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To paint a Hero, we enquire
For something that will conquer Fire.
Would you describe Turenne or Trumpe,
Think of a Bucket or a Pump.
Are these too low?

-then find out Grandeur, Call my Lord

ca Salamander.
T'is well. But since we live among
Detractors with an evil Tongue,
Who may object against the Term,
Pliny shall prove what we affirm:
Pliny shall prove, and we'll apply,
And I'll be judg’d by Standers-by.

FIRST then, our Author has defin'd
This Reptil, of the Serpent kind,
With gaudy Coat, and shining Train,
But loathsom Spots his Body Itain :
Qut from fome Hole obscure he flies,
When Rains defcend, and Tempests rise,
Till the Sun clears the Air ; and then
Crawls back neglected to his Den.

So when the War has rais'd a Storm
I've seen a Snake in human Form,
All stain'd with Infamy and Vice,
Leap from the Dunghill in a trice,
Burnish and make a gaudy show,
Become a General, Peer and Beau,
Till Peace hath made the Sky Serene,
Then shrink into its Hole again.

All this wegrant-wby, then look yonder

Sure that must be a Salamander ! FARTHER, we are by. Pliny told, This Serpent is extreamly cold, vit So cold, that put it in the Fire, 'Twill make the very Flames expire. Besides, it fpews a filthy Froth} (Whether thro: Rage, or Love, or both ) : *Diabwilo!.

Of T

Of Mater purulent and white,
Which happen'd on the Skin to light,
And there corrupting to a Wound,
Spreads Leprofie and Baldness round.

So have I seen a batter'd Beau,
By Age and Claps grown cold as Snow,,
Whose Breath or Touch, where e'er he came,
Blew out Love's Torch, or chilld the Flame:
And should fome Nymph, who ne'er was cruel,
Like Carleton cheap, or fam'd Duruel,
Receive the Filth which he ejects,
She foon would find the same Effects
Her tainted Carcase to pursue,

A dilmal Shedding of her Locks,
And if no Leprofie, a Pox.

Then I'll appeal to each Byftander,
Whether this ben't a Salamander?

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1:1 N 11 S. ;







Imitated from the Eighth Book of Ovid.

Written 1706


N Antient Times, as Story tells,

The Saints would often feave their Ceho
And strole about, but hide their Quality,

To try good People's Hospitality.
It happend on a Winter Night,
As Authors of the Legend write,
Two Brother Hermits, Saints by Trade,
Taking their Tour in Masquerade ;
Disguis'd in tatter'd Habits, went
To a small Village down in Kent
Where, in the Strolers Canting Strain,
They begg’d from Door to Door in vain;
Try'd ev'ry Tone might Pity win,
But not a Soul would let them in.

Our wand'ring Saints in woful State,
Treated at this angodly Rate ;

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Having thro' all the Village pafs’d,
To a small Cottage came at laft;
Where dwelt a good old honest Yeoman,

Call’d, in the Neighbourhood, Philemon,
Who kindly did the Saints invite
In his poor Hut' to pass the Night;

Una And then the Hospitable Sire Bid Goody Baucis mend the Fire;

irail While he from out of Chimney took

I A Flitch of Bacon off the Hook; And freely from the fattest fide Cut out large slices to be frid: Then ftept afide to fetch 'm Drink, Fill'd a large Jug up to the Brink; And saw it fairly twice go round;

Sri A Yet (what is wonderful) they found moun! 'Twas ftill replenish'd to the Top,

chini As if they ne'er had touch'd a Drop. The good old Couple was amaz’d,

ii SAT And often on each other gaz'd;

UT For both were frighted to the Heart,

si jua And just began to cry, What artwo

Then softly turn'd aside to view, Whether the Lights were burning blue.

DodT The gentle Pilgrims soon aware on't, Told 'em their Calling, and their Errand: T Good Folks, you need not be afraid,

und We are but Saints, the Hermits faid No Hurt shall come to You, or Yours ; le But, for the Pack of churlish Boors, Not fit to live on Chriftian Ground,' 1 V/ They and their Houfes shall be aroun'd: 1 Whilft you fhall see your Cottage rise, si And grow a Church before your Eyes. :'N

They scarce had fpoke; when fair' or fofts! The Roof began to mount aloft ;


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Aloft rose ev'ry Beam and Rafter,
The heavy Wall clim'd slowly after.

The Chimney widn'd, and grew higher,
Became a Steeple with a Spire,

The Kettle to the Top was hoist, And there stood fastned to a Joift : But with the Upside down, to thew It's Inclinations far below; In vain; for a fuperior Force Apply'd at Bottom, stops its Course, Doom'd ever in Suspence to dwell, 'Tis now no Kettle, but a Bell. A wooden Jack, which had almost Loft by Diluse the Art to Roast, A sudden Alteration feels, : Increas'd by new Intestine Wheels And, what exalts the Wonder more The Number made the Motion flow'r : The Flyer tho't had Leaden Feer, Turn'd round so quick, you scarce could see't ; But flackn’d by some secret Power, Now hardly moves, an Inch an Hours The Jack and Chimney neari ally lite: Had never left cach other's Side : 1 The Chimney to a , Steeple grown, ti The Jack wou'd not be left alone, But up again the Steeple rear dallo ici Became a Clock, and still adherd;

je And still its love to Houshold Cares By a fhril Voice at Noon declares; Warning the Cook paid not to burn That Roast-meat, which it cannot turn. The groaning Chair began to crawl, Like a huge Snail along the wall There stuck aloft, in Publick View, And with small Change a Pulpit grew.


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