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And when imprison'd Air escap'd her,
It puft him with Poetick Rapture.
His Sonnets charm’d th' attentive Crowd,
By wide-mouth'd mortal trolld aloud,
That, circled with his long-ear's Guests,
Like Orpheus look’d, among the Beasts;
A Carman's Horse could not pass by,
But stood ty'd up to Poetry ;
No Porter's Burtben pass’d along,
But serv'd for Burthen to his Song.
Each Window, like a Pillory, appears,
With Heads thrust through naild by the Ears;
All Trades run in as to the sight
Of Monsters, or their dear delight
'The Gallow-Tree, when cutting Purse,
Breeds Bus'ness for Heroick Verse,
Which none does hear, but would have hung

T been the Theme of such a Song.
Those two together long had liv'd,
In Manfion prudently contrivd ;
Where neither Tree, nor House could bar
The free Detection of a Star

3

And

And nigh an Ancient Obelisk
Was rais’d by him, found out by Fisk,
On which was written not in Words,
But Hieroglyphick Mute of Birds,
Many rare pithy Saws concerning
The worth of Astrologick Learning :
From top of this there hung a Rope,
To which he fast'ned Telescope;
The Spectacles with which the Stars
He reads in smallest Chara&ters.
It hapned as a Boy one Night,
Did flie his Tarfel of a Kite ;
The strangest long-wing'd Hawk that flies,
That like a Bird of Paradise,
Or Herald's Martlet has no Legs,
Nor hatches young ones, nor lays Eggs :
His Train was fix yards long, Milk-white,
At th’end of which there hung a Light,
Enclos'd in Lantborn made of Paper,
That far off like a Star did appear.
This Sydrophel by chance espyd,
And with Amasement staring wide,

Bless

Bless us, quoth he! What dreadful Wonder Is that appears in Heaven yonder? A Comet, and without a Beard, Or Star that ne'er before appear'd ? I'm certain 'tis not in the Scroml Of all those Beasts, and Fish, and Fowi, With which, like Indian Plantations, The Learned stock the Constellations z Nor those that drawn for Signs have been, To th' Houses where the Planets Inn. It must be supernatural, Unless it be the Cannon-Ball, That shot i' th’Air point-blank upright, Was born to that prodigious height, That learn’d Philosophers maintain, It ne'er came backwards down again; But in the Airy Region yet Hangs like the Body of Mahomet: For if it be above the Shade, That by the Earth’s round bulk is made, 'Tis probable it may from far Appear no Bullet, but a Star.

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This faid, he to his Engine flew, Plac'd near at hand in open view, And rais'd it till it levelld right, Against the Glow-worm Tail of Kite. Then peeping through (Bless us, quoth he) It is a Planet now I fee; And if I err'not, by his proper Figure, that's like Tobacco-stopper, It should be Saturn ; yes, 'tis clear 'Tis Saturn ; But what makes him there? He's got between the Dragon's Tail, And farther Leg behind o’th'Whale ; Pray Heaven divert the fatal Omen, For 'tis a Prodigy not common ; And can no less than the World's end, Or Nature's Funeral portend. With that he fell again to pry, Through Perspective more wistfully, When by mischance the fatal ftring That kept the Towring-Fowl on wing,

Breaking

part 2, page 788

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