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That swill:d more Liquor than it could contain,
And, like a Drunkard, gives it up again.
Brik Susan whips her Linnen from the Rope,
While the first drizzling Show'r is borne afloje,
Such is that Sprinkling which some careless Quean
Flirts on you from her Mop, but not so clean.
You fly, invoke the Gods; then turning, stop
To rail ; she singing, still whirls on her Mop.
Not
yet

the Duft had shun'd th' unequal Strife,
But, aided by the Wind, fought ftill for Life,
And wafted with its Foe by violent Guit,
'Twas doubtful which was Rain, and which was Duit.
Ah! where must needy Poet seek for Aid,
When Duft and Rain at once his Coat invade ?
His only Coat, where Dult confus'd with Rain
Roughen the Nap, and leave a mingled Stain.
Now in contiguous Drops the Flood comes down,
Threat'ning with Deluge this devoted Town.
To Shops in Crowds the daggled Females fly,
Pretend to cheapen Goods, but nothing buy.
The Templar spruce, while ev'ry Spout's abroach,
Stays till ’tis fair, yet seems to call a Coach.
The tuck'd-up Semstress walks with hafty Strides,
While Streams run down her oild Umbrella's Sides.
Her various kinds by various Fortunes led,
Commence Acquaintance underneath a Shed.
Triumphant Tories, and desponding Whigs,
Forget their Feuds, and join to save their Wigs.

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Box'd in a Chair the Beau impatient sits,
While Spouts run clatt'ring o'er the Roof by Fits ;
And ever and anon, with frightful Din
The Leather sounds; he trembles from within.
So wlien Troy Chair-men bore the wooden Steed,
Pregnant with Greeks, impatient to be freed;
(Those Belly Greeks, who, as the Moderns do,
Initead of paying Chair-men, run them thro',)
Laocoon struck the Outside with his Spear,
And each-imprison'd Hero quak'd for Fear.

Now from all Parts the swelling Kennels flow,
And bear their Trophies with them as they go :
Filths of all Hues and Odours, seem to tell
What Street they fail'd from, by their Sight and Smell.
They, as each Torrent drives, with rapid Force,
from Smithfield, or St. Pulchre's, shape their Course,
And in huge Confluent join at Snowhill Ridge,
Fall from the Conduit prone to Holbourn-Bridge,
Sweepings from Butchers Stalls, Dungs, Guts and

Blood,
Drown'd Puppies, stinking Sprats, all drench'd in

Mud,
Dead Cats, and Turnip-Tops, come tumbling down

the Flood.

A DESCRIPTION of the

MORNING.

NOW

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TOW hardly here and there an Hackney Coach
Appearing, fhew'd the ruddy Morn's Ap-

proach.
Now Betty from her Master': Bed had flown,
And softly stole to discompose her own.
The Slipshod ’Prentice from his Master's Door
Had par'd the Dirt, and sprinkled round the Floor.
Now Moll had whirld her Mop with dextrous Airs,
Prepar'd to scrub the Entry and the Stairs.
The Youth with broomy Stumps began to trace
The Kennel-Edge, where Wheels had worn the Plice.
The Small-coal Man was heard with Cadence deep,
Till drown'd in thriller Notes of Chimney-Sweep.
Duns at his Lordínip’s Gaie began to meet ;
And Brick-Duit Moli had scream'd thro' half the Streer.
The Turnkey now his Flock returning fees,
Duly let out a-nights to ftcal for Fees,
The watchful Bailiffs take their filent Stands ;
And School-Boys lag with Satchels in their Hands.

HORACE,

HORACE, E PISTLE VII.

BOOK I. imitated, and addrefed to the Earl of OXFORD, in the lear 1713.

H Н

,

5

"ARLEY, the Nation's great Support,

Returning Home one Day from Court,
(His Mind with publick Cares pofleft,
All Europe's Bus'nes in his Breift)
Observ'd a Parjon near Whitehall,
Cheap'ning old Authors on a Stall.
The Priest was pretty well in Case,
And shew'd some Humour in his Face;
Look'd with an easy, careless Mien,
A perfect Stranger to the Spleen ;
of size that might a Pulpit fill,
But more inclining to sit still.
My Lord, (who if a Man may say'ı)
Loves Mischief better than his Mcat,

10

1. Strenuus & fortis, causique Philippus agendis

Clarus ab officiis oftavam circiter boram

Dum redit
5.-Confpexit, ut aiunt,

Adrolum quendam vacua tonsoris in umbra
Cubella propriøs purgantem lenitur ungues.

Was

15

20

Was now dispos’d to crack a Jeft,
And bid Friend Lewis go in quest,
(This Lewis is a cunning Shaver,
And very much in Harley's Favour ;)
In quest, who might this Parfon be,
What was his Name, of what Degree,
If possible to learn his Story,
And whether he were W big or Tory?

LEWIS his Patron's Humour knows,
Away upon his Errand goes,
And quickly did the Matter fift,
Found out that it was Dr. Swift;
A Clergyman of special Note,
For shunning those of his own Coat ;
Which made his Brethren of the Gown
Take Care berimes to run him down,
No Libertine, nor over-nice,
Addicted to no Sort of Vice,
Went where he pleas'd, said what he thought,
Not rich, but ow'd no Man a Groat :

25

30

15. ( Demetri puer hic non læve jusa Philippi

Accipiebat) abi, quære, & refer: Unde domo,quis,

Cujus fortune, quo fit Paire, quove Patrono? 23,25. It, redit, & narrat, Volteium nomine Manam. 31 Tenui censu, sine crimine notum,

Et proper are loco, & ceffare, & quærere, &uti,
Gaudentem.

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