Why fits my Phillis difcontented here,
Nor feels the turn of the revolving year?
Why on that brow dwell forrow and difmay,
Where Loves were wont to fport, and Smiles to
play?

PHILLIS. Ah, Corydon! furvey the 'Change around,

Through all the 'Change no wretch like me is found:

Alas! the day, when I, poor heedlefs maid,
Was to your rooms in Lincoln's-Inn betray'd;
Then how you fwore, how many vows you
made!

Ye liftening Zephyrs, that o'erheard his love,
Wat the foft accents to the gods above.
Alas! the day; for (oh, eternal fhame!)
I fold you handkerchiefs, and loft my fame.
COR. When I forget the favour you beftow'd,
Red herrings fhall be spawn'd in Tyburn Road,
Fleet-ftreet transform'd become a flowery green,
And mafs be fung where operas are seen ;
The wealthy cit, and the St. James's beau,
Shall change their quarters, and their joys forego;
Stock-jobbing this to Jonathan's fall come,
At the Groom Porter's that play off his plum.
PHIL. But what to me does all that love
avail,

If, while I doze at home o'er porter's ale,
Each night with wine and wenches you regale?
My live-long hours in anxious cares are past,
And raging hunger lays my beauty wafte,
On templars fpruce in vain I glances throw,
And with fhrill voice invite them as they go.
Expos'd in vain my gloffy ribbands fhine,
And unregarded wave upon the twine.

E PIT

The week flies round; and, when my profit's known,

I hardly clear enough to change a crown.

COR. Hard fate of virtue, thus to be diftreft, Thou fairest of thy trade, and far the best! As fruitmen's ftalls the fummer-market grace, And ruddy peaches them; as first in place Plum-cake is feen o'er fmaller pattry ware, And ice on that; fo Phillis does appear In play-house and in park, above the reft Of belles mechanic, elegantly dreft.

PHIL. And yet Cr pundia, that conceited fair, Amida her toys, affects a faucy air, And views me hourly with a scornful eye.

COR. She might as well with bright Cleora vie.
PHIL. With this large petticoat I firive in vain
To hide my folly patt, and coming pain:
'Tis now no fecret; fhe, and fifty more,
Obferve the fymptoms I had once before:
A fecond babe at Wapping must be plac'd,
When I fearce bear the charges of the laft.
COR. What I could raise I fent; a pound of
plums,

Five fhillings, and a coral for his gums;
To-morrow I intend him fomething more.

PHIL. I fent a frock and pair of fhoes before.
COR. However, you fhall home with me to-
night,

Forget your cares, and revel in delight.
I have in store a pint or two of wine,
Some cracknels, and the remnant of a chine

And now on either fide, and all around,

The weighty fhop-boards fall and bars refound;
Each ready fempftrefs flips her pattins on,
And ties her hood, preparing to be gone.

A PH,

THE FABLE OF MIDAS.

1711.

IDAS, we are in story told,
Turn'd every thing he touch'd to geld:
He chip'd his beard; the pieces round
Glitter'd like fpangles on the ground:
A codling, ere it went his lip in,
Would ftrait become a gelden pippin:
He call'd for drink; you faw him fup
Potable gold in golden cup:

His empty paunch that he might fill,
He fuck his victuals through a quill:
Untouch'd it pafs'd between his grinders,
Ort had been happy for gold-finders:
He cock'd his hat, you would have faid
Mambrino's helm adorn'd his head :
Whene'er he chanc'd his hands to lay
On magazines of corn or hay,
Gold ready coin'd appear'd, inftead
Of paltry provender and bread;
Hence by wife farmers we are told,
Old hay is equal to old gold;
And hence a critic deep maintains,
We learn'd to weigh our geld by grains.
This fool had got a lucky hit;
And people fancy'd he had wit.
Two gods their skill in mufick try'd,
And both chofe Midas to decide:
He against Phoebus' harp decreed,
And gave it for Pan's oaten reed:
The god of wit, to fhew his grudge,
Clapt affes' cars upon the judge;
A goodly pair erect and wide,
Which he could neither gild nor hide.
And now the virtue of his hands
Was loft among Pactolus' fands,
Against whofe torrent while he fwims,
The golden fcurf peels off his limbs ;
Fame fpreads the news, and people travel
From far to gather golden gravel;
Midas, expos'd to all their jeers,
Had loft his art, and kept his ears.
THIS tale inclines the gentle reader
To think upon a certain leader;

To whom, from Midas down, defcends
That virtue in the fingers' ends.
What elfe by ferquifites are meant,
By penfiens, bribes, and three per cent.
By places and commiffions fold,
And turning dung itself to gold?
By ftarving in the midft of ftore,
As t'other Midas did before?

