SAY Stella, when you copy next,
Will you keep ftrictly to the Text?
Dare you let these Reproaches ftand,
And to your Failing fet your Hand?
Or if these Lines your Anger fire,
Shall they in bafer Flames expire?
Whene'er they burn, if burn they muft,
They'll prove my Accufation just.
Written in the Year 1720.
IGHT Trufty, and fo forth,-
let you to know,
We are very ill us'd by you Mortals below.
For first, I have often by Chymists been told,
Tho' I know nothing on't, it is I that make Gold,
Which when you have got, you fo carefully hide it,
That fince I was born, I hardly have spy'd it,
Then it must be allow'd, that whenever I fhine,
I forward the Grafs, and I ripen the Vine;
To me the good Fellows apply for Relief,
Without whom they could get neither Claret, nor
Beef;
Yet, their Wine and their Victuals these Curmudgeon
Lubbards
from my Sight, in Cellars and Cupboards.
That I have an ill Eye, they wickedly think,
And taint all their Meat, and four all their Drink.
But thirdly and laftly, it must be allow'd,
I alone can infpire the poetical Crowd:
This is gratefully own'd by each Boy in the College,
Whom if I infpire, it is not to my Knowledge.
This every Pretender to Rhime will admit,
Without troubling his Head about Judgment or
Wit.
These Gentlemen ufe me with Kindness and Freedom,
And as for their Works, when I please, I may read 'em :
They lye open on purpose on Counters and Stalls,
And the Titles I view, when I fhine on the Walls.
But a Comrade of yours, that Traitor Delany,
Whom I, for your Sake, love better than any,
And of my mere Motion and special good Grace,
Intended in Time to fucceed in your Place ;
On Tuesday the Tenth feditiously came,
With a certain falfe Trait'refs, one Stella by Name,
To the Deanry-Houfe, and on the North Glafs,
Where, for fear of the Cold, I never can pass;
Then and there, Vi& Armiş, with a certain Utenfil,
Of value five Shillings, in English a Pencil,
Did maliciously, falfly, and trait'rously write;
Whilft Stella aforefaid stood by with a Light,
My Sifter has lately depos'd upon Qath,
That the ftopt in her Courfe, to look at them both;
That Stella was helping, abetting, and aiding, And still as he writ, ftood fmiling and reading"; That her Eyes were as bright as my self at NoonDay,
But her graceful black Locks were mingled with
And by the Description, I certainly know,
'Tis the Nymph that I courted fome ten Years ago;
Who, when I with the best of my Talents endu'd,
On her Promise of yielding; fhe acted the Prude.
That fome Verses were writ with felonious Intent,
Direct to the North, where I never went;
That the Letters appear'd, reverse thro' the Pane,
But in Stella's bright Eyes they were plac'd right
Wherein the diftinctly could read ev'ry Line,
And presently guess'd the Fancy was mine.
Now you fee, why his Verfes fo feldom are shown;
The Reason is plain, they're none of his own;
And obferve, while you live, that no Man is shy
To discover the Goods, he came honestly by.
If I light on a Thought, he'll certainly steal it,
And when he has got it, find Ways to conceal it,
Of all the fine Things he keeps in the Dark,
There's scarce one in Ten, but what has my Mark;
And let them be feen by the World, if he dare,
I'll make it appear, they are all stolen Ware.
But as for the Poem he writ on your Sash,
I think, I have now got him under my Lash;
My Sifter tranfcrib'd it laft Night to his Sorrow, And the Publick fhall fee't, if I live till To-mor
Thro' the Zodiack around, it fhall quickly be spread In all Parts of the Globe, where your Language iş read.
He knows very well, I ne'er gave a Refusal,
When he afk'd for my Aid in the Forms that are ufual:
But the Secret is this. I did lately intend
To write a few Verfes on you, as my Friend:
I ftudied a Fortnight, before I could find,
As I rode in my Chariot, a Thought to my Mind,
And refolv'd the next Winter, (for that is my Time,
When the Days are at shortest,) to get it in Rhime;
'Till then it was lock'd in my Box at Parnaffus :
When that fubtle Companion, in Hopes to furpass
Conveys out my Paper of Hints by a Trick,
(For I think, in my Confcience, he deals with old
Nick.)
And from my own Stock provided with Topicks,
He gets to a Window beyond both the Tropicks;
There out of my Sight, just against the North Zone,
Writes down my Conceits, and calls them his own;
And you, like a Cully, the Bubble can swallow:
Now, who but Delany, that writes like Apollo?
High Treason by Statute. But here you object,
He only stole Hints, but the Verse is correct.
Tho' the thought be Apollo's, 'tis finely exprefs'd;
So, a Thief steals my Horfe, and has him well drefs'd,
Now,
Now, whereas the said Criminal seems past Repen
We Phabus think fit to proceed to the Sentence;
Since Delany has dar'd, like Prometheus his Sire,
To climb to our Region, and thence to fteal Fire;
We order a Vulture in Shape of the Spleen,
To prey on his Liver, but not to be seen.
And we order our Subjects of ev'ry Degree,
To believe all his Verses were written by me:
And, under the Pain of our highest Displeasure,
To call nothing his, but the Rhime and the Measure.
And lastly, for Stella juft out of her Prime,
I'm too much reveng'd already by Time.
In return to her Scorn, I fent her Diseases,
But will now be her Friend, whenever the pleases;
And the Gifts I bestow'd her will find her a Lover,
Tho' the lives to be gray as a Badger all over,
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