The dispensary a poem.

THE DISPENSARY; A POEM.

LONDON, Printed, and Sold by Iohn Nutt, near Stationers-Hall. 1699.

The Dispensary. SPeak, Goddess! since 'tis Thou that best canst tell How ancient Leagues to modern Discord fell; Whence 'twas, Physicians were so frugal grown Of others Lives, and lavish of their own; How by a Journey to th' Elysian Plain Peace triumph'd, and old Time return'd again. Not far from that most celebrated Place, Where angry Justice shews her awful Face; Where little Villains must submit to Fate, That great ones may enjoy the World in state; There stands a Dome, majestick to the sight And sumptuous Arches bear its oval height; A golden Globe plac'd high with artful skill, Seems, to the distant sight, a gilded Pill: This Pile was by the pious Patron's aim, Rais'd for a use as noble as its Frame; Nor did the learn'd Society decline The propagation of that great Design; In all her mazes Nature's Face they view'd, And as she disappear'd, they still pursu'd. They find her dubious now, and then, as plain; Here, she's too sparing, there profusely vain. Now she unfolds the faint, and dawning strife Of infant Atoms kindling into life: How ductile Matter new Meanders takes, And slender trains of twisting Fibres makes. And how the viscous seeks a closer tone, By just degrees to harden into bone; Whilst the more loose flow from the vital Urn, And in full Tides of Purple Streams return; How from each sluice a briny Torrent pours, T' extinguish feavourish heats with ambient show'rs; Whence their mechanick pow'rs the Spirits claim, How great their force, how delicate their Frame: How the same Nerves are fashion'd to sustain The greatest Pleasure and the greatest Pain. Why bileous Juice a golden light puts on, And floods of Chyle in silver Currents run. How the dim speck of Entity began T' extend its recent Form, and stretch to Man. To how minute an Origin we owe Young Ammon, Caesar, and the Great Nassau. Why paler looks impetuous rage proclaim, And why chill Virgins redden into flame. Why Envy oft transforms with wan disguise, And why gay Mirth sits smiling in the Eyes. All Ice why Lucrece, or Sempronia, fire, Why S—enrages to survive desire. Whence Milo's Vigour at th' Olympicks shown, Whence tropes to F—ch or impudence to S— Why Atticus polite, Brutus severe, Why Me—nd muddy, M—gue why clear. Hence 'tis we wait the wondrous Cause to find, How Body acts upon impassive Mind. How Fumes of Wine the thinking part can fire, Past Hopes revive, and present Joys inspire: Why our Complexions oft our Soul declare, And how the Passions in the Features are. How Touch and Harmony arise between Corporeal Substances, and Things unseen. With mighty Truths, mysterious to descry, Which in the Womb of distant Causes lie. But now those great Enquiries are no more, And Faction Skulks, where Learning shone before: The drooping Sciences neglected pine, And Poeans Beams with fading lustre shine. No Readers here with Hectick looks are found, Or Eyes in rheum, thro' midnight watching drown'd: The lonely Edifice in Sweats complains That nothing there but empty Silence reigns. This Place so fit for undisturb'd repose, The God of Sloth for his Asylum chose. Upon a Couch of Down in these Abodes The careless Deity supinely nods. His leaden Limbs at gentle ease are laid, With Poppys and dull Night-shade o're him spread; No Passions interrupt his easie reign, No Problems puzzle his lethargick Brain. But dull oblivion guards his peaceful Bed, And lazy Fogs bedew his thoughtless Head. As at full length the pamper'd Monarch lay, Batt'ning in ease, and slumbring life away A spightful noise his downy Chains unties, Hastes forward, and encreases as it flies. Frst, some to cleave the stubborn Flint engage, The building of the Dispensary. Till urg'd by blows, it sparkles into rage. Some temper Lute, some spacious Vessels move; These Furnaces erect, and Those approve. Here Phyals in nice discipline are set, There Gally-pots are rang'd in Alphabet. In this place, Magazines of Pills you spy, In that, like forrage, Herbs in bundles lye. Whilst lifted Pestles, brandisht in the Air, Descend in peals and civil Wars declare. Loud stroaks, with pounding Spice, the Fabrick rend, And aromatick Clouds in Spires ascend. So when the Cyclops o're their Anvils sweat, And their swol'n Sinews ecchoing blows repeat; From the Vulcano's gross eruptions rise, And, with curl'd sheets of smoak, obscure the Skies. The slumbring God amaz'd at this new din, Thrice strove to rise, and thrice sunk down agen. Then, half erect, he rubb'd his opening Eyes, And faulter'd thus betwixt half words and sighs. How impotent a Deity am I! With Godhead born, but curst, that cannot dye! Thro' my indulgence 'tis, that Mortals share A grateful negligence, and ease from Care. Lull'd in my arms, how long have I with-held, The Northern Monarchs from the dusty Field. How have I kept the Brittish Fleet at ease, From tempting the rough dangers of the Seas. Hibernia owns the mildness of my Reign, And my Divinity's ador'd in Spain. I Swains to Sylvan Solitudes convey, Where stretch'd on Mossy Beds, they waste away, In gentle inactivity, the day. What marks of wondrous Clemency I've shown, My bright and blooming Clergy hourly own. Triumphant Plenty, with a chearful grace, Basks in their Eyes, and sparkles in their Face. How sleik their looks, how goodly is their Mien, When big they strut behind a double Chin. Each Faculty in blandishments they lull, Aspiring to be venerably dull. No learn'd Debates molest their downy Trance Or discompose their pompous ignorance: But undisturb'd, they loiture life away, So wither