He lifts the lid there needs no more,

:

He fmelt it all the time before.

As, from within Pandora's box,
When Epimetheus op'd the locks,
A fudden univerfal crew
Of human evils upward flew,
He fill was comforted to find
That bope at laft remain'd behind;
So Strephon lifting up the lid,

To view what in the cheft was hid,
The vapours flew from out the vent:
But Strephon, cautious, never meant
The bottom of the fan to grope,
And foul his hands in fearch of bape.
Oh! ne'er may fuch a vile machine
Be once in Cælia's chamber feen!
Oh! may the better learn to keep
Thofe ferets of the boary deep* !

As mutton-cutlets t, prime of meat, Which though with art you falt and beat, As laws of cookery require,

And roaft them at the cleareft fire;
If from adown the hopeful chops

The fat upon a cinder drops,

To ftinking fmoke it turns the flame,
Poisoning the flesh from whence it came,
And up exhales a greafy stench,
For which you curfe the carelefs wench:
So things which must not be exprest,
When plumpt into the reeking cheft,
Send up an excremental fmell

To taint the parts from whence they fell;
The petticoats and gown perfume,
And waft a ftink round every room.
Thus finishing his grand furvey,
The fwain difgufted flunk away;
Repeating in his amorous fits,
"Oh! Calia, Calia, Calia fh-!”
But vengeance, goddess never fleeping,
Soon punish d Strephon for his peeping:
His foul imagination links

Each dame he fees with all her flinks;
And, if unfavoury odours fly,
Conceives a lady ftanding by.
All women his defcription fits,
And both ideas jump like wits;
By vicious fancy coupled faft,
And fill appearing in contraft.

I pity wretched Strephon, blind
To all the charms of woman-kind.
Should I the Queen of Love refufe,
Because the role from stinking ooze?
To him that looks behind the fcene,
Statira's but fome pocky quean.
When Calia all her glory fhows,
If Strephon would but stop his note,
Who now fo impiously blafphemes

Her ointments, daubs, and paints, and creams,

Her washes, flops, and every elout,
With which he makes fo foul a rout;

He foon would learn to think like me,

And blefs his ravifh'd eyes to fee
Such order from confufion fprung,
Such gaudy tulips rais'd from dung.

THE

POWER OF TIME. 1730.

Ir neither brafs nor marble can withstand
The mortal force of Time's deftructive hand;
If mountains fink to vales, if cities die,
And leffening rivers mourn their fountains dry:
When my old caffock (faid a Welsh divine)
Is out at elbows; why fhould I repine?

ΟΝ

MR. PULTNEY'S

BEING PUT OUT OF THE COUNCIL. 1731.

SIR ROBERT, weary'd by Will Pultney's teafings. Who interrupted him in all his leafings, Refolv'd that Will and he fhould meet no more a Full in his face Bob fhuts the council door; Nor lets him fit as juftice on the bench, To punish thieves, or lafh a fuburb-wench. Yet ftill St. Stephen's chapel open lies For Will to enter.-What fhall I advise? Ev'n quit the HOUSE, for thou too long has fat in't; Produce at laft thy dormont ducal patent; There, near thy master's throne in thelter plac'd, Let Will unheard by thee his thunder waste. Yet ftill I fear your work is done but half; For, while he keeps his pen, you are not safe. Hear an old fable, and a dull one too; It bears a moral, when apply'd to you.

A hare had long efcap'd purfuing hounds, By often fhifting into diflant grounds; Till, finding all his artifices vain, To fave his life he leap'd into the main. But there, alas! he could no fafety find, A pack of dog-fifb had him in the wind. He fcours away; and, to avoid the foe, Defcends for fhelter to the shades below: There Cerberus lay watching in his den, (He had not feen a hare the Lord knows when). Out bounc'd the mastiff of the triple head; Away the hare with double fwiftness fled; Hunted from earth, and sea, and hell, he flies (Fear lent him wings) for fafety to the fkies. How was the fearful animal diftreft ! Behold a foe more fierce than all the reft! Sirius, the fwifteft of the heavenly pack, Fail'd but an inch to feize him by the back. He fled to earth, but first it cost him dear: He left his fcut behind, and half an ear. Thus was the hare purfu d, though free from

guilt;

Thus, Bob, fhalt thou be maul'd, fly where thou

wilt.

Then, honeft Robin, of thy corpfe beware;
Thou art not half fo nimble as a hare :

Too ponderous is thy bulk to mount the sky;
Nor can you go to bell, before you die.
So keen.thy hunters, and thy fent fo strong,
Thy turns and doublings cannot fave thee long *. 、

This bunting ended in the promotion both of Will and Bab. Bob was no longer first minifler, but Earl of Orford; and Will was no longer his opponent, but Each of Bath.

