He loaths the fubftance, and he loves the fhow;
You'll ne'er convince a fool, himself is fo:
He hates realities, and hugs the cheat,
And still the only pleasure 's the deceit.
So meteors flatter with a dazzling dye,
Which no existence has, but in the eye.

As diftant profpects pleafe us, but when near
We find but defert rocks and fleeting air;

From ftratagem to ftratagem we run,
And he knows moft, who latest is undone..

Mankind one day ferene and free appear;
The next, they 're cloudy, fullen, and fevere:
New paffions new opinions ftill excite;
And what they like at noon, they leave at night.
They gain with labour what they quit with ease;
And health, for want of change, becomes disease.
Religion's bright authority they dare,

And yet are flaves to fuperftitious fear.

They counfel others, but themfelves deceive;

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And though they 're cozen'd still, they ftill believe. 40
So falfe their cenfure, fickle their esteem,

This hour they worship, and the next blafpheme.
Shall I then, who with penetrating fight
Infpect the fprings that guide each appetite;
Who with unfathom'd fearches hourly pierce
The dark receffes of the universe;

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Be aw'd, if puny emmets would opprefs;

Or fear their fury, or their name carefs?
If all the fiends that in low darkness reign
Be not the fictions of a fickly brain,

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That

That project, the Difpenfary they call,

Before the moon can blunt her horns, fhall fall.

With that, a glance from mild Aurora's eyes Shoots through the crystal kingdoms of the fkies. The favage kind in forefts cease to roam,

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And fots, o'ercharg'd with nauseous loads, reel home; Drums, trumpets, hautboys, wake the flumbering pair, Whilft bridegroom fighs, and thinks the bride lefs fair;

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Light's chearful fmiles o'er th' azure wafte are spread,
And Mifs from inns of court bolts out unpaid;
The Sage, tranfported at th' approaching hour,
Imperiously thrice thunder'd on the floor;
Officious Squirt that moment had accefs,
His truft was great, his vigilance no lcfs.
To him thus Horoscope :

My kind companion in this dire affair,
Which is more light, fince you affume a thare;
Fly with what hafte you us'd to do of old,

When clyfter was in danger to be cold;

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With expédition on the beadle call,

To fummon all the company to th' hall.

Away the friendly coadjutor flies,

Swift as from phial fteams of harts-horn rife.

The Magus in the interim mumbles o'er

-Vile terms of art to fome infernal power,
And draws myfterious circles on the floor.
But from the gloomy vault no glaring spright
Afcends, to blaft the tender bloom of light.
No myftic founds from hell's detefted womb
In dufky exhalations upwards come.
D 4

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And

And now to raise an altar he decrees,
To that devouring harpy called Difcafe:
Then flowers in canisters he haftes to bring,
The wither'd product of a blighted spring;
With cold folanum from the Pontic fhore,
The roots of mandrake and black hellebore.;
The griper fenna, and the puker rue,
The sweetener faffafras, are added too;
And on the structure next he heaps a load
Of fulphur, turpentine, and maftic wood;
Gums, foffils too, the pyramids increas'd;
A mummy next, once monarch of the east;
Then from the compter he takes down the file,
And with prefcriptions lights the folemn pile.

Feebly the flames on clumfy wings afpire,
And fmothering fogs of fmoke benight the fire.
With forrow he beheld the fad portent,
Then to the hag thefe orifons he fent:

Difeafe! thou ever moft propitious power,
Whofe kind indulgence we difcern each hour!
Thou well canft boaft thy numerous pedigree,
Begot by floth, maintain'd by luxury..
In gilded palaces thy prowefs reigns,
But flies the humble sheds of cottage fwains.
To you fuch might and energy belong,

You nip the blooming, and unnerve the strong.

VARIATIONS.

Ver. 101.

Thou that would'st lay whole states and regions wafte, Sooner than we thy cormorants should faft.

The

The purple conqueror in chains you bind,
And are to us your vatïals only kind.

If, in return, all diligence we pay

To fix your empire, and confirm your sway,
Far as the weekly-bills can reach around,

From Kent-ftreet end, to fam'd St. Giles's Pound;
Behold this poor libation with a smile,

And let aufpicious light break through the pile.

He spoke; and on the pyramid he laid
Bay-leaves and vipers-hearts, and thus he faid;
As thefe confume in this myfterious fire,
So let the curs'd Difpenfary expire!

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And as thofe crackle in the flames, and die,
So let its veffels burft, and glaffes fly!
But a finifter cricket straight was heard;
The altar fell, the offering difappear'd.
As the fam'd wight the omen did regret,
Squirt brought the news the company was met.
Nigh where Fleet-ditch descends in sable streams, 125
To wash his footy Naiads in the Thames;

There stands a fructure on a rifing hill,

Where Tyros take their freedom out to kill..

Some pictures in thefe dreadful fhambles tell,.

How, by the Delian god, the Python fell;
And how Medea did the philtre, brew,
That could in Æfon's veins young force renew;
How mournful Myrrha for her crimes appears,

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And heals hysteric matrons ftill with tears;
How Mentha and Althea, nymphs no more,
Revive in facred plants, and health reftore;

135

How

How fanguine fwains their amorous hours repent,
When pleasure 's past, and pains are permanent;
And how frail nymphs oft', by abortion, aim
To lofe a fubftance, to preserve a name.

Soon as each member in his rank was plac'd,
The affembly Diafenna thus addrefs'd:

My kind confederates, if my poor intent,
As 'tis fincere, had been but prevalent,
We here had met on fome more fafe defign,
And on no other bufinefs but to dine
The Faculty had still maintain'd their fway,
And intereft then had bid us but obey;
This only emulation we had known,

;

Who beft could fill his purfe, and thin the town.
But now from gathering-clouds deftruction pours,
Which ruins with mad rage our halcyon hours:
Mifts from black jealoufies the tempest form,
Whilft late divifions reinforce the storm.

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Know, when these feuds, like those at law, were paft, 1j5
The winners will be lofers at the last.

Like heroes in fea-fights we feek renown;
To fire fome hoftile fhip, we burn our own.
Whoe'er throws duft against the wind, defcries
He throws it, in effect, but in his eyes.
That juggler which another's fleight will show,
But teaches how the world his own may know.

Thrice happy were thofe golden days of old,
When dear as burgundy, ptifans were fold;

Gilftorp, an apothecary.

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When