An Ancient Prophecy Concerning stock-jobbing And the Conduct of the Directors of the South-Sea-Company. Written, a Thousand Years ago, in the Form of a Parable, by the Famous Avian: Translated from the Greek to Latin, by Romulus of Athens: And now rendred into English, with Additions, By Mr. Pennecuik |
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 | An Ancient Prophecy Concerning stock-jobbing |  |
On th'oozie Bed among the scaly Fry,
Once did a Tortoise of a Genius lie,
With eager Wishes grasp'd the spangled Sky.
Learning at Ebb the finny Tribes suffice,
Yet Fishes study Opticks in the Seas:
And Nature's Glass, the fluctuating Waves,
Strong Colours and bright Images receives.
A Tortoise, cover'd with a Coat of Mail,
Will view the Journal of a Ship in Sail:
Thro' the wide Azure Fields her Fancy's driven,
Surveying the bright Magazine of Heaven:
The stately glist'ring Scenes delights her Mind:
High doth she soar; her Thoughts are unconfin'd.
So well the various lovely Objects pleas'd:
A strange unusual Joy the Tortoise seiz'd:
The beauteous Landskip captivate the Fish,
Inspires her with a bold exalted Wish:
Swimming in Air, as formerly in Floods,
She forms a Scheme to reach th'exalted Clouds.
O could I climb the Stars so high and fair!
I'd rear an august Building in the Air.
Pisces sits now triumphant in the Sky;
A heavenly Sign, tho' once as low as I.
To sail in Air becomes my darling Wish:
Fame shall record the subtile South-Sea-Fish.
Near to the Tropick of fam'd Capricorn,
Are flying Fish, who with large Wings are born.
The accurate Productions of my Brain,
Shall raise me high above the wat'ry Main.
Let other Fish stick in their native Mud,
And feed on reptile Dishes in the Flood.
I'll soar, with borrow'd Plumes, the Firmament:
Each Bird shall give a Wing to my Ascent.
Unthinking Birds decoy'd shall lend a Share,
To build my tow'ring Babel in the Air.
I'll, without Basis, build the Fabrick high,
Till its aspiring Top shall kiss the Sky:
Or Millions shall be lost, and in its Rubbish lie.
When I am with their silver Plumage dress'd,
I'll leave the Callow Birds to perish in the Nest,
And bubble Britain with my blust'ring Words,
Till ev'ry Field's possess'd with naked Birds:
No more blyth Songs shall tune their warb'ling Throats;
Each Bird shall droop, and sing in Tragick Notes:
With Syrene Songs I'll charm the Wisest in:
Birds shall be catch'd, and perish in the Gin:
For Honour's Ties too feeble are to bind;
And Conscience is the Jaundice of the Mind.
Th'amazing News thro' all the World will sound,
The simple British Birds are in the South-Sea drown'd.
Wise Fish shall share the Government with me,
We'll turn the Grand Directors of the Sea.
To prove successful Pirates on the Main,
Else all our deep Designs will prove in vain;
False Colours we'll assume to vail our Crime,
And pass for honest Traders on the Brime.
Disguis'd as Friends, each Fowl will lend a Pen,
The lofty Eagle, and the humble Hen:
Sometimes a Knot of Knaves have pass'd for honest Men
The Project form'd, is to Perfection brought;
For deep Politicks cost her but a Thought:
She spies a Flock of Fowls fly 'bove her Head,
And thus she spoke: Her Speech did well succeed.
Once did a Tortoise of a Genius lie,
With eager Wishes grasp'd the spangled Sky.
Learning at Ebb the finny Tribes suffice,
Yet Fishes study Opticks in the Seas:
And Nature's Glass, the fluctuating Waves,
Strong Colours and bright Images receives.
A Tortoise, cover'd with a Coat of Mail,
Will view the Journal of a Ship in Sail:
6
Surveying the bright Magazine of Heaven:
The stately glist'ring Scenes delights her Mind:
High doth she soar; her Thoughts are unconfin'd.
So well the various lovely Objects pleas'd:
A strange unusual Joy the Tortoise seiz'd:
The beauteous Landskip captivate the Fish,
Inspires her with a bold exalted Wish:
Swimming in Air, as formerly in Floods,
She forms a Scheme to reach th'exalted Clouds.
O could I climb the Stars so high and fair!
I'd rear an august Building in the Air.
Pisces sits now triumphant in the Sky;
A heavenly Sign, tho' once as low as I.
To sail in Air becomes my darling Wish:
Fame shall record the subtile South-Sea-Fish.
Near to the Tropick of fam'd Capricorn,
Are flying Fish, who with large Wings are born.
The accurate Productions of my Brain,
Shall raise me high above the wat'ry Main.
Let other Fish stick in their native Mud,
And feed on reptile Dishes in the Flood.
