For thee they Argo's hulk will tax,
And fcrape her pitchy fides for wax :
Then Ariadne kindly lends
Her braided hair to make the ends:
The points of Sagittarius' dart
Turns to an aw! 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 fet aftride,
To take thee kindly in between;
And then the figns will be thirteen.

THE EPITA PH.
HERE, five feet deep, lies on his back,
A cobler, farmonger, and quack;
Who to the ftars in pure good-will
Does to his beft look upward ftill.
Weep, all you customers that use
His pills, his abanicks, or shoes:
And that did your fortunes feek,
you
Step to his grave but once a week:
This earth which bears his body's print,
You'll find has fo much virtue in 't,
That I durft pawn my cars 'twill tell
Whate'er concerns you full as wel!,
In phyfick, folen-goods, or lowe,
As he himself could, when above.

MERLIN'S PROPHECY. 1709.

EVEN and ten addyd to nine.

Of Fraunce her woe this is the fygne;

Tamys rivere twys y-frozen,
Walke fans wetyng fhoes ne hozen.
Then comyth foorthe, ich understonde,
From towne of stoffe to fattyn londe,
An hardie chiftan*, woe the morne,
To Fraunce that evere he was born.
Then fhall the fyfhet beweyle his boffe:
Nor fhall grin berrys; make up the loffe.
Yonge Symnele fhall again mifcarrye;
And Norways pryd§ again fhall marrey :
And from the tree where blofums feele,
Rife fruit fhall come, and all is wele.
Reaums fhall daunce honde in hondell,
And it fhall be merye in old Inglonde;
Then old Inglonde frail be no more,
And no man fall be forie therefore.
Geryon fhall have three hedes agayne,
Till Hapfburge() maxyth them but twayne.

Now Betty from her mafter's bed had flown,
And foftly ftole to difcompofe her own;
The flip od 'prentice from his master's door
Had par'd the dirt, and fprinkled round the
floor.

Now Moll had whirl'd her mop with dextrous airs,

Prepar'd to scrub the entry and the ftairs.
The youth with broomy, ftumps began to trace
The kennel's edge, where wheels had worn the
place.

The fmall-coal-man was heard with cadence deep,

Till drown'd in fhriller notes of chimney-fweep:
Duns at his Lordship's gate began to meet;
And brick-duft Moll had fcream'd through half
the fircet.

The turnkey now his flock returning fees,
Duly let out a-nights to steal for fees:
The watchful bailiffs take their flent ftands,
And school-boys lag with fatchels in their hands,

C

In Imitation of Virgil's Georgics. 1710.

AREFUL obfervers may foretel the hour
(By fure prognoftics) when to dread a
shower.

While rain depends, the penfive cat gives o'er
Her frolicks, and purfues her tail no more.
Returning home at night, you'll find the funk
Strike your offended ferfe with double ftink.
If you be wife, then go not far to dine;
You'll frend in coach-hire more than fave in
wine.

A coming fhower your shooting corns prefage,
Cld aches will throb, your hollow tooth will

rage.

Sauntering in coffee-houfe is Dulman feen;
He damns the climate, and complains of fleer,
Meanwhile the fouth, rifing with dabbled
wings,

A fable cloud athwart the welkin flings,
That fwill'd more liquor than it could contain,
And, like a drunkard, gives it up again.
Brik Sufan whips her linen from the rope,
While the firft drizzling tower is borne aflope:
Such is that fprinkling which fome carclefs quean
Flirts on you from her mop, but not fo clean :
You fly, invoke the gods: then, turning, ftop
To rail; e, finging, fill whirls on her ep.
But, aided by the wind, fought ftill for life ;
Not yet the duft had shunn'd th' unequal ftrife,
And, wafted with its foe by violent guft,
'Twas doubtful which was rain, and which was
duft.

Ah! where muft needy poet seek for aid,
When duft and rain at once his coat invade?
Sole coat! where duft cemented by the rain
Erects the nap, and leaves a cloudy stain !

Now in contiguous drops the flood comes
down.

Threatening with deluge this devoted town,
To fhops in crouds the daggled females fly,
Pretend to cheapen goods, but nothing buy.
The templar spruce, while every spout's abroach,
Stays till 'tis fair, yet feems to call a coach.
The tuck'd-up femftrefs walks with hafty ftrides,
While streams run down her oil'd umbrella's
fides.

Here various kinds, by various fortunes led,
Commence acquaintance underneath a ed.
Triumphant Tories and defponding Whigs
Forget their feuds, and join to fave their wigs.
Box'd in a chair, the beau impatient fts,
While spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fts,
And ever and anon with frightful din

The leather founds; he trembles from within.
So when Troy chairmen bore the wooden steed,
Pregnant with Greeks impatient to be freed,
(Thofe bully Greeks, who, as the moderns do,
Instead of paying chairmen, ran them through)
Laocoon ftruck the outfide with his fpear,
And each imprifon'd hero quak'd for fear.

Now from all parts the fwelling kennels flow,
And bear their trophies with them as they go:
Filths of all hues and odours feem to tell
What street they fail'd from by their fight and
fmell.

They, as each torrent drives, with rapid force, From Smithfield or St. 'Pulchre's fhape their course,

And in huge confluence join'd at Snowhill ridge, Fall from the conduit prone to Holbourn bridge. Sweepings from butchers' ftalls, dung, guts` and blood.