Green, and blossom in decay. Deep sunk in Down, they by my gentle Care Avoid th' Inclemencies of Morning Air, And leave to tatter'd Crape the Drudgery of Pray'r. Mankind my fond propitious Pow'r has try'd, Too oft to own, too much to be deny'd. And in return I ask but some recess, T'enjoy th' entrancing Extasies of Peace. But that, the Great Nassau's heroick Arms Has long prevented with his loud Alarms. Still my indulgence with contempt he flies, His Couch a Trench, his Canopy the Skies. Nor Skies nor Seasons his resolves controul, Th' Aequator has no heat, no Ice the Pole. From Clime to Clime his wondrous Triumphs move, And Iove grows jealous of his Realms above. But as the slothful God to Yawn begun, He shook off the dull Mist, and thus went on. Sometimes among the Caspian Cliffs I creep, Where solitary Batts, and Swallows sleep. Or if some Cloyster's refuge I implore, Where holy Drones o're dying Tapers snore; Still Nassau's Arms a soft repose deny, Keep me awake, and follow were I flie. Now since he has vouchsaf'd the World a Peace, And with a Nod has bid Bellona cease: I sought the Covert of some peaceful Cell, Where silent Shades in harmless raptures dwell; That Rest might past Tranquility restore, And Mortal never interrupt me more. 'Twas here, alas! I thought I might repose, These Walls were that Asylum I had chose. Nought underneath this Roof, but Damps are found, Nought heard, but drowzy Beetles buzzing round. Spread Cobwebs hide the Walls, and Dust the Floors, And midnight Silence guards the noiseless Doors. But now some busie Wretch's feavourish Brain, Invents new Fancies to renew my Pain, And labours to dissolve my easie Reign. With that, the God his darling Phantom calls, And from his fault'ring Lips this Message falls. Since Mortals will dispute my Pow'r, I'le try Who has the greatest Empire, they or I. Find Envy out, some Princes Court attend, Most likely there, you'l meet the famish'd Fiend. Or in Cabals, or Camps, or at the Bar, Or where ill Poets Pennyless confer, Or in the Senate-house at Westminster. Tell the bleak Fury what new Projects reign, Among the Homicides of Warwick-Lane. And what th' Event, unless her Care enclines, To blast their Hopes, and baffle their Designs. More He had spoke but sudden Vapours rise, And with their silken Cords tye down his Eyes.

The Dispensary. CANTO II. SOON as with gentle sighs the ev'ning Breeze Begun to whisper through the murm'ring Trees; And Night had wrap'd in Shades the Mountains Whilst Winds lay hush'd in Subterranean Beds. [Heads, Officious Phantom did with speed prepare To slide on tender Pinions through the Air. He often sought the Summit of a Rock, And oft the Hollow of some blasted Oak; At length approaching where bleak Envy lay, He found, by th' hissing of her Snakes, the way. Beneath the gloomy Covert of an Eugh That taints the Grass with sickly sweats of Dew; No verdant Beauty entertains the sight, But baneful Hemlock, and cold Aconite; There crawl'd the meagre Monster on the ground, And Breath'd a livid Pestilence around: A bald and bloted Toad-stool rais'd her Head; And Plumes of boding Ravens were her Bed. Down her wan Cheeks sulphureous Torrents flow, And her red haggard Eyes with Fury glow. Like Aetna with Metallick streams oppress'd, She breaths a bleu Eruption from her Breast. And rends with canker'd Teeth the pregnant Scrolls Where Fame the Acts of Demy-Gods enrolls. And as the rent Records in pieces fell, Each Scrap did some immortal Action tell. This show'd, how fix'd as Fate Torquatus stood, And That, the passage of the Granick Flood. The Iulian Eagles, here, their Wings display; And there, all pale, th' expiring Decii lay. This does Camillus as a God extol, That points at Manlius in the Capitol. How Cochles did the Tyber's Surges brave, How Curtius plung'd into the gaping Grave. Great Cyrus, here, the Medes and Persians joyn, And, there, th' immortal Battel on the Boyn. As th' airy Messenger the Fury spy'd, A while his curdling Blood forgot to glide. Confusion on his fainting Vitals hung, And fault'ring accents flutter'd on his Tongue. At length assuming Courage, he essay'd T' inform the Fiend, then shrunk into a shade. The Hag lay long revolving what might be The blest Event of such an Embassy. She blazons in dread Smiles her hideous Form, So Light'ning guilds the unrelenting Storm. Then she, Alas! how long in vain have I Aim'd at those noble ills the Fates deny: Within this Isle for ever must I find Disasters to distract my restless Mind. Good Te—ns Celestial Piety Has rais'd his Virtues to the Sacred See. So—rs do's sickning Equity restore, And helpless Orphans now need weep no more. Pm—ke to Britain endless Blessings brings; He spoke and Peace clap'd her Triumphant wings: Unshaken is the Throne and safe its Lord, Whilst M—d or O—nd wears a Sword. The noble ardour of a Loyal Fire, Inspires the generous breast of De—re. Like Leda's shining Sons, divinely clear, P—land and I—sey deck'd in Rays appear To Guild, by turns, the Gallick Hemisphear. Worth in Distress is rais'd by M—gue, Augustus listens if Maecenas sue. And V—ns Vigilance no slumber takes, Whilst Faction peeps abroad, and Anarchy awakes. Since therefore by no Arts I can defeat The happy Enterprizes of the Great, I'le calmly stoop to more inferiour things; And try if my lov'd Snakes have Teeth or Stings. She said; and straight shrill Colon's Person took, In Morals loose, but most precise in look. Black-Fryar's Annals lately pleas'd to call Him Warden of Apothecaries-Hall. And, when so dignifi'd, he'd not forbear That Operation which the learn'd declare Gives Collicks ease, and makes the