so,
Else Gods themselves, did not Equations know.
Cupid enrag'd, when sawcy Mr. Euclid,
As if the Gods had never ope'd a Book lid,
Arraign'd cœlestial Pow'rs with Want of Knowledge,
(Should Gods descend, and pass their Course at College;
Have all the Whimseys taught them of this droll Age)
Lets fly his Arrows at the Math'matician;
Makes Wounds cannot be cur'd by learn'd Physician:
He soon forgets the Heavens, where his Trade is,
And quickly falls to courting of the Ladies:

6

Throws by his Globs and Astrolabs, he's stupid;
Such is the fatal Government of Cupid;
And gazes on each Face whose under Part is hooped.
But tush, says th'Urchine, where's the gain to wound
An Addle-pate, whose Brains before turn'd round,
No Man by this can know right what my Pow'r is;
I'll try the Doctors utriusque juris.
Grave Aulus and Prioli he inspires,
Tho chil'd with Age, they're scroch'd with vi'lent Fires:
Magnetick Love, doth the old Judges draw
From musty Books, and noding o'er the Law.
They're Lovers grown, obey the Paphian God;
Read new Romances, and forget the Code:
Collect Loves Ditties, to compose an Ode.
Seek out for Numbers, beautiful and strong;
Susanna, is the Burthen of the Song.
In vain for Justice, Client Mævius cries,
Whose Process still, at Avisandum lies:
Prioli says, I find your Libel's lame,
It wants,—stay,—let me see,—Susanna's Name;
I'll write Acrosticks on't, and Anagrams;
Engrave them deeply on the tallest Palms.
Susanna, all the Female-Sex excells;
Her Breath, like the Hesperian Garden smells.
Confounded Mævius, star'd him in the Face:
Says, O! my Lord! you quite mistake my Case!
For my Defendant's Name's Elisabeth:
I want her Gold, my Lord, and not her Breath.
Prioli was asham'd, and quickly said,
Have patience, Sir, To-morrow I'll decide;

7

Excuse my wand'rings, I'll consider't better;
I think at present on a higher Matter.
Mævius gave short Salutes, and took the Door,
Damning Susanna for a common Whore.
Love makes the Judge a Fool, says he, He's mad:
His Head is turn'd to Balls, and Serenad.
More pitiable Case, Man never saw;
Prioli plagu'd with Love, Mæv'us with Law.
'Tis true, the Women, greatest Heroes sway;
They Solomon the Wise did lead astray:
In a Love-passion, ev'n the Stagyrite
Gave way to Nature, banish'd Reason quite.
Seneca's Morals, weak Barriers did prove;
For he was banish'd for adult'rous Love.
The Cynick his Morseness did neglect,
Laugh'd at the sullen Maxims of his Sect.
So here, Don Quixot, that renowned Knight,
When he, and Sancho, with Wind-Mills did fight,
Was not by half so gross a Bedlamite,
As was our Judge; Her Eyes, her ev'ry Part,
Says he, was made to furnish Cupid's Dart:
Vanquish'd by her, it is my Glory sure;
O! She's too good to wound, and not to cure!
Love is the noblest Passion of the Souls;
Stronger than Laws, doth strictest Rules controul!
It baffles all the churlish Stoick's Art,
And finds a Way unto the wisest Heart!
Nor Bombs, nor Cannons, kill like Womens Eyes:
It's Beauty gains the greatest Victories!

8

Beauty can make the noblest. Victor yield;
It conquers these who conquer in the Field:
Come Brother Aulus, since we are in Love,
We'll hate the simple Innocence o'th' Dove;
Like the old Serpent, subtile be and wise,
Seduce the Beauty, in her Paradise.
Incog, the aged Lover's nimbly go;
Impetuous Love with Strength supplies the Slow:
Scroch'd with the Sun, and Loves superiour Heat,
They breathless run; yet curse their tardy Feet.
Scramble o'er Ditches, and the Garden-Wall,
With Lovers hast, down in a Pool they fall:
Poor dabbled Aulus, swat'ring thro' the Pond,
Says, I was burn'd before, but now I'm drown'd.
Prioli wish'd he'd never seen a Woman,
Takes this Disaster for a fatal Omen;
A sure Presage that moe Malheurs are coming:
Am'rous Leander, was not more afraid
Swimming the Hellespont, to his fair Maid.
Conceal'd from Light, the aged Lovers lay,
Skreen'd by the Shade of Oaks, more old than they:
Here's Eden, Aulus says, the Serpent we;
My dear Susanna, the forbidden Tree.
The fairest Plants which in the Garden grows,
These nat'ral Wilds, and artificial Shows
I loath; they seem to me the Works of Chance:
But she can kindle Darkness with a Glance,
Her Face too bright; for Sense, like Heav'n doth intrance.

9

The happy Hour approach'd, Susanna came,
Two gentle Nymphs attend the lovely Dame;
Not in her killing Dress, altho 'twas Noon,
Loosely attir'd, she's wrapt in Morning-Gown:
A thousand Cupids dance around the Belle,
Her ev'ry Look, and ev'ry Smiles a Spell.
Faint with inclement Air, and scorching Beams,
Susanna hasts to bath in cooling Streams;
With all the Air that Nature can bestow,
The charming Fair doth to her Orchard go:
Her Presence adds new Luster to the Place,
Decaying Plants rise up with fresher Grace;
And new fall'n Leaves resume a Summers Face.
Jes'mine, and prideful Tulips deck her Path;
Diffuse their Smells sweet, as her perfum'd Breath.
Fond by the Fair Susanna to be trod,
Lillies and Damask-Roses pave the Road;
With spicy Robes the shady Groves do smell;
From Thickets where the sweet-tongu'd Bird do dwell,
Echo repeats the Notes of Philomel.
Mavis and Lark, with Musick round her throng,
Whil'st Valley's lowly Voice return the Song;
And wanton Zephyres, on her Lips do play,
Steal with their Wings th'ambrosial Breath away:
Rich Treasure which can cool the Summers Heat,
Make sultry Air and scroching Noon smell sweet.
Phenix, Arabia's Bird, with Grief's oppress'd,
To see another Phenix in the East

