Each day, the more her faults were known,
He thinks her features coarfer grown;
He fancies every vice the shows
Or thins her lips, or points her nofe:
Whenever rage or envy rife,
How wide her mouth, how wild her eyes!
He knows not how, but so it is,
Her face is grown a knowing phiz;
And, though her fops are wondrous civil,
He thinks her ugly as the devil.
THUS, to perplex the ravell'd noofe,
While each a different way pursues,
While fullen or loquacious ftrife
Promis'd to hold on for life,
That dire difeafe, whose ruthless power
Withers the beauty's tranfient flower-
Lo! the fmall-pox, whofe horrid glare,
Levell❜d its terrors at the fair,
And, rifling every youthful grace,
Left but the remnant of a face.
THE glafs, grown hateful to her fight,
Reflected now a perfect fright;
Each former art fhe vainly tries
To bring back luftre to her eyes.
In vain the tries her paftes and creams,
To smooth her fkin, or hide its feams;
Her country beaux and city coufins,
Lovers no more, flew off by dozens:
The 'fquire himself was feen to yield,
And even the captain quit the field.
POOR madam, now condemn'd to hack
The reft of life with anxious Jack,
Perceiving others fairly flown,
Attempted pleafing him alone.
Jack foon was dazzled to behold
Her prefent face furpass the old;
With modefty her cheeks were dy'd,
Humility difplaces pride;
For tawdry finery is feen
A perfon ever neatly clean:
No more prefuming on her fway
She learns good-nature every day,
Serenely gay, and ftrict in duty,
Jack finds his wife a perfect beauty..
LONG had rack'd my brains to find
A likeness for the fcribbling kind,
The modern fcribbling kind, who write
In wit, and fenfe, and nature's spite :
'Till reading, I forget what day on,
A chapter out of Took's Pantheon,
I think I met with fomething there,.
To fuit my purpose to a hairs.
But let us not proceed too furious,
Firft please to turn to God Mercurius
You'll find him pictur'd at full length
In book the second, page the tenth:
The ftrefs of all my proofs on him. I lay,-
And now proceed we to our fimile.
IMPRIMIS, pray obferve his hat;
Wings upon either fidemark that.
Well! what is it from thence we gather
Why, these denote a brain of feather.
A brain of feather-very right;
With wit that's flighty, learning light;
Such as to modern bards decreed;
A juft comparison-Proceed.
In the next place, his feet peruse,
Wings grow again from both his shoes;
Defign'd, no doubt, their part to bear,
And waft his godfhip through the air:
And here my fimile unites ;
For, in a modern poet's flights,
I'm fure it may be justly faid,
His feet are ufeful as his head.
LASTLY, Vouchfafe t' obferve his hand,
Fill'd with a fnake-encircled wand;
By claffick authors term'd Caducis,
And highly fam'd for several uses.
To wit-moft wondrously endu❜d,
No poppy-water half fo good;
For let folks only get a touch,
Its foporifick virtue's fuch,
Though ne'er fo much awake before,
That quickly they begin to fnore.
Add too, what certain writers tell,
With this he drives men's fouls to hell.
Now to apply, begin we then: His wand's a modern author's
The ferpents round about it twin'd,
Denote him of the reptile kind;
Denote the rage with which he writes,
His frothy flaver, venom'd bites;
An equal femblance ftill to keep,
Alike they both conduce to fleep.
This difference only, as the god
Drove fouls to Tart'rus with his rod,
With his goofe quill the fcribbling elf,
Inftead of others, damns himself.
AND here my fimile almoft tript,
Yet grant a word by way of poftfcript;:
Moreover, Mere'ry had a failing:
Well! what of that? out with it-ftealing
In which our scribbling bards agree,
Being each as great a thief as he;
But even his deity's existence
Shall lend my fimile affiftance.
Our modern bards! why, what a pox
Are they but fenfeless stones and blocks?
THE title and nature of this Poem, fhows that it owed its birth to fome preceding circumftances of feftive merriment, which, from the wit of the company, and the very ingenious Author's peculiar oddities, were probably enlivened by fome poignant Strokes of humour. This piece was only intended for the Doctor's private amusement, and that of the particular friends who were its fubjects; and he unfortunately did not live to revife, or even to finish. it, in the manner which he intended.
OF old, when Scarron his companions invited, Each guest brought his difh, and the feast was united;
If our (a) landlord fupplies us with beef, and with fish,
Let each guest bring himself, and he brings the beft difh.
Our (b) Dean fhall be venifon just fresh from the plains;
Our (c) Burke fhall be tongue, with a garnish of
(a) The mafter of the St. James's coffee-houfe, where the Doctor, and the friends he hath characterized in this. poem, held an occafional club.
(b) Doctor Barnard, Dean of Derry in Ireland, author of many ingenious pieces.
(c) Mr. Edmund Burke, member for Wendover, one of the greatest orators in this kingdom,
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