By Captain Alexander Radcliff.
dark the Night was, that old Charon
Could not carry Ghoftly Fare-on;
But was forc'd to leave his Souls,
Stark ftript of Bodies, 'mongst the Shoals
Of Black Sea-Toads, and other Fry,
Which on the Stygian Shore do lie:
Th' amazed Spirits defire recefs
To their old batter'd Carcases,
But as they turn about, they find
The Night more difmal is behind.
Pluto began to fret and fume
Because the Tilt-Boat did not come.
To the Shore's fide he ftraitway trudges
With his three Soul-cenfuring Judges,
Standing on Acherontic Strand,
He thrice three times did waft his Wand:
From gloomy Lake did straight arise
A meager Fiend, with broad blue Eyes ;;
Approaching Pluto, as he bow'd,
From's Head there dropt infernal Mud;
Quoth he, A tenebris & luto
I come-----'Tis well, quoth furly Pluto,
"Go you to t'other fide of Styx,
"And know why Charon's fo prolix:
"Surely on Earth there cannot be
"A Grant of Immortality.
Away the wrigling Fiend foon fcuds
Through Liquids thick as Soap and Suds.
In the mean while old
Craftier far than any of us;
For mortal Men to him are filly;
Befides he held a League with Lilly;
And what is acted here does know
As well as t'other does below:
Thus fpake," Thou mighty King of Orcus,
"Who into any shape canft work us;
"I to your Greatness fhall declare
"My Sentiments of this Affair.
"Charon you know did ufe to come
"With fome Elucid Spirit home;
"Some Poet bright, whofe glowing Soul
Like Torch did light him cross the Pool:
« Old Charon then was blithe and merry,
"With Flame and Rhapfody in Ferry.
"Shou'd he grofs Souls alone take in,
"Laden with heavy rubbish Sin;
"Sin that is nothing but Allay;
"'Tis ten to one he'd lofe his way.
"But now fuch Wights with Souls fo clear
"Muft not have Damnation here;
"Nor can we hope they'll hither move,
"For know (Grim Sir) they're damn'd above;
"They're damn'd on Earth by th' prefent Age,
"Damn'd in Cabals, and damn'd o' th' Stage.
<< Laureat, who was both learn'd and florid,
"Was damn'd long fince for Silence horrid:
Nor had there been fuch clutter made,
But that this Silence did invade:
"Invade! and fo 't might well, that's clear:
"But what did it invade ?----an Ear.
And for fome other things, 'tis true, "We follow Fate that does pursue.
† A Lord who was in Metre wont
To talk of Privy Member blunt,
Whofe Verfe, by Women termed lewd,
Is ftill preferv'd, not understood.
But that which made em curfe and ban,
Was for his Satyr against Man.
* Dryden. t Lord Rochester.
A third was damn'd, 'caufe in his Plays
He thrufts old Jefts in Archee's days:
Nor as they fay can make a Chorus
Without a Tavern or a Whore-house;
Which he, to puzzle vulgar thinking,
Does call by th' name of Love and Drinking.
† A fourth for writing fuperfine,
With words correct in every Line:
And one that does prefume to say,
A Plot's too grofs for any Play:
Comedy fhould be clean and neat,
As Gentlemen do talk and eat.
So what he writes is but Translation,
From Dog and Partridge Conversation.
* A fifth, who does in's laft prefer 'Bove all, his own dear Character: And fain wou'd feem upon the Stage Too Manly for this flippant Age.
† A fixth, whofe lofty Fancy towers
'Bove Fate, Eternity and Powers:
Rumbles i' th' Sky, and makes a bustle;
So Gods meet Gods i' th' Dark, and justle.
A Seventh, because he'd rather chufe
To spoil his Verse than tire his Muse.
Nor will he let Heroicks chime;
Fancy (quoth he) is loft by Rhime.
And he that's us'd to clafhing Swords
Should not delight in founds of Words.
Mars with Mercury fhould not mingle;
Great Warriors fhou'd fpeak big, not jingle.
Amongst this Heptarchy of Wit,
The cenfuring Age have thought it fit
To damn a Woman, 'caufe 'tis faid,
The Plays the vends fhe never made.
But that *a Grays-Inn Lawyer does 'em,
Who unto her was Friend in Bofom,
So not prefenting Scarf and Hood,
New Plays and Songs are full as good.
These are the better fort I grant,
Damn'd only by the Ignorant:
But ftill there are a feribling Fry
Ought to be damn'd eternally;
An unlearn'd Tribe, e' th' lower Rate,
Who will be Poets fpite of Fate;
Whofe Character's not worth reciting,
They scarce can read, yet will be writing:
As t'other day a filly Oafe
Inftead of Jove did call on fofe:
Whofe humble Mufe defcends to Cellars,
Or at the best to Herc'les Pillars.
Now Charon I prefume does ftop,
Expecting one of these wou'd drop;
For any fuch Poetick Damn'd-boy
Will light him home as well as Flambeau.
acus juft had made an end,
When did arrive the dripping Fiend,
Who did confirm the Judge's Speech,
That Charon did a Light befeech.
They fell to Confultation grave,
To find some strange enlightened Knave.
Faux had like t' have been the Spark,
But that his Lanthorn was too dark.
At last th' agreed a fullen Quaker
Should be this bufinefs Undertaker;
The fittest Soul for this Exploit,
Because he had the newest Light :
Him foon from fable Den they drag,
Who of his Sufferings doth brag ;
And unto Heel of Fiend being ty'd,
To Charon's Veffel was convey❜d.
Charon came home, all things were well;
This is the only News from Hell.
CALL to the GUARD by a Drum.
By Captain Alexander Radcliffe.
AT too, rat too, rat too, rat tat too, tat rat too, With your Nofes all fcabb'd and your Eyes black and blue,
All ye hungry poor Sinners that Foot Soldiers are, Though with very small Coin, yet with very much
Care, [pair, From your Quarters and Garrets make hafte to reTo the Guard, to the Guard. From your forry Straw Beds and bonny white Fleas, From your Dreams of small Drink and your very fmall Eafe,
From your plenty of ftink, and no plenty of room,
From your Walls daub'd with Phlegm fticking on
'em like Gum,
[Thumb,
And Ceiling hung with Cobwebs to ftanch a cut
To the Guard, &c.
From your crack'd Earthen Pifpots where no Pifs can
Ray,
From Roofs bewrit with Snuffs in Letters the wrong
From one old broken Stool with one unbroken Leg,
One Box with ne'er a Lid to keep ne'er a Rag,
And Windows that of Storms more than your felves
can brag,
To the Guard, &c.
With trufty Pike and Gun, and the other rufty Tool; With Heads extreamly hot, and with Hearts wondrous cool; [lers) hurt; With Stomachs meaning none (but Cooks and SutWith two old tatter'd Shoes that difgrace the Town
[Shirt, With forty Shreds of Breeches, and no one Shred of
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