Thus, in a Bafon drop a Shilling,
Then fill the Veffel to the Brim ;
You shall observe, as you are filling,
The pond'rous Metal feems to swim.

It rifes both in Bulk, and Height,
Behold it fwelling like a Sop!
The Liquid Medium cheats your Sight;
Behold it mounted to the Top!

In Stock three hundred thoufand Pounds; I have in view a Lord's Eftate;

My Manors all contiguous round;

A Coach and Six, and serv'd in Plate!

Thus, the deluded Bankrupt raves;
Puts all upon a defp'rate Bet;
Then plunges in the Southern Waves,
Dipt over Head and Earsin Debt.

So, by a Calenture misled,

The Mariner with Rapture sees, On the smooth Ocean's azure Bed, Enamel❜d Fields, and verdant Trees.

With eager Hafte he longs to rove
In that fantastick Scene, and thinks,
It must be fome enchanted Grove;
And in he leaps, and down he finks.

Five hundred Chariots juft befpoke,

Are funk in these devouring Waves, The Horses drown'd, the Harness broke, And here the Owners find their Graves.

Like Pharaoh, by Directors led;

They, with their Spoils went fafe before; His Chariots, tumbling out the Dead, Lay fhatter'd on the Red-Sea Shore.

Rais'd

up on Hope's afpiring Plumes, The young Advent❜rer o'er the Deep An Eagle's Flight and State affumes, And fcorns the middle Way to keep.

On Paper Wings he takes his Flight,
With Wax the Father bound them faft;
The Wax is melted by the Height,
And down the tow'ring Boy is caft.

A Moralift might here explain

The Rashness of the Cretan Youth;
Describe his Fall into the Main,
And from a Fable form a Truth.

His Wings are his paternal Rent,
He melts the Wax at ev'ry Flame;
His Credit funk, his Money spent,
In Southern Seas be leaves his Name.

Inform us, you that best can tell,

Why in yon dangʼrous Gulph profound, Where hundreds, and where thousands fell, Fools chiefly float, the Wife are drown'd?

So, have I feen from Severn's Brink

A Flock of Geefe jump down together; Swim where the Bird of Jove would fink, And swimming never wet a Feather.

One Fool may from another win,

And then get off with Money ftor'd; But, if a Sharper once comes in,

He throws at all, and sweeps the Board.

As Fishes on each other prey,

The great Ones fwallowing up the fmalls So fares it in the Southern Sea;

But, Whale Directors eat up all.

When Stock is high, they come between,
Making by fecond-hand their Offers;
Then cunningly retire unseen,

With each a Million in his Coffers.

So, when upon a Moon-fhine Night,
An Afs was drinking at a Stream;
A Cloud arose, and ftopt the Light,
By intercepting ev'ry Beam:

The

The Day of Judgment will be foon,
(Cries out a Sage among the Croud ;)
An Afs hath fwallow'd up the Moon;
The Moon lay fafe behind a Cloud.

Each poor Subfcriber to the Sea,

Sinks down at once, and there he lies; Directors fall as well as they,

Their Fall is but a Trick to rife.

So, Fishes rifing from the Main,

Can foar with moisten'd Wings on high;
The Moisture dry'd, they fink again,
And dip their Fins again to fly.

Undone at Play, the Female Troops
Come here their Loffes to retrieve;
Ride o'er the Waves in fpacious Hoops,
Like Lapland Witches in a Sieve.

Thus Venus to the Sea defcends,

As Poets feign; but where's the Moral? It shews the Queen of Love intends

To search the Deep for Pearl and Coral.

The Sea is richer than the Land,

I heard it from my Grannam's Mouth,
Which now I clearly understand;
For by the Sea, fhe meant the South.

Thus,

Thus, by Directors we are told,

Pray, Gentlemen, believe your Eyes;
Our Ocean's cover'd o'er with Gold,
Look round, and fe how thick it lies!

Oh! would those Patriots be so kind,
Here in the Deep to wash their Hands,
Then, like Paftolus, we should find
The Sea indeed had golden Sands.

A Shilling in the Bath you fling,
The Silver takes a nobler Hue,
By Magick Virtue in the Spring,
And feems a Guinea to your View.

But, as a Guinea will not pass

At Market for a Farthing more, Shewn thro' a multiplying Glass, Than what it always did before.

So, caft it in the Southern Seas,
Or view it thro' a Jobber's Bill;
Put on what Spectacles you please,
Your Guinea's but a Guinea ftill.

One Night a Fool into a Brook,
Thus from a Hillock looking down,
The golden Stars for Guineas took,
And Silver Cynthia for a Crown,

The