So fishes, rifing from the main, Can foar with moisten'd wings on high; Thus Venus to the fea defcends, As poets feign; but where 's the moral ? It fhews the Queen of Love intends To fearch the deep for pearl and coral. I heard it from my grannam's mouth, Thus by directors we are told, "Pray, Gentlemen, believe your eyes; We, Gentlemen, are your affifters, Oh! would thofe patriots be so kind, A fhil A fhilling in the bath you fling, The filver takes a nobler hue, At market for a farthing more, Or view it through a jobber's bill; Put on what fpectacles you please, Your guinea 's but a guinea still. One night a fool into a brook Thus from a hillock looking down, The point he could no longer doubt; There sprawl'd a while, and fearce got out, "Upon the water, caft, thy bread, "And after many days thou 'lt find it But gold upon this ocean fpread Shall fink, and leave no mark behind it. There is a gulph, where thousands fell, Here all the bold adventurers came, A narrow found, though deep as hell; 'Change-Alley is the dreadful name. Nine a Nine times a day it ebbs and flows, The time it falls, or when 'twill rife. "At their wits end, like drunken men." Mean time, fecure on Garraway + cliffs, But thefe, you fay, are factious lyes, From fome malicious Tory's brain; For, where Directors get a prize, The Swifs and Dutch whole millions drain. Thus, when by rooks a lord is ply'd, Some cully often wins a bet, While fome build caftles in the air, Directors build them in the feas; Subfcribers plainly fee them there, For fools will fee as wife men please. Pfalm cvii. + A coffee-house in Change-Alley. Thus Thus oft' by mariners are shown (Unless the men of Kent are lyars) Run as they drink, and drink and run. Antæus could, by magic charms, And fent him up in air to hell. Directors, thrown into the fea, But may Directors! for 'tis you I warn, By long experience we have found Beware, nor over-bulky grow, You'll You'll owe your ruin to your bulk : Thus, when a whale hath loft the tide, And ftrip the bones, and melt the oif. Driv'n from the South-Sea to the Red. May he, whom Nature's laws obey, Who lifts the poor, and finks the proud, "Quict the raging of the fea, “And still the madness of the crowd!”, But never fhall our isle have rest, Till thofe devouring fwine run down, The nation then too late will find, South-Sea at beft a mighty bubble. THE |