He spoke, and presently he feels
ently he feels
His Grazier's Coat fall down his Heels;
He sees, yet hardly can believe, '
About each Arm a Pudding-fleevé ;
His Wastcoat to a Caffock grew,
And both affum'd a Sable Hue;"
But being Old, continu'd just
As Thread-bare, and as full of Dust.
His Talk was now of Tythes and Dues,
Could fmoak his Pipe, and read the News;
Knew how to preach old Sermons next,
Vampt in the Preface and the Text;
At Chriftnings well could act his Part,
And had the Service all by Heart;
Wish'd Women might have Children fast,
And thought whofe Sow had farrow'd last i
Against Diffenters would repine,
Found his Head fill'd with many a System
But Claffick Authors--he ne'er mifs'd 'em.
THUS having furbish'd up a Parson,
Dame Baucis next, they play'd their Farce on :
Inftead of Home-fpun Coifs were seen,
Good Pinners edg'd with Colberteen!
Her Petticoat transform'd apace,
Became black Sattin flounc'd with Lace. -
Plain Goody would no longer down,
'Twas Madam, in her Grogram Gown.
Philemon was in great Surprize,
And hardly could believe his Eyes,
Amaz'd to fee her look fo Prim,
And fhe admir'd as much at Him.
THUS, happy in their Change of Life, Were feveral Years this Man and Wife, When on a Day, which prov'd their last, Difcourfing on old Stories past,
They went by chance, amidst their Talk,
To the Church-yard to take a Walk;
When Baucis haftily cry'd out,
My Dear, I fee your Forehead fprout.
Sprout, quoth the Man, What's this you tell us?
I hope you don't believe me Jealous:
But yet, methinks, I feel it true;
And re'lly, Yours is budding too--
Nay, now I cannot ftir
It feels as if 'twere taking Root.
DESCRIPTION would but tire
In short, they both were turned to rews.
Old Goodman Dobfon of the Green
Remembers he the Trees has feen;
He'll talk of them from Noon to Night,
And goes with Folks to fhew the Sight:
On Sundays, after Evening Prayer,
He gathers all the Parish there;
Points out the Place of either rew;
Here Baucis, there Philemon grew.
Till once, a Parfon of our Town,
To mend his Barn, cut Baucis down;
Àt which, 'tis hard to be believ'd,
How much the other Tree was griev'd,
Grew Scrubby, dy'd a-top, was stunted :
So, the next Parfon ftubb'd and burnt it.
HEN Cupid did his Grandfire Jove intreat To form fome Beauty by a new Receipt, Jove fent and found far in a Country Scene, Truth, Innocence, Good Nature, Look ferene; From which Ingredients, firft the dextrous Boy Pickt the Demure, the Aukward, and the Coy; The Graces from the Court did next provide Breeding, and Wit, and Air, and'decent Pride; Thefe Venus cleans'd from ev'ry spurious Grain Of Nice, Coquet, Affected, Pert, and Vain. Jove mix'd up all, and his best Clay employ'd; Then call'd the happy Compofition, Floyd.
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