Two college fophs of Cambridge growth,
Both fpecial wits, and lovers both,
Conferring, as they us'd to meet,
On love, and books, in rapture sweet
(Mufe, find me names to fit my metre,
Caffinus this, and t'other Peter);
Friend Peter to Caffinus goes,
To chat a while, and warm his nofe:
But fuch a fight was never feen,
The lady lay fwallow'd up in fpleen.
He feem'd as juft crept out of bed;
One greafy flocking round his head,
The other he fat down to dearn
With threads of different-colour'd yarn;
His breeches torn expofing wide
A ragged fhirt and tawny hide.

Scorched were his fhins, his legs were bare,
But well embrown'd with dirt and hair.
A rug was o'er his fhoulders thrown'
(A rug for night-gown he had none).
His jordon food in manner fitting
Between his legs to fpew or fpit in;
His ancient pipe, in fable dy'd,
And half unfmok'd, lay by his fide.

Him thus accoutr'd Peter found,
With eyes in fmoke and weeping drown'd;
The leavings of his last night's pot
On embers plac'd, to drink it hot.

Why, Caffy, thou wilt doze thy pate:
"What makes thee lie a-bed fo late?
The finch, the linnet, and the thrush,
Their mattins chant in every bush:

*The Duke was unhappily killed, in croffing the river Boyne, July 1. 1690, and was buried in St. Patrick's cathedral; where the dean and chapter erected a fmall monument to bis honour, at their own expence.

And I have heard thee oft' falute
Aurora with thy early flute.
Heaven fend thou haft not got the hyps!
How! not a word come from thy lips?
Then gave him fome familiar, thumps;
A college-joke, to cure the dumps.
The fwain at last, with grief oppreft,
Cry'd, Calia! thrice, and figh'd the reft.
Dear Caffy, though to afk I dread,
Yet afk I muft. Is Cælia dead?

How happy I, were that the worst!
But I was fated to be curft.

Come, tell us, has the play'd the whore? Oh, Peter, would it were no more! Why, plague confound her fandy locks! Say, has the fmall or greater pox Sunk down her nofe, or feam'd her face? Be cafy, 'tis a common cafe.

Oh, Peter! beauty's but a varnish, Which time and accidents will tarnish: But Cælia has contriv'd to blaft. Those beauties that might ever last. Nor can imagination guess, Nor eloquence divine exprefs, How that ungrateful charming maid My pureft paflion has betray'd. Conceive the most envenom'd dart To pierce an injur'd lovers heart. Why, hang her; though the seems so coy, I know the loves the barber's boy.

Friend Peter, this I could excufe; For every nymph has leave to choose; Nor have I reafon to complain, She loves a more deferving fwain. But, oh! how ill haft thou divin'd A crime that shocks all human-kind; A deed unknown to female race, At which the fun fhould hide his face! Advice in vain you would applyThen leave me to defpair and die. Ye kind Arcadians, on my urn Thefe elegies and fonnets burn; And on the marble grave these rhymes, A monument to after-times: "Here Caffy lies, by Cælia flain, "And dying never told his pain.' Vain empty world, farewell. But hark, The loud Cerberian triple bark. And there-behold Alecto stand, A whip of fcorpions in her hand. Lo, Charon from his leaky wherry Beckoning to waft me o'er the ferry. I come, I come, Medusa! fee, Her ferpents hifs direct at me. Begone; unhand me, hellish fry:

Avaunt-ye cannot fay 'tis I."

Dear Caffy, thon muft purge and bleed; I fear thou wilt be mad indeed. But now, by friendship's facred laws, I here conjure thee, tell the caufe; And Celia's horrid fact relate: Thy friend would gladly thare thy fate.

To force it out, my heart muft rend: Yet when conjur'd by fuch a friendThink, Peter, how my foul is rackt!

66

quali in cellula tanti ductoris cineres delitefcunt."

See Macbeth.

Now bend thine ear, fince out it must;
But when thou fee'ft me laid in duft,
The fecret thou shalt ne'er impart,
Not to the nymph that keeps thy heart;
(How would her virgin foul bemoan
À crime to all her fex unknown!)
Nor whisper to the tattling reeds
The blackeft of all female deeds;
Nor blab it on the lonely rocks,
Where Echo fits, and liftening mocks;
Nor let the Zephyrs' treacherous gale
Through Cambridge waft the direful tale;
Nor to the chattering feather'd race
Discover Calia's foul difgrace.
But, if you fail, my spectre dread,
Attending nightly round your bed:
And yet I dare confide in you:
So take my fccret, and adieu.
Nor wonder how I lost my wits:
Oh! Cælia, Cælia, Calia fh-!

