Pleas'd with th' abundance of his daily Store,
He did not wish, for he cou'd ufe no more.

Thus Nature govern'd when the World began,
The Laws of Nature were the Laws of Man:
But long thefe Rules did not his Fancy fuit,
The Blockhead must be wifer than the Brute;
Art must new-mould what Nature better taught,
Or polish o'er what the too courfely wrought:
From thence the Taylor and the Parfon join'd,
To cloath his naked Body and his Mind;
The Taylor only form'd the outward Sign,
To fhew what fort of Creature liv'd within;
The Priest amaz'd him in his Myftick School,

Turn'd his Head round, and made him Knave and Fool.
He taught fome Virtues, but in ftrange Disguise,
Dreft up in Pomp, in Rites and Sacrifice,

The good and bad confus'd, and Truth was brew'd with Lies.

Between them both they make us what we are,
Of Beau and Bigot a promifcuous Share.

The FALSE MORNING.

THE Enjoyment from her Lover's side;

HE Morning rose bright as a blooming Bride,

So warm for Winter, and fo like the Spring,
I thought to hear the foolish Cuckoo fing;
But fee how foon the Bleffing turn'd a Curse,
The Weather and the Ways grow worse and worfe;
The Clouds look fullen in the faithlefs Skies,
And Winds, like Jealoufie, in Murmurs rife ;
It Thunder'd in my Ears, and Lighten'd in my Eyes.
'Sometimes a flatt'ring Minute feem'd to fimile,
But lafted but a very little while.

Such is the Morning of a married Life,
-But fuch the dirty Journey with a Wife.

THE think was long a

HE Scepticks think 'twas long ago,

To fee who were their Friends or Foes,
And how our Actions fell or rofe;
That fince they gave Things their Beginning,
And fet this Whirligig a Spinning, it
Supine they in their Heav'n remain,
Exempt from Pleafure as from Pain;
And frankly leave us Human Elves,
To cut and shuffle for our felves;
To ftand or walk, to rife or tumble,
As Matter and as Motion jumble.
The Poets now, and Painters, hold
This Thefis dangerous and bold:
And your good-natur'd Gods, they fay,
Defcend fome twice or thrice a Day.
Elfe all these Things we toil fo hard in
Would not avail one fingle Farthing.
For when the Hero we rehearse,
To grace his Actions, and our Verfe,
'Tis not by dint of Human Thought
That to his Latium he is brought:
Iris defcends, by Fate's Commands,
To guide his Steps through Foreign Lands;
And Amphitrite clears his Way,
From Rocks and Quick-fands in the Sea.
And if you fee him in a Sketch,
Tho' drawn by Paulo or Carache,
He shows not half his Force and Strength,
Strutting in Armour, and at Length;
That he may make his proper, Figure,
The Piece muft yet be four Yards bigger;
The Nymphs conduct him to the Field,
One holds his Sword, and one his Shield;

1

1

Mars ftanding by afferts his Quarrel,
And Fame flies after with a Lawrel.

These Points, I fay, of Speculation,
As 'twere to fave or fink the Nation,
Men idly learned will difpute,
Affert, object, confirm, refute;
Each mighty angry, mighty right,
With equal Arms fuftains the Fight,
'Till now no Medium can agree 'em ;
So both draw off, and fing Te Deum.
Is it in Equilibrio

If Deities defcend or no?

Then let th' Affirmative prevail,
As requifite to form my Tales
For by all Parties 'tis confeft,
That those Opinions are the best,
Which in their Nature moft conduce
To prefent Ends, and private Use.

Two Gods came, therefore, from above;
One Mercury, the other Jove:

The Humour was, it feems, to know

If all the Favours they bestow

Cou'd from our own Perverseness ease us,
And if our Wish injoy'd might please us.
Difcourfing largely on this Theme,
O'er Hills and Dales their Godfhips came
'Till well nigh tir'd at almost Night,
They thought it proper to alight.

Note here, that it as true as odd is,
That in Difguife a God or Goddess
Exerts no fupernatural Powers,
But acts on Maxims much like Ours.
They spy'd, at last, a Country Farm,
Where alt was fnug, and clean, and warm
For Hills before, and Woods behind,
Secur'd it both from Rain and Wind;
Fat Oxen in the Fields were lowing,

Good Grain was fow'd, good Fruit was growing:

Of laft Year's Corn in Barns great Store,
Fat Turkeys gobbling at the Door,

And Wealth, in fhort, with Peace confented,
That People here should live contented:
But did they in Effect do so?

Have Patience, Friend, and thou shalt know.
The honeft Farmer and his Wife
To Years declin'd, from Prime of Life,
Had ftruggled with the Marriage Noose,
As almost ev'ry Couple does:

Sometimes, My Plague; fometimes, My Darling;
Kiffing to Day, to Morrow fnarling:

Jointly fubmitting to endure

That Evil which admits no Cure.

Our Gods. the outward Gate unbarr'd,

Our Farmer met 'em in the Yard,

Thought they were Folks that loft their Way,
And ask'd them civilly to stay;

Told 'em, for Supper, or for Bed,
They might go on, and be worse sped.----
So faid, fo done, the Gods confent;
All three into the Parlour went,
They compliment, they fit, they chat,
Fight o'er the Wars, reform the State;
A thousand knotty Points they clear,
'Till Supper and my Wife appear.
Jove made his Leg, and kifs'd the Dame;
Obfequious Hermes did the fame.
Jove kiss'd the Farmer's Wife, you say?
He did----but in an honest way:
Oh! not with half that Warmth and Life
With which he kiss'd Amphitryon's Wife.
Well then, Things handsomly were ferv'd
My Mistress for the Strangers carv’d.
How ftrong the Beer, how good the Meat,
How loud they laught, how much they cat
Wou'd gloriously in Verse appear,
Yet fhall be pafs'd in Silence here,

For I should grieve to have it said,
That, by a fine Description led,
I made my Epic very long,

Or tyr'd my Friend, to grace my Song.
The Grace-Cup ferv'd, the Cloth away,
Jove thought it time to fhow his Play;
Landlord and Landlady, he cry'd,
Folly and Jefting laid aside,
That Ye thus hofpitably live,

And Strangers with good Chear receive,
Is mighty grateful to your Betters,

And makes ev'n Gods themselves your Debtors.
To give this Thefis plainer Proof,

You have, to Night, beneath your Roof
A Pair of Gods;----nay, never wonder;
This Youth can Fly, and I can Thunder.
I'm Jupiter, and he Mercurius,

My Page, my Son indeed, but fpurious.
Form then three Wishes, you and Madam,
And fure as you already had 'em,
The Things defir'd in half an Hour

Shall all be here, and in your Pow'r.
Thank Ye, great Gods, the Woman says,
Oh! may your Altars ever blaze:

A Ladle for our Silver Dish

Is what I want, and what I wifh.-
A Ladle, cries the Man, a Ladle!
Odzooks, Corifca, you have pray'd ill;
What should be Great you turn to Farce,
I wish the Ladle in your A---

With equal Grief and Shame my Muse
The sequel of the Tale pursues:
The Ladle fell into the Room,
And ftuck in old Corifca's Bum:
Our Couple weep two Wishes paft,
And kindly join to form the last,
To cafe the Woman's awkward Pain,
And get the Ladle out again."