7
Each Bird shall give a Wing to my Ascent.
Unthinking Birds decoy'd shall lend a Share,
To build my tow'ring Babel in the Air.
I'll, without Basis, build the Fabrick high,
Till its aspiring Top shall kiss the Sky:
Or Millions shall be lost, and in its Rubbish lie.
When I am with their silver Plumage dress'd,
I'll leave the Callow Birds to perish in the Nest,
And bubble Britain with my blust'ring Words,
Till ev'ry Field's possess'd with naked Birds:
No more blyth Songs shall tune their warb'ling Throats;
Each Bird shall droop, and sing in Tragick Notes:
With Syrene Songs I'll charm the Wisest in:
Birds shall be catch'd, and perish in the Gin:
For Honour's Ties too feeble are to bind;
And Conscience is the Jaundice of the Mind.
Th'amazing News thro' all the World will sound,
The simple British Birds are in the South-Sea drown'd.
Wise Fish shall share the Government with me,
We'll turn the Grand Directors of the Sea.
8
Else all our deep Designs will prove in vain;
False Colours we'll assume to vail our Crime,
And pass for honest Traders on the Brime.
Disguis'd as Friends, each Fowl will lend a Pen,
The lofty Eagle, and the humble Hen:
Sometimes a Knot of Knaves have pass'd for honest Men
The Project form'd, is to Perfection brought;
For deep Politicks cost her but a Thought:
She spies a Flock of Fowls fly 'bove her Head,
And thus she spoke: Her Speech did well succeed.
Hear me, Ye chearful Tenants of the Air:
To make you rich and happy is my Care:
Let's shift the Scenes of Life ere we turn old,
And trade to distant Worlds for sacred Gold:
Yon checker'd Tract of Skies which we behold,
Sparkles with Gemms and dazling Trails of Gold.
An immense Project brightens up my Hope:
I'll find you Treasures, if you'll help me up:
In Fields of AEther trade, and meet the Skies;
We'll soon in Honour and in Riches rise:
By which you'll purchase Woods and ample Plains,
Be Landlords of the Groves, and Masters of the Grains.
Better to reap what your own Acres yield,
Than stroll about, and filch from ev'ry Field.
Fowlers divested of their Power to hurt,
You'll live in Grandeur, Gayety and Sport.
Bright Birds, if wise, ye'll follow my Advice,
And live like blessed Birds of Paradise.
Spend all your Youth in Mirth, turn rich when old:
All Pleasure's purchas'd by immortal Gold.
We'll prove, sweet Birds, believe our honest Words,
The toiling Traders, you the Landed Birds.
Our sure Returns of Trade, my Friends, will bring
Riches to build you Nests may serve a King.
I'll bargain plainly, for each Quill you give;
You shall in Cash One hundred Pound receive.
Tho' my Exchequer lies beyond dark Clouds,
'Twill rain down Gold upon the Hills and Woods.
My blyth Musicians, trust my faithful Words;
O what a Plot have I t'enrich the Birds!
Some of you shall be Knights, and Others shall be Lords
That Beasts have been created Peers, all know;
But never Birds, I'll give my Oath, till now.
The Notion hath prevail'd, I can't tell why,
That there's a World of People in the Sky.
Some Things are really true, which can't be shown:
Hence Men believe, a World is in the Moon.
'Twas the Moon which made the South-Sea flow:
The Moon hath Hills of Gold, there Metals grow:
We'll kiss her silver Face, who rules us here below.
To make you rich and happy is my Care:
Let's shift the Scenes of Life ere we turn old,
And trade to distant Worlds for sacred Gold:
Yon checker'd Tract of Skies which we behold,
Sparkles with Gemms and dazling Trails of Gold.
An immense Project brightens up my Hope:
I'll find you Treasures, if you'll help me up:
In Fields of AEther trade, and meet the Skies;
We'll soon in Honour and in Riches rise:
9
Be Landlords of the Groves, and Masters of the Grains.
Better to reap what your own Acres yield,
Than stroll about, and filch from ev'ry Field.
Fowlers divested of their Power to hurt,
You'll live in Grandeur, Gayety and Sport.
Bright Birds, if wise, ye'll follow my Advice,
And live like blessed Birds of Paradise.
Spend all your Youth in Mirth, turn rich when old:
All Pleasure's purchas'd by immortal Gold.
We'll prove, sweet Birds, believe our honest Words,
The toiling Traders, you the Landed Birds.
Our sure Returns of Trade, my Friends, will bring
Riches to build you Nests may serve a King.
I'll bargain plainly, for each Quill you give;
You shall in Cash One hundred Pound receive.
Tho' my Exchequer lies beyond dark Clouds,
'Twill rain down Gold upon the Hills and Woods.
My blyth Musicians, trust my faithful Words;
O what a Plot have I t'enrich the Birds!