A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG NYMPH GOING TO BED.

Written for the bonour of the Fair Sex.

CORINNA, pride of Drury-lane, For whom no fhepherd fighs in vain : Never did Covent-garden boast So bright a batter'd strolling toast! No drunken rake to pick her up; No cellar, where on tick to fup; Returning at the midnight hour, Four ftories climbing to her bower; Then feated on a three-legg'd chair, Takes off her artificial hair. Now picking out a crystal eye, She wipes it clean, and lays it by: Her eye-brows, from a mouse's hide, Stuck on with art on either fide, Pulls off with care, and firft difplays 'em, Then in a play-book fmoothly lays 'em: Now dextrously her plumpers draws, That ferve to fill her hollow jaws : Untwists a wire, and from her gums A fet of teeth completely comes: Pulls out the rags contriv'd to prop Her flabby dugs, and down they drop. Proceeding on, the lovely goddess Unlaces next her fteel-ribb'd bodice, Which, by the operator's fkill, Prefs down the lutnps, the hollows fill. Up goes her hand, and off fhe flips The bolters that fupply her hips. With gentleft touch the next explores Her fhankres, iffues, running fores, Effects of many a fad difafter; And then to each applies a plafter: But muft, before the goes to bed, Rub off the daubs of white and red, And fmooth the furrows in her front With greafy paper stuck upon't. She takes a bolus ere the fleeps; And then between two blankets creeps? With pains of love tormented lies;

Or,

The chance to close her eyes, Of Bridewell and the Compter dreams,

Or, by a faithlefs bully drawn,
At fome hedge-tavern lies in pawn;
Or to Jamaica seems tranfported
Alone, and by no planter courted;
Or, near Fleet-ditch's oozy brinks,
Surrounded with a hundred ftinks,
Belated, feems on watch to lie,
And fnap fome cully paffing by;
Or, ftruck with fear, her fancy runs
On watchmen, conftables, and duns,
From whom she meets with frequent rubs
But never from religious clubs,
Whofe favour fhe is fure to find,
Becaufe fhe pays them all in kind.
Corinna awakes. A dreadful fight!
Behold the ruins of the night!
A wicked rat her plafter ftole,
Half eat, and dragg'd it to his hole.
The cryftal eye, alas! was mifs'd;
And puts had on her plumpers p-fs'd.
A pigeon pick'd her iffue-peas:

And Shock her treffes fill'd with fleas.
The nymph, though in this mangled plights
Muft every morn her limbs unite.
But how fhall I defcribe her arts
To recollect the scatter'd parts?

Or fhow the anguish, toil, and pain,
Of gathering up herself again?
The bafhful mufe will never bear

In fuch a fcene to interfere.

Corinna, in the morning dizen'd,

Who fees, will fpue; who fmells, be poison'ă.

STREPHON AND CHLOE. 1731

Of Chloe all the town has rung,

By every fize of poets fung:
So beautiful a nymph appears

But once in twenty thousand years;
By Nature form'd with nicest care,
And faultlefs to a fingle hair.

Her graceful mien, her fhape, and face,
Confefs'd her of no mortal race:
And then fo nice, and fo genteel;
Such cleanlinefs from head to heel:
No humours grofs, or frowzy fteams,
No noifome whiffs, or fweaty ftreams,
Before, behind, above, below,
Could from her taintless body flow:
Would fo difcreetly things difpofe,
None ever faw her pluck a rose.

Her dearest comrades never caught her
Squat on her hams, to make maid's water.
You'd fwear that fo divine a creature

Felt no neceffities of nature.

In fummer had the walk'd the town,

Her arm-pits would not stain her gown:

At country-dances not a nofe

Could in the dog-days fmell her toes.

Her milk-white hands, both palms and backs,

Like ivory dry, and foft as wax,

Her hands, the foftest ever felt,

Though cold would burn, though dry would melt
Dear Venus, hide this wondrous maid,

Nor let her loose to spoil your trade.
While the engroffes every fwain,

Think what a cafe all men are now in,
What ogling, fighing, toafting, vowing!
What powder'd wigs! what flames and darts!
What hampers full of bleeding hearts!
What fword-knots! what poetic trains!
What billet-doux, and clouded canes!

But Strephon figh'd fo loud and strong,
He blew a fettlement along;
And bravely drove his rivals down
With coach and fix, and houfe in town.
The bafhful nymph no more withitands,
Because her dar papa commands.
The charming couple now unites:
Proceed we to the marriage-rites.