Ladies Fair. In vain Formality his Talent lies, And th' empty Head's defects, the Band supplies. Hourly his learn'd Impertinence affords A barren Superfluity of Words. In haste he strides along to recompence The want of bus'ness with its vain pretence. The Fury thus assuming Colon's grace, So slung her Arms, so shuffl'd in her Pace. Onward she hastens to the fam'd Abodes, Where Horoscope invokes th' infernal Gods, And reach'd the Mansion where the Vulgar run T' increase their Ills, and throng to be undone. This Wight all mercenary Projects trys, And knows that to be rich is to be wise. By useful Observations he can tell The sacred Charms that in true Sterling dwell. How Gold maks a Patrician of a Slave, A Dwarf an Atlas, a Therfites brave. It cancels all defects, and in their place Finds Sense in Br—w, Charms in Lady G—ce. It guides the fancy, and directs the mind, No Bankrupt ever found a Fair one kind. So truly Horoscope its Virtues knows, To this bright Idol 'tis, alone, he bows; And fancies that a Thousand Pound supplies The want of twenty Thousand Qualities. Long has he been of that amphibious Fry, Bold to prescribe, and busie to apply. His Shop the gazing Vulgar's Eyes employs With forreign Trinkets, and domestick Toys. Here, Mummies lay most reverendly stale, And there, the Tortois hung her Coat o' Mail; Not far from some huge Shark's devouring Head, The flying Fish their finny Pinions spread. Aloft in rows large Poppy Heads were strung, And near, a scaly Alligator hung. In this place, Drugs in Musty heaps decay'd, In that, dry'd Bladders, and drawn Teeth were laid. An inner Room receives the numerous Shoals Of such as pay to be reputed Fools. Globes stand by Globes, Volumns on Volumns lie, And Planitary Schemes amuse the Eye. The Sage, in Velvet Chair, here lolls at ease, To promise future Health for present Fees. Then, as from Tripod, solemn shams reveals, And what the Stars know nothing of, foretels. One asks how soon Panthea may be won, And longs to feel the Marriage Fetters on. Others, convinc'd by Melancholy proof, Wou'd know how soon kind Fates will strike 'em off. Some, by what means they may redress the wrong, When Fathers the Possession keep too long. And some wou'd know the issue of their Cause, And whether Gold can sodder up its flaws. Poor pregnant Laijs his advice wou'd have, To lose by Art what fruitful Nature gave: And Portia old in expectation grown, Laments her barren Curse, and begs a Son. Whilst Iris, his cosmetick Wash, must try, To make her Bloom revive, and Lovers dye. Some ask for Charms, and others Philters choose To gain Corinna, and their Quartans loose. Young Hylas, botch'd with Stains too foul to Name, In Cradle here, renews his Youthful Frame: Cloy'd with Desire, and furfeited with Charms, A Hot-house he prefers to Iulia's arms. And old Lucullus wou'd th' Arcanum prove, Of kindling in cold Veins the sparks of Love. With pleasure those dull Frauds bleak Envy sees, And wonders at the senseless Mysteries. In Colon's Voice she thus calls out aloud On Horoscope environ'd by the Crow'd. Forbear, forbear, thy vain Amusements cease, Thy Wood-Cocks from their Gins a while release; And to that dire Misfortune listen well, Which thou shou'd'st fear to know, or I to tell. 'Tis true, Thou ever wast esteem'd by me The great Alcides of our Company. When we with Noble Scorn resolv'd to ease Our selves of all Parochial Offices; And to our Wealthier Patients left the care, And draggl'd dignity of Scavenger; Such Zeal in that affair thou dist express, Nought cou'd be equal to't, but the Success. Now call to mind thy generous Prowess past, Be what thou shou'd'st, by thinking what thou wast. The Faculty of Warwick-Lane design, If not to Storm, at least to Undermine: Their Gates each day ten thousand Night-caps crow'd, And their attempts their Mortars speak aloud. If they shou'd once unmasque our Mystery, Each Nurse e're long wou'd be as learn'd as We, Our Art expos'd to ev'ry Vulgar Eye, And, none in Complaisance to us, would dye. What if We claim their right to assassinate, Must they needs turn Apothecaries straight? Prevent it, Gods! all Stratagems we try, To crowd with new Inhabitants your Skie. 'Tis we who wait the Destinies command, To purge the troubl'd Air, and weed the Land. And dare the College of Physicians aim To equal our Fraternity in Fame? Crabs Eyes as well with Pearl for use may try, Or Highgate Hill with lofty Pindus vie: So Glow-worms may compare with Titan's Beams, Or Hare Court Pump with Aganippe's Streams. Our Manufacture now they meanly sell, And spightfully, th' intrinsick value tell: Nay more, (but Heav'ns prevent) they'l force us soon, To act with Conscience, and to be undone. At this, fam'd Horoscope turn'd pale, and straight In silence tumbl'd from his Chair of State. The Crowd in great Confusion sought the Door, And left the Magus fainting on the Floor. Whilst in his Breast the Fury breath'd a Storm, Then sought her Cell, and reassum'd her Form, Thus from the Sore altho' the Insect flies, It leaves a brood of Maggots in disguise. Officious Squirt in haste forsook the Shop, To succour the expiring Horoscope. Oft he essay'd the Magus to restore, By Salt of Succinum's prevailing pow'r; But still supine the solid Lumber lay, An Image of scarce animated Clay; Till Fates, indulgent when Disasters call, Bethought th' Assistant of a Urinal; Whose Steam the Wight no sooner did receive, But rowz'd, and blest the Stale Restorative. The Springs of Life their former Vigour feel, Such Zeal he had for that vile Urensil. So when Pelides did blue Thetis see, He knew the Fishy smell, and own'd her Deity.