Drown'd puppies, ftinking fprats, all drench'd in mud,

Dead cats, and turnip-tops, come tumbling down the flood.

ON THE LITTLE HOUSE BY THE

CHURCH-YARD OF CASTLEKNOCK. 1710. WHOEVER pleafeth to enquire

Why yonder steeple wants a fpire,

The grey old fellow poet * Joe
The philofophic cause will show.
Ouce on a time a western blaft
At least twelve inches overcast,
Reckoning roof, weathercock, and all,
Which came with a prodigious fall;
And turning topsy-turvey round,
Light with its bottom on the ground;
For, by the laws of gravitation,
It fell into its proper station.

This is the little strutting pile,
You fee juft by the church-yard ftile;
The walls in tumbling gave a knock;
And thus the fteeple got a fhock;
From whence the neighbouring farmer calls
The fteeple, Knock; the vicar, Walls,

*Mr. Beaumont of Trim. Archdeacon Wall, a correspondent of Swift's.

The vicar once a week creeps in, Sits with his knees up to his chin; Here conns his notes, and takes a whet, Till the fmall ragged Hock is met.

A traveller, who by did pafs, Observ'd the roof behind the grass; On tiptoe stood, and rear'd his fnout, And law the parfon creeping out; Was much furpriz'd to fee a crow Venture to build his neft fo low.

A fchool-boy ran unto 't, and thought,
The crib was down, the blackbird caught,
A third, who loft his way by night,
Was forced for fafety to alight;
And, ftepping o'er the fabric-roof,
His horfe had like to fpoil his hoof.

Warburton took it in his noddle,
This building was defign'd a model
Or of a pigeon-house or oven,
To bake one loaf, and keep one dove in.

Then Mrs. Johnfont gave her verdict,
And every one was pleas'd that heard it:
All that you make this ftir about,
Is but a ftill which wants a ipout.
The reverend Dr. Raymond guessd
More probably tha all the rest;
He faid, but that it wanted room,
It might have been a pigmy's tomb.
The Doctor's family came by,
And little mifs began to cry;
Give me that houfe in my own hand!
Then madam bade the chariot stand,
Call'd to the clerk, in manner mild,
Pray, reach that thing here to the child;
That thing, I mean, among the kale :
And here's to buy a pot of ale.

The clerk faid to her, in a heat,
What! fell my maiter's country feat,
Where he comes every week from town!
He would not fell it for a crown.
Poh! fellow, keep not fuch a pother;
In half an hour thou 'lt make another.
Says Nancy, I can make for mifs
A finer houfe ten times than this;

The Dean will give me willow-fticks,
And Joe my apron-full of bricks.

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 heedless maid,
Was to your rooms in Lincoln's-In: betray'd;
Then how you fwore, how many vows you
made!

Ye listening Zephyrs, that o'erheard his love,
Wart the fort 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 shall be spawn'd in Tyburn Road,
Fleet-firect transtorm'd become a Rowery 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 shall 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 paft,
And raging hunger lays my beauty waite.
On templars fpruce in vain I gla. ces throw,
And with fhrill voice invite them as they go.
Expos'd in vain my gloffy ribbands fhine,
And unregarded wave upon the twine.

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

I hardly el ar enough to change a crown.

COR. Hard fate of virtue, thus to be diftreft, Thou fairest of thy trade, and far the beft! 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 par, above the reft Of billes mechanic, elegantly dreft.

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

COR. She might a well with bright Cleora vie.
PHIL. With this large petticoat I strive in vain
To hide my folly pait, 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 raife 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,
come crac1 nels, and the remnant of a chine.

And now on either fide, and all around,

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

THE FABLE OF MIDAS. 1711.

M Turn'd every thing he touch'd to gold:

[IDAS, we are in story told,

He c'd his beard; the pieces round
Glitter'd like fpangles on the ground:
A codling, ere it went his lip in,
Would ftrai become a golden pippin:
He call'd for drink; you faw him fup
Potable gold in golden cup:

His empty paunch that he might fill,
He fuck'd his victuals through a quill:
Untouch'd it país 'd between his grinders,
Or 't 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 cern or kay,
Geld ready coin'd appear'd, instead
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 gold by grains.
This fee had got a lucky hit;
And people fancy'd he bad wit.
Two gods their fill in mufick try'd,
And both chofe Midas to decide:
He againft Phoebus' harp decreed,
And it for Pan's caten reed:
The god of wit, to fhew his grudge,
Claptes' 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 Patiolus' fands,
A gainft whofe torrent while he fwims,'
The golden fcurf peels off his limbs:
Fame spreads 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;

gave

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

None e'er did modern Midas choose, Subject or patron of his Muse,

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

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

But gold 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 ftrove to scour, They wafh'd away the chemic power.

While he his utmost strength apply'd, To fwim against this popular tide, The goldon Spoils flew off apace; Here fell a tenfor, there a place; The torrent merciless imbibes Commiffions, perquifites, and bribes, By their own weight funk to the bottom; Much good may do them that have caught 'em! And Midas now negleed ftands, With affes' ears, and dirty hands.

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

He has vamp'd an old speech; and the court, te 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 wish one evening that a ballad might be made on the Earl of Nottingham, this song was written and printed the next morning.