With fnuff was fill'd his ebon box
Of thin-bones rotted by the pox.
Nine fpirits of blafpheming fops
With aconite anoint his chops;
And give him words of dreadful founds,
G-d d-n his blood! and b-d and w-ds!
Thus furnish'd out, he fent his train
To take a houfe in Warwick-lane:
The faculty, his humble friends,
A complimental meffage fends:
Their prefident in scarlet gown
Harangued, and welcom'd him to town.
But Death had bufinefs to dispatch;
His mind was running on his match.
And, hearing much of Daphne's fame,
His majefty of terrors came,
Fine as a colonel of the guards,
To vifit where fhe fate at cards:
She, as he came into the room,
Thought him Adonis in his bloom.
And now her heart with pleasure jumps;
She fcarce remembers what is trumps;
For fuch a fhape of fkin and bone
Was never feen, except her own:
Charm'd with his eyes, and chin, and fnout,
Her pocket-glafs drew flily out;
And grew enamour'd with her phiz,
As just the counterpart of his.
She darted many a private glance,
And freely made the first advance;
Was of her beauty grown fo vain,
She doubted not to win the fain,
Nothing the 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 toasts
Had got gallants among the ghosts ?
If Cloe were a sharper ftill
As great as ever at quadrille ?
(The ladies there must needs be rooks,
For cards, we know, are Pluto's books!
If Florimel had found her love,
For whom the hang'd herself above?
How oft' a week was kept a ball
By Proferpine at Pluto's hall?
She fancied thofe Elyfian fhades
The sweeteft place for masquerades:
How pleasant, on the banks of Styx,
To troll it in a coach and fix!
What pride a female heart inflames!
How endlefs are ambition's aims!
Ceafe, haughty nymph; the Fates decree
Death muft not be a fpoufe for thee:
For, when by chance the meagre shade
Upon thy hand his finger laid,
Thy hand as dry and cold as lead,
His matrimonial fpirit fled;
He felt about his heart a damp,
That quite extinguish'd Cupid's lamp:
Away the frighted fpectre fcuds,
And leaves my lady in the fuds.
APHNE knows, with equal eafe,
How to vex and how to please;
But the folly of her fex
Makes her fole delight to vex.
Never woman more devis'd
Surer ways to be defpis'd:
Paradoxes weakly wielding,
Always conquer'd, never yielding.
To difpute, her chief delight,
With not one opinion right :
Thick her arguments fhe lays on,
And with cavils combats reason;
Answers in decifive way,
Never hears what you can say:
Still her odd perverseness shows
Chiefly where the nothing knows.;
And, where she is most familiar,
Always peevisher and fillier :
All her fpirits in a flame
When she knows the 's most to blame.
Send me hence ten thousand miles,
From a face that always smiles :
None could ever act that part,
But a Fury in her heart.
Ye who hate such inconsistence,
To be easy, keep your distance;
Or in folly still befriend her,
But have no concern to mend her.
Lose not time to contradict her,
Nor endeavour to convict her.
Never take it in your thought,
That the 'll own, or cure a fault.
Into contradiction warm her,
Then, perhaps, you may reform her:
Only take this rule along,
Always to advise her wrong;
her when the 's right;
She may then grow wife for fpight.
No that scheme will ne'er fucceed,
She has better learnt her creed:
She's too cunning, and too skilful,
When to yield, and when be wilful.
Nature holds her forth two mirrors,
One for truth, and one for errors :
That looks hideous, fierce, and frightful;
This is flattering and delightful:
That she throws away as foul;
Sits by this, to dress her foul.
Thus you have the cafe in view, Daphne, 'twixt the Dean and you, Heaven forbid he should despise thee!
But will never more advife thee.
THE PHEASANT AND THE LARK.
A FABLE. BY DR. DELANY. 1730.
"Tam patiens urbis, tam ferreus, ut teneat fe ›”
IN ancient times, as bards indite,
(If clerks have conn'd the records right)
A Peacock reign'd, whofe glorious fway
His fubjects with delight obey:
His tail was beauteous to behold,
Replete with goodly eyes and gold
(Fair emblem of that Monarch's guife,
Whofe train at once is rich and wife).
And princely rul'd he many regions,
And ftatefmen wife, and valiant legions.
A Pheafant Lord *, above the reft,
With every grace and talent blest,
Was fent to way, with all his fkill,
The fceptre of a neighbouring hill †.
No fcience was to him unknown,
For all the arts were all his own;
In all the living learned read,
Though more delighted with the dead:
For birds, if ancient tales fay true,
Had then their Popes and Homers too,
* Lord Carteret, lord lieutenant of Ireland
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