Heie słum dowels to top the thea
Eshald Ram four-gulavory itteakti
There might glures made of tripuer & bute,
Bequeathed by tripley when the dedi
With puppy Walet, beauty's help
buulla hom tripley's darling whelp.
Ħers galley pure and viata plav`ch
bume nil'd with walhos, tome with paite;
Buns with pomatum, palute, and tops
And gintments good for toabby chopa
#aid by a nihy balon (tands,
Fould with the looming of hot hands i
The balian takes whatever counc
The frapings Rom her teeth and gums,
A nalty compound of alt huca,
But here the (pila, and here the ipucs.
Bus, oh! #suru'd poor fireption's bowel,
When he beheld and hush the towels,
Þegumm'd, bemaster'd, and bellum'st,
With dirt, and tweat, and cat was grunt;
Nu edge4 Stephan's eye shpappa i
#sre peltients in Bowsy heaps i
For be the handksistach finger,
All varited cost with bult and tur.
The Buckings why Mould & sepede,
Sesin'd with this multurs of het rues,
O greaty swife, H+ pinusta essking.
Which Cena #spt at Isat a week int
A pair of resepte heet his Duluda
Ta plusk her henge în gishes tund,
Or hairs that fink the forehead low,
Or on her chin like bristles grow.
The virtues we must not let pass
Of Calia's magnifying-glafs;
When frighted Strephon caft his eye on 't,
It fhew'd the vifage of a giant :
A glafs that can to fight difclofe
The finalleft worm in Calia's nofe,
And faithfully direct her nail
To fqueeze it out from head to tail,
For, catch it nicely by the head,
It must come out, alive or dead.
Why, Strephon, will you tell the reft?
And must you needs deferibe the cheft?
That carelefs wench no creature warn her
To move it out from yonder corner!
But leave it standing full in fight,
For you to exercise your spite ?
In vain the workman fhew'd his wit,
With rings and hinges counterfeit,
To make it feem in this difguife
A cabinet to vulgar eyes,
Which Strephon ventur'd to look in,
Refolv'd to go through thick and thin.
He lifts the lid: there needs no moge,
He fmelt it all the time before.
As, from within Pandora's hox,
When Epimetheus op'd the locks,
A fudden univerfal crew
Of human evils upward flew,
He fill was contarted to find
That hepe at last remain'd behind ?
So Suphan, lifting up the lid,
To view what in the cheft was hid,
The vapours dew from out the vent z
But Sirephon, cautious, hevet meant
The hattum of the Ass to gropë,
And foul his hands in fearch of bape,
O! neer may fuch a vile machine
Be ones in Calia's chamber heal
Q1 may the better kain to keep
1 lids jerteft of the dowry day *?
As mutian-cutlets, & prome or`meat,
Wloch, Though with art you falt and beat,
As laws of conkery Téquité,
And road chem at the cleared fire;
Ir form aduwen die hopeful chops
The far upam a cinder drops,
To linking tanke it turns the flame,
Palaning the doh from whence it came,
And up calles a greaty flench,
Por wich you curte the catclefs wench
bo dings which muft not he expreft,
When plampa ing the iceking chest,
Send up an sexismental finell
To twin this parts from whence they fell:
Ihe policoats and gown perfume,
Aud wal 4 Hink twund sycry puan
Thus finishing his grand furvey,
The fwain difgusted flunk away;
Repeating in his amorous fits,
"Oh! Cælia, Cælia, Cælia fh-!”
But Vengeance, goddess never fleeping,
Soon punish'd Strephon for his peeping:
His foul imagination links
Each dame he fees with all her ftinks;
And, if unfavory odours fly,
Conceives a lady standing by.
All women his description fits,
And both ideas jump like wits;
By vicious fancy coupled faft,
And ftill appearing in contrast.
I pity wretched Strephon, blind
To all the charms of woman-kind.
Should I the Queen of Love refuse,
Because the rose from stinking ooze ?
To him that looks behind the scene,
Statira's but fome pocky quean.
When Cælia all her glory fhows,
If Strephon would but ftop his nose,
Who now fo impiously blafphemes
Her ointments, daubs, and paints, and creams,
Her washes, flops, and every clout,
With which he makes fo foul a rout:
He foon would learn to think like me,
And blefs his ravish'd eyes to fee
Such order from confufion sprung,
Such gaudy tulips rais'd from dung.
neither brafs nor marble can withstand
The mortal force of Time's destructive hand;
If mountains fink to vales, if cities die,
And leffening rivers mourn their fountains dry :
When my old caffock (faid a Welsh divine)
Is out at elbows; why should I repine?
ON MR. PULTENEY'S
BEING PUT OUT OF THE COUNCIL. 17316)
SIR Robert, weary'd by Will Pulteney's teazings,
Who interrupted him in all his leafings,
Refolv'd that Will and he fhould meet no more:
Full in his face Bob fhuts the council-door ;
Nor lets him fit as justice on the bench,
To punish thieves, or lash a suburb-wench.
Yet ftill St. Stephen's chapel open lies
Ev'n quit the HOUSE, for thou too long haft fat in 't, Produce at last thy dormant ducal patent;
There, near thy master's throne in shelter plac'd,
Let Will unheard by thee his thunder waste.
Yet ftill I fear your work is done but half :
For, while he keeps his pen, you are not safe.
Hear an old fable, and a dull one too;
It bears a moral, when apply'd to you.
A hare had long escap'd pursuing hounds
By often shifting into diftant grounds;
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