A meffenger comes all a-reek Mordanto at Madrid to feek: He left the town above a week.

Next day the poft-boy winds his horn, And rides through Dover in the morn: Mordanto's landed from Leghorn.

Mordanto gallops on alone,

The roads are with his followers ftrown, This breaks a girth, and that a bone:

His body active as his mind, Returning found in limb and wind, Except fome leather loft behind.

A fkeleton in outward figure,

His meagre corps, though full of vigour, Would halt behind him, were it bigger.

So wonderful his expedition, When you have not the leaft fufpicion, He's with you like an apparition.

Shines in all climates like a ftar; In fenates bold, and fierce in war, A land-commander, and a tar.

Heroic actions early bred in, Ne'er to be match'd in modern reading, But by his name-fake Charles of Sweden.

M

The Fable of MIDAST

Written in the Year 1712.

IDAS, we are in ftory told, Turn'd ev'ry thing he touch'd to gold:

*The dean, though he did not much change the natural order of words, was yet very exact in his verfification; but it may be remarked that verfes of eight fyllables are never harmonious, if the accent be placed on the first and not repeated till

the third or fourth. The first, fourth and eighth verfes are, among others, examples of this rule, which will be illuftrated by changing the structure fo as to remove the accent from

the first fyllable to the fecond. If instead of, Glitter'd, like fpangles on the ground: the fourth verfe be read,

Like fpangles glitter'd the ear will eafily determine which fhould be preferred: it is however true that when the accent is placed on the first fyllable, and repeated at the

on the ground:

fecond, the measure is not only harmonious, but acquires a peculiar force; the eleventh verfe is of this kind,

Untouch'd it pafs'd between his grinders, which would be greatly enfeebled by changing it to,

It pafs'd untouch'd between his grinders,

though the cadence would ftill be poetical, as the first accent

would fall on the second syl

lable.

He chip'd his bread; the pieces round
Glitter'd like fpangles on the ground:
A codling, ere it went his lip in,
Would ftrait become a golden pippin:
He call'd for drink; you faw him fup
Potable gold in golden cup:

His empty paunch that he might fill,
He fuck'd his victuals through a quill
Untouch'd it pass'd between his grinders,
Or't had been happy for gold-finders:
He cock'd his hat, you would have said
Mambrino's helm adorn'd his head:
Wene'er he chanc'd his hands to lay
On magazines of corn or hay,
Gold ready coin'd appear'd, instead
Of paultry provender and bread:
Hence by wife farmers we are told,
Old hay is equal to old gold;
And hence a critick deep maintains,
We learn to weigh our gold by grains.

This fool had got a lucky bit;
And people fancy'd he had wit.
Two gods their skill in mufick try'd,
And both chofe Midas to decide;
He against Phobus' harp decreed,
And gave it for Pan's oaten reed:

The

The god of wit, to fhew his grudge,
Clapt affes' ears upon the judge;
A goodly pair, erect and wide,
Which he could neither gild nor hide.

And now the virtue of his hands Was loft among Paftolus' fands, Against whose torrent while he fwims The golden fcurf peels off his limbs : Fame spreads the news, and people travel From far to gather golden gravel; Midas, expos'd to all the jeers, Had loft his art, and kept his ears.

This tale inclines the gentle reader To think upon a certain leader; To whom from Midas down defcends' That virtue in the fingers ends. What else by perquifites are meant, By penfions, bribes, and three per cent, By places and commissions sold; And turning dung itself to gold? By starving in the midst of store As t'other Midas did before?

None e'er did modern Midas chufe Subject or patron of his muse,

But found him thus their merit fean,
That Phoebus muft give place to Pan:
He values not the poet's praife,
Nor will exchange his plumbs for bays:
To Pan alone rich mifers call,

And there's the jest, for Pan is ALL,
Here English wits will be to feek,
Howe'er, 'tis all one in the Greek.

Befides it plainly now appears Our Midas too hath affes' ears; Where ev'ry fool his mouth applies, And whispers in a thousand lies, Such grofs delufions could not pass Thro' any cars but of an ass.

But gold defiles with frequent touch; There's nothing fouls the hand fo much: And scholars give it for the cause Of British Midas' dirty paws;

Which while the fenate ftrove to fcour, They wash'd away the chemic power.

While he his utmost strength apply'd, To fwim against the pop'lar tide, The golden fpoils flew off apace; Here fell a penfion, there a place ;