Imatges de pÓgina
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And, though some malicious young spirit did do't, You may

know by the hand it had no cloven foot. Chor. Let censuring, &c.

THE DISCOVER Y.

WHEN

HEN wise lord Berkeley first came here *,

Statesmen and mob expected wonders, Nor thought to find so great a peer

Ere a week past committing blunders. Till on a day cut out by fate,

When folks came thick to make their court, Out Nipt a mystery of state,

To give the town and country sport. Now enters † Bush with new state airs,

His lordship's premier minister; And who, in all profound affairs,

Is held as needful as his † clyfter. With head reclining on his shoulder,

He deals and hears mysterious chat, While every ignorant beholder,

Asks of his neighbour, who is that? With this he put up to my lord,

The courtiers kept their distance due, He twitch'd his sleeve, and stole a word;

Then to a corner both withdrew.

* To Ireland, as one of the lords justices.

+ Bush, by some underhand infinuation, obtained the post of Se. cretary; which had been promised to Swift. | Always taken before my lord went to council.

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Imagine now, my lord and Bush

Whispering in junto most profound, Like good king * Phyz and good king Ush;

While all the rest stood gaping round. At length a spark not too well bred,

Of forward face and ear acute, Advanc'd on tiptoe, lean'd his head,

To over-hear the grand dispute ; To learn what Northern kings design,

Or from Whitehall some new express, Papists disarm’d, or fall of coin ;

For sure (thought he) it can't be less. My lord, said Bush, a friend and I,

Disguis'd in two old thread-bare coats, Ere morning's dawn, stole out to spy

How markets went for hay and oats. With that he draws two handfuls out,

The one was oats, the other hay ; Puts this to's excellency's snout,

And begs he would the other weigh. My lord seems pleas'd, but still directs

By all means to bring down the rates ; Then, with a congée circumflex,

Bush, smiling round on all retreats. Our listener stood a while confus'd,

But gathering spirits, wisely ran for’t, Enrag'd to see the world abus'd,

By two such whispering kings of Brentford.

* See " The Rehearsal.”

THE

THE PROBLEM.

« THAT MY LORD BERKELEY STINKS,

WHEN HE IS IN LOVE.

DID ever problem thus perplex,

Or more employ, the female sex?
So sweet'a passion, who would think,
Jove ever form'd to make a stink?
The ladics vow and swear, they'll try,
Whether it be a truth or lie.
Love's fire, it seems, like inward heat,
Works in my lord by stool and sweat,
Which brings a stink from every pore,
And from behind and from before ;
Yet, what is wonderful to tell it,
None but the favourite nymph can smell it,
But now, to solve the natural cause
By sober philosophic laws :
Whether all passions, when in ferment,
Work out as anger does in vermin;
So, when a weazel you torment,
You find his passion by his scent.
We read of kings, who, in a fright,
Though on a throne, would fall to th-
Beside all this, deep scholars know,
That the main string of Cupid's bow,
Once on a time was an a- gut;
Now to a nobler office put,

,
By favour or desert preferr’d
From giving passage to a t-;
Vol. VII.

D

But

But still, though fix'd among the stars
Does sympathize with human a—.
Thus, when you

feel a hard-bound breech,
Conclude love's bow-string at full stretch,
Till the kind looseness comes, and then
Conclude the bow relax'd again.

And now, the ladies all are bent
Το
try

the great experiment,
Ambitious of a regent's heart,
Spread all their charms to catch a f-;
Watching the first unsavoury wind,
Some ply before, and some behind.
My lord, on fire amid the dames,
F-ts like a laurel in the flames.
The fair approach the speaking part,
To

try the back-way to his heart.
For, as when we a gun discharge,
Although the bore be ne'er so large,
Before the flame from muzzle burst,
Just at the breech it flashes first :
So from

my

lord his passion broke, He f-d first, and then he spoke.

The ladies vanish in the smother,
To confer notes with one another ;
And now they all agreed to name
Whom each-one thought the happy dame.
Quoth Neal, whate'er the rest may think,
I'm sure 'twas I, that smelt the stink.
You smell the stink! by G-d, you lye,
Quoth Ross, for I'll be sworn 'twas I.

Ladies,

Ladies, quoth Levens, pray forbear :
Let's not fall out; we all had share,
And, by the most I can discover,
My lord's a universal lover.

THE DESCRIPTION

OF

A S AL AM AND E R. 1706.

Pliny, Nat. Hift. lib. x. c. 67. lib. xxix. c. 4.
A S maftiff dogs in modern phrase are

Callid Pompey, Scipio, and Cæfar;
As pies and daws are often styl'd
With Christian nicknames, like a child;
As we say Monsieur to an Ape,
Without offence to human shape ;
So men have got, from bird and brute,
Names that would beft their natures fuit.
The Lion, Eagle, Fox, and Boar,
Were Heroes titles heretofore,
Bestow'd as hieroglyphics fit
To shew their valour, strength, or wit :
For what is understood by fame,
Beside the getting of a name?
But, e'er since men invented guns,
A different way their fancy runs :
To paint a Hero, we inquire
For something that will conquer fire.
Would you describe Turenne or Trump?
Think of a bucket or a pump.
Are these too low ?-then find out grander,
lord Cutts a Salamander.
D 2

"Tis

Call my

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