So, Things which must not be expreft,
When plumpt into the reeking Cheft,
Send up an excremental Smell,
To taint the Parts from whence they fell:
The Petticoats and Gown perfume,
And waft a Stink round ev'ry Room.
THUS, finishing his grand Survey,
The Swain disgusted flunk away:
Repeating in his am'rous Fits,
Oh! Calia, Calia, Calia, h.
BUT Vengeance, Goddess, never fleeping,
Soon punish'd Strephon for his peeping.
His foul Imagination links
Each Dame he fees with all her Stinks;
And, if unfavoury Odours fly,
Conceives a Lady standing by.
All Women his Description fits,
And both Ideas jump like Wits,
By vicious Fancy coupled fast,
And still appearing in Contraft.
I PITY wretched Strephon, blind
To all the Charms of Woman-kind.
Should I the Queen of Love refuse,
Because she rofe from stinking Ooze?
To him that looks behind the Scene,
Statira's but fome pocky Quean.
WHEN Calia all her Glory fhows, If Strephon would but stop his Nose,
Who now fo impiously blafphemes
Her Ointments, Daubs, and Paints, and Creams;
Her Washes, Slops, and ev'ry Clout,
With which he makes fo foul a Rout;
He foon would learn to think like me,
And bless his ravish'd Eyes to fee,
Such Order from Confufion fprung,
Such gaudy Tulips rais'd from Dung.
Written in the Year 1730.
F neither Brass, nor Marble, can withstand
The mortal Force of Time's deftructive Hand:
If Mountains fink to Vales, if Cities die,
And lefs'ning Rivers mourn their Fountains dry:
When my old Caffock, faid a Welch Divine,
Is out at Elbows; why should I repine ?
SCARRON hath a large Poem on the fame Subject.
To an agreeable young Lady, but extremely lean.
Written in the Year 1730.
EATH went upon a folemn Day,
At Pluto's Hall, his Court to pay:
The Phantom, having humbly kist
His griefly Monarch's footy Fift.
Presented him the Weekly Bills
Of Doctors, Fevers, Plagues, and Pills.
Pluto obferving, fince the Peace,
The Burial Article decrease;
And, vext to fee Affairs miscarry,
Declar'd in Council, Death must marry:
Vow'd, he no longer could fupport
Old Batchelors about his Court:
The Int'reft of his Realm had need
That Death fhould get a num'rous Breed;
Young Deathlings, who, by Practice made
Proficients in their Father's Trade,
With Colonies might stock around
His large Dominions under Ground.
A CONSULT of Coquets below
Was call'd, to rig him out a Beau:
From her own Head, Megara takes
A Perriwig of twisted Snakes ;
Which in the nicest Fashion curl'd,
Like * Toupets of this
upper World;
With Flour of Sulphur powder'd well,
(That graceful on his Shoulders fell)
An Adder of the fable Kind,
In Line direct, hung down behind,
The Owl, the Raven, and the Bat,
Club'd for a Feather to his Hat
His Coat, an Us'rer's Velvet Pall,
Bequeath'd to Pluto, Corps and all,
But, loth his Person to expose
Bare, like a Carcafe pick'd by Crows,
A Lawyer o'er his Hands and Face,
Stuck artfully a Parchment Cafe.
No new-flux'd Rake fhew'd fairer Skin;
Not Phyllis after lying in,
With Snuff was fill'd his Ebon-Box,
Of Shin-Bones rotted by the Pox,
Nine Spirits of blafpheming Fops,
With Aconite anoint his Chops:
And give him Words of dreadful Sounds,
G-d-n his Blood, and Bl- and W-ds.
THUS, furnish'd out, he sent his Train, To take a Houfe in Warwick-Lane:
The Faculty, his humble Friends,
A complimental Meffage fends:
The Perriwigs, with long black Tails, now in Fashion are fo called.
Their Prefident in fcarlet Gown,
Harangu'd and welcom'd him to Town.
BUT, Death had Bus'ness to dispatch:
His Mind was running on his Match.
And, hearing much of Daphne's Fame,
His Majesty of Terrors came,
Fine as a Col'nel of the Guards,
To vifit where the fat at Cards:
She, as he came into the Room,
Thought him Adonis in his Bloom.
And, now her Heart with Pleasure jumps,
She scarce remembers what is Trumps.
For, fuch a Shape of Skin and Bone
Was never seen, except her own:
Charm'd with his Eyes, and Chin, and Snout,
Her Pocket-Glafs drew flily out;
And, grew enamour'd with her Phiz,
As juft the Counter-Part of his.
She darted many a private Glance,
And freely made the firft Advance :
Was of her Beauty grown so vain,
She doubted not to win the Swain.
Nothing fhe thought could fooner gain him,
Than with her Wit to entertain him,
She afk'd about her Friends below;
This meagre Fop, that batter'd Beau:
Whether fome late departed Toafts
Had got Gallants among the Ghofts?
If Chloe were a Sharper ftill,
As great as ever, at Quadrille?
|