The clergy keep me for their cafe,
And turn and wind me as they please.
A new and wondrous art I fhow
Of raising fpirits from below;
In fcarlet fome, and fome in white :
They rife, walk round, yet never fright.
In at each mouth the fpirits pafs,
Diftinctly seen as through a glass:
O'er head and body make a rout,
And drive at laft all fecrets out:
And ftill the more I thow my art,
The more they open ev'ry heart.
A greater chymift none than I,
Who, from materials hard and dry,
Have taught men to extract with skill
More precious juice than from a ftill.
Although I'm often out of cafe,
I'm not afham'd to fhow my face.
Though at the tables of the great,
I near the fide-boad take my feat ;
Yet the plain 'fquire. when dinner's done,
Is never pleas'd till I make one:
He kindly bids me near him ftand;
And often take me by the hand,
I twice a-day a-hunting go;
Nor ever fail to feize my foe;
And when I have him by the pole,
I drag him upwards from his hole,
Though fome are of so stubborn kind,
I'm force'd to leave a limb behind.
I hourly wait fome fatal end;
For I can break, but fcorn to bend.
The Gulf of all human Poffeffions.
Written in the year 1724.
Come hither and behold the fruits,
Vain man, of all thy vain purfuits.
Take wife advice, and look behind,
Bring all paft actions to thy mind.
Here you may fee, as in a glafs,
How foon all human pleafures pafs.
How will it mortify thy pride,
To turn the true impartial fide!
How will your eyes contain their tears,
When all the fad reverfe appears
This cave within its womb confines
The laft refult of all defigns:
Here lie depofited the spoils
Of bufy mortals endless toils:
Here, with an easy search, we find
The foul corruptions of mankind.
The wretched purchase here behold
Of traitors who their country fold.
This gulf infatiable imbibes
The lawyers fees, the ftatefman's bribes.
Here, in their proper fhape and mien,
Fraud, perjury, and guilt are feen.
Neceffity, the tyrant's law,
All human race muft hither draw;
All prompted by the fame defire,
The vig'rous youth and aged fire.
Behold, the coward and the brave,
The haughty prince, the humble slave,
Phyfician, lawyer, and divine,
All make oblations as this fhrine.
Some enter boldly, fome by ftealth,
And leave behind their fruitlefs wealth.
For while the bashful fylvan maid,
As half afham'd, and half afraid,
Approaching finds it hard to part
With that which dwelt fo near her heart;
The courtly dame, unmov'd by fear,
Profufely pours her off'rings here.
A treasure here of learning lurks, Huge heaps of never-dying works; Labours of many an ancient fage, And millions of the present age.
In at this gulf all off'rings pafs,
And lie an undstinguish'd mass.
Deucalion, to restore mankind,
Was bid to throw the ftones behind;
So thofe who here their gifts convey,
Are force'd to look another way;
For few, a chosen few, must know
The mysteries that lie below.
Sad charnel-house! a difmal dome, For which all mortals leave their home; The young, the beautiful, and brave, Here bury'd in one common grave; Where each fupply of dead renews Unwholesome damps, offenfive dews: And lo! the writing on the walls
Points out where each new victim falls;
The food of worms, and beafts obscene,
Who round the vault luxuriant reign.
See where thofe mangled corpfes lie,
Condemn'd by female hands to die;
A comely dame once clad in white,
Lies there confign'd to endless night;
By cruel hands her blood was fpilt,
And yet her wealth was all her guilt.
And here fix virgins in a tomb,
All-beauteous offspring of one womb,
Oft in the train of Venus feen,
As fair and lovely as their queen :
In royal garments each was dreft,
Each with a gold and purple vest;
I faw them of their garments ftript;
Their throats were cut, their bellies ript;
Twice were they bury'd, twice were born,
Twice from their fepulchres were torn ;.
But now difmember'd here are caft,
And find a refting-place at last.
Here oft the curious trav'ler finds
The combat of oppofing winds:
And feeks to learn the fecret caufe,
Which alien feems from nature's laws;
Why, at this cave's tremendous mouth,
He feels at once both north and fouth:
Whether the winds in caverns pent
Thro' clefts oppugnant force a vent;
Or whether, op'ning all her ftores,
Fierce Æolus in tempeft roars.
Yet from this mingled mafs of things
In time a new creation fprings.
These crude materials once fhall rife
To fill the earth, and air, and ikies:
Written in the year 1725.
DEpriv'd of root, and branch, and rind,
Yet flow'rs I bear of ev'ry kind;
And fuch is my prolific pow'r,
They bloom in lefs than half an hour:
Yet ftanders-by may plainly fee
They get no nourishment from me.
My head with giddinefs goes round:
And yet I firmly ftand my ground:
All over naked I am feen,
And painted like an Indian queen.
No couple-beggar in the land
E'er join'd fuch numbers hand in hand;
I join them fairly with a ring;
Nor can our parfon blame the thing:
And though no marriage-words are spoke,
They part not till the ring is broke,
Yet hypocrite fanatics cry,
I'm but an idol rais'd on high;
And once a weaver in our town,
A damn'd Cromwellian, knock'd me down.
I lay a pris'ner twenty years,
And then the jovial cavaliers
To their old post restor'd all three,
I mean the church, the king, and me.
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