The Metamorphosis A Poem. Shewing The Change of Scriblerus into Snarlerus: Or, The Canine Appetite: Demonstrated in the Persons of P*p*e and Sw---t [by Jonathan Smedley] |
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 | The Metamorphosis |  |
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THE Metamorphosis: A POEM.
Jove
once, in Humour, fix'd an Hour,
To lay aside Immortal Power,
And, in a Trice, from Heav'n to come down,
And take a Trip, to visit London.
Quick, as a Thought, to Town he got,
And took up with his Friend, B---M---te.
To lay aside Immortal Power,
And, in a Trice, from Heav'n to come down,
And take a Trip, to visit London.
Quick, as a Thought, to Town he got,
And took up with his Friend, B---M---te.
Compliments pass'd; He ask'd M---te, Whether
They, lately, had good, or bad Weather?
How Things, at Court and 'Change were going?
—Or any Thing—that was worth knowing?
They, lately, had good, or bad Weather?
How Things, at Court and 'Change were going?
—Or any Thing—that was worth knowing?
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M---te, seeing such a decent Stranger,
Said, civilly; That, as for 'Change, Sir,
Stocks were a rising, Trade was snug,
And that at Court all Things went rug.
And we, Booksellers of the City,
Are, all, grown rich, and wond'rous witty.
Witty and rich! beyond our Hope,
Between an Irish Dean and P---!
Said, civilly; That, as for 'Change, Sir,
Stocks were a rising, Trade was snug,
And that at Court all Things went rug.
And we, Booksellers of the City,
Are, all, grown rich, and wond'rous witty.
Witty and rich! beyond our Hope,
Between an Irish Dean and P---!
Ay! Quoth the God: Then, let me tell ye,
No such Delusion e'er befell ye:
These are mere Phantoms: And the Shape,
(That of a Parson, this an Ape)
Is but fictitious; nor can Mortal
What they are now, or will be foretell:
Both are compos'd of such a Nature,
Jove never form'd a similar Creature;
And for this Reason, Mr. M---te,
(All other Changes, now, forgot)
Jove gave me Power, ('tis true by Styx)
Their Natures, once for all, to fix;
And so, two snarling Dogs I'll make 'em.
And you shall lick their Album Græcum;
With that to Heav'n the Thunderer fled;
And poor M---te, frighten'd, went to Bed.
And ever after, 'twas their Drift
(A Spaniel `P---p---e; a Mastiff Sw---t)
To teize and bite whate'er came next 'em,
Out of pure Spite, tho' nothing vext 'em;
To bark, to insult, to run stark wild,
And foam at Woman, Man, and Child;
To foul and dirt each Place they came in,
And play some Pranks, unfit for naming.
No such Delusion e'er befell ye:
These are mere Phantoms: And the Shape,
(That of a Parson, this an Ape)
Is but fictitious; nor can Mortal
What they are now, or will be foretell:
Both are compos'd of such a Nature,
Jove never form'd a similar Creature;
And for this Reason, Mr. M---te,
(All other Changes, now, forgot)
Jove gave me Power, ('tis true by Styx)
Their Natures, once for all, to fix;
And so, two snarling Dogs I'll make 'em.
And you shall lick their Album Græcum;
With that to Heav'n the Thunderer fled;
And poor M---te, frighten'd, went to Bed.
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(A Spaniel `P---p---e; a Mastiff Sw---t)
To teize and bite whate'er came next 'em,
Out of pure Spite, tho' nothing vext 'em;
To bark, to insult, to run stark wild,
And foam at Woman, Man, and Child;
To foul and dirt each Place they came in,
And play some Pranks, unfit for naming.
But, when this noisy, snarling Pair,
Persisted, without Wit or Fear,
To run at every Thing about 'em;
The Neighbours, all, resolv'd to rout 'em;
To muzle, tie 'em up, to bang 'em,
To starve, to brain 'em, nay, to hang 'em.
This they were told; But without Profit;
For, Bark they wou'd, whate'er came of it.
So, on they go, from Street to Street,
And fly at every Thing they meet;
Their Mouths they ope, and Cock their Tail;
So true 'tis; Nature will prevail.
Persisted, without Wit or Fear,
To run at every Thing about 'em;
The Neighbours, all, resolv'd to rout 'em;
To muzle, tie 'em up, to bang 'em,
To starve, to brain 'em, nay, to hang 'em.
This they were told; But without Profit;
For, Bark they wou'd, whate'er came of it.
So, on they go, from Street to Street,
And fly at every Thing they meet;
Their Mouths they ope, and Cock their Tail;
So true 'tis; Nature will prevail.
With that, Folk cry'd, All Hands to work,
Let's use them worse than Jew or Turk:
And catch'd they were, by Craft, in Gin,
And put to Thorough Discipline.
Let's use them worse than Jew or Turk:
And catch'd they were, by Craft, in Gin,
And put to Thorough Discipline.
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First, M---e began their Nails to pare,
And cut close to the very Hair.
But E---n, of a bloody Mind,
To Cut their Throats was more inclin'd;
Yet said; No, Hang't; Hence come the Wrongs,
And so, He whip't out both their Tongues.