The Dispensary. CANTO III. ALL Night the Sage in pensive tumults lay, Complaining of the slow approach of Day; Oft turn'd him round, and strove to think no Of what shrill Colon spoke the Day before. [more, Cowslips and Poppies o're his Eyes he spread, And S—nd's Works he laid beneath his Head. But all those Opiats still in vain he tryes, Sleep's gentle Image his embraces flies. Tumultuous cares lay rowling in his Breast, And thus his anxious thoughts the Sage express'd. The Earth has rowl'd twelve annual turns, and more, Since first high Heav'ns bright Orbs I've number'd o're. Such my applause, so mighty my success, I once thought my Predictions more than guess. But, doubtful as I am, I'le entertain This Faith, there can be no mistake in gain. For the dull World most Honour pay to those Who on their Understanding most impose. First Man creates, and then he fears the Elf, Thus others cheat him not, but he himself: He loaths the Substance, and he loves the show, 'Tis hard e're to convince a Fool, He's so: He hates Reallities, and hugs the Cheat, And still the Pleasure lies in the deceit. So Meteors flatter with a dazling Dye Which no existence has, but in the Eye. Prospects at distance please, but when we're near, We find but desart Rocks, and fleeting Air. From Stratagem, to Stratagem we run, And he knows most who latest is undone. Mankind one day serene and free appear; The next, they're cloudy, sullen, and severe: New Passions, new Opinions still excite, And what they like at Noon, despise at Night: They gain with labour, what they quit with ease, And Health for want of Change grows a Disease. Religion's bright Authority they dare, And yet are Slaves to superstitious Fear. They Counsel others, but themselves deceive, And tho' they're cozen'd still, they still believe. Shall I then, who with penetrating sight Inspect the Springs that guide each appetite; Who with unfathom'd searches hourly pierce The dark Recesses of the Universe, Be passive, whilst the Faculty pretend Our Charter with unhallow'd hands to rend? If all the Fiends that in low darkness reign, Be not the Fictions of a sickly Brain; That Project, the Medicines made up there for the use of the Poor. Dispensary, they call, Before the Moon can blunt her Horns, shall fall. With that a glance from mild Aurora's Eyes, Shoots thro' the Crystal Kingdoms of the Skies; The Savage Kind in Forests cease to roame, And Sots o'recharg'd with nauseous Loads reel home. Light's chearful smiles o're th' azure waste are spread, And Miss from Inns o' Court bolts out unpaid. The Sage transported at th' approaching hour, Imperiously thrice thunder'd on the Floor; Officious Squirt that moment had access, His trust was great, his vigilance no less. To him thus Horoscope. My kind Companion in this dire affair, Which is [more light, since thou assum'st a share; Fly with what hast, thou us'd to do of old, When Clyster was in danger to be cold: With expedition on the Beadle call To summon all the Company to th' Hall. Away the trusty Coadjutor hies, Swift as from Phyal steam of Hartshorn flies. The Magus in the int'rim mumbles o're Vile terms of Art to some infernal Pow'r, And draws mysterious Circles on the Floor. But from the gloomy Vault no glaring Spright, Ascends to blast the tender bloom of Light. No mystick sounds from Hell's detested Womb, In dusky exhalations upwards come. And now to raise an Altar He decrees, To that devouring Harpy call'd Disease. Then Flow'rs in Canisters he hastes to bring, The wither'd product of a blighted Spring, With cold Solanum from the Pontick Shoar, The Roots of Mandrake and black Ellebore. And on the Structure next he heaps a load, Of Sassafras in chips and mastick Wood. Then from the Compter he takes down the File, And with Prescriptions lights the solemn Pyle. Feebly the Flames on clumsie Wings aspire, And smouldring Fogs of smoke benight the Fire. With sorrow he beheld the sad portent, Then to the Hag these Orizons he sent. Disease! thou ever most propitious Pow'r, Whose soft Indulgence we perceive each Hour; Thou that woud'st lay whole States and Regions wast, Sooner than we thy Cormorants shou'd fast; If, in return, all Diligence we pay T' extend your Empire, and confirm your Sway, Far as the weekly Bills can reach around, From Kent-Street end to fam'd St. Giles's-Pound; Behold this poor Libation with a Smile, And let auspicious Light break thro' the Pyle. He spoke: and on the Pyramid he laid Bay-Leaves and Vipers Hearts, and thus he said; As These consume in this mysterious Fire, So let the curs'd Dispensary expire; And as Those crackle in the Flames and dye, So let its Vessels burst, and Glasses flie. But a sinister Cricket straight was hear'd, The Altar fell, and th' Off'ring disappear'd. As the fam'd Wight the Omen did regret, Squirt brought the News the Company was met. Nigh where Fleet-Ditch descends in sable Streams, To wash his sooty Naiads in the Thames; There stands a Apothecaries Hall. Structure on a rising Hill, Where Tyro's take their Freedom out to kill. Some Pictures in these dreadful Shambles tell, How by the Delian God the Pithon fell; And how Medea did the Philter brew, That cou'd in Aeson's Veins young force renew; How