10

Of orient Colour, beautiful and young,
Admiring from whose Ashes she is sprung:
Proud Bird, she'd gladly leave the spicy East,
And all her Citron Groves for her warm Breast,
Fittest of all, to be a Phenix-Nest.
Jupiter saw her, take the blessful Bow'r,
And did design another golden Show'r,
More tempting than Alc'mena to a Rape,
He'd quit his Heav'n to lie in Susan's Lap.
Knowing 'twas vain t'assume the Shape of Man;
Sometimes he thought once more t'inform a Swan:
Sport in Susanna's Arms, gaze on her Eyes;
Mix with her lovely Limbs, and Iv'ry Thighs,
Swim in her Bosom, 'bove the golden Sands;
Steal silent Kisses from her Lips and Hands;
Work Wonders: 'Till at last he warm the Stream,
Move her to listen to the pleasant Theme:
And when he's charm'd her with his Tales of Love;
How dazling Beauty drew him from above:
He'll drop his Feathers and commence a Jove.
As much as Lillies, Hemlocks do surpass
Flowr's in their vernal Airs, the wither'd Grass;
Or fiery Courser, the dull scouling Ass.
Low bending Vines loaden with sacred Juce,
The humble Osier, or the Bramble Bush;
As much as Hero, the fam'd Sestian Nun
Outshin'd the Æthiop, taunny'd with the Son,
Above her Sex, doth fair Susanna shine;
Adorn'd with Virtue and with Charms divine.

11

Her Hair of yellow Cast, curles at her Ear;
Her Fore-head smooth and white, Eyes black and clear:
Bright burning Lamps, which rays like Phœbus Dart,
Rays which cou'd fire the coldest Hermite's Heart:
Stars from their lucent Orbs, in frosty Night
Glance not like these; faint is their trembling Light.
Ears short and round, but high and hook'd her Nose;
Which still with sweet and pow'rful Odours blows;
Her Cheeks are Crimson, like the blushing Rose.
Lips thin and red, and dimpled is her Chin;
Whiter than Flakes of Snow, her Teeth and Skin.
Her fragrant Breath smells like the flow'ry Spring;
To kiss her Month were banquet for a King.
Her Voice is sweeter Musick than the Flute;
To hear her sing, you'd wish the Syrens mute.
Her well turn'd Neck rich Beauties doth contain;
The Blood runs smiling through the azure Vein:
That crimson Blood is prouder of her Veins,
Than is Euphrates of its flow'ry Plains.
Her Charms the rigid Stagyrite could move;
A look of her wou'd spoil platonick Love.
Betty, she says, run back, and bring these Sweets,
The Balls and Oil, perfum'd my nuptial Sheets:
They near the Patch-box, on the Toilet ly;
Go with her little Vennie, prithee fly.
Upon a mossy Bank the Beauty lay,
Her Vail thrown off, did half an Heav'n display;
The Beauty of her Face eclips'd the Splendour of the Day.

12

Her golden Tresses eddy Winds do blow,
In careless Ringlets round her Shoulders flow,
Arch Cupid steals them for to fledge his Bow.
From off her Iv'ry Arms he pulls the Glove,
Her Arms the killing Implements of Love;
Whiter than Paros Rocks they'd charm a Jove.
The Wimple next, which round her Neck she wears
Throws by, and her warm rising Breast appears:
There Cupid reigns in his Imperial Chair,
'Mongst Arrows, Darts, and Flames of Paphian Fire,
She gazes on the Brook, which does reflect,
The stately Structure of her lofty Neck.
Her long white Arm descends, pulls of the Shoes,
Which hid the well turn'd Foot, and handsom Toes;
From th'Empyreum Jove stoops down to see
The lovely Object, Beauty cap-a-pe.
The Fair proceeds, and now the Garter's drawn,
The Petticoat turn'd up above the Brawn,
A lovely Landskip opens to the Eye;
There little Cupid's Paradise doth ly.
But stop licentious Muse, no further go;
Beauty hath Secrets which we must not know.
The Painter draws Dianna to the Wast;
Dashes the Canvass, and conceals the Rest.
She views her Image in the liquid Wave,
Fair as in Paradise, the new form'd Eve,
Whom GOD transplanted from Adamah's Side;
The crooked Rib, turn'd to a beauteous Bride.
She takes the Flute, her Song is divine Love,
The dorick Musick consecrates the Grove;

13

Transporting Lyricks fill the divine Ode,
Such Notes hath Gabriel, warbling Hymns to GOD;
A Song of Zion, for Elysium fit,
A Song like these, the inspired Prophet wrot:
Who touch'd the Strings when Saul was sore oppress'd,
Banish'd the sullen Dæmon from his Breast.
The mallad Swan and Langa, round her throng,
List'ning unto the instrumental Song,
Melodious, like the Musick of her Tongue:
She sings to heav'nly Quires; the Anthem flew,
Such Musick Nicolini never knew:
The Chorus was,
Heav'n always guards the Fair,
Beauty's always Heave'ns Care.
Boiling with Lust, the Senators prepare
To rifle all the Sweetness of the Fair;
They from their Ambush rush, with youthful Rage,
A full Enjoyment must their Flames asswage:
Sometime they speechless stood, then Silence broke;
With rev'rend Cringes, thus Prioli spoke,
“Immortal Beauty! Heav'ns Master-Piece!
“All Majesty! Thy Shape! Thy Angels Face!
“Which all Men do adore, and they admire,
“Hath kindled in our Breasts Idalian Fire.
“We burn, we burn, with Love, with Love to you,
“O! Seraph's Figure, at they Feet we bow!
“We feel your Pow'r Divine; 'tis therefore Duty,
“T'approach and bow before the Shrine of Beauty.