Some of you shall be Knights, and Others shall be Lords
10
But never Birds, I'll give my Oath, till now.
The Notion hath prevail'd, I can't tell why,
That there's a World of People in the Sky.
Some Things are really true, which can't be shown:
Hence Men believe, a World is in the Moon.
'Twas the Moon which made the South-Sea flow:
The Moon hath Hills of Gold, there Metals grow:
We'll kiss her silver Face, who rules us here below.
The fine Harangue so charm'd the feathered Flocks,
That all their pretty Accents turn'd on Stocks:
Lowd merry Carrols shew'd the Audience glad:
They all approv'd the noble Scheme of Trade.
They bear the proud Projector to the Air,
Wish her good Success, and they leave her there.
On their fair Plumage doth the Tortoise rise;
She's now the Grand Directress of the Skies.
She sent the longing Birds Returns each Day,
From Exchange-Alley, in the Milky-Way:
The News spread thro' the Globe, The Trade's begun:
Her Fame kept Pace, and travell'd with the Sun.
The foreign Birds, fond to be vastly rich,
And drive their Fortunes to the highest Pitch,
Flew o'er the Seas to Britain's happy Coast;
Where Birds have Banks, of which they proudly boast:
(In these warm Climates, Birds have more of Brains,
Than those who're hatch'd where vi'lent Coldness reigns)
They bought up Stocks ere they did highly rise,
And swept away the Product of the Skies.
The British Fowls envy'd them of their Gain,
Expecting Gold down from the Clouds would rain;
To such amazing Height the Stocks did rise,
So well they sold their Int'rest in the Skies,
That these who had an Hundred Pound in share,
Secur'd in Banks, above on solid Air,
Would sell it for One thousand Pound in Cash.
Were not the Sellers wise? Were not the Buyers rash?
But Oh! the doleful Part is nigh at Hand,
They hear bad Tidings from Utopia's Land:
The Tortoise soon forgot her solemn Words,
She showr'd no Silver on the bankrupt Birds:
She laugh'd to see them naked in the Woods,
And lock'd her Cash in Coffers 'mongst the Clouds.
Now Fear and Grief succeeds their Joy and Hope;
Greed sow'd the Seed, and Vanity's the Crop.
A gloomy Horrour sits on every Brow,
The Birds distend their Gorge, and change their Hue:
Languishing Looks they cast on the South-Sea,
And tragick Threns are heard from every Tree.
The Royal Eagle Guardian of their Laws,
Flew up and catch'd the Tortoise in his Claws:
Deep were the Wounds the mighty Monarch gave,
Which brought the curst Sea-Monster to the Grave:
The Birds did all rejoyce to see the Exit of the Knave.
That all their pretty Accents turn'd on Stocks:
Lowd merry Carrols shew'd the Audience glad:
They all approv'd the noble Scheme of Trade.
They bear the proud Projector to the Air,
Wish her good Success, and they leave her there.
On their fair Plumage doth the Tortoise rise;
She's now the Grand Directress of the Skies.
She sent the longing Birds Returns each Day,
From Exchange-Alley, in the Milky-Way:
The News spread thro' the Globe, The Trade's begun:
Her Fame kept Pace, and travell'd with the Sun.
11
And drive their Fortunes to the highest Pitch,
Flew o'er the Seas to Britain's happy Coast;
Where Birds have Banks, of which they proudly boast:
(In these warm Climates, Birds have more of Brains,
Than those who're hatch'd where vi'lent Coldness reigns)
They bought up Stocks ere they did highly rise,
And swept away the Product of the Skies.
The British Fowls envy'd them of their Gain,
Expecting Gold down from the Clouds would rain;
To such amazing Height the Stocks did rise,
So well they sold their Int'rest in the Skies,
That these who had an Hundred Pound in share,
Secur'd in Banks, above on solid Air,
Would sell it for One thousand Pound in Cash.
Were not the Sellers wise? Were not the Buyers rash?
But Oh! the doleful Part is nigh at Hand,
They hear bad Tidings from Utopia's Land:
The Tortoise soon forgot her solemn Words,
She showr'd no Silver on the bankrupt Birds:
She laugh'd to see them naked in the Woods,
And lock'd her Cash in Coffers 'mongst the Clouds.
12
Greed sow'd the Seed, and Vanity's the Crop.
A gloomy Horrour sits on every Brow,
The Birds distend their Gorge, and change their Hue:
Languishing Looks they cast on the South-Sea,
And tragick Threns are heard from every Tree.
The Royal Eagle Guardian of their Laws,
Flew up and catch'd the Tortoise in his Claws:
Deep were the Wounds the mighty Monarch gave,
Which brought the curst Sea-Monster to the Grave:
The Birds did all rejoyce to see the Exit of the Knave.
| An Ancient Prophecy Concerning stock-jobbing | |