sanguine Swains their Amorous Hours repent, When Pleasure's past, and Pains are permanent; And how frail Nymphs, oft by abortion aim To lose a Substance, to preserve a Name. Soon as each Member in his rank was plac'd, Th' Assembly Diasenna thus address'd. My kind Confederates, if my poor intent, As 'tis sincere, had been but prevalent; We'd met upon a more serene Design, And on no other bus'ness but to dine; The Faculty had still maintain'd their sway, And int'rest had directed us t'obey; Then we'd this only emulation known, Who best cou'd fill his Purse, and thin the Town. But now from gath'ring Clouds Destruction pours, And threatens with mad rage our Halcyon Hours: Mists from black Jealousies the Tempest form, And late Divisions reinforce the Storm. Know, when these Feuds, like those at Law, are past, The Winners will be Losers at the last. Like Heroes in Sea-Fights we seek Renown, To Fire some hostile Ship, we Burn our own. That Jugler which another's Slight will show, But teaches how the World his own may know. Thrice happy were those Golden days of old, When dear as Burgundy, Ptisans were sold. When Patients chose to dye with better will, Than live to pay th' Apothecaries Bill. And cheaper, than for our assistance call, Might yield to Fine for Sheriff Spring and Fall. But now late Jars our practices detect, For Mines, when once discover'd, lose th' Effect Dissentions, like small Streams, are first begun, Scarce seen they rise, but gather as they run. So Lines that from their Parallel decline, More they advance, the more they still dis-joyn. 'Tis therefore my advice, in haste we send, And beg the Faculty to be our Friend. As he revolving stood to speak the rest, Rough Colocynthis thus his rage express'd. Thou scandal of the mighty Paeans Art, At thy approach, the Springs of Nature start, The Nerves unbrace: Nay at the sight of thee A Scratch turns Cancer, th' Itch a Leprosie. Cou'd'st thou propose that we the Friends o' Fates, Who fill Church-yards, and who unpeople States, Who baffle Nature, and dispose of Lives, Whilst Russel, as we please, or starves, or thrives; Shou'd e're submit to their imperious Will, Who out o' Consultation scarce can kill? Th' aspiring Alps shall sooner sink to Vales, And Leaches, in our Glasses, swell to Whales; Or Norwich trade in Implements of Steel, And Bromingham in Stuffs and Druggets deal: The Sick to th' Hundreds sooner shall repair, And change the Gravel Pits for Essex Air. No, no, the Faculty shall soon confess Our Force encreases, as our Funds grow less; And what requir'd such Industry to raise, We'll scatter into nothing as we please. Thus they'l acknowledge to Annihilate, Shows as immense a Power as to Create. We'l raise our num'rous Cohorts, and oppose The feeble Forces of our Pigmy Foes; Whole Troops of Quacks shall joyn us on the Place, From great Kirleus, down to Doctor Case. Tho' Such vile Rubbish sink, yet we shall rise, Directors still secure the greatest Prize. Such poor Supports serve only like a stay, The Tree once fix'd, its Rest is torn away. So Patriots, in the times of Peace and Ease, Forget the Fury of the late Disease: Imaginary Dangers they Create, And loath th' Elixir which preserv'd the State. Arm therefore, gallant Friends, 'tis Honour's call, Or let us boldly Fight, or bravely Fall. To this the Session seem'd to give consent, Much lik'd the War, but dreaded much th' Event. At length, the growing diff'rence to compose, Two Brothers nam'd Ascarides arose. Both had the Volubility of Tongue, In Meaning faint, but in Opinion strong. To speak they both assum'd a like pretence, But th' Elder gain'd his just preeminence; Then he: 'Tis true when Priviledge and Right Are once invaded, Honour bids us Fight. But to the fatal Field before we fly, We'll first reflect, and then consider why. Suppose th' unthinking Faculty unvail, What we, thro' wiser Conduct; wou'd conceal; Is't Reason we shou'd quarrel with the Glass That shows the monstrous Features of our Face? Or grant some grave Pretenders have of late Thought fit an Innovation to Create; Soon they'l repent, what rashly they begun, Tho' Projects please, Projectors are undone. All Novelties must this success expect; When good, our Envy; and when bad, neglect: If things of Use were valu'd, there had been Some Work-house, where the Monument is seen. Or if the Voice of Reason cou'd be hear'd, E're this, triumphal Arches had appear'd. Then since no Veneration is allow'd, Or to the real or th' appearing good; The Project that we vainly apprehend, Must, as it blindly rose, as vilely end. Some Members of the Faculty there are, Who Int'rest prudently to Oaths prefer. Our Friendship with a servile air they court, And their Clandestine Arts are our support. Them we'l Consult about this Enterprise, And boldly Execute what they Advise. But from below (whilst such resolves they took) Some Aurum Fulminans the The Room th' Apothecaries meet in, is over the Laboratory. Fabrick shook. The Champions daunted at the crack retreat, Regard their Safety, and their Rage forget. So thus at Bathos, when the Gyants strove T'invade the Skies, and wage a War with Iove; Soon as the Ass of old Silenus bray'd, The trembling Rebels in confusion fled.