14

“Your Bosom is all Bliss, a Heav'n of Rest,
“Yet raises Storms and Tempests in our Breast,
“On bended Knees we'll die upon the Ground,
“Unless that you who gave, do cure the Wound:
“All Natures Excellence centers in you,
“Thy Match She ne'er in all her Dramma drew:
“Like Sol's superior Light, you was design'd
“To warm our Orb, and shine upon Mankind.
“When we gaze on the Sun in's beauteous Pride,
“Like you, he doth not blush and hide his Heed;
“No, he returns love Looks, obliging Kind,
“Free, unlike yours, like yours they strike us blind;
“No Eye beholds us in the lonely Grove,
“The Favour grant, and yield to conquering Love.
“Impatient of Delay,
“I'll on thy panting blooming Bosom ly,
“And bath my Lips in Kisses till I dy.
Like Niobe, all Tears Susanna stood,
Confusion seiz'd her Soul, and chill'd her Blood:
Pale dying Looks, her Agonies declare,
Horrour, and all the Symptomes of Despair,
She wounds her throbing Breast, tears her dishevel'd Hair
Ah, have I Pow'r to speak Susanna cries!
And Beauty blubbers from her modest Eyes;
I'm mad, has that no Force; O pitty me!
Rip up my Breast, and end my Misery:
Severe is your Demand, I'll ne'er comply,
Soften your Cruelty or else I dy.

15

Fast from her Cheeks, the blushing Roses flew,
And pale Revenge sat brooding on her Brow:
“Dear Husband come, she says, thou'rt only mine,
“Shall I surrender up what's only thine?
“Just Heav'n, the constant Friend of Innocence,
“Exert resistless Pow'r in my Defence:
“Against their guilty Heads thy Thunder play,
“These Criminals let thy Artil'ry slay:
“Your Arrows shoot, nor draw your Bow in vain;
“Let me behold these crim'nal Judges slain.
“Shall thy loud roaring Cannons of the Sky,
“Thy Implements of War, ly idly by?
“Sulph'rous Light'ning flash around their Head;
“Ye Thunders roll, and strick the Rascals Dead:
“I roave, all Sense is gone, I'll fly-away,
“Or, turn and tear the Villains if I stay.
“Stronger than I, a Jest, it can't be true;
“What cannot Innocence, when join'd with Madness do?
“The Doors are shut, I'll face th'audacious Foe,
“Lift my weak Arm, and Heav'n will lend the Blow;
“To whom I've sent warm Prayers with ardent Cries,
“By th'Ev'ning and the Morning Sacrifice:
“Their Vot'rie's Limbs have cripl'd been with Prayer,
“My Heart and Heav'ns pure Law, my constant Care.
“My Virgin Vows have reach'd GOD's bending Ear,
“Daily Auditor of my Wedlock Prayer.
“Shall I my dear Deliverer distrust,
“Who in the darkest Dangers save the Just?
“Upon his naked Promise I'll rely;
“He's God of Truth, sure Truth it self can't lie.

16

Aulus replies, “O Fountain of our Joy,
“Springing with fresh Delights, O don't prove Coy;
“Shake off these Qualms of Conscience, childish Fears,
“The Jaundice of the Mind young Childrens Bugbears;
“We frighten Fools with puny Conscience,
“A Story ne're believ'd by Men of Sense;
“Tho' they concur to carry on the Cheat,
“Bogle the Vulgar from the Gentries Meat.
“Freedom being each Man's Birth-Right is the Cause,
“We bridle Nature by our penal Laws:
“The Dreg we allow, a single Dish for Food;
“Varieties reserv'd to Men of Blood.
“For Proof I shall a Royal Instance bring,
David a learn'd and religious King,
“From his exalted Roof, beheld the Fair,
“(Surely his Tut'lar Angel led him there,)
Bathsheba bathing in the Brook below;
“(A naked Beauty is a glorious Show,)
“Viewing her Limbs, and all beneath the Wast,
“He run, and almost broke his Neck for hast:
“Commands the Watch to bring her Pris'ner in,
“The Royal Prince, commits the Royal Sin.
“The naked Bride climbs to Imperial State,
“And from that Hour became a Prince's Mate.
“'Tis true a peevish Priest rebuk'd him for't;
“'Twas well he came not soon, he'd spoil'd the Sport.
David made Faces, Whines; but when he's gone,
“Kisses the Mother of his Solomon.
“Why is a lying Pow'r to Priesthood given,
“They scar with Hell, till to Despair we're driv'n;
“Then lull asleep with pleasant Dreams of Heav'n.

17

“Madam, don't you see thro' the thin Device;
“The late invented Names of Virtue, Vice.
“The well-bred Man a Life of Pleasure lives,
“Freely enjoys what lavish Nature gives;
“Ranges without controul, and laughs at Fools
“Ty'd up to dull ecclesiastick Rules,
“Phlegmatick Gibbrish of the canting Schools:
“Religion's just a Bugbear like the Law,
“A State Engine, to keep the World in Aw.
“Tho petty Lords, with Gravity of Pride,
“And furly Looks their Vassals do diride;
“The Royal Sov'reign smiles on ev'ry Face,
“Receives their Homage with a God-like Grace:
“Subord'nate Judges, Prince's common Tools,
“Punish each Thing against establish'd Rules;
“But clement Princes whom no Fear doth Aw,
“Boldly contemn the Terrors of the Law.
“Madam, despise dull Tales of Innocence,
“That flows from Rudeness and a Want of Sense:
“The Greatness and the Beauty of the Mind,
“Appears in Things that's gentle, sweet and kind.
Then softly to her self Susanna said,
I'm almost Calm, my stormy Passions laid:
O then I'll try what Eloquence can do,
With low Submissions at their Feet I'll bow;
Grave Judges I must speak my Mind to you:
The grave Dispensers of the Law you are,
Then hear a Female Pleader at your Bar.

