Nor have I reason to complain, these rhimes, Vain empty world, farewel. 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 Beck'ning to waft me o'er the ferry. I come, I come,-Medufa! fee, Her ferpents hifs direct at me. Begone; unhand me, hellish fry: * Avaunt―ye cannot fay 'tis I. *See Macbeth. Dear Caffy, thou 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 Calia's horrid fact relate: Thy friend would gladly fhare thy fate. To force it out, my heart muft rend: Yet when conjur'd by fuch a friend— Think, Peter, how my foul is rackt! These eyes, these eyes, beheld the fact. Now bend thine ear, fince out it muft; But when thou feeft me laid in duft, The secret thou fhalt ne'er impart, Not to the nymph that keeps thy heart (How would her virgin foul bemoan A 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 Difcover Calia's foul difgrace. But if you fail, my spectre dread Attending nightly round your bed: e VOL. VII. And And yet I dare confide in you: Nor wonder how I loft my wits: -*. J U D A A S. B Written in the Year 1731. Y the juft vengeance of incensed skies Poor bifhop Judas late repenting dies, The Jews engag'd him with a paltry bribe, Amounting hardly to a crown a tribe; Which though his confcience forc'd him to restore (And parfons tell us, no man can do more), crimes: See the lady's dreffing-room. Some Some who can perjure through a two inch board, Yet keep their bishopricks, and 'fcape the cord. Like hemp, which, by a skilful spinster drawn To flender threads, may fometimes pafs for lawn. As ancient Judas by trangreffion fell, And burft afunder ere he went to hell; So could we fee a fett of new Iscariots Come headlong tumbling from their mitred chariots; Each modern Judas perish like the first; Drop from the tree with all his bowels burft; Who could forbear, that view'd each guilty face, To cry; Lo, Judas gone to his own place : On Mr. PULTENEY's being put out of the council. SIR Written in the Year 1731. IR Robert*,weary'd by Will Pulteney's teazings, Who interrupted him in all his leafings, Refolv'd that Will and he should meet no more: Full in his face Bob fhuts the council door; Produce at laft thy dormant ducal patent; There, near thy mafter's throne in shelter plac'd, Let Will unheard by thee his thunder wafte. Yet ftill I fear your work is done but half: For while he keeps his pen, your are not safe, Hear an old fable, and a dull one too; It bears a moral, when apply'd to you. A hare Sir Robert Walpole, then prime minifter. 6 |