And in a trice returns to ask
Another and another task.
Now palaces are built and towers,
The work of ages in few hours.
Then ftorms are in an instant rais'd,
Which the next moment are appeas'd.
Now showers of gold and gems are rain'd,
As if each India had been drain'd:
And he, in one aftonish'd view,
Sees both Golconda and Peru.
These things, and ftranger things than thefe,
Were done with equal speed and ease.
And now to Rome poor Pug he 'll fend;
And Pug foon reach'd his journey's end,
And foon return'd with fuch a pack
Of bulls and pardons at his back,
the Squire (who had fome hope In holy water and the pope)
Was out of heart, and at a stand
What next to wifh, and what command;
Invention flags, his brain grows muddy,
And black despair fucceeds brown study.
In this diftrefs the woeful youth
Acquaints the nymph with all the truth,
Begging her counsel, for whofe fake
Both foul and body were at ftake,
"And is this all?" replies the fair:
"Let me alone to cure this care.
"When next your Dæmon fhall appear,
Pray give him---look, what I hold here,
"And bid him labour, foon or late,
"To lay these ringlets lank and strait."
Then, fomething scarcely to be feen,
Her finger and her thumb between
She held, and fweetly fmiling, cry'd,
"Your Goblin's fkill fhall now be try'd."
She faid; and gave---what shall I call
That thing fo fhining, crifp, and fmall,
Which round his finger ftrove to twine?
A tendril of the Cyprian vine?
Or fprig from Cytherea's grove ;
Shade of the labyrinth of love?
With awe, he now takes from her hand
That fleece-like flower of fairy land:
Lefs precious, whilom, was the fleece
Which drew the Argonauts from Greece?
Or that, which modern ages fee
The fpur and prize of chivalry,
Whofe curls of kindred texture grace
Heroes and kings of Spanish race.
The fpark prepar'd, and Pug at hand, He iffues, thus, his ftrict command: "This line, thus curve and thus orbicular, "Render direct, and perpendicular;
"But fo direct, that in no fort
"It ever may in rings retort.
"See me no more till this be done :
"Hence, to thy tafk---avaunt, be gone." Away the fiend like lightning flies, And all his wit to work applies:
Anvils and preffes he employs,
And dins whole hell with hammering noise,
In vain he to no terms can bring
One twirl of that reluctant thing;
Th' elaftic fibre mocks his pains,
And its first spiral form retains.
New ftratagems the fprite contrives,
And down the depths of fea he dives:
"This fprunt its pertnefs fure will lofe
"When laid (said he) to foak in ooze."
Poor foolish fiend! he little knew
Whence Venus and her garden grew.
Old Ocean, with paternal waves
The child of his own bed receives
Which oft as dipt new force exerts,
And in more vigorous curls reverts.
So when to earth Alcides flung
The huge Antæus, whence he fprung,
From every fall fresh strength he gain'd,
And with new life the fight maintain'd.
The baffled Goblin grows perplex'd,
Now knows what flight to practise next :
The more he tries, the more he fails;
Nor charm, nor art, nor force avails.
But all concur his fhame to fhow,
And more exafperate the foe.
And now he penfive turns and fad, And looks like melancholic mad. He rolls his eyes now off, now on That wonderful phænomenon.
Sometimes he twifts and twirls it round,
Then, paufing, meditates profound:
No end he fees of his surprize,
Nor what it should be can devife :
For never yet was wool or feather,
That could stand buff against all weather;
And unrelax'd, like this, refift
Both wind and rain, and fnow and mist.
What stuff, or whence, or how 'twas made,
What fpinfter which could spin fuch thread,
He nothing knew; but, to his coft,
Knew all his fame and labour loft.
Subdued, abafh'd, he gave it o'er ;
'Tis faid, he blufh'd; 'tis fure, he swore
Not all the wiles that hell could hatch
Could conquer that Superb Mustach.
Defeated thus, thus difcontent,
Back to the man the Dæmon went :
"I grant," quoth he, "our contract null,
“And give you a discharge in full.
"But tell me now, in name of wonder,
(Since I fo candidly knock under)
"What is this thing? Where could it grow?
"Pray take it---'tis in ftatu quo.
"Much good may 't do you; for my part,
"I wash my hands of 't from my
"In truth, Sir Goblin or Sir Fairy," Replies the lad, “ you 're too foon weary. “What, leave this trifling task undone ! "And think'st thou this the only one?
"Alas! were this fubdued, thoud'ft find
"Millions of more fuch still behind;
"Which might employ, ev'n to eternity,
"Both you and all your whole fraternity."
The PEASANT in Search of his HEIFER.
A TALE AFTER M. DE LA FONTAINE
T fo befell: a filly fwain
Had fought his heifer long in vain ;
For wanton fhe had frifking ftray'd,
And left the lawn, to feek the fhade,
Around the plain he rolls his eyes,
Then, to the wood, in hafte he hies;
Where, fingling out the fairest tree,
He climbs, in hopes to hear or fee.
Anon, there chanc'd that way to pafs
A jolly lad and buxom lass :
The place was apt, the pastime pleasant;
Occafion with her forelock prefent :
The girl agog, the gallant ready;
So lightly down he lays my lady.
But fo fhe turn'd, or fo was laid,
That the fome certain charms display'd,
Which with fuch wonder ftruck his fight
(With wonder, much; more, with delight)
That loud he cry'd in rapture, "What?
"What fee I, gods! What see I not !”
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