18

“Rude Men, will ye debauch Joacim's Wife,
“Who's Bosom is the Solace of his Life:
“My Virtue cropt, will not Joacim say,
“I'll throw her like a wither'd Weed away,
“Your Motive hath no Force; What's Privicy?
“The supreme Legislator, GOD, is nigh:
“No Solitude excludes his peircing Eye.
“Your Guilt will stretch your Conscience on the Rack,
“You'll be arraign'd, and punish'd for the Fact.
“Dare you, O Judges, break thro' Virtue's Rules?
“Shall God's Vicegerents turn the Devil's Tools?
“Virtue abolish'd, Anguish and Cheeks remains,
Sathan usurps its Room, the Empire gains;
“He manacles the Soul with adamantine Chains.
“With bosom Rackets, bandy'd too and fro,
“Where shall the helpless, hopeless Sinner go?
“To penal Fire, amongst the damn'd below.
“Plung'd deep in Guilt, Hell triumphs in his Fall,
“The Sinner's Heart is bitter as the Gall:
“Pleasure is grafted upon Innocence;
“Virtue doth Joy, and Peace, and Love dispense.
“Who would not amiable Virtue love,
“Which makes us look on Earth, like Saints above:
“Repent in time your Wickedness of Heart,
“Virtue's the Life, and ornamental Part.
“Check these Emotions doth your Souls invade,
“And hate the hellish lothsome Plot you've laid:
“You know the Statute-Books, When was't you saw,
“Rape and Adult'ry privileged by Law?

19

“Scandal to ermine Robes, and Judgement-Seat,
“Turn City-Rakes, Intrigue with vain Cocquet.
Prioli, who by's Looks a Saint did seem,
Says, “Are you Captive to the Clergies Dream,
“Adult'ry, silly Cant, a holly Whim:
“The Word was never heard before the Flood,
“Broach'd since by sneevling Priests in angry Mood.
“The niggard Cassock, grudg'd it to the Clown,
“Some plead it is annex'd unto the Crown,
“And others give it only to the Gown.
“The Crown and Crozier, lawless Pow'r do take,
Plebeians dare not do't for Conscience sake.
“Mothers debauch our Minds with gloomy Fears,
“The Child drinks in the driry Tales it hears;
“Which Priests confirm for Truths in riper Years.
“O Priestcraft Juggle! all an hocus pocus;
“Priests laugh themselves alone, when thus they mock us:
“Our Natures planted by the Pow'rs above,
“With one governing Law, and that is Love.
“Love has no Limits set by 'ndulgent Heav'n,
“Plain is the Text, corrupt's the Gloss that's given.
“But grant the Legends of the Priests were true,
“And all we've said still disbeliev'd by you;
“In granting our Requests, you'll virtuous Actions do.
“Illustrious Fair, we die of Love you see,
“Our Cure would be an act of Charity:
“We die of mortal Wounds, your Beauty gave,
“Turn pious, save two Lovers from the Grave.

20

“On th'Altar of thy Lips, (O nameless Bliss)
“I'll offer the Oblation of a Kiss;
“A Bless for which the Choirs above do pant,
“O let me take Possession of my Saint:
“Will your dull Dotard be the worse of this?
“He'll know no Loss, and we'll enjoy a Bliss.
But here Susanna doth her Part begin
“O could my Face turn lothsom as your Sin,
“Boyl hot my Blood, and blister all my Skin.
“My Charms to Heav'n I willingly restore,
“Bless me with all the Wrinkles of Fourscore:
“When Beauties blasted, they'll insist no more.
“Yes Judges, I'll comply,
“When tyrant Wolfs with peaceful Lambs do sleep,
“When Day and Night no more their Order keep;
“And Mountains from their solid Basis leap.
“Bid the Poles meet, and Phœbus shine no more;
“Forbid the Fire to burn, the Sea to roar;
“Command the stormy Winds no more to blow,
“Discharge proud Babel's Streams from hence to flow.
“The dying Saint approaching Heav'n to love,
“And burning Seraphs from their Seats above;
“Rains to descend, upwards the Smoak to fly,
“And when all these obey you, so will I.
“Know cruel Fair, that if we don't prevail,
“(Aulus the Lawyer never wants his Tale)
“We'll vent our Spleen in Scandals 'gainst thy Name;
“Load thee with Crimes, and everlasting Shame.

21

“We'll make the World believe you worst of Whores,
“Womens Revenge shall be a Jest to ours.
“We'll prove the Libel, which our Malice fram'd;
“Your Sex shall blush to hear Susanna nam'd.
“We'll say, we saw you with a lusty Youth,
“(And, if we say't, the World will think it Truth.)
“He keep'd the Assignation you had made,
“And Impudence convey'd you to the Shade;
“There violate the Vows of Marriage-Bed.
“Dismiss'd your Maids, that they might see no Ill;
“Suffer'd the brawny Rogue to work his wicked Will.
“O were I Vile (the dear Susanna cries)
“To ev'ry Sight, save my Joacim's Eyes;
“O could my Face turn Lothsom as their Sin,
“Boyl hot my Blood, and blister all my Skin.
“My Charms to Heav'n, I willingly restore,
“Bliss me with all the Wrinkles of Fourscore;
“Were Beauty blasted, they'd insist no more.
Her Speech was interrupt, a Noise was heard,
The Garden Doors flew up, and Men appear'd.
Aulus like subtile Fox sneak'd to the Door,
“Ah Boy, he says, your Lady is a Whore;
“I, and my rev'rend Colleague walking here,
“We saw a Youth with feather'd Hat draw near,
“He embrac'd her in his Arms, O vicious Age!
Go you be damn'd old B---r, says the Page.
He hears his Lady cry, he sees her weep,
He jumps o'er many Bushes at a Leap.