Imprimis, at the temple-porch
Stoed Hymen with a flaming torch:
The failing Cyprian goddefs brings
Her infant-loves with purple wings;
And pigeons billing, fparrows treading,
Fair emblems of a fruitful wedding.
The mufes next in order follow,
Conducted by their fquire, Apollo:
Then Mercury with filver tongue;
And Hebe, goddefs ever young.
Behold, the bridegroom and his bride
Walk hand in hand, and fide by fide;
She by the tender Graces dreft,
But he by Mars, in fcarlet vest.
The nymph was cover'd with her flammeum,
And Phobus fung th' epithalamium.
And laft, to make the matter fure,
Dame Juno brought a prieft demure.
Luna was abfent, on pretence

Her time was not till nine months hence.
The rites perform'd, the parfon paid,
In ftate return'd the grand parade;
With loud huzza's from all the boys,
That now the pair muft crown their joys.
But ftill the hardest part remains:
Strephon had long perplex'd his brains,
How with fo high a nymph he might
Demean himself the wedding-night:
For, as he view'd his perfon round,
Mere mortal fleth was all he found:
His hand, his neck, his mouth, his fect,
Were duly wafh'd, to keep them fweet
(With other parts that fhali be nameless,
The ladies elfe might think me fhameless).
The weather and his love were hot;
And, should he ftruggle, I know what-
Why, let it go, if I must tell it--

He'll fweat, and then the nymph may smell it;
While fhe, a goddefs dy'd in grain,
Was unfufceptible of ftain,

And, Venus-like, her fragrant skin
Exhal'd ambrofia from within.
Can fuch a deity endure

A mortal human touch impure!
How did the humbled fwain deteft
His prickly beard, and hairy breast!
His night-cap, border'd round with lace,

Could give no foftnefs to his face.

Yet, if the goddefs could be kind,

What endless raptures muft he find!
And goddeffes have now and then
Come down to vifit mortal men;
To vifit, and to court them too:
A certain goddefs, God knows who,

(As in a book he heard it read)
Took Colonel Peleus to her bed.
But what if he fhould lofe his life
By venturing on his heavenly wife?
(For Strephon could remember well,
That once he heard a school-boy tell,
How Semele of mortal race

By thunder died in Jove's embrace,)
And what if daring Strephon dies
By lightning fhot from Chloe's eyes?
While thefe reflections fill'd his head,
The bride was put in form to bed:
He follow'd, ftript, and in he crept
But awfully his distance kept.

Now ponder well ye parents dear;
Forbid your daughters guzzling beer;
And make them every afternoon
Forbear their tea, or drink it foon;
That, ere to bed they venture up,
They may difcharge it every fup:
If not, they muft in evil plight
Be often forc'd to rife at night.
Keep them to wholefome food confin'd,
Nor let them taste what caufes wind:
('Tis this the fage of Samos means,
Forbidding his difciples beans.)
Oh! think what evils must enfue;
Mifs Moll the jade will burn it blue:
And, when he once has got the art,
She cannot help it for her heart;
But out it flies, ev'n when fhe meets
Her bridegroom in the wedding-sheets.
Carminative and diuretic

Will damp all paffion fympathetic:
And love fuch nicety requires,
One blaff will put out all his fires.
Since hufbands get behind the feene,
The wife fhould ftudy to be clean;
Nor give the smallest room to guess
The time when wants of nature prefs;
But after marriage practife more
Decorum than fhe did before;
To keep her spouse deluded ftill,
And make him fancy what the will.

In bed we left the married pair :
'Tis time to fhow how things went there
Strephon, who had been often told
That fortune ftill aflifts the bold,
Refolv'd to make the firft attack;
But Chloe drove him fiercely back.
How could a nymph fo chafte as Chloe,
With conftitution cold and fnowy,
Permit a brutish man to touch her?
Ev'n lambs by inftinct fly the butcher.
Refiftance on the wedding-night
Is what our maidens claim by right:
And Chloe, 'tis by all agreed,

Was maid in thought, and word, and deed,
Yet fome affign a different reafon ;
That Strephon chose no proper feafon.

Say, fair-ones, muft I make a pause,
Or freely tell the fecret caufe?
Twelve cups of tea (with grief I speak)
Had now constrain'd the nymph to leak.
This point muft needs be fettled first:
The bride must either void or burft.
Then fee the dire effects of peafe;
Think what can give the colic eafe.

