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Till Metamorphos'd by his Grasp,
It grew an All-devouring, Asp;
Would hiss, and sting, and roll, and twift,
By the meer Virtue of his Fift:
But when he laid it down, as quick
Resum'd the Figure of a Stick.

So to her Midnight Feafts the Hag,
Rides on a Broomstick for a Nag,
That, rais'd by Magick of her Breech,
O'er Sea and Land conveys the Witch;
But, with the Morning-Dawn, resumes
The Peaceful State of common Brooms.

They tell us something strange and odd,
About a certain Magick Rod,
That, bending down its Top, divines
When e'er the Soil has Golden Mines :
Where there are none, it stands erect,
Scorning to shew the least Respect.
As ready was the Wand of Sid
To bend where Golden Mines were hid
In Scottish Hills found precious Ore,
Where none e'er look'd for it before;
And, by a gentle Bow, divin'd
How well a Cully's Purse was lin'd :
To a forelorn and broken Rake,
Stood without Motion, like a Stake.

THE Rod of Hermes was renown'd
For Charms above and under Ground;
To sleep could mortal Eye-lids fix,
And drive departed Souls' to Styx.
That Rod was just a Type of Sid's,
Which, o'er a Brittish Senate's Lids,
Could scatter Opium full as well,
And drive as many: Souls to Hell.

SID's Rod was llender, white, and tall,

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Which oft he wed to file withali

A PLACE was fastned to the Hook,...;
And many a Score of Gudgeon's took ;
Yet, ftill so happy was his Fate,
He caught his Fish, and fav’d his Bait.'

SID's Brethren of the Conj'ring Tribe
A Circle with their Rod describe,
Which proves a Magical Redoubt
To keep Miscbievous Spirits out:
Sid's Rod was of a larger Stride,
And made a Circle twice as wide,
Where Spirits throng'd with hideous Din,
And he food there to take them in.
But, when th' enchanted Rod was broke,
They vanishid in a stinking Smoak.

ACHILLES'Scepter was of Wood,
Like Sid's, but nothing near so good;
Tho', down from Ancestors divine

Transinitted to the Heroe's Line,
Thence, thro' a long Descent of Kings,
Came an HEIR-LOOM, as Homer fings,
Tho' this Description looks fo big,
That Scepter was a fapless Twig:
Which, from the fatal Day when first
It left the Foreft where 'twas nurft,
As Homer tells us o'er and o'er,
Nor Leaf, nor Fruit, no Bloffom bore.
Sid's Scepter full of Juice did thoot
In Golden Boughs, and Golden Fruit,
And He, the Dragon never sleeping,
Guarded each fair Hefperian Pippin.
No Hobby-Horfe, with gorgeous top,
The deareston Charles Mather's Shop,
Or glitt'ring Tinfel of May. Fair,
Could with this Rod of Sid compare,

DEAR Sid, then why wert thou fo mad,
To break thy Rod like naughty Lad? ..


You Thould have kiss'd it in your Distress,
And then return'd it to your. Mifrefs;
Or make it a New-market Switch,
And not a Rod for thy own Breech.
For fince old Sid has broken this,
His next will be a Red in Pifs.

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Of the firft Book of



And Address'd to:a NOBLE LORD.


ARLEY, the Nation's Great Support,
Returning home one day

from Court, His Mind with Publick Cares pofseft,

All Europe's Bus'ness in his Brelt.
Observ'd a Person near Whiteball,
Cheap'ning Old Authors on a Stall.
The Priest was pretty well in Case,
And shew'd lome Humour in his Face,
Look'd with an Easy Careless Mein;
A perfect Stranger to the Spleen :
Of Size that might a Pulpit fill,
But more inclining to fit ftill.
My Lord, who as a Man may fay't,
Loves Mischief better than his Meat;


Was now dispos’d to crack a Jeft, And bid Friend Lewis go in Queft. This Lewis was a cunning Shaver, And very much in Harley's Favour. In Quest who might this Parson he, What was his Name, of what Degree : If possible to learn his Story, And whether he were Wbig or Tory? Lewis his Patron's Humour knows Away upon his Errand goes : And quickly did the Matter Sift, Found out that it was Doctor S A Clergy man of special Note, For shunning those of his own Coat; Which made his Brethren of the Gown, Take care in time to run him down. No Libertine, nor over Nice,! Addi&ted to no fort of Vice. Went where he pleas'd, said what he thought, Not Rich, but ow'd no Man a Groat. In State Opinions Alamode, But hated Wb-n like a Toad. He had given the Faction many a Wound, And Libelld all the Funéto round. Kept Company with Men of Wit, who often Father'd what he writ. His Works were Hawk't in every Street, But seldom rose above a Sheet. Of late indeed the Paper Stamp, Did very much his Genius cramp: And fince he could not spend "his Fire, Is now contented to retire. Said Harley, 'I desire to know From Srep to the south if this be fo ; l'de have him Dine with me to Day.

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