None e'er did modern Midas choofe,*
Subject or patron of his Mufe,

But found him thus their merit fcan,
That Phoebus must give place to Pan:
He values not the poet's praife,
Nor will exchange his plumbs for bays.
To pan alone rich mifers call;
And there's the jeft, for Pan is ALL.
Here English wits will be to feek,
Howe'er, 'tis all one in the Greek.

Bef des, it plainly now appears
Our Midas too hath affes' ears;
Where every fool his mouth applies,
And whispers in a thoufaad lies:
Such grofs delufions could not pass
Through any ears but of an afs.

But geld defiles with frequent touch :
There's nothing fouls the hand fo much:
And scholars give it for the cause
Of British Midas' dirty paws;
Which while the fenate firove to fcour,
They wafh'd away the chemic power.
While he his utmost strength apply'd,
To fwim against this popular tide,
The golden fpoils flew off apace;
Here fell a penfion, there a place
The torrent mercilefs imbibes
Commiffiens, perquifites, and bribes,
By their own weight funk to the bottom;
Much good may de them that have caught 'em!
And Midas now neglected ftands,
With affes ears, and dirty hands.

1711.

AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG.
BEING THE INTENDED SPEECH OF

A FAMOUS ORATOR AGINST PEACE
N Orator difmal of Nottinghamshire,
Who has forty years let out his confcience
to hire,

A

Out of zeal for his country, and want of a place, Is come up, vi & armis, to break the Queen's peace.

He has vamp'd an old speech; and the court, to their forrow,

Shall hear him harangue against Prior to-morrow,
When once he begins, he never will flinch,
But repeats the fame note a whole day, like a
Finch.

I have heard all the speech repeated by Hoppy, And, "Miftakes to prevent, I 've obtained a copy."

*The Lord Treasurer having hunted a wifk ent evening that a ballad might be made on the Earl of Nottingham, this fong was quritten and printed the next morning,

THE SPEЕСН.

WHEREAS, notwithstanding, I am in great pain,

To hear we are making a peace without Spain;
But, most noble Senators, tis a great shame,
There fhould be a peace, while I'm Not-in-
game.

The Duke fhew'd me all his fine houfe; and the
Duchefs

From her clofet brought out a full purse in her clutches.

I talk'd of a peace, and they both gave a start;
His grace
fwore by Gd, and her grace let a f-t:
My long old-fashion'd pocket was prefently cramm'd;
And fooner than vote for a peace I'll be damn'd.
But fonte will cry Turn-coat, and rip up old
ftories,

How I always pretended to be for the Tories.
I anfwer; the Tories were in my good graces,
Till all my relations were put into places :
But ftill I'm in principle ever the fame,

And will quit my best friends, while I'm Notin-game.

When I and fome others fubfcribed our names

To a plot for expelling my mafter King James;
I withdrew my fubfcription by help of a blot,
And fo might difcover or gain by the plot :
I had my advantage, and ftood at defiance,
For Daniel was got from the den of the lions:
I came in without danger, and was I to blame?
For, rather than hang, I would be Not-in-game.
Ifwore to the Queen, that the Prince of Ha-

nover

During her facred life would never come over:
I made ufe of a trope; that " an heir to invite,
"Was like keeping her monument always in
fight."

But, when I thought proper, I alter'd my note;
And in her own hearing I boldly did vote,
That her Majefty stood in great need of a Tutor,
Ard must have an old or a young Coadjutor:
For why; I would fain have put all in a flame,
Because, for fome reafons, I was Net-in-game.
Now my new benefactors have brought me about,
And I'll vote against Peace, with Spain, or with

cut.

Though the Court gives my nephews, and brothers, and cousins,

And all my whole family, places by dozens; Yet, fince I know where a full-purse may be found,

And hardly pay eighteen-pence tax in the pound; Since the Tories have thus difappointed my hopes,

And will neither regard my figures nor tropes; I'll fpeech against peace while Difmal's my name, And be a trae Whig, while I am Not-in-game,

Shall not fee one § New-year's-day in that year,
Then let old England make good chear:
Windfor and Bristow then fhall be
Join'd together in the Low-countree.
Then fr all the tall black Daventry Bird**
Speak against peace right many a word;
And fome fhall admire his conying wit,
For many good groats his tongue shall flit.
But, fpight of the Harty that crawls on all four,
There fhall be peace, pardie, and war no more.
But Englond muft cry alack and well-a-day,
If the jack be taken from the dead-fea.
And, dear Englend, if aught I underftond,
Beware of Carrets from Northumberland.
Carrots fown Thynne‡‡ a deep root may get,
If fo be they are in Somer fet:
Their Conings murk thou; for I have been
told,

They affine when young, and poifen when old.
Root out thefe Carrots, O thou, whofe name
Is backwards and forwards always the fame;
And keep close to thee always that name,
Which backwards and forwards¶¶ is almoft the

fame.

