When, Behold the next Morning, a wonderful Riddle,

He found it was strangely fill'd in the Middle.

Cho. Let Cenfuring Criticks then think what they lift on't,

Who would not Write Verfes with fuch an affiftant.

II.

This put me the Fryar into an Amazement,
For he wifely confider'd it must be a Sprite,
That came through the Key-Hole, or in at the
Cafement,

And it needs must be one that could both
Read and Write:

Yet he did not know

If it were Friend or Foe,

Or whether it came from Above or Below. Howe'er it was civil in Angel or Elf,

For he ne're could have fill'd it fo well of him

felf.

Cho. Let Cenfiring, &.

III.

Even fo Master Doctor had Puzzled his Brains
In making a Ballad, but was at a Stand,
He had mixt little Wit with a great deal of Pains,
When he found a new Help from Invifible
Hand.

Then Good Dr. S-.-,

Pay Thanks for the Gift,

For you freely must own you were at a Dead

lift ;

And tho' fome Malicious Young Spirit did do't,

You may know by the Hand, it had no Cloven Foot.

Cho. Let Cenfuring Criticks then think what they lift on't,

Who would not Write Verfes with fuch an affiftant.

V's

V's HOUSE

Built from the Ruins of WhiteHall that was Burnt.

Written, 1703.

N Times of Old, when Time was Young,

IN

And Poets their one Verfes Sung,

A Verse could draw a Stone or Beam
That now would overload a Team ;
Lead 'em a Dance of many a Mile,
Then rear 'em to a goodly Pile.
Each Number had it's diff'rent Pow'r ;
Heroick Strains could build a Tow'r
Sonnets, or Elogies to Chloris

Might raise a House about two Stories;

A Lyrick

A Lyrick Ode would Slate; a Catch
Would Tile; an Epigram would Thatch.

BUT, to their own, or Landlord's Coft, Now Poets feel this Art is loft:

Not one of all our tuneful Throng
Can raise a Lodging for a Song.
For, Jove confider'd well the Cafe,
Obferv'd, they grew a num'rous Race.
And should they Build as fast as Write,
'Twould ruin Undertakers quite.
This Evil, therefore to prevent,
He wifely chang'd their Element:

On Earth, the God of Wealth was made
Sole Patron of the Building Trade,
Leaving the Wits the Spacious Air

With Licence to build Caftles there:
And 'tis conceiv'd, their old Pretence
To lodge in Garrats, comes from thence.

PRE

PREMISING thus in Modern way

The better Half we had to fay;
Sing Muse the House of Poet V-

In higher Strains than we began.

V(for 'tis fit the Reader know it)

Is both a Herald and a Poet,

No wonder then, if nicely skill'd
In both Capacities, to Build.
As Herald, he can in a Day
Repair a House gone to Decay,
Or by Atchivement, Arms, Device,

Erect a new one in a trice.
And as a Poet, he has Skill
To build in Speculation still.
Great Jove, he cry'd, the Art restore
To build by Verse as heretofore,
And make my Muse the Architect;
What Palaces fhall we erect!

No