The Epitaph.
ERE, Five Foot deep, lies on his Back
A Cobler, Starmonger, and Quack,
Who to the Stars in pure Good-will,
Does to his best look upward ftill.
Weep all ye Customers that use
use
His Pills, his Almanacks, or Shooes.
And you
that did your Fortunes feek,
Step to his Grave but once a Week,
This Earth, which bears his Body's Print,
You'l find has fo much Virtue in't,
That I durft parun my Ears, 'twill tell
What e'or concearns you full as well
In Phyfick, Stolen Goods, or Love,
As be himfelf could, when above.
Apollo Outwitted.
To the Honourable Mrs. FINCH, under her Name of ARDELIA.
P
HOEBUS now fhortning every Shade,
Up to the Northern Tropick came,
And thence beheld a lovely Maid
Attending on a Royal Dame.
THE God laid down his feeble Rays,
Then lighted from his glitt'ring Coach,
But fenc'd his Head with his own Bays,
Before he durft the Nymph approach. UNDER thofe facred Leaves, fecure
From common Lightning of the Skies,
He fondly thought he might endure
The Flashes of Ardelia's Eyes.
THE Nymph, who oft had read in Books,
Of that bright God whom Bards invoke,
Soon knew Apollo by his Looks,
And gueft his Bufinefs e're he spoke.
HE in the old Celestial Cant,
Confeft his Flame, and fwore by Styx,~ What e're she would defire, to grant, of But wife Ardelia knew his Tricks.
OVID had warn'd her to beware,
Of ftroling Gods, whofe ufual Trade is,
Under Pretence of taking Air,
To pick up Sublunary Ladies.
HOWEVER The gave no flat Denial,
As having Malice in her Heart,
And was refolv'd upon a Tryal,
To Cheat the God in his own Art, HEAR my Requeft, the Virgin faid,
Let which I please of all the Nine Attend when e'er I want their Aid,
To wait at bright Ardelia's Side.
ON Sight of this Celestial Prude,
Apollo thought it vain to stay,
Nor in her Prefence durft be Rude,
But made his Leg and went away.
HE hop'd to find fome lucky Hour,
Obey my Call, and only mine.
BY Vow oblig'd, by Paffion led,
The God could not refufe her Prayer;
He wav'd his Wreath thrice o'er her Head,
Thrice mutter'd fomething in the Air.
AND now he thought to feize his due,
But fhe the Charm already try'd,
Thalia heard the Call and flew
When on their Queen the Mufes wait; But Pallas owns Ardelia's Power,
For Vows Divine are kept by Fate.
THEN full of Rage Apollo Tpoke,
Deceitful Nymph, I fee thy Art,
And tho' I can't my Gift revoke,
I'll difappoint its nobler Part.
LET ftubborn Pride poffefs thee lang,
And be thou negligent of Fame.
With ev'ry Mufe to grace thy Song,
May'st thou defpife a Poet's Name.
Or Modeft Poets thou be firft,
To filent Shades repeat thy Verfe,
Till Fame and Eccho almoft burst,
Yet hardly dare one Line Rehearse.
AND laft my Vengeance to compleat,
May thou defcend to take Renown,
Prevail'd on by the Thing you hate,
A and one that wears a Gown.
N
OW hardly here and there an Hack-
ney-Coach
Appearing, fhow'd the Ruddy Morn's
Approach.
Now Betty from her Master's Bed had flown.
And foftly ftole to difcompofe her own.
The Slipfhod 'Prentice from his Master's Door,
Had par'd the Dirt, and fprinkled round the Floor.
Now Moll had whirl'd her Mop with dext'rous
Airs,
Prepar❜d to Scrub the Entry and the Stairs.
The Youth with Broomy Stumps began to trace
The Kennel Edge, where Wheels had worn the
Place.
The
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