The Point he could no longer doubt, He ran, he leapt into the Flood; Upon the Water cast thy Bread, And after many Days thou'lt find it ; But Gold upon this Ocean spread, Shall fink, and leave no Mark behind it. There is a Gulph, where thousands fell, Nine Times a Day it ebbs and flows, The Time it falls, or when 'twill rife. Subscribers here by thousands float; And jostle one another down; Each padling in his leaky Boat, And here they fish, for Gold, and drown. *Now bury'd in the Depth below, They reel and stagger to and fro, * Pfal. cvii. Mean * Mean time, fecure, on Garr'way Clifts, But thefe, you fay, are factious Lyes, The Swifs and Dutch whole Millions drain. Thus, when by Rooks a Lord is ply'd, While fome build Caftles in the Air, For Fools will fee as wife Men please. Thus oft' by Mariners are fhewn, (Unless the Men of Kent be Lyars,) Earl Godwin's Caftles overflown, And Palace Roofs, and Steeple Spires. Mark where the fly Directors creep, A Coffee-House in Change-Alley. Then, Then, like the Dogs of Nile, be wife, Run as they drink, and drink and run. Antaus could, by Magick Charms, And fent him up in Air to Hell. Directors thrown into the Sea, But Directors! for 'tis you I warn, By long Experience we have found, Beware, nor over-bulky grow, Nor come within your Cully's Reach; You'll owe your Ruin to your Bulk: Your Foes already waiting stand, Thus, Thus, when a Whale hath loft the Tide, And ftrip the Bones, and melt the Oil. Oh! may fome Western Tempeft sweep May he, whom Nature's Laws obey; And ftill the Madness of the Crowd. But never shall our Isle have Rest, (The Devil's leaving the Poffeft,) And beadlong in the Waters drown. The Nation then too late will find, South-Sea at best a mighty Bubble. Apparent rari nantes in Gurgite vafto, Arma virúm, tabulæque, & Troïa gaza per undas. VOL. II. L VIRG. EPI EPILOGUE to a Play for the Benefit of the WEAVERS in Ireland. Written about the Year 1721. HO dares affirm this is no pious Age, WH When Charity begins to tread the Stage? When Actors, who, at beft, are hardly Savers, Will give a Night of Benefit to Weavers ? Stay, let me fee, how finely will it found! Imprimis, From his * Grace an Hundred Pound. Peers, Clergy, Gentry, all are Benefactors; And then comes in the Item of the Actors. Item, the Actors freely gave a Day, The Poet had no more, who made the Play. ་ BUT whence this wond'rous Charity in Play'rs? They learnt it not at Sermons, or at Pray'rs: Under the Rofe, fince here are none but Friends, (To own the Truth) we have fome private Ends. Since Waiting-Women, like exacting Jades, Hold up the Prices of their old Brocades; We'll drefs in Manufactures made at home, Equip our Kings and Generals at the Comb; We'll *Dr. KING, Archbishop of Dublin. † A Street in Dublin, famous for Woollen Manufactures. |