Imatges de pàgina
PDF
EPUB

So, to confound this hated coin,
All parties and religions join;
Whigs, Tories, trimmers, Hanoverians,
Quakers, conformists, presbyterians,
Scotch, Irish, English, French unite,
With equal int'rest, equal spite;
Together mingled in a lump,
Do all in one opinion jump;
And ev'ry one begins to find
The same impression on his mind.
A strange event! whom gold incites
To blood and quarrels, brass unites;
So goldsmiths say, the coarsest stuff
Will serve for solder well enough:
So by the kettle's loud alarm

The bees are gather'd to a swarm:
So by the brazen trumpet's bluster
Troops of all tongues and nations muster;
And so the harp of Ireland brings
Whole crowds about its brazen strings.

II.

There is a chain let down from Jove,
But fasten'd to his throne above,

So strong that from the lower end,
They say all human things depend.
This chain, as ancient poets hold,
When Jove was young, was made of gold,
Prometheus once this chain purloin'd,
Dissolved, and into money coin'd;
Then whips me on a chain of brass;
(Venus* was bribed to let it pass.)

* Duchess of Kendal again alluded to.

Now while this brazen chain prevail'd, Jove saw that all devotion fail'd;

No temple to his godship raised;
No sacrifice on altars blazed;

In short, such dire confusion follow'd,
Earth must have been in chaos swallow'd.
Jove stood amaz'd; but looking round,
With much ado the cheat he found;
'Twas plain he could no longer hold
The world in any chain but gold;
And to the god of wealth, his brother,
Sent Mercury to get another.

Prometheus on a rock is laid,

Tied with the chain himself had made,
On icy Caucasus to shiver,

While vultures eat his growing liver.

III.

Ye powers of Grub-street, make me able
Discreetly to apply this fable;
Say, who is to be understood

By that old thief Prometheus? Wood.
For Jove, it is not hard to guess him;
I mean his majesty, God bless him.
This thief and blacksmith was so bold,
He strove to steal that chain of gold,
Which links the subject to the king,
And change it for a brazen string.
But sure, if nothing else must pass
Between the king and us but brass,
Although the chain will never crack,
Yet our devotion may grow slack.

But Jove will soon convert, I hope,
This brazen chain into a rope;
With which Prometheus shall be tied,
And high in air for ever ride;

Where, if we find his liver grows,
For want of vultures, we have crows.

ON WOOD THE IRONMONGER. 1725.

SALMONEUS, as the Grecian tale is,
Was a mad coppersmith of Elis:
Up at his forge by morning peep,
No creature in the lane could sleep;
Among a crew of roystering fellows
Would sit all evening at the alehouse;
His wife and children wanted bread,
While he went always drunk to bed.
This vapouring scab must needs devise
To ape the thunder of the skies:
With brass two fiery steeds he shod,
To make a clattering as they trod,
Of polish'd brass his flaming car
Like lightning dazzled from afar ;
And up he mounts into the box,
And he must thunder, with a pox.
Then furious he begins his march
Drives rattling o'er a brazen arch;
With squibs and crackers arm'd to throw
Among the trembling crowd below.
All ran to prayers, both priests and laity,
To pacify this angry deity;

When Jove, in pity to the town,
With real thunder knock'd him down.
Then what a huge delight were all in,
To see the wicked varlet sprawling;

They search'd his pockets on the place
And found his copper all was base;
They laugh'd at such an Irish blunder,
To take the noise of brass for thunder.
The moral of this tale is proper,
Applied to Wood's adulterate copper;
Which, as he scatter'd, we like dolts
Mistook at first for thunderbolts,
Before the Drapier shot a letter,
(Nor Jove himself could do it better)
Which lighting on the impostor's crown,
Like real thunder knock'd him down.

WILL WOOD'S PETITION TO THE
PEOPLE OF IRELAND.

BEING AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG, SUPPOSED TO BE MADE AND SUNG IN THE STREETS OF DUBLIN, BY WILLIAM WOOD, IRONMONGER AND HALFPENNY-MONGER.-1725.

My dear Irish folks,
Come leave off your jokes,

And buy up my halfpence so fine;
So fair and so bright,

They'll give you delight;

Observe how they glisten and shine!

They'll sell to my grief

As cheap as neck-beef,

For counters at cards to your wife;

And every day

Your children may play

Span-farthing or toss on the knife.

Come hither and try

I'll teach you to buy

A pot of good ale for a farthing;
Come, threepence a score, ..
I ask you no more,

And a fig for the Drapier and Harding *

When tradesmen have gold,

The thief will be bold,

[ocr errors]

By day and by night for to rob him:
My copper is such,

No robber will touch,

And so you may daintily bob him.

The little blackguard
Who gets very hard

His halfpence for cleaning your shoes:
When his pockets are cramm'd

With mine and be d-'d,

He may swear he has nothing to lose.

Here's halfpence in plenty,
For one you'll have twenty,

[ocr errors]

Though thousands are not worth a pudden.
Your neighbours will think,

When your pocket cries chink,

You are grown plaguy rich on a sudden.

* The Drapier's printer.-F

1

་་་

« AnteriorContinua »