THE

EQUIVOCATION..

A TALE.

AN Abbot rich (whofe tafte was good

Alike in fcience and in food)

His Bishop had refolv'd to treat;
The Bishop came, the Bishop eat.
'Twas filence, till their stomachs fail'd;
And now at Hereticks they rail'd.
What Herefy (the Prelate faid)

Is in that Church where Priests may wed!
Do not we take the Church for life?
But thofe divorce her for a wife;
Like laymen, keep her in their houses,
And own the children of their spouses.
Vile practices! the Abbot cry'd,
For pious ufe we 're set afide!
Shall we take wives? Marriage at best
Is but carnality profest!

Now, as the Bishop took his glass,

He spy'd our Abbot's buxom lafs,

Who crofs'd the room; he mark'd her

eye

That glow'd with love; his pulse beat high.

Fye, father, fye, (the Prelate cries)

A maid fo young! for fhame, be wife.
These indifcretions lend a handle

To lewd lay-tongues, to give us fcandal.

For your vow's fake, this rule I give t'ye :.
Let all your maids be turn'd of fifty.
The Priest reply'd, I have not fwerv'd,
well obferv'd:

But your chafte

precept

That lass full twenty-five has told;

I've yet another who's as old;
Into one fum their ages caft;
So both my maids have fifty past.

The Prelate fmil'd, but durft not blame;
For why? his Lordship did the fame.

Let those who reprimand their brothers, First mend the faults they find in others.

A TRUE

APPARITION.

SCEPTICKS (whofe ftrength of argument makes out,

That wisdom's deep enquiries end in doubt)

Hold this affertion pofitive and clear,

That fprites are pure delufions, rais'd by fear.
Not that fam'd ghoft, which in prefaging found
Call'd Brutus to Philippi's fatal ground,
Nor can Tiberius Gracchus' goary fhade,
Thefe ever-doubting difputants perfuade.
Straight they with fmiles reply, Thofe tales of old
By vifionary Priests were made and told.
Oh, might fome ghost at dead of night appear,
And make you own conviction by your fear!
I know your fneers my easy faith accuse,

Which with fuch idle legends fcares the Mufe:
But think not that I tell thofe vulgar sprights,
Which frighted boys relate on winter nights,
How cleanly milk-maids meet the fairy train,
How headlefs horfes drag the clinking chain,
Night-roaming ghosts, by faucer eye-balls known,
The common fpectres of each country-town.
No, I fuch fables can like you despise,
And laugh to hear these nurse-invented lies.
Yet has not oft' the fraudful guardian's fright
Compell'd him to restore an orphan's right?

And

And can we doubt that horrid ghofts afcend,
Which on the conscious murderer's steps attend?
Hear then, and let attefted truth prevail;
From faithful lips I learnt the dreadful tale.
Where Arden's foreft fpreads its limits wide,
Whose branching paths the doubtful road divide,
A traveler took his folitary way,

When low beneath the hills was funk the day.
And now the skies with gathering darkness lour,
The branches ruftle with the threaten'd shower;
With fudden blafts the foreft murmurs loud,
Indented lightnings cleave the fable cloud,
Thunder on thunder breaks, the tempeft roars,
And heaven difcharges all its watery stores.
The wandering traveler fhelter feeks in vain,
And fhrinks and fhivers with the beating rain:
On his fteed's neck the flacken'd bridle lay,
Who chofe with cautious ftep th' uncertain way;
And now he checks the rein, and halts to hear
If any noise foretold a village near.

At length from far a stream of light he fees
Extend its level ray between the trees;
Thither he fpeeds, and, as he nearer came,
Joyful he knew the lamp's domestic flame
That trembled through the window; cross the way
Darts forth the barking cur, and stands at bay.
It was an antient lonely houfe, that stood
Upon the borders of the fpacious wood;
Here towers and antique battlements arise,
And there in heaps the moulder'd ruin lies.

Some

Some Lord this manfion held in days of yore,
To chace the wolf, and pierce the foaming boar:
How chang'd, alas, from what it once had been!
'Tis now degraded to a public inn.

;

Straight he difmounts, repeats his loud commands:
Swift at the gate the ready landlord ftands
With frequent cringe he bows, and begs excufe,
His house was full, and every bed in ufe.
What not a garret, and no ftraw to spare?
Why then the kitchen-fire and elbow-chair
Shall ferve for once to nod away the night.
The kitchen ever is the fervant's right,
Replies the hoft; there, all the fire around,
The Count's tir'd footmen fnore upon the ground.
The maid, who liften'd to this whole debate,
With pity learnt the weary ftranger's fate.
Be brave, fhe cries, you still may be our guest;
Our haunted room was ever held the beft:

If then your valour can the fright sustain
Of rattling curtains and the clinking chain;
If your courageous tongue have power to talk,
When round your bed the horrid ghost shall walk;
If
you dare afk it, why it leaves its tomb;

I'll fee your sheets well air'd, and fhew the room.
Soon as the frighted maid her tale had told,
The stranger enter'd, for his heart was bold.

The damfel led him through a spacious hall,
Where ivy hung the half-demolish'd wall:
She frequent look'd behind, and chang'd her hue,
While fancy tipt the candle's flame with blue.

And