And England, wouldst thou be happy still,
Bury thofe Carrots under a Hill(*).

*It is faid that Queen Anne had nominated Dr. Swift to an English bishoprick; which was opposed of Somerset, who had prevailed on his grace to go by Dr. Sharp, archbishop of York, and the duchefs with her to the queen to lay afde the nomiration, which her Majefty refufed; but the duchess falling Majey, the bishoprick was given to another. See on her knees, and shewing the above prophecy to her

p. 100.

the

Dr. John Robinson, bishop of Bristol, one of plenipotentiaries at Utrecht.

He was dean of Wirdfer, and lord privy-feal. The Neau Stile (which was not used in GreatBritain and Ireland till 1752) was then obferved in most parts of Europe. The bishop fet out from England the latter end of December, O. S.; and, on his arrival at Utrecht, by the variation of the ftile, he found January somewhat advanced.

Alluding to the deanery and bishoprick being poffeffed by the fame perfon, then at Utrecht. **Earl of Nottingham.

+ The duchefs of Somerset.

Thomas Thynne, of Longleate, efq; a gentle after the death of her first husband, Henry Cavenman of very great elate, married the above lad dish earl of Ogle, only fan to Henry duke of Neaucafile, to whom she had been betrothed in her infancy. SS Count Kening fmark. Anna:

THIS

HIS day (the year I dare not tell) Apollo play'd the midwife's part; Into the world Corinna fell,

And he endow'd her with his art.

But Cupid with a Satyr comes:
Both foftly to the cradle creep;

Both ftroke her hands, and rub her gums,
While the poor child lay faft afleep.-
Then Cupid thus: This little maid,

Of Love fhall always fpeak and write.

And I pronounce (the Satyr faid)

The world fall feel her fcratch and bite.

Her talent the difplay'd betimes;

For in twice twelve revolving moons, She feen'd to laugh and fquall in rhymes, And all her geftures were lampoons. At fix years old the fubtle jade

Stole to the pantry-door, and found The butler with my lady's maid:

And you may fwear the tale went round.

She made a fong, how little mifs

Was kifs'd and flobber'd by a lad: And how, when mafter went to p―, Mifs came, and peep'd at all he had. At twelve a wit and a coquette;

Marries for love, half whore, half wife; Cuckolds, elopes, and runs in debt;

Turns authorefs, and is Curll's for life.

TOLAND'S INVITATION TO DISMAL,

To dine with the CALVES-HÉAD CLUB. Imitated from HORACE, lib. I, epist. 5.

[F, deareft Difmal, you for once can dine Upon a fingle dif, and tavern-wine, Toland to you this invitation fends,

To eat the calves-head with your trufty friends,
Sufpend awhile your vain ambitious hopes,
Leave hunting after bribes, forget your tropes,
To-morrow we our mysic feu prepare,
Where thou, our latest profelyte, shalt share:
When we, by proper figns and fymbols, tell,
How, by brave hands, the royal traiter fell;
The meat shall represent the tyrant's head,
The wine his blood our predeceffors fted;
Whilft an alluding hymn fome artist £ings,
We toaft, "Confufion to the race of kings!"
At monarchy we nobly fhew our spight,
And talk what feels call treafon all the night.

Who, by difgraces or ill-fortune funk,
Feels not his foul enliven'd when he 's drunk?
Wine can clear up Godolphin's cloudy face,
And fill Jack Smith with hopes to keep his place:
By force of wine, ev'n Scarborough is brave,
Hal grows more pert, and Somers not fo grave;
Wine can give Portland wit, and Cleveland
fenfe,

Montague learning, Bolton eloquence: Cholmondeley, when drunk, can never lofe his wand;

And Lincoln then imagines he has land.

My province is, to fee that all be right, Glafles and linen clean, and pewter bright; From our myftericus club to keep out fpies, And Tories (drefs'd like waiters) in disguise. You fall be coupled as you beit approve, Seated at table next the men you love. Sunderland, Orford, Boyle, and Richmond? Grace,

Will come and Hampden fhall have Walpole's place.

Wharton, unless prevented by a whore,
Will hardly fail: and there is room for more.
But I love elbow-room whene'er I drink;
And honeft Harry is too apt to stink.

