Ye liftening Zephyrs, that o'erheard his love,
Waft the foft accents to the gods above.
Alas! the day; for (oh, eternal shame!)
I fold you handkerchiefs, and loft my fame.
COR. When I forget the favour
you bestow'd,
Red herrings shall be spawn'd in Tyburn Road.
Fleet-ftreet transform'd become a flowery green,
And mafs be fung where operas are seen.
The wealthy cit and the St. James's beau
Shall change their quarters, and their joys forego;
Stock-jobbing this to Jonathan's fhall come,
At the Groom Porter's that play off his plum.
PHIL. But what to me does all that love avail,
If, whilft I doze at home o'er porter's ale,
Each night with wine and wenches you regale?
My live-long hours in anxious cares are paft,
And raging hunger lays my beauty waste.
On templars fpruce in vain I glances throw,
And with fhrill voice invite them as they go.
Expos'd in vain my gloffy ribbands shine,
And unregarded wave upon the twine.
The week flies round; and, when my profit's known,
I hardly clear enough to change a crown.
COR. Hard fate of virtue, thus to be diftreft,
Thou fairest of thy trade, and far the best !
As fruitmens ftalls the fummer-market grace,
And ruddy peaches them; as firft in place
Plum-cake is feen o'er fmaller pastry ware,
And ice on that; fo Phillis does appear
In play house and in park, above the rest
Of belles mechanic, elegantly dreft.
PHIL. And yet Crepundia, that conceited fair, Amidft her toys, affects a faucy air,
And views me hourly with a scornful eye.
COR. She might as well with bright Cleora vie.
PHIL. With this large petticoat I strive in vain
To hide my folly paft, and coming pain ;
'Tis now no fecret; fhe, and fifty more,
Obferve the symptoms I had once before:
A fecond babe at Wapping must be plac'd,
When I scarce bear the charges of the last.
COR. What I could raise I fent; a pound of plums, Five fhillings, and a coral for his gums; To-morrow I intend him fomething more.
PHIL. I fent a frock and pair of shoes before.
COR. However, you shall home with me to-night,
Forget your cares, and revel in delight.
I have in store a pint or two of wine,
Some cracknels, and the remnant of a chine.
And now on either fide, and all around,
The weighty shop-boards fall, and bars refound;
Each ready femftrefs flips her pattins on,
And ties her hood, preparing to be gone.
TIDAS, we are in story told,
Turn'd every thing he touch'd to geld:
He chip'd his bread; the pieces round
Glitter'd like fpangles on the ground:
A codling, ere it went his lip in,
Would ftrait become a golden pippin:
He call'd for drink; you faw him sup
Potable gold in golden cup:
His empty paunch that he might fill,
He fuck'd his victuals through a quill;
Untouch'd it pafs'd between his grinders,
Or 't had been happy for gold-finders:
He cock'd his hat, you would have said
Mambrino's helm adorn'd his head :
Whene'er he chanc'd his hands to lay
On magazines of corn or hay,
Gold ready coin'd appear'd, instead
Of paltry provender and bread;
Hence by wife farmers we are told,
Old bay is equal to old gold ;
And hence a critic deep maintains,
We learn'd to weigh our gold by grains.
This fool had got a lucky hit;
And people fancy'd he had wit.
Two gods their skill in mufick try'd,
And both chofe Midas to decide;
He against Phoebus' harp decreed,
And
gave it for Pan's oaten reed:
The god of wit, to fhew his grudge,
Clapt aes' ears upon the judge; ·
A goodly pair, erect and wide,
Which he could neither gild nor hide.
And now the virtue of his hands
Was loft among Pactolus' fands,
Againft whofe torrent while he fwims,
The golden fcurf peels off his limbs :
Fame fpreads the news, and people travel
From far to gather golden gravel;
Midas, expos'd to all their jeers,
Had loft his art, and kept his ears.
THIS tale inclines the gentle reader
To think upon a certain leader;
To whom from Midas down, defcends
That virtue in the fingers' ends.
What elfe by perquifites are meant,
By penfions, bribes, and three per cent.
By places and commiffions fold,
And turning dung itfelf to gold ?
By starving in the midst of store,
As t'other Midas did before?
None e'er did modern Midas chufe,
Subject or patron of his Mufe,
But found him thus their merit fcan,
That Phœbus must give place to Pan:
He values not the poet's praise,
Nor will exchange his plumbs for bays .
To Pan alone rich mifers call;
And there's the jeft, for Pan is ALL.
Here English wits will be to feek,
Howe'er, 'tis all one in the Greek.
Befides, it plainly now appears
Our Midas too hath affes' ears;
Where every fool his mouth applies,
And whispers in a thousand lies
Such grofs delufions could not pafs
Through any ears but of an ass.
But gold defiles with frequent touch;
There's nothing fouls the hand fo much :
And scholars give it for the caufe
Of British Midas' dirty paws;
Which while the fenate ftrove to fcour,
They wash'd away the chemic power.
While he his utmost strength apply'd,
To swim against this popular tide,
The golden fpoils flew off apace;
Here fell a penfion, there a place;
The torrent mercilefs imbibes
Commiffions, perquifites, and bribes
By their own weight funk to the bottom;
Much good may do them that have caught 'em!
And Midas now neglected stands,
With affes' ears, and dirty hands.
AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG: 1711.
BEING THE INTENDED SPEECH OF
A FAMOUS ORATOR AGAINST PEACE *.
N Orator difmal of Nottinghamshire,
Who has forty years let out his conscience to hire, Out of zeal for his country, and want of a place, Is come up, vi & armis, to break the queen's peace.
*The lord treasurer having hinted a wifh one evening that a ballad might be made on the earl of Nortingham ; this fong was written and printed the next morning.
|