22

The lusty Butler with his Feet and Fist,
Beat Aulus and Prioli till they Pist:
With bruised Bones, they hoble out the Way,
Cursing the Stars for this unhappy Day:
'Twould mov'd a Tygar for to hear their Groans,
Their Heart do ake with Love, their Flesh with broken Bones
But ah! What humane Eloquence can tell
Susanna's Grief, 'tis like the Pains of Hell?
Moistn'd with Tears her Checks no longer gay,
With secret Fires her Heart consumes away:
Approaching Trouble doth augment her Pain,
She can't conceal her Grief, she must complain.
O miserable Woman! sad's my Case!
How dare I look Joacim in the Face?
That Face, dear Feace, which I so oft have kiss'd;
And thought my self in his Embraces bless'd.
Alas! that Face will smile on me no more,
He'll call me Strumpet, and adult'rous Whore.
Can I believe good natur'd Soul, that he
Will ever entertain bad Thoughts of me?
Can such a pious Soul have room for Jealousie?
Oft I remember, when I've done amiss,
Sussy, he'd say, and then he'd give a Kiss:
I can't believe't a Fault, my Loves so strong,
But had another don't I'd thought it wrong.
I will not be so prodigal of Tears,
To spend my Fund for Sin on needless Fears:
I'll bear with Patience Heav'ns afflicting Rod,
And trust a smiting, as a smiling GOD:
Tho my Dear kill me, to his Arms I'll go,
And dying bless the Hand which gave the Blow.

23

Homewards the Lady went 'twixt Hope and Fear,
But her belov'd Joacim was not there:
She praying kept her Closet till he came,
Wrestling with God for a spiritual Frame.
Ere he arriv'd, the Day was almost gone,
And Night her sable Garments putting on:
From Ærebus arose the drousie God,
Who fright'ned Phœbus to the Antipod:
In sable Garments, and a Mourning-Coach,
Nights Emp'ror deck'd with Stars makes slow approach,
Dark pitchy Clouds compose his rev'rend Train,
Sleep, Dreams, and Night-Mares, which disturb the Brain:
Thick Vapours, massy Mists, do load the Skies,
Somnus arrests the Limbs and seals the Eyes.
Screech Owls and Bats, Birds still asham'd of Day,
And stalking Ghosts of Lovers lead the Way;
Nor quaking Duck, nor noisy Chanticleer,
Nor gaggling Goose, nor wakeful Dog appear:
No piercing Sun-Beam, not the smallest Ray,
Dare cherish Nature in her deep Decay.
All hush'd and still, did ev'ry Creature ly,
As if Dame Nature were resolv'd to die;
Nor Fox, nor proling Wolf, dare stir abroad:
All must be hush'd till Nature take her Nod.
Kings on their lazy Downs take soft Repose,
In th'Arms of Morpheus, Slaves forget their Woes:
Rivers with silent Pace do murmuring flow,
They lull asleep their Pebles as they go;
And Winds to rock the Leaves do murmuring flow.

24

Yet cannot Sleep invade the Lover's Breast,
Tumbling upon the Couch, with Grief oppress'd,
Sad Aulus and Prioli find no Rest.
Thro' all the balmy Night they sleepless ly,
Till fresher Air proclaims the Morning nigh;
They curse the Morning for her cruel Stay,
Despairing by her long unkind Delay:
Night seems an Age, their Souls are tun'd to Grief,
But Morning came, and brought a fresh Releif.
Welcom Aurora leaps from Titan's Bed,
Gilding the eastern Skies, makes Mortals glad:
Her chearful Cheeks dy'd with a blushing Red,
Smiles at young Memnon snoring in his Bed.
Healths in her Hand, Mirth sits upon her Brow;
Her Eyes pour forth thick Drops of pearly Dew;
The merry Lark attends her golden Coach,
Awakes the World with Mirth at her Approach.
Who clothes the Welkin with meridian Light,
Banishes from our Hemisphere the Night:
When all her glorious Ornaments are on,
In solemn Pomp she ushers in the Sun,
To make his daily Progress thro' the Skies;
Who summons all the lazy World to rise.
Swains wind their Horns, to welcom new-born Day,
And Lambs bear Treble with their kindly Mae:
The toiling Farmer hath his Task begun,
He like his Grandsire reckons by the Sun.
But Citizens contemn that vulgar Way,
With them the eight Hour-Bell begins the Day;
Then drousy Drunkard coughing on his Cod,
Hoasts up the Phlegm of his last Ev'nings Load.

25

Old Toast knocks at the Door, he is let in,
Then Ev'nings Guilt begins the Mornings Sin.
From Col'nel's Arms, Miss wak'd by reeling Carts,
After a brush or two, unseen departs.
Sand, Broom and Butter, crying on the Streets,
Command the Kitchen-Wench to leave her Sheets:
Half naked, scratching down the Stairs scours she,
Meeting the Maid with Milk for Morning-Tea.
Back she returns, awakes the Chamber-Maid,
The bygone Quarters-Compt is to be paid:
The Girl starts up, plagues Day for coming on;
For she was dreaming of her sweet Miss John.
The City Emmets, get into their Hive,
Ballance Accompts, and wealthy Bargains drives.
Wak'd by a Fee, which grees'd his griping Paw,
The Gown-Man hastens to the Seat of Law:
Within the Spot, the Camp of Gowned-War,
Judge Aulus and Prioli fac'd the Bar.
Swoln with Revenge, Terror is in their Eyes,
Which blaze like fiery Comets in the Skies:
Revenge is now become their darling Food,
They'll quench their Fever with a Draught of Blood:
Destruction plot, with Wrath their Veins do swell,
Auxiliary Helps they seek from Hell:
Like honest Sons, their Fathers Counsel crave,
Who ruin'd the first Lady, Mother Eve.
O fatal Aple! strange Effect of Fruit!
To poison all the Branches and the Root!
Fully instructed are these Sons of Sathan,
Have all his Counsel got by Heart verbatim.

