University of Virginia Library

The Duel of the Crabs

In Milford Lane near to St. Clement's Steeple,
There liv'd a Nymph kind to all Christian People:
A Nymph she was, whose comely Mien and Stature,
Whose height of Eloquence and every Feature,
Struck through the heart of City and of Whitehall,
And when they pleas'd to court her did 'em right all.
Under her beauteous Bosom there did lye
A Belly smooth as Ivory.
Yet Nature to declare her various Art,
Had plac't a Tuft in one convenient part,
No Park with smoothest Lawn or highest Wood,
Cou'd e're compare with this admir'd abode.
Here all the Youth of England did repáre,
To take their pleasure and unease their Care.
Here the distressed Lover that had born
His haughty Mistress Anger or her Scorn
Came for Relief; and in this pleasant Shade,
Forgot the former, and this Nymph obey'd.
And yet what corner of the World is found,
Where pain our pleasure does not still surround?
One wou'd have thought that in this shady Grove,
Nought cou'd have dwelt but quiet, peace and love.
But Heaven directed otherwise; for here,
I'th' midst of plenty bloody Wars appear:
The Gods will frown wherever they do smile;
The Crocodile infests the fertil Soil:
Lyons and Tygers on the Lybian Plains,
Forbid all Pleasures to the fearfull Swains:
Wild Beasts in Forests do the Hunters fright,
They fear their ruine 'midst of their delight.
Thus in the shade of this dark silent Bower,
Strength strives with Strenth, & Power vies with Power,
Two mighty Monsters did this Wood infest,
And struck such awe and terror in the rest,
That no Sicilian Tyrant e're cou'd boast
He e'er with greater rigour rul'd the roast.
Each had his Empire, which he kept in awe,
Was by his will obey'd, allow'd no Law:
Nature so well divided had their states,
Nought but Ambition cou'd have chang'd their fates:
For 'twixt their Empire stood a briny Lake,
Deep as the Poets do the Centre make;
But dire Ambition does admit no bounds,
There are no limits to aspiring Crowns.
The Spaniard by his Europe Conquests bold,
Sail'd o're the Ocean for the Indian's Gold:
The Carthaginian Hero did not stay,
Because he met vast Mountains in his way:
He past the Alps like Molehills; such a Mind
As thinks on Conquest will be unconfin'd.
Both with these haughty thoughts one course to tend,
To try if this vast Lake had any end:
Where finding Countries yet without a Name,
They might by Conquests get Eternal Fame.
After long marches both their Armies tired,
At length they find the place so much desired;
Where in a little time each does descry,
The glymps of an approaching Enemy.
They in this sight do equal pleasure prove,
As we should do in well rewarded Love:
Blood-thirsty Souls, whose only perfect Joy,
Consists in what their Fury can destroy.
And now both Armies do prepare for fight,
And each of th'other unto War incite;
In vain, alas, for all their force and strength,
Was quite consumed by their Marches length;
But the great Chief's impatient of delay,
Resolve by single Fight to try the day.
Each does the other with Contempt defie,
Resolv'd to conquer, or resolv'd to die;
Both Armies are commanded to withdraw,
In expectation who should give 'em Law;
While the amaz'd Spectators full of care,
Hope for a better or worse Tyrant fear:
And now these Princes meet, now they engage
With all their chiefest Strength and highest Rage
Now with their Instruments of Wrath they push,
As Hills in Earthquakes on each other rush;
Where their Militia lies is still in doubt,
Whether like Elephants upon their Snout;
Or if upon their Heads vast Horns they wore,
Or if they fought with Tusks like the wild Boar.
Some Greshamites perhaps, with help of Glass,
And poring long upon't, may chance to guess;
But no tradition has inform'd our age,
What were their chiefest instruments of rage?
With small or no advantage they proceed,
Both are much bruised, and their Wounds do bleed:
Both keep their Anger, both do lose their Force,
Both get the better, neither get the Worse;
Justice her self might put into each Scale
One of these Princes, and see neither fall:
Spurr'd on by Fury, now they both provide,
To let one Graple this great cause decide;
Joyning, they strive, and such resistance make,
Both fall together in the Briny Lake,
Where from the trouble of a tottering Crown,
Each mighty Monarch is laid gently down:
Both Armies at this sight amazed stand,
In doubt, who shall obey, who shall command:
In this extremity they both agree,
A Commonwealth their Government shall be.