The Dispensary. CANTO IV. NOT far from that most famous Theater, Where wandring Punks each Night at five re- [pair; Where purple Emperors in Buskins tread, And rule imaginary Worlds for Bread; Where Bently by old Writers wealthy grew, And Briscoe Iately was undone by New: There triumphs a Physician of Renown; To scarce a Mortal, but Himself, unknown. None e're was plac'd more luckily than He, For th' exercise of such a Mystery. When Bu—ss deafens all the listning press. With Peals of most seraphick Emptiness; Or when Mysterious F—n mounts on high To preach his Parish to a Lethargy: This Aesculapius waits hard by to ease The Martyrs of such Christian Cruelties. Long has this happy Quarter of the Town, For Lendness, Wit, and Gallantry been known. All Sorts meet here, of whatsoe're degree, To blend and justle into Harmony. The Politicians of Parnassus prate, And Poets canvass the affairs of State; The Cits ne're talk of Trade, and Stock, but tell How Virgil writ, how bravely Turnus fell. The Country Dames drive to Hippolito's, First find a Spark, and after lose a Nose. The Lawyer for lac'd-Coat the Robe does quit, He grows a Mad-man, and then turns a Wit. And in the Cloyster pensive Strephon waits, Till Chloe's Hackny comes, and then retreats. And if th' ungenerous Nymph a Shaft lets flie More fatally than from a sparkling Eye, Mirmillo, that fam'd Opifer, is nigh. Th' Apothecaries thither throng to dine, And want of Elbow-room's supply'd in Wine. Cloy'd with Variety they surfeit there, Whilst the wan Patients on thin Gruel fare. 'Twas here the Champions o' th' Party met, Of their Heroick Enterprize to treat. Each Heroe a tremendous Air put on, And stern Mirmillo in these Words begun. 'Tis with concern, my Friends, I meet you here; No Grievance you can know, but I must share. 'Tis plain, my Int'rest you've advanc'd so long, Each Fee, tho' I was mute, wou'd find a Tongue. And in return, tho' I have strove to rend Those Statutes, which on Oath I should defend; Yet that's a Trifle to a generous Mind, Great Services, as great Returns should find. And you'l perceive, this Hand, when Glory calls, Can brandish Arms, as well as Urinals. Oxford and all her passing Bells can tell, By this Right Arm, what mighty numbers fell. Whilst others meanly ask'd whole Months to slay, I oft dispatch'd the Patient in a Day: With Pen in hand I push'd to that degree, I scarce had left a Wretch to give a Fee. Some sell by Laudanum, and some by Steel, And Death in ambush lay in ev'ry Pill. For save or slay, this Priviledge we claim, Tho' Credit suffers, the Reward's the same. What tho' the Art of Healing we pretend, He that designs it least, is most a Friend. Into the right we err, and must confess, To Oversights we often owe Success. Thus Bessus got the Battel in the Play, His glorious Cowardise restor'd the Day. So the fam'd Grecian Piece ow'd its desert To Chance, and not the labour'd Stroaks of Art. Physicians, if they're wise, shou'd never think Of any other Arms than Pen and Ink. But th' Enemy, at their expence, shall find, When Honour calls, I'll scorn to stay behind. He said; and Seal'd the Engagement with a Kiss, Which was return'd by th' Younger Askaris; Who thus advanc'd; Each word, Sir, you impart Has something Killing in it, like your Art. How much we to your boundless Friendship owe, Our Files can speak, and your Prescriptions show. Your Ink descends in such excessive Showrs, 'Tis plain, you can regard no Health but ours. Whilst Poor Pretenders trifle o're a Case, You but appear, and give the Coup de Grace. O that near Xanthus Banks you had but dwelt, When Ilium first Achaian Fury felt, The Flood had curs'd young Peleus Arm in vain, For troubling his choak'd Streams with heaps of slain. No Trophies you had left for Greeks to raise, Their ten Years toil, you'd finish'd in ten Days. Fate smiles on your Attemps, and when you list, In vain the Cowards fly, or Brave resist. Then let us Arm, we need not fear Success, No labours are too hard for Hercules. Our military Ensigns we'll display; Conquest pursues, where Courage leads the way. To this Design fly Querpo did agree, A worthless Member of the Faculty; Drain'd from an Elder's Loins with awkard gust, In Lees of Stale Hypocrisie and Lust. His Sire's pretended pious Steps he treads, And where the Doctor fails, the Saint succeeds. A Conventicle flesh'd his greener Years, And his full Age th' envenom'd Rancour shares. Thus Boys hatch Game Fggs under Birds o' prey, To make the Fowl more furious for the Fray. Dull Carus next discover'd his intent, With much adoe explaining what he meant. His Spirits stagnate like Cocitus's Flood, And nought but Calentures can warm his Blood. In his chill Veins the sluggish Puddle flows, And loads with lazy Fogs his sable Brows. The brainless Wretch claims a Preeminence In setling Lunaticks, and helping Sense. So when Perfumes their fragrant Scent give o're, Nought can their Odour, like a Jakes, restore. When for Advice the vulgar throng, he's found With lumber o' vile Books besieg'd around. The gazing Fry acknowledge their Surprize, Consulting less their Reason than their Eyes. And He perceives it stands in greater stead, To furnish well his