Found his head fill'd with many a system:

But claffic authors, - he ne'er mifs'd 'em.

Thus having furbish'd up a parfon,

Dame Baucis next they play'd their farce on.

135

Inftead of home-fpun coifs, were seen

Good pinners edg'd with colberteen;

Her petticoat, transform'd apace,

140

Became black fattin flounc'd with lace.
Plain Goody would no longer down,
"Twas Madam, in her grogram-gown.
Philemon was in great furprize,
And hardly could believe his eyes,
Amaz'd to fee her look fo prim;
And the admir'd as much at him.
Thus happy in their change of life
Were feveral years this man and wife :
When on a day, which prov'd their last,
Difcourfing o'er old ftories paft,
They went by chance, amidft their talk,
To the church-yard to take a walk
When Baucis hastily cry'd out,

My dear, I fee your forehead sprout!

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150

155

Sprout quoth the man; what 's this you tell us?

I hope you don't believe me jealous !
But yet, methinks, I feel it true;
And really yours is budding too —
Nay,
my foot ;
It feels as if 'twere taking root.

now I cannot stir

Defcription would but tire my Mufe; In short, they both were turn'd to gews.

160

Old Goodman Dobfon of the green
Remembers, he the trees has feen;
He'll talk of them from noon till night,
And goes with folks to fhew the fight;
On Sundays, after evening-prayer,
He gathers all the parish there ;
Points out the place of either yew;
Here Baucis, there Philemon, grew:
Till once a parfon of our town,

To mend his barn, cut Baucis down ;
At which 'tis hard to be believ'd
How much the other tree was griev'd,
Grew fcrubbed, dy'd a-top, was stunted;
So the next parfon stubb'd and burnt it.

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175

E

L

E

G Y

On the fuppofed DEATH of PARTRIDGE, the Almanack-Maker. 1708.

WELL; 'tis as Bickerstaff has guess'd,

Though we all took it for a jest :

Partridge is dead; nay more, he dy'd -
Ere he could prove the good 'fquire ly'd.
Strange, an astrologer should die
Without one wonder in the sky!

Not one of all his crony ftars

Το

pay their duty at his hearfe! No meteor, no eclipfe appear'd ! No comet with a flaming beard!

The

The fun has rofe, and gone to bed,

Just as if Partridge were not dead ;
Nor hid himself behind the moon
To make a dreadful night at noon.
He at fit periods walks through Aries,
Howe'er our earthly motion varies;
And twice a year he 'll cut th' equator,
As if there had been no fuch matter.

Some wits have wonder'd what analogy
There is 'twixt * cobling and aftrology;
How Partridge made his optics rise
From a fhoe-fole to reach the skies.
A lift the cobler's temples ties,
To keep the hair out of his eyes;
From whence 'tis plain, the diadem
That princes wear derives from them:
And therefore crowns are now-a-days
Adorn'd with golden ftars and rays;
Which plainly fhews the near alliance
'Twixt cobling and the planets fcience.
Befides, that flow-pac'd fign Boötes,
As 'tis mifcall'd, we know not who 'tis :
But Partridge ended all difputes;

He knew his trade, and call'd it † boots.

The borned moon, which heretofore

Upon their fhoes the Romans wore,
Whofe wideness kept their toes from corns,
And whence we claim our fboeing-borns,

Partridge was a cobler.

E 4

+ See his almanack.

Shews

Shews how the art of cobling bears
A near resemblance to the spheres.

A fcrap of parchment hung by geometry
(A great refinement in barometry)
Can, like the ftars, foretel the weather;
And what is parchment elfe but leather ?
Which an aftrologer might ufe
Either for almanacks or shoes.

Thus Partridge by his wit and parts
At once did practise both these arts :
And as the boding owl (or rather
The bat, because her wings are leather)
Steals from her private cell by night,
And flies about the candle-light;
So learned Partridge could as well
Creep in the dark from leathern cell,
And in his fancy fly as far
To peep upon a twinkling star.

Befides, he could confound the spheres

And fet the planets by the ears;

To fhew his skill, he Mars could join
To Venus in afpect malign;

Then call in Mercury for aid,

And cure the wounds that Venus made..

Great scholars have in Lucian read,
When Philip king of Greece was dead,
His foul and spirit did divide,
And each part took a different fide ::
One rofe a ftar; the other fell
Beneath, and mended fhoes in hell.

Thus

Thus Partridge ftill fhines in each art, The cobling and far-gazing part,

And is inftall'd as good a ftar

As of the Cæfars are. any

Triumphant ftar! fome pity show

On coblers militant below,

Whom roguish boys in ftormy nights
Torment by piffing out their lights,
Or through a chink convey their smoke
Inclos'd artificers to choke.

Thou, high exalted in thy sphere,
May'st follow ftill thy calling there.
To thee the Bull will lend his bide,
By Phoebus newly tann'd and dry'd ;
For thee they Argo's hulk will tax,
And scrape her pitchy fides for wax :
Then Ariadne kindly lends
Her braided hair to make thee ends;
The points of Sagittarius' dart
Turns to an awl by heavenly art;
And Vulcan, wheedled by his wife,
Will forge for thee a paring knife.
For want of room by Virgo's fide,
She 'll ftrain a point, and set aftride,
To take thee kindly in between;
And then the figns will be thirteen.

HERE, five feet deep, lies on his back A cobler, farmonger, and quack;