Cu---l next advanc'd and full of Spight,
Swore, that they never more shou'd bite;
And, falling to his Work, like mad,
He kick'd out every Tooth they had.
But Lin---t, frighted with the Gore,
Which stream'd, in Floods, along the Floor,
To stop the Flow, and wash their Mouth,
Piss'd, plentifully upon both.
Swearing, that while he cou'd make Water,
P---e ne'er shou'd want such saline Matter.
And cut close to the very Hair.
But E---n, of a bloody Mind,
To Cut their Throats was more inclin'd;
Yet said; No, Hang't; Hence come the Wrongs,
And so, He whip't out both their Tongues.
Cu---l next advanc'd and full of Spight,
Swore, that they never more shou'd bite;
And, falling to his Work, like mad,
He kick'd out every Tooth they had.
But Lin---t, frighted with the Gore,
Which stream'd, in Floods, along the Floor,
To stop the Flow, and wash their Mouth,
Piss'd, plentifully upon both.
Swearing, that while he cou'd make Water,
P---e ne'er shou'd want such saline Matter.
Well done! quoth D---is: But of all
Ye do, be sure, Let out their Gall;
Deprive the Currs of what makes Ink;
And then we'll thrash 'em, till they stink.
Ye do, be sure, Let out their Gall;
Deprive the Currs of what makes Ink;
And then we'll thrash 'em, till they stink.
With that, Len W---d, wondrous keen
Levell'd his Penknife at their Spleen;
And, with Loud Laugh, cry'd, Here 'tis!
(Ev'n Twittering, till he 'gan to piss
No more, I warrant ye; no! ne'er, O!
Shall they make me their Grub-street Hero.
Levell'd his Penknife at their Spleen;
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(Ev'n Twittering, till he 'gan to piss
No more, I warrant ye; no! ne'er, O!
Shall they make me their Grub-street Hero.
Quoth C---k, all this is, still, in vain,
Unless we try to Turn their Brain;
For, if that Part continues right,
These Whelps, the same Way, still will write,
And, even, without Teeth, they'll Bite.
Unless we try to Turn their Brain;
For, if that Part continues right,
These Whelps, the same Way, still will write,
And, even, without Teeth, they'll Bite.
With that C---n---n---n cry'd, 'Tis true;
First then, dear C---k, I'll take from you
Some of your strongest, Humming Lines,
Where your Poetick Posse shines;
To these, what Lines, My Boast have been,
(No Matter whether read or seen)
I'll join; and then to Powder burn 'em:
Their Brains!—ne'er fear, this Snuff will turn 'em:
Nothing besides, effect this can,
Unless Th' Hymn of a Gentleman!
O! Those sweet Lines; so soft! so sad!
If they don't find, they'll make them mad.
But, if this fails, take what's before us;
G---'s W---t---d---c---t, or W---l---'s Horace:
Or look o'er Y---ge, for he has Stuff
Sufficient for a Load of Snuff:
Or, if more's wanting still, you'll be well
Supplied from Par---l, Tr---p or Se---ll:
Or, if the Thing, at once, you'd Hit,
Burn every Thing D---has writ.
First then, dear C---k, I'll take from you
Some of your strongest, Humming Lines,
Where your Poetick Posse shines;
To these, what Lines, My Boast have been,
(No Matter whether read or seen)
I'll join; and then to Powder burn 'em:
Their Brains!—ne'er fear, this Snuff will turn 'em:
Nothing besides, effect this can,
Unless Th' Hymn of a Gentleman!
O! Those sweet Lines; so soft! so sad!
If they don't find, they'll make them mad.
But, if this fails, take what's before us;
G---'s W---t---d---c---t, or W---l---'s Horace:
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Sufficient for a Load of Snuff:
Or, if more's wanting still, you'll be well
Supplied from Par---l, Tr---p or Se---ll:
Or, if the Thing, at once, you'd Hit,
Burn every Thing D---has writ.
But take the greatest Care, I pray;
Keep D---d---g---n out of your Way;
And, above all, be very wary,
Use not one Line of Lady Mary;
One Syllable, in their Works found,
Wou'd quite destroy the whole Compound.
Keep D---d---g---n out of your Way;
And, above all, be very wary,
Use not one Line of Lady Mary;
One Syllable, in their Works found,
Wou'd quite destroy the whole Compound.
Waes me! It is so: these two Bablers
(In Poetry the Tip-top Dablers)
Who ran thro' every House a bawling;
Up-stairs and down-stairs, with their squalling:
Now, Tied and Coupled; like Jack Horner,
Lye driv'ling in the Chimney Corner;
Of all their Currish Tricks bereft;
No Grin, no Gibe; Not one Snarl left:
Nor any Thing, but Rubing, Itching:
The Joke, and Scorn of all the Kitchen!
(In Poetry the Tip-top Dablers)
Who ran thro' every House a bawling;
Up-stairs and down-stairs, with their squalling:
Now, Tied and Coupled; like Jack Horner,
Lye driv'ling in the Chimney Corner;
Of all their Currish Tricks bereft;
No Grin, no Gibe; Not one Snarl left:
Nor any Thing, but Rubing, Itching:
The Joke, and Scorn of all the Kitchen!
FINIS.
| The Metamorphosis | |