Classes, than his Head. Thus a weak State, by wise Distrust, enclines To num'rous Stores, and Strength in Magazines. So Fools are always most profuse of Words, And Cowards never fail of longest Swords. Abandon'd Authors here a Refuge meet, And from the World, to Dust and Worms retreat. Here Dregs and Sediment of Auctions reign, Refuse of Fares, and Gleanings of Duck-lane; And up these shelves, much Gothick Lumber climbs' With Swiss Philosophy, and Danish Rimes. And hither, rescu'd from the Grocers, come M—Works entire, and endless Rheams of Bloom. Where wou'd the long neglected C—s fly, If bounteous Carus shou'd refuse to buy? But each vile Scribler's happy on this score, He'll find some Carus still to read him o're. Nor must we the obsequious Umbra spare, Who, soft by Nature, yet declar'd for War. But when some Rival Pow'r invades on Right, Flys set on Flys, and Turtles Turtles fight. Else courteous Umbra to the last had been Demurely meek, insipidly serene. With Him, the present still some Virtues have, The Vain are sprightly, and the Stupid, grave. The Slothful, negligent; the Foppish neat; The Lewd are airy, and the Sly discreet. A Wren's an Eagle, a Baboon a Beau; C—t a Lycurgus, and a Phocion, R—. Heroick Ardour now th' Assembly warms, Each Combatant breaths nothing but Alarms. And whilst the Scheme for future Glory's laid, Fam'd Horoscope thus offers to disswade. Since of each Enterprise th' Event's unknown, Let's quit the Sword, and hearken to the Gown. Nigh lives Vagellius, one reputed long, For Strength of Lungs, and Pliancy of Tongue. Which way He pleases, he can mould a Cause, The Worst has Merits, and the Best has Flaws, Five Guinneas make a Criminal to Day, And ten to Morrow wipe the Stain away. Whatever he affirms is undeny'd, Milo's the Lecher, Clodius th' Homicide. Cato pernicious, Cataline a Saint, Or—rd suspected, D—comb innocent. Let's then to Law, for 'tis by Fate decreed, Vagellius, and our Mony, shall succeed. Know, when I first invok'd Disease by Charms T'assist, and be propitious to our Arms; Ill Omens did the Sacrifice attend, Nor wou'd the Sybil from her Grot ascend. As Horoscope urg'd farther to be heard, He thus was interrupted by a Bard. In vain your Magick Mysteries you use, Such sounds the Sybil's Sacred Ears abuse. These Lines the pale Divinity shall raise, Such is the Pow'r of Sound, and Force of Lays. K. Arth. p. 307. Arms meet with Arms, Fauchions with Fauchions clash, And sparks of Fire struck out from Armour flash. Thick Clouds of Dust contending Warriours raise, And hideous War o're all the Region brays. K. Ar. p. 327 Some raging ran with huge Herculean Clubs, Some massy Balls of Brass, some mighty Tubs Of Cynders bore.— Pr. Ar. p. 189. Naked and half burnt Hulls, with hideous wreck, Affright the Skies, and fry the Oceans back, Pr. Ar. p. 136. High Rocks of Snow, and sailing Hills of Ice, Against each other with a mighty crash, Driven by the Winds, in rude rencounter dash. K. Ar. p. 189. Blood, Brains, and Limbs the highest Walls distain, And all around lay squallid Heaps of Slain. As he went rumbling on, the Fury straight Crawl'd in, her Limbs cou'd scarce support her Weight. A noysom Rag her pensive Temples bound, And faintly her parch'd Lips these Accents sound. Mortal, how dar'st thou with such Lines address My awful Seat, and trouble my Recess? In Essex Marshy Hundreds is a Cell, Where lazy Fogs, and drissing Vapours dwell: Thither raw Damps on drooping Wings repair, And shiv'ring Quartans shake the sickly Air. There, when fatigu'd, some silent Hours I pass, And substitute Physicians in my place. Then dare not, for the future, once rehearse Th' offensive Discord of such hideous Verse. But in your Lines let Energy be found, And learn to rise in Sense, and sink in Sound. Harsh words, tho' pertinent, uncooth appear, None please the Fancy, who offend the Ear. In Sense and Numbers if you wou'd excel, Read W—y, consider D—den well. In one, what vigorous turns of Fancy shine, In th' other, Syrens warble in each Line. If D—sets sprightly Muse but touch the Lyre, The Smiles and Graces melt in soft desire, And little Loves confess their amorous Fire. The Tyber now no gentle Gallus sees, But smiling Thames enjoys his N—bys. And gentle Isis claims the Ivy Crown, To bind th' immortal Brows of A—son. As tuneful C—greve trys his rural Strains, Pan quits the Woods, the list'ning Fawns the Plains; And Philomel, in Notes like his, complains. And Britain, since Pausanias was writ, Knows Spartan Virtue, and Athenian Wit. When St—ny paints the Godlike Acts of Kings, Or P—r some Facetious Fancy sings: The Banks of Rhine a pleas'd Attention show, And Silver Sequena forgets to flow. Such just Examples carefully read o're, Slide without falling, without straining soar. Oft tho' your Stroaks surprize, you shou'd not choose, A Theme so mighty for a Virgin Muse. Long did Apelles his Fam'd Piece decline, His Alexander was his last Design. 'Tis M—gue's rich Vein alone must prove, None but a Phidias shou'd attempt a Iove. She said; and as She vanisht from their Sight, She cry'd, to Arms; so left the Realms of Light. The Combatants to th' Enterprize consent, And the next day smil'd on the great Event.

