Imatges de pàgina

SAY Stella, when you copy next,
Will you keep strictly to the Text?
Dare you let these Reproaches stand,
And to your Failing set your Hand ?
Or if these Lines your Anger fire,
Shall they in baser Flames expire?
Whene'er they burn, if burn they must,
They'll prove my Accusation just.


Written in the Year 1720.


IGHT Trusty, and so forth, We

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 so carefully hide it, That since I was born, I hardly have spy'd it, Then it must be allow'd, that whenever I shine, I forward the Grass, 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 Curmụdgeon

Lubbards Lock up 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 lastly, it must be allow'd,
I alone can inspire the poetical Crowd:
This is gratefully own'd by each Boy in the College,
Whom if I inspire, it is not to my Knowledge.

Pretender to Rhime will admit, Without troubling his Head about Judgment or

Wit. These Gentlemen ufe me with Kindness and Free

dom, 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 shine 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 succeed in


Place ; On Tuesday the Tenth seditiously came, With a certain false Trait' ress, one Stella by Name, To the Deanry-House, and on the North Glass, Where, for fear of the Cold, I never can pass ; Then and there, Vi& Armis, with a certain Utensil, Of value five Shillings, in English a Pencil, Did maliciously, fallly, and trait'roully write ; Whilst Stella aforesaid stood by with a Light, My Sister has lately depos'd upon Qath, That she stopt în her Course, to look at them both

That That Stella was helping, abetting, and aiding, And still as he writ, stood smiling and reading“; That her Eyes were as bright as my self at Noon

Day, But her graceful black Locks were mingled with

gray. And by the Description, I certainly know, Tis the Nymph that I courted some ten Years ago ; Who, when I with the best of my Talents endu'd, On her Promise of yielding ; she acted the Prude. That some 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 placéd right

again ; Wherein she distinctly could read ev'ry Line, And presently guess?d the Fancy was mine. Now you see, why his Verses so seldom are shown; The Reason is plain, they're none of his own; And observe, 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 seen 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 Sister transcrib'd it last Night to his Sorrow,
And the Publick shall see't, if I live till To-more


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Thro' the Zodiack around, it shall 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 ask'd for my Aid in the Forms that are

usual :
But the Secret is this. I did lately intend
To write a few Verses on you, as my Friend :
I studied a Fortnight, before I could find,
As I rode in my Chariot, a Thought to my Mind,
And resolv'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 Parnassus :
When that subtle Companion, in Hopes to surpass



Conveys out my Paper of Hints by a Trick,
(For I think, in my Conscience, he deals with old

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, 'cis finely express:d ;
So, Thief steals my Horse, and has him well dressid,


Now, whereas the said Criminal seems past Repen

tance, We Phæbus think fit to proceed to the Sentence ; Since Delany has darid, like Prometheus his Sire, To climb to our Region, and thence to steal 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 just 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 she pleases; And the Gifts I bestow'd her will find her a Lover, Tho' ìhe lives to be gray as a Badger all over,


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