This faid, he to his Engine flew,
Plac'd near at hand in open view,
And rais'd it till it levell'd right,
Against the Glow-worm Tail of Kite.
Then peeping through (Blefs 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 fhould 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 wiftfully,
When by mifchance the fatal ftring
That kept the Towring-Fowl on wing,
Breaking, down fell the Star: Well shot,
Quoth Whachum, who right wifely thought
H' had levell'd at a Star, and hit it:
But Sidrophel more fubtil-witted,
Cry'd out what horrible and fearful
Portent is this, to fee a Star fall;
It threatens Nature, and the Doom
Will not be long before it come !
When Stars do fall 'tis plain enough
The Day of Judgment's not far off:
As lately 'twas reveal'd to Sedgwick,
And fome of us find out by Magick.
Then fince the time we have to live
In this World's fhorten'd, let us strive
To make our best Advantage of it,
And
pay our Loffes with our Profit.
This Feat fell out not long before
The Knight, upon the fore-nam'd score,
In quest of Sidrophel advancing,
Was now in Prospect of the Manfion :
Whom he discovering, turn'd his Glass,
And found far off 'twas Hudibras.
Whachum (quoth he) look yonder, fome To try or ufe our Art are come :
The one's the Learned Knight; feek out,
And pump 'em what they come about.
Whackum advanc'd with all fubmiffness,
T'accoft 'em, but much more their bus'nefs;
He held a Stirrup while the Knight
From Leathern Bare-Bones did alight,
And taking from his Hand the Bridle,
Approach'd the dark Squire to unriddle:
He gave him firft the time o' th' Day,
And welcom'd him, as he might fay:
He a'k'd 'em whence they came, and whither
Their bus nefs lay? Quoth Ralpho, hither;
Quoth Ralpho, nay;
Quoth Whachum, Sir, I meant your way? Your Knight-Quoth Ralpho, is a Lover: And pains intol❜rable doth fuffer 5
For Lovers Hearts are not their own Hearts, Nor Lights, nor Lungs, and foforth downwards. What time, Quoth Ralpho, Sir, too long, Three Years it off and on has hung
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