Imatges de pàgina
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So (if my simile you minded,
Which I confess is too long-winded)
When late a feminine magician,*
Join'd with a brazen politician,t
Exposed, to blind the nation's eyes,
A parchment of prodigious size;
Conceal'd behind that ample screen,
There was no silver to be seen.
But to this parchment let the Drapier
Oppose his counter-charm of paper,
And ring Wood's copper in our ears
So loud till all the nation hears;

That sound will make the parchment shrivel,
And drive the conjurers to the Devil;
And when the sky is grown serene,

Our silver will appear again.

WOOD AN INSECT. 1725.

By long observation I have understood,
That two little vermin are kin to Will Wood.
The first is an insect they call a wood-louse,
That folds up itself in itself for a house,
As round as a ball, without head, without tail,
Enclosed cap à pié, in a strong coat of mail.
And thus William Wood to my fancy appears
In fillets of brass roll'd up to his ears;

* The Duchess of Kendal, who was to have a share of Wood's profits.

† Sir Robert Walpole, nick-named Sir Robert Brass. The patent for coining halfpence.-F.

And over these fillets he wisely has thrown,
To keep out of danger, a doublet of stone.
The louse of the wood for a medicine is used,
Or swallow'd alive, or skilfully bruised.
And, let but our mother Hibernia contrive
To swallow Will Wood, either bruised or alive,
She need be no more with the jaundice possest,
Or sick of obstructions, and pains in her chest.
The next is an insect we call a wood-worm,
That lies in old wood like a hare in her form ;
With teeth or with claws it will bite or will scratch,
And chambermaids christen this worm a death-watch;
Because like a watch it always cries click ;

Then woe be to those in the house who are sick :
For, as sure as a gun, they will give up the ghost,
If the maggot cries click when it scratches the post,
But a kettle of scalding hot-water injected
Infallibly cures the timber affected;

The omen is broken, the danger is over;

The maggot will die, and the sick will recover.
Such a worm was Will Wood, when he scratch'd at
the door

Of a governing statesman or favourite whore;
The death of our nation he seem'd to foretell,
And the sound of his brass we took for our knell.
But now, since the Drapier has heartily maul'd him,
I think the best thing we can do is to scald him;
For which operation there's nothing more proper
Than the liquor he deals in, his own melted copper;
Unless, like the Dutch, you rather would boil
This coiner of raps † in a caldron of oil.

Then choose which you please, and let each bring a fagot,

For our fear's at an end with the death of the maggot.

* He was in jail for debt.-F.
† Counterfeit halfpence.-F.

*

PROMETHEUS,

ON WOOD THE PATENTEE'S IRISH HALFPENCE.

1724.

I.

As when the squire and tinker Wood
Gravely consulting Ireland's good,
Together mingled in a mass

Smith's dust, and copper, lead, and brass;
The mixture thus by chemic art
United close in every part,

In fillets roll'd, or cut in pieces,
Appear'd like one continued species;
And, by the forming engine struck,
On all the same impression stuck,
So, to confound this hated coin,
All parties and religions join;

Whigs, Tories, Trimmers, Hanoverians,
Quakers, Conformists, Presbyterians,
Scotch, Irish, English, French, unite,
With equal interest, equal spite;
Together mingled in a lump,
Do all in one opinion jump;
And every one begins to find
The same impression on his mind.

A strange event! whom gold incites
To blood and quarrels, brass unites;
So goldsmiths say, the coarsest stuff
Will serve for solder well enough:

* See an account of Wood's project in the Drapier's Letters.-N.

So by the kettle's loud alarm
The bees are gather'd to a swarm:
So by the brazen trumpet's bluster
Troops of all tongues and nations muster;
And so the harp of Ireland brings
Whole crowds about its brazen strings.

II.

There is a chain let down from Jove,
But fasten'd to his throne above,
So strong that from the lower end,
They say all human things depend.
This chain, as ancient poets hold,
When Jove was young, was made of gold,
Prometheus once this chain purloin'd,
Dissolved, and into money coin'd;
Then whips me on a chain of brass;
(Venus* was bribed to let it pass.)
Now while this brazen chain prevail'd,
Jove saw that all devotion fail'd;
No temple to his godship raised;
No sacrifice on altars blazed;

In short, such dire confusion follow'd,
Earth must have been in chaos swallow'd.
Jove stood amazed; but looking round,
With much ado the cheat he found;
'Twas plain he could no longer hold
The world in any chain but gold;
And to the god of wealth, his brother,
Sent Mercury to get another.

Prometheus on a rock is laid,

Tied with the chain himself had made,
On icy Caucasus to shiver,

While vultures eat his growing liver.

* Duchess of Kendal again alluded to.

III.

Ye powers of Grub-street, make me able
Discreetly to apply this fable;
Say, who is to be understood

By that old thief Prometheus? Wood.
For Jove, it is not hard to guess him;
I mean his majesty, God bless him.
This thief and blacksmith was so bold,
He strove to steal that chain of gold,
Which links the subject to the king,
And change it for a brazen string.
But sure, if nothing else must pass
Between the king and us but brass,
Although the chain will never crack,
Yet our devotion may grow slack.

But Jove will soon convert, I hope,
This brazen chain into a rope;
With which Prometheus shall be tied,
And high in air for ever ride;
Where if we find his liver grows,
For want of vultures, we have crows.

ON WOOD THE IRONMONGER.

1725.

SALMONEUS, as the Grecian tale is,
Was a mad coppersmith of Elis:
Up at his forge by morning peep,
No creature in the lane could sleep;

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