26

Susanna's Cause comes in by Course of Roll,
The Clerk stands up, and reads the lying Scroll:
The Evidence is call'd, Aulus appears;
(Aulus, who's old in Wickedness and Years)
Upon the Pannel's Head his Hand doth streach,
Bows to the Bench, and makes this solemn Speech:

My Lords,

Prioli, and my self, of late
“Visit'd Joacim's pleasant Country-Seat;
“A Magazine of Beauty catch'd our Eye,
“We did in ev'ry little Labyrinth pry.
“Nature, with Master-Strokes laid the Design,
“Th'Embellishment of Art complete the Scene:
“Fret Works, Parteres, and Colonies of Trees,
“Fresh beauteous Objects still arrest our Eyes,
“Thro' grotesque Mazes of Delights we pass,
“But ah! ev'n there, the Sneak lurks in the Grass.
“Wearied, we rested on an easy Fen,
“(Heav'ns deep Designs ly hid from humane Ken.)
“'Twas Pleasure only led us there, we thought;
“But we were for a nobler Purpose brought:
God's Providence which guides his wand'ring Flock,
“Is like the Serpents wand'rings on the Rock,
“Which never Eye could trace, his Windings know;
“No Foot can with that nimble Traveller go:
“Providence seems a ravel'd Hasp; for we
“A Wheel within a Wheel, can never see;
“Yet all Things work for the Creator's Glory,
“Which leads me to relate the fatal Story.

27

“Our Sight was hunting o'er the Works of Nature,
“When we beheld this charming guilty Creature,
“Like Eve in Paradise, Empress of All,
“(Which now she justly forfeites by her Fall,)
“Enter a Tarras-Walk which fronts the Dome;
“Two Maids were with her, but she sent 'em Home:
“Loth to depart, they long her Patience vex;
“She frown'd them off, and met the other Sex.
“A tall broad Shoulder'd brawny Youth drew nigh,
“He kneel'd, as if before a Deity:
“She act'd a vitious Part, she hug'd the Youth;
“He oggling squeez'd her Hands, and kiss'd her Mouth.
“No Words they spoke, for all was done by Signs;
“Lew'd Indications of their lewder Minds:
“Billing like Doves, they dropt beneath a Shade,
“Tasted the Pleasures of a Marriage-Bed:
“Renew'd the Crimes, as if it were no Fault,
“Of Stollen Waters took a lusty Draught.
“These Eyes of mine beheld them do it there,
“And all, my Lords, I've said, I freely swear:
Sworn and dismiss'd, Prioli doth succeed,
His leach'rous Hand lays on the Lady's Head.
“My Lords, he says, Judge Aulus went with me
Joacim's pleasant Gardens for to see,
“Uncommon Scenes lay open to our View;
“Rich Landskip as e'er Nature's Pencil drew;
“Nature and Art, their Figures cut so well,
“With Master-Strokes, each labours to excell:
“Amidst the Pomp and grand Magnificence,
“The well wrought Statues most deceiv'd the Sense.

28

“Near th'east Side of the Dome, we cast our Eye
“Upon three Statues, which we thought drew nigh:
“That in the midst lookt like Joacim's Wife;
“Those are not made of Stones, said I, they've life.
“Two made retreat, the third she forward ran,
“To meet a Statue in the Shap of Man.
Aulus, said I, we're on enchanted Ground,
“Or here's a Lady and her Lover found:
“Lock'd in each others Arms we saw them bow,
“And act the Thing, which Statues cannot do,
“The old fashion'd Thing the C---h in Marriage doth allow.
“We rose, they run, and made a quick Retreat,
“I'm sure the D---l lent the Rogue his Feet.
Thus they depos'd, and then they smiling stand,
To see the Sentence sign'd by Milo's Hand.
The hollow Depmster, with an ugly Gloom,
Pronounc'd the bloody Word, I give't for Doom.
Stoicks may boast of Fortitude of Mind,
Draw Schemes and Figures to amuse Mankind:
Talk big of Conquest o'er Corruption got,
And please themselves with the delusive Thought:
'Tis but a golden Dream, a Scene of Woes
Epictetus himself will discompose.
Senecas Morals can't afford Relief,
Their acted Bravery, won't remove the Grief:
Reasoning, and high Resolves, are all in Vain,
When once immers'd in Misery and Pain.

29

Can one upon the Rack, Passion discard?
'Twill smite him from his artificial Guard:
Rufle his Temper were he ne'er so Meek,
Morals is no Prescription for the Sick.
Man's corrupt Heart, no Self-support can yield;
Who trusts in that, will surely loss the Field.
Can weary Pilgrims Feet securely stand,
Upon the Quagmire, or the sinking Sand:
A higher Principle must fire the Soul;
We're ne'er secure till on our God we roll:
Ropose on Him, ev'n when we see no Light,
On God cast Anchor, in the darkest Night:
Upon an All-sufficient God depend,
Believers Benefactor, and their Friend.
'Twas Faith in God that made Susanna brave,
She stood like unmov'd Rocks, 'twixt Wind and Wave;
Ev'n when she look'd for Gibbet and a Grave.
Hypocrisie a gloomy Influence shades:
Truth sits upon the Brow, and Gladness spreads.
Hypocrisie is hollow, and unsound:
Integrity the firm substantial Ground.
The honest Face is plain, no painting there;
Few Plots hath Truth, but all her Plots sincere.
Truth hath such naked Charms, so matchless sweet,
They can't be copied by the Hypocrite;
Some Flaw discovers, till the artful Cheat.
Virtue, like th'ancient legal Ointment is;
None imitated that, none truly this.