Let no pretence of bufinefs make you ftay;
Yet take one word of counfel by the way.
If Guernsey calls, fend word you 're gone
abroad;

He'll teaze you with King Charles and Bia.cp
Laud,

Or make you faft, and carry you to prayers:
But, if he will break-in, and walk up fairs,
Steal by the back-door out, and leave him there;
Then order Squash to call a hackney-chair.

*This poem, and that which follows it, are tax of the tenny papers mentiored ir Swift's Furnes i Stella, Aug. 7, 1712. They are here printed from folio copies in the Lambeth Librory. N.

Right Hon. Henry Boyle, mentioned twice before.

PEACE AND DUNKIRK: Being an excellent new SONG upon the Surren der of DUNKIRK to General HILL. 1712.

To the Tune of "The King fhall enjoy his own again."

SPIG

PIGHT of Dutch friends and English foes,
Poor Britain fhall have peace at last:,
Holland got towns, and we got blows;
But Dunkirk 's ours, we 'll hold it faft:
We have got it in a string,

And the Whigs may all go fwing,
For a mong good friends I love to be plain;
All their falfe deluded hopes
Will or ought to end in ropes :
But the Queen fhall enjoy her own again.
II.

Sunderland's run out of his wits,
And Difmal double-Difmal looks;
Wharton can only fwear by fits,
And ftrutting Hall is of the hooks;
Old Godolphin full of spleen

Made fulig 120ves, and loft his queen;

Harry lock'd fierce, and fhook his ragged mane: But a Prince of high renown

Swore he 'd rather lofe a crosun, Than the Queen Should enjoy her own ugain.

III.

Our merchant-hips may cut the Line
And not be fapt by privateers;
And commoners who love good wine,
Will drink it now as well as peers:
Landed-men fhall have their rent,
Yet our ftocks rife cent. per cent.

The Dutch from hence fhall no more millions

drain:

We'll bring on us no more debts,
Nor with bankrupts fill Gazettes ;
And the Queen fl.all enjoy her oson again.
VI.

The towns we took ne'er did us good:
What fignified the French to beat?
We spent our money and our blood,

To make the Dutchmen proud and great;
But the Lord of Oxford fwears,
Dunkirk never fhall be theirs.

The Dutch-hearted Whigs may rail and complain;

But true Englishmen may fll
A good health to General Hill;
For the Queen now enjoys her own again.

Obferv'd a parfon near Whitehall.
Cheapening old authors on a stall.
The priest was pretty well in cafe,
And thew'd fome humour in his face;
Look'd with an eafy, carelefs mien,
A perfect ftranger to the spleen;
Of fize that might a pulpit fill,
But more inclining to it fill.
My Lord (who, if a man may fay 't,
Loves mifchief better than his meat)
Was now difpos'd to crack a jeft,
And bid friend Lewis go in quest,
(This Lewis is a cunning fhaver,
And very much in Harley's favour)
In queft who might this perfon be,
What was his name, of what degree;
If poffible, to learn his story,
And whether he were Whig or Tory.
Lewis his patron's humour knows,
Away upon his errand goes,
And quickly did the matter fift;
Found out that it was Doctor Swift,
A clergyman of fpecial note

For fhunning thofe of his own coat;
Which made his brethren of the gown
Take care betimes to run him down:
No libertine, nor over nice,
Addicted to no fort of vice,

Went where he pleas'd, faid what he thought;
Not rich, but ow'd no man a groat;

In itate opinions a la mode,
He hated Wharton like a toad,
Had given the faction many a wound,
And libel'd all the junto round;

15

35

Kept company with men of wit, Who often father'd what he writ:

40

His works were hawk'd in every street,

But feldom rofe above a fheet:

Of late indeed the paper-ftamp

Did very much his genius cramp:

And fince he could not fpend his fire,

45

He now intended to retire.

Said Harley, "I defire to know "From his own mouth if this be fo; "Step to the Doctor ftrait, and fay, "I'd have him dine with me to-day." Swift feem'd to wonder what he meant, Nor would believe my Lord had fent: So never offer'd once to itir; But coldly faid, "Your fervant. Sir!" "Does he retufe me?" Harley cry'd; "He does, with infolence and pride."

Some few days after, Harley fpics The Doctor faften'd by the eyes At Charing-crofs among the rout, Where painted monsters are hung out: He pull'd the ftring, and ftopt his coach, Bec-oning the Doctor to approach.

Swift, who could neither fly nor hide, Came fneaking to the chariot fide, And offer'd many a lame excufe: He never meant the leaft abufc"My Lord the honour you defign'd "Extremely proud—but I had din'd— *Erafmus Lewis, efq, the treasurer's fecretary.