The nymph, opprefs'd before, behind,
As fhips are tois'd by waves and wind,
Steals out her hand, by nature led,
And brings a veffel into bed;
Fair utenul, as fmooth and white
As Chloe's fkin, almost as bright.
Strephon, who heard the fuming rill
As from a moffy cliff diftil,

Cry'd out, Ye gods! what found is this?
Can Chloe, heavenly Chloe, · .?
But when he fmelt a noisome steam,
Which oft' attends that luke-warm stream;
(Salerno both together joins

As fovereign medicines for the loins ;)
And though contriv'd, we may fuppofe,
To flip his cars, yet ftruck his nofe;
He found her, while the fcent increas'd,
As mortal as himself at leaft.
But foon, with like occafions preft,
He boldly fent his hand in queft
(Infpir'd with courage from his bride)
To reach the pot on t'other fide;
And, as he fill'd the reeking vase,
Let fly a roufer in her fate.

The little Cupids hovering round,

(As pictures prove, with garlands crown'd)
Abah'd at what they faw and heard,
Flew off, nor ever more appear'd.
Adieu to ravishing delights,
High raptures, and romantic flights;
To goddeffes fo heavenly fweet,
Expiring fhepherds at their feet;
To filver meads and shady bowers,
Drefs'd up with amaranthine flowers.

How great a change! how quickly made!
They learn to call a fpade a spade.
They foon from all conftraints are freed;
Can fee cach other do their need.

On box of cedar fits the wife,
And makes it warm for dearest life;
And, by the beastly way of thinking,
Finds great fociety in ftinking.
Now Strephon daily entertains
His Chloe in the homelieft ftrains;
And Chloe, more experienc'd grown,
With intereft pays him back his own.
No maid at Court is lefs afham'd,
Howe'er for felling bargains fam'd,
Than the to name her parts behind,
Or when a-bed to let out wind.
Fair Decency, celestial maid!
Defcend from heaven to beauty's aid!
Though beauty may beget defire,
"Tis thou must fan the lover's fire:
For beauty, like fupreme dominion,
Is beft fupported by opinion:
If decency brings no fupplics,
Opinion falls, and beauty dies.

To fee fome radiant nymph appear
In all her glittering birth-day gear,
You think fome goddess from the sky
Defcended, ready cut and dry:
But, ere you fell yourself to laughter,
Confider well what may come after;
For fine ideas vanish fast,
While all the grofs and filthy laft.
⚫O Strephon, ere that fatal day

Had you but through a cranny spy'd
On houfe of cafe your future bride,
In all the postures of her face

Which nature gives in fuch a cafe ;
Distortions, groanings, ftrainings, heavings;
'Twere better you had lick'd her leavings,
Than from experience find too late
Your goddefs grown a filthy mate.
Your fancy then had always dwelt
On what you faw, and what you fmelt;
Would fill the fame ideas give ye,
As when you fpy'd her on the privy;
And, fpite of Chloe's charms divine,
Your heart had been as whole as mine.
Authorities, both old and recent,
Direct that women must be decent;
And from the fpoufe each blemish hide,
More than from all the world befide.
Unjustly all our nymphs complain
Their empire holds fo fhort a reign;
Is after marriage loft fo foon,

It hardly holds the honey-moon:
For, if they keep not what they caught,
It is entirely their own fault.
They take poffeffion of the crown,
And then throw all their weapons down:
Though, by the politician's scheme,
Whoe'er arrives at power fupreme,
Thofe arts by which at firft they gain it,
They ftill muft practife to maintain it.
What various ways our females take
To pafs for wits before a rake!
And in the fruitlefs fearch purfue
All other methods but the true!

Some try to learn polite behaviour
By reading books against their Saviour;
Some call it witty to reflect

On every natural defect;

Some fhow they never want explaining,
To comprehend a double meaning.
But fure a tell-tale out of school
Is of all wits the greatest fool;
Whofe rank imagination fills
Her heart, and from her lips diftils:
You'd think the utter'd from behind,
Or at her mouth was breaking wind.
Why is a handfome wife ador'd
By every coxcomb but her lord?
From yonder puppet-man inquire,
Who wifely hides his wood and wire;
Shows Sheba's queen completely dreft,
And Solomon in royal veft:

But view them litter'd on the floor,
Or ftrung on pegs behind the door;
Punch is exactly of a piece

With Lorrain's duke, and prince of Greece,

A prudent builder fhould forecast

How long the stuff is like to laft;
And carefully obferve the ground,

To build on fome foundation found.

What houfe, when its materials crumble,
Muft not inevitably tumble?
What edifice can long endure,
Rais'd on a bafis unfecure?

Rafh mortals, ere you take a wife,
Contrive your pile to laft for life:
Since beauty fearce endures a day,