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That, bending down its Top, divines
Whene'er the Soil has Golden Mines;
Where there are none, it stands erect,
Scorning to fhew the least Respect,
As ready was the Wand of Sid

To bend where Golden Mines were hid;
In Scottish Hills found precious Ore,
Where none e'er look'd for it before ;
And by a gentle Bow divin'd
How well a Cully's Purfe was lin'd;
To a forlorn and broken Rake,
Stood without Motion, like a Stake.

THE Rod of Hermes was renown'd
For Charms above and under Ground;
To fleep could mortal Eye-lids fix,
And drive departed Souls to Styx.
That Rod was juft a Type of Sid's,
Which o'er a British Senate's Lids
Could fcatter Opium full as well,
And drive as many Souls to Hell.
SID's Rod was flender, white and tall,
Which oft he us'd to fif withal;
A Plaife was faften'd to the Hook,
And many Score of Gudgeons took ;
Yet ftill fo happy was his Fate,

He caught his Fib, and fav'd his Bait.
SID's Brethren of the conj'ring Tribe

A Circle with their Rod defcribe :

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Which proves a magical Redoubt
To keep mischievous Spirits out
Sid's Rod was of a larger Stride,
And made a Circle thrice as wide;

Where Spirits throng'd with hideous Din,
And he stood there to take them in.
But when th' enchanted Rod was broke,
They vanish'd in a stinking Smoke.

ACHILLES' Scepter was of Wood,
Like Sid's, but nothing near fo good;
That down from Ancestors divine,
Tranfmitted to the Heroes Line.
Thence thro' a long Descent of Kings,
Came an HEIRLOOM, as Homer fings;
Tho' this Defcription looks so big,
That Sceptre was a fapless Twig;
Which, from the fatal Day, when first
It left the Foreft where 'twas nurs'd,
As Homer tells us, o'er and o'er,

Nor Leaf, nor Fruit, nor Bloffom bore.
Sid's Sceptre, full of Juice, did fhoot
In Golden Boughs, and Golden Fruit;
And he, the Dragon, never fleeping,
Guarded each fair Hefperian Pippin.
No Hobby-horfe, with gorgeous Top,
The dearest in Charles Mather's Shop,
Or glitt'ring Tinfel of May-Fair,
'Could with this Rod of Sid compare.

DEAR

DEAR Sid, then why wer't thou fo mad,
To break thy Rod like naughty Lad?
You fhou'd have kiss'd it in your Distress,
And then return'd it to your Miftrefs:
Or made it a Newmarket Switch,
And not a Rod for thy own Breech.
For fince old Sid has broken this,
His next will be a Rod in Pifs.

ATLAS, or the Minifter of State; to the Lord Treasurer Oxford.

ATLAS, we read in ancient Song,

Was fo exceeding tall and ftrong,

He bore the Skies upon his Back,
Juft as a Pedlar does his Pack;
But, as a Pedlar overpress'd,
Unloads upon a Stall to rest ;
Or, when he can no longer ftand,
Defires a Friend to lend a Hand;
So Atlas, left the pond'rous Spheres
Shou'd fink, and fall about his Ears,
Got Hercules to bear the Pile,
That he might fit and reft a While.
YET Hercules was not so strong,
Nor could have born it half fo long.

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GREAT Statesmen are in this Condition, And Atlas is a Politician,

A premier Minifter of State,

Alcides one of fecond Rate.

Suppofe then Atlas ne'er fo wife,

Yet when the Weight of Kingdoms lies
Too long upon his fingle Shoulders,
Sink down he muft, or find Upholders.

The Defcription of a SALAMANDer. Out of Pliny's Nat. Hift. Lib. 10. c. 67. and Lib. 29. c. 4.

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S Maftive Dogs in modern Phrase are

Call'd Pompey, Scipio, and Cæfar;

As Pyes and Daws are often stil'd

With Chriftian Nick-names like a Child;
As we fay Monfieur to an Ape,

Without Offence to human Shape;

So Men have got from Bird and Brute
Names that would beft their Natures fuft.
The Lion, Eagle, Fox, and Boar,
Were Heroes Titles heretofore,

Beftow'd as Hi'roglyphick fit

T'exprefs their Valour, Strength, or Wit.

For

For what is understood by Fame,
Befides the getting of a Name?
But e'er fince Men invented Guns,
A diff'rent Way their Fancy runs ;
To paint a Hero, we enquire
For fomething that will conquer Fire.
Would you defcribe Turrenne or Trump,
Think of a Bucket or a Pump.

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Are these too low ? then find out Grandeur,

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Call my Lord Ca Salamander.

'Tis well;

but fince we live among

Detractors with an evil Tongue,
Who may object against the Term;
Pliny fhall prove what we affirm;
Pliny fhall prove, and we'll apply,

And I'll be judg'd by' Standers-by.

FIRST, then, our Author has defin'd
This Reptile of the Serpent Kind,
With gaudy Coat, and fhining Train,
But loathfome Spots his Body ftain ;
Out from fome Hole obfcure he flies,
When Rains defcend, and Tempefts rife,
Till the Sun clears the Air; and then
Crawls back neglected to his Den.

So when the War has rais'd a Storm,
I've feen a Snake in human Form,
All ftain'd with Infamy and Vice,
Leap from the Dunghill in a Trice,

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