From Stomach fharp and hearty feeding,
To piddle like a Lady breeding:
From ruling there the Houfhold fingly,
To be directed here by Dingly:

*

From ev'ry Day a lordly Banquet,
To half a Joint, and God be thank it;
From ev'ry Meal Pontack in plenty,
To half a Pint one Day in twenty,
From Ford attending at her Call,
To Vifits of

From Ford, who thinks of nothing mean,
To the poor, Doings of the D-n.
From growing Riches with good Chear,
To running out by starving here.

BUT now arrives the difmal Day :
She must return to † Ormond Key:

The Coachman ftopt, fhe lookt, and swore
The Rafcal had miftook the Door:

At coming in you faw her stoop;

The Entry brusht against her Hoop:

A Lady. The two Ladies lodged together,
Where both the Ladies lodged.

Each

Each Moment rifing in her Airs,
She curft the narrow winding Stairs :
Began a Thousand Faults to spy;
The Ceiling hardly fix Foot high;
The smutty Wainscot full of Cracks,
And half the Chairs with broken Backs:
Her Quarter's out at Lady-Day,

She vows she will no longer ftay,
In Lodgings, like a poor Grizette,
While there are Lodgings to be lett.

HOWE'ER, to keep her Spirits up,
She fent for Company to sup;
When all the while you might remark,
She ftrove in vain to ape Wood-Park.
Two Bottles call'd for, (half her Store ;
The Cupboard could contain but four;)
A Supper worthy of her self,

Five Nothings in five Plates of Delph,

THUS, for a Week the Farce went on;
When all her County-Savings gone,
She fell into her former Scene.

Small Beer, a Herring, and the D-n

THUS

THUS, far in jeft. Though now I fear

You think my jefting too fevere:

But Poets when a Hint is new

Regard not whether falfe or true:

Yet Raillery gives no Offence,

Where Truth has not the leaft Pretence;

Nor can be more fecurely plac't

Than on a Nymph of Stella's Tafte.
I must confess, your Wine and Vittle
I was too hard upon a little ;

Your Table neat, your Linnen fine;
And, though in Miniature, you shine.
Yet, when you figh to leave Wood-Park,
The Scene, the Welcome, and the Spark,
To languish in this odious Town,
And pull your haughty Stomach down;
We think you quite mistake the Cafe;
The Virtue lies not in the Place:
For though my Raillery were true,
A Cottage is Wood-Park with you.

A

A

RECEIPT

то

Restore STELLA's Youth.

Written in the Year 1724-5

HE Scottish Hinds too poor to house

TH

In frofty Nights their ftarving Cows,
While not a Blade of Grafs, or Hay,
Appears from Michaelmas to May;
Muft let their Cattle range in vain
For Food, along the barren Plain;
Meager and lank with fasting grown,
And nothing left but Skin and Bone;
Expos'd to Want, and Wind, and Weather,
They just keep Life and Soul together,

Till

'Till Summer Show'rs and Ev'ning Dew,
Again the verdant Glebe renew;
And as the Vegetables rise,

The famish't Cow her Want fupplies;

Without an Ounce of last Year's Flesh,

Whate'er the gains is young and fresh;
Grows plump and round, and full of Mettle,
As rifing from Medea's Kettle;

With Youth and Beauty to enchant

Europa's counterfeit Gallant.

WHY, Stella, fhould you knit your Brow,

If I compare you to the Cow?

'Tis just the Cafe: For you have fasted
So long till all your Flesh is wafted,
And must against the warmer Days
Be fent to * Quilca down to graze ;
Where Mirth, and Exercife, and Air,
Will foon your Appetite repair.

The Nutriment will from within

Round all your Body plump your Skin;
Will agitate the lazy Flood,

And fill your Veins with fprightly Blood:
Nor Flesh nor Blood will be the same,
Nor ought of Stella, but the Name;

A Friend's Houfe feven or eight Miles from Dublin.

For,