But, leaft of all, philofophy prefumes
Of truth in dreams, from melancholy fumes:
Perhaps the Martin, hous'd in holy ground,
Might think of ghofts that walk their midnight round,
Till groffer atoms tumbling in the stream
Of fancy, madly met, and clubb'd into a dream :
As little weight his vain prefages bear,
Of ill effect to fuch alone who fear:
Moft prophecies are of a piece with these,
Each Noftradamus can foretel with ease :
Not naming perfons and confounding times,
One cafual truth supports a thousand lying rhymes.
Th' advice was true; but fear had seiz'd the most,
And all good counsel is on cowards lost.
The question crudely put to fhun delay,
'Twas carry'd by the major part to stay.
His point thus gain'd, Sir Martin dated thence
His power, and from a priest became a prince.
He order'd all things with a bufy care,
And cells and refectories did prepare,
And large provisions laid of winter fare : -
But now and then let fall a word or two
Of hope, that heaven some miracle might show,
And for their fakes the fun should backward
Against the laws of nature upward climb,
And, mounted on the Ram, renew the prime :
For which two proofs in facred story lay,
Of Ahaz' dial, and of Jofua's day.
In expectation of fuch times as thefe,
A chapel hous'd them, truly call'd of ease:
For Martin much devotion did not ask;
They pray'd fometimes, and that was all their task.
It happen'd, as beyond the reach of wit
Blind prophecies may have a lucky hit,
That this accomplish'd, or at leaft in part,
Gave great repute to their new Merlin's art.
Same Swifts, the giants of the Swallow kind,
Large-limb'd, ftout-hearted, but of stupid mind,
(For Swiffes or for Gibeonites defign'd,)
Thefe lubbers, peeping through a broken pane,
To fuck fresh air, furvey'd the neighbouring plain;
And faw (but fcarcely could believe their eyes)
New bloffoms flourish, and new flowers arife;
As God had been abroad, and, walking there,
Had left his footsteps, and reform'd the year:
The funny hills from far were feen to glow
With glittering beams, and in the meads below
The burnifh'd brooks appear'd with liquid gold to
flow.
At laft they heard the foolish Cuckow fing,
Whofe note proclaim'd the holy-day of spring.
No longer doubting, all prepare to fly,
And repoffefs their patrimonial sky.
The priest before them did his wings display;
And, that good omens might attend their way,
As luck would have it, 'twas St. Martin's day.
Who but the Swallow triumphs now alone?
canopy of heaven is all her own:
Her youthful offspring to their haunts repair,
And glide along in glades, and fkim in air,
F 4
And dip for infects in the purling fprings,
And ftoop on rivers to refresh their wings.
Their mothers think a fair provision made,
That every fon can live upon his trade :
And, now the careful charge is off their hands,
Look out for husbands, and new nuptial bands :
The youthful widow longs to be supply'd;
But firft the lover is by lawyers ty'd
To fettle jointure-chimnies on the bride.
So thick they couple in fo fhort a space,
That Martin's marriage-offerings rife apace.
Their ancient houfes, running to decay,
Are furbish'd up and cemented with clay;
They teem already; ftore of eggs are laid,
And brooding mothers call Lucina's aid.
Fame spreads the news, and foreign fowls appear
In flocks to greet the new returning year,
To blefs the founder, and partake the cheer.
And now 'twas time (fo faft their numbers rise)
To plant abroad and people colonies.
The youth drawn forth, as Martin had defir'd, (For fo their cruel destiny requir'd)
Were fent far off on an ill-fated day ;
The reft would needs conduct them on their way,
And Martin went, becaufe he fear'd alone to stay.
So long they flew with inconfiderate haste,'
That now their afternoon began to waste;
And, what was ominous, that very morn
The Sun was enter'd into Capricorng
Which, by their bad aftronomer's account,
That week the Virgin Balance should remount.
An infant moon eclips'd him in his way,
And hid the small remainders of his day.
The crowd, amaz'd, pursued no certain mark ;
But birds met birds, and juftled in the dark :
Few mind the publick in a panic fright;
And fear increas'd the horror of the night.
Night came, but unattended with repofe;
Alone she came, no fleep their eyes to close :
Alone, and black she came; no friendly ftars arofe.
What should they do, befet with dangers round
No neighbouring dorp, no lodging to be found,
But bleaky plains, and bare unhofpitable ground.
The latter brood, who just began to fly,
Sick-feather'd, and unpractis'd in the sky,
For fuccour to their helpless mother call;
She fpread her wings; fome few be..eath them crawl;
She spread them wider yet, but could not cover all.
T'augment their woes, the winds began to move
Debate in air for empty fields above,
Till Boreas got the skies, and pour'd amain
His rattling hailstones mix'd with snow and rain.
The joyless morning late arofe, and found
A dreadful defolation reign around,
Some bury'd in the fnow, fome frozen to the ground.
The reft were ftruggling ftill with death, and lay
The Crows and Ravens rights, an undefended prey :
Excepting Martin's race; for they and he
Had gain'd the fhelter of a hollow tree:
But, foon difcover'd by a sturdy clown,
He headed all the rabble of a town,
And finish'd them with bats, or poll'd them down.
Martin himself was caught alive, and try'd
For treasonous crimes, because the laws provide
No Martin there in winter fhall abide.
High on an oak, which never leaf shall bear,
He breath'd his last, expos'd to open air ;
And there his corpfe unblefs'd is hanging ftill,
To fhow the change of winds with his prophetic bill.
The patience of the Hind did almost fail;
For well fhe mark'd the malice of the tale :
Which ribbald art their church to Luther owes ;
In malice it began, by malice grows;
He fow'd the Serpent's teeth, an iron-harvest rose.
But moft in Martin's character and fate,
She faw her flander'd fons, the Panther's hate,
The people's rage, the perfecuting state :
Then faid, I take th' advice in friendly part :
You clear your confcience, or at least your heart:
Perhaps you fail'd in your foreseeing skill,
For Swallows are unlucky birds to kill :
As for my sons, the family is bless'd,
Whofe every child is equal to the rest :
No church reform'd can boast a blameless line;
Such Martins build in yours, and more than mine:
Or elfe an old fanatic author lies,
Who fummed their fcandals up by centuries.
But through your parable I plainly fee
The bloody laws, the crowd's barbarity;
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