30

God prescrib'd both, his Signature they bear;
All diff'rent Compounds, diff'rant Figures wear.
The Hypocrite, dull languid Motion makes,
His Heart's untouch'd, for all the Pains he takes:
But heav'nly Gales the virtuous Soul doth move,
Which ventilates, and blows the Flame of Love:
Hypocrisie contracts, there is no Room within,
The Heart is fetter'd and enthral'd by Sin.
Virtue delates the Heart, sublimes the Mind,
An elevating Joy the Virtuous find
Disburden'd of their Load, they leap for Joy;
Nought can their Pleasure Damp, their Peace annoy.
Integrity is bold, doth fear no Wrath;
With Looks compos'd, can meet approaching Death:
Smiles up to Heav'n, and Heav'n smiles down again,
The virtuous Soul finds Joy in midst of Pain.
With infant Sweetness, unto Heav'n appeals:
A lasting Friend, when every Creature fails.
Strong Proof of this, see in Joacim's Wife;
Sentenc'd to dy, she appeals the Spring of Life:
She rolls her self on God, to Him she flys,
Aloud to Heaven the pious Pannel cries.
A sacred Silence, struck the suppliant Crowd;
The perjur'd Judges, in Convulsions stood,
While she darts up a Pray'r, as sweet, as loud.
With so much Ardor, is the Insence sent,
(All saw the Devotee was Innocent,)
Pours out a holy Gush with Angels Air;
Zeal dictates Words, she needs not common Prayer.

31

“O everlasting God! whose all-seeing Eye,
“Thro' thickest Mists, and Mid-Night Shades can pry,
“The Night and Light are both alike to thee;
“All Things ly open to a Deitie.
“Thou knows, (from whom no Secret can be hid,)
“All my Designs, all that I ever did:
“My Words, my Works, my Thoughts, my Innocence,
“Without being told by humane Eloquence.
“Thy Knowledge doth my secret Struggles reach,
“My embryo Thoughts confus'd, unripe for Speech;
“Thou knows, these Judges have depos'd a Lye,
“By whose black Affidavits I must dye:
“In bloom of Youth, they've cut Susanna down,
“Death's Scyth must mow the Flower before 'tis June.
“Sentence is past, I can no longer live,
“Unless, my God, you grant a kind Reprive;
“I've Ground to seek, my God hath Pow'r to give.
“Just Heav'n, Susanna doth appeal to you:
“A Thing which none save virtuous Souls dare do.
Sighs mingling with her Tears, found out their Way;
The Audience thought her very Words did Pray.
A Troop of sowr-look'd Villains, guard the Place,
Ruffian in Black and White, with Gibbet Face,
Fetters the Fair, of Womenkind the Chief,
Her Looks dart Glory in the midst of Grief;
Her Passion kindles almost unto Wrath,
Their Bayonets and Looks are worse than Death.

32

When she beholds the Man she loves so well,
Press thro' the Guards, to take his last Farewell,
She rails against the Judge, doth Murder cry,
What? Will you force the Innocent to dy?
All know Susanna is a virtuous Wife,
For God's Sake and Joacim's, save my Life:
She checks herself again for doing so,
Doth this become a Child of God to do?
Can I delight my Honour to survive?
I injur'd fall, yet dying I'll forgive.
Strengthen me Lord, with thy spiritual Pow'r,
In the last Combat, in my dying Hour:
Thy shining Angels, O my God command,
To bear me to the Bank of Canaan's Land.
Farewell vain World, farewell Joacim too,
Farewell dear Babes, to all my Friends adieu;
My God's my only Hope, my Joy and comfort now.
Soft Innocence doth in her Face appear,
Now when the grand Catastrophe draws near;
Th'Effect of Virtue is a chearful Mind,
Her Will is to her Maker's Will resign'd.
Shame, Pain and Death, can't Alteration make,
Susanna can be chearful at a Stake.
She's not involv'd in Gloom, fetches a Sob,
Drops some few Tears, and marches thro' the Mob.
The Pilate's Skill is known, when Dangers nigh,
In midst of Storms and a tempestuous Sea,
Far from the sight of hospitable Shoar,
When all the waring Elements do roar.

33

When Waves and Billows boistrously do roar,
Dare all the battling Winds, and sweep the Shoar:
Faith makes Believers smile to see them roll,
Fix'd on the Rock, they can their Strength controul,
Th'Unbelievers still with Fears oppress'd,
Shakes like the Aspen Leaf, with ev'ry Blast.
Faith warms the Soul, and gives it vital Heat,
'Tis Faith which makes the bitter Potion sweet:
Supports Believers when their Spirits droops,
Faith hath more Courage than a thousand Troops.
'Twas Faith in God supported Abraham's Life,
When he unsheath'd the sacrificing Knife,
From Isaac's Mouth the killing Sentence came;
Lo here's the Wood and Fire, but where's the Lamb?
Must your young Isaac, grill upon the Fire?
God will provide, my Dear, Replies the Sire.
Just in the nick of Time, ere he's dispatch'd,
A Lamb is in the neighbouring Thicket catch'd.
That God who always hears Believers Pray'rs,
(Superintendent of the Worlds Affairs)
For Pray'r a divine Incantation hath,
Draws Mercies down, averts impending Wrath:
Inspir'd young Daniel, and he cries aloud,
Lo I am free of this just Lady's Blood:
O yes, O yes, take notice what you do;
Susanna is more Innocent than you.
Amidst the Mob, Heav'ns darling Daniel stood,
The Infant Prophets Voice allarm'd the Crowd:

34

Our God, who makes the Babes and Sucklings Mouth,
His Oracles t'instruct the World in Truth,
Made the raw beardless Bard convince the Throng,
That Sentence past against the Lady wrong:
“O Isra'lites, he says, foolish you are,
“Condemn Abraham's Daughter at your Bar,
“Without Respect to Beauty Sex or Youth;
“Nay worse, without sufficient legal Proof;
“At God's Command, this Admonition's giv'n,
“I've my Credentials from the Judge of Heav'n:
“Return the Lady, and prevent God's Wrath,
“Throw by these horrid Implements of Death;
“Th'Accusers being Interrogate by me,
“Their Falsehood and her Innocence you'll see,
“And quickly you'll reverse your last Decree.
The Senators obey th'inspired Boy,
The Populace huzza her back with Joy;
Thou'rt sent from God, the Judge to Daniel says,
Made Wise in Youth by th'Ancient of Days,
To his bless'd Name be everlasting Praise.
Therefore w' invite thee to the Judgment Seat,
Read o'er the Proofs, and all the long Debate:
Call the Deponents, re-examine them,
As you see Cause assoilzie, or condemn.
Then holy Daniel on the Bench appears,
He stares on Aulus and his snowy Hairs;
“Says, aged Sinner, of an impious Life,
“Falsly you've sworn against Joacim's Wife:
“These secret Sins, in which you've ta'en Delight,
“Shall all be blaz'd abroad, and see the Light.

35

“Hold up your Hand, swear by the God of Truth,
“That no false Word shall issue from thy Mouth:
“As ye shall answer at the Judgment Day
“To God, who knows all that we do or say.
“By this your Oath, administrate by me,
“Where was't you did Susanna's Dalliance see?
Aulus repli'd, under a Mastick Tree.
“Thou'st sworn, good Daniel says, against thy Life;
“Heav'n's Messenger, with sacrificing Knife,
“Already is dispatch'd to punish you;
“His Scymiter shall cleave thy Trunk in two.
“The Wretch dismiss'd, he to Prioli said,
“O thou, the Offspring of curs'd Canaan's Seed,
“Thy baleful Looks, denote thy want of Grace,
“Thou art not sprung of holy Judah's Race:
“Beauty hath ruin'd thy ill guarded Heart,
“The Pleasures gone, and you endure the Smart.
“Thy Eyes roll with Revenge, Rage burns thy Breast,
“Conscious of Guilt, thy lab'ring Soul's oppress'd:
“Lust by Revenge, is unto Madness wrought,
“Sorrow and secret Shame perplex thy Thought.
“Thou with malignant Love, did tempt the Just,
“To quench thy burning fev'rish Thirst of Lust:
“But Judah's Daughter, being as Chast as Fair,
“Villain thou'st brought her to a fatal Snare:
“Allied to Heav'n, she like Heav'ns Saints doth shine,
“She loth'd to touch that unclean Corps of thine.
“Hold up to Heav'n thy Face, thy Hand to me,
“As you shall answer to the Dietie,

36

“Under what Shade, did you the Adult'ry see?
Prioli bow'd, and said, under a Myrtle Tree.
“Thou mongrel Soul, the divine Daniel said,
“Thy Oath, hath now thy Villany betray'd;
“Loaded with Crimes, thy Tribe and Nations Shame,
“Reproach and Scandal to the Hebrew Name:
“Long steel'd in Vice, thou Sins without controul,
“Stifles the innate Notions of the Soul.
“Thy Oaths a Copy of thy ugly Mind,
“And thou shalt dy the Death, for her design'd;
“And she shall be esteem'd the best of Womankind.
Then turning to the Audience, said,
“Take these two Varlets, for their Perjury,
“To Execution, stone them till they dy:
“Retaliation Law doth here take Place,
“Which Moses Law prescribes in such a Case.
The rude Militia make an horrid Noise,
The bristled Matrons, and the beardless Boys,
Grining like angry Mastives, they fall on
And furrow Aulus's back, with Plow's of Stone.
A Stone six Paces sent, an old Hag throws,
His Bull-Neck droops, he 'scapes with half an Nose;
Foams at the Mouth, and Bellows like an Ox.
His Nose grows ruddy like a Turky Cocks,
Giles struck him on the Breech with manly Force,
His graceless baudy Buttocks hang an A---:
Bess hits him on the Teeth, till Jaws do gape;
He coins his Face in many an antique Shape:
Thick Storms of Fury on his Forehead fell,
He roars and belshes Oaths with hideous Yell.

37

A Stone flew whizzing thro' the airy Tract,
Such was its Strength, it even'd his bungl'd Back;
His Eyes within their hollow Orbits sunk,
The Sap ran out, and dry'd the wither'd Trunk.
A Storm of Stones fell on his Arms and Thighs,
Like sprawling Wolf, upon the Ground he lyes;
He loll'd his bulky Tongue, and curs'd the B---s thrice.
With next Attack he's batter'd to the Ground,
Froth fill'd his Chops, he gave a grunting Sound,
Twice he essay'd to rise, but all was lame;
He fell and boch'd the Thing that's foul to name:
Besmear'd with Mud, the mangled Body lay,
His Soul flew thro' a Gap to Hell the nearest Way.
Prioli next appears, with horrid Face,
Able to bring the Gibbet in Disgrace;
Benum'd with Fear, ty'd to the Stake he stood,
And seem'd like it a Log of ill hewn Wood.
The Mob direct so well the honest Cuff,
His Body sounded with the strong Rebuff:
A Stone graz'd on his Cheeks, and went asloap,
It miss'd so narrow, that it cut the Rope.
Another flew o'er's Head, and hit the Priest,
Down toples he, and lyes like slaughter'd Beast;
Then all the Rable laugh'd to see the wanton Jest.
At last a Stone, which weigh'd about sev'n Pound,
Brought down the filthy Fabrick to the Ground;
Struggling to rise, he still became more faint:
All hear'd the roaring Noise he downward sent.

38

One slung a Stone, which could have split a Rock,
It peirc'd his Breast, and gave the mercy Stroke:
All drench'd in Blood, the beagle Body lay,
Just as it was alive, a senseless Lump of Clay.
Virtutem posuere dii sudore parandam
Hes.