The Dispensary. CANTO V. WHen the still Night, with peaceful Poppies crown'd, Had spread her shady Pinions o're the Ground; And slumbring Chiefs of painted Triumphs dream, Whilst Groves and Streams are the soft Virgin's Theme. The Surges gently dash against the Shoar, Flocks quit the Plains, and Gally-Slaves the Oar. Sleep shakes its downy Wings o're mortal Eyes, Mirmillo is the only Wretch, it Flies. He finds no respite from his anxious Grief, Then seeks from this Soliloquy relief. Long have I reign'd unrival'd in the Town, And great as my Ambition's my Renown. There's none can dye with due Solemnity, Unless his Pass-port first be sign'd by Me. My arbitrary Bounty's undeny'd, I give Reversions, and for Heirs provide. None cou'd the tedious Nuptial State support; But I, to make it easie, make it short. I set the discontented Matrons free, And ransom Husbands from Captivity. And shall so useful a Machin as I Engage in civil Broyls, I know not why? No, I'll endeavour strait a Peace, and so I save my Honour, and my Person too. But Discord, that still haunts with hideous Mien Those dire Abodes where Hymen once has been, O're-heard Mirmillo reas'ning in his Bed; Then raging inwardly the Fury said. Have I so often banisht lazy Peace From her dark Solitude, and lov'd Recess? Have I made S—th and S—lock disagree, And puzzle Truth with learn'd Obscurity? And does my faithful Fer—son profess His Ardour still for Animosities? Have I, Britannia's Safety to insure, Expos'd her naked, to be more secure? Have I made Parties opposite, unite, In monstrous Leagues of amicable Spight. T' embroyl their Country, whilst the common Cry, Is Freedom, but their Aim, the Ministry? And shall a Dastard's Cowardise prevent The War so long I've labour'd to foment? No, 'tis resolv'd, he either shall comply, Or I'll renounce my wan Divinity. With that, the Hag approach'd Mirmillo's Bed, And taking Querpo's meager Shape, She said; I come, altho' at Midnight, to dispel, Those Tumults in your pensive Bosom dwell. I dream't, but now, my Friend, that you were by; Methought I saw your Tears, and heard you sigh. O that 'twere but a Dream! But sure I find Grief in your Looks, and Tempests in your Mind. Speak, whence it is this late disorder flows, That shakes your Soul, and troubles your Repose. Erroneous Practice scarce cou'd give you Pain, Too well you know the Dead will ne're complain. What Looks discover, said the Homicide, Wou'd be but too impertinent to hide. My Stars direct me to decline the Fight; The way to serve our Party, is to write. How many, said the Fury, had not split On Shelves so fatal, if they ne're had writ! Had C—h printed nothing of his own, He had not been the S—fold o' the Town. Asses and Owls unseen themselves betray, If These attempt to Hoot, or Those to Bray. Had We—y never aim'd in Verse to please, We had not rank'd him with our Ogilbys. Still Censures will on dull Pretenders fall, A Codrus shou'd expect a Iuvenal. Ill Lines, but like ill Paintings, are allow'd To set off, and to recommend the good. So Diamonds take a Lustre from their Foyle; And to a B—ly 'tis, we owe a B—le. Consider well the Talent you possess, To strive to make it more wou'd make it less; And recollect what Gratitude is due, To Those whose Party you abandon now. To Them you owe your odd Magnificence, But to your Stars your penury of Sense. Haspt in a Tombril, awkardly you've shin'd With one fat Slave before, and none behind. But soon, what They've exalted They'l discard, And set up Carus, or the City Bard. Alarm'd at this, the Heroe Courage took, And Storms of Terrour threaten'd in his Look. My dread Resolves, he cry'd, I'l straight pursue, The Fury smil'd, and sullenly with-drew. In omnious Dreams Mirmillo spent the Night, And frightful Phantoms danc'd before his Sight. At length gay Morn smiles in the Eastern Skie, From rifling silent Graves the Sextons fly. The rising Mists skud o're the dewy Lawns, The Chanter at his early Matins yawns. The Violets ope their Buds, Cowslips their Bells, And Progne, her Complaint of Tereus, tells. As bold Mirmillo the gray dawn descries, Arm'd Cap-a-pe, where Honour calls, he flies And finds the Legions planted at their Post; Where Querpo in his Armour shone the most. His Shield was wrought, if we may credit Fame By Mulciber, the Mayor of Bremigham. A Folliage of dissembl'd Senna Leaves, Grav'd round its Brim, the wondring sight deceives. Embost upon its Feild, a Battel stood Of Leeches spouting Hemorrhoidal Blood. The Artist too exprest the solemn state Of grave Physicians at a Consult met; About each Symptom how they Disagree, But how unanimous in case of Fee. And whilst one Assassin another plys, With starch'd Civilities, the Patient dyes. Beneath this Blazing Orb bright Querpo shone, Himself an Atlas, and his Sheild a Moon. A Pestle for his Truncheon led the Van, And his high Helmet was a Close stool-pan. His Crest an This Bird, according to the ancients, gives it self a Clyster with its Beek. Ibis, brandishing her Beak, And winding in loose Folds her spiral Neck. This, when the Young Querpoides beheld, His Face in Nurse's Breast the Boy conceal'd. Then peep't, and with th' effulgent Helm wou'd play, But as the Monster gap'd, he'd shrink away. Thus sometimes Joy prevail'd, and sometimes Fear, And Tears and Smiles alternate Passions were. But Fame that whispers each profound Design, And tells the Consultations at the Vine. And how at Church and Bar all gape and stretch, If Wi—ton but plead, or O—ly preach; On nimble Wings to Warwick-Lane repairs, And what the Enemy intends, declares. Disorder'd Murmurs thro' the College pass, And pale Confusion glares in ev'ry Face. In hast a Council's call'd, th' Occasion's great, And quick as Thought, the summon'd Members meet. Loud Stentor to th' Assembly had Access, None courted bus'ness more, or knew it less. True to Extreams, yet to dull Forms a Slave, He's always dully gay, or vainly grave. With Indignation, and a daring Air, He paus'd a-while, and thus address'd the Chair. Machaon, whose Experience we adore, Great as your matchless Merits, is your Pow'r. At your Approach, the baffl'd Tyrant Death, Breaks his keen Shafts, and grinds his clashing Teeth. To you we leave the Conduct of the Day, What you command, your Vassals must obey. If this dread Enterprize you wou'd decline, We'l send to treat, and stifle the Design. But if my Arguments had force, we'd try To scatter our audacious Foes, or dye. What Stentor offer'd was by most approv'd, But sev'ral Voices several Methods mov'd. At length th' adventrous Heroes all agree T' expect the Foe, and act defensively. Into the Shop their bold Battallions move, And what their Chief commands, the rest approve. Down from the Walls they tear the Shelves in haste, Which, on their Flank, for Pallisades are plac'd. And then, behind the Compter rang'd, they stand, Their Front so well secur'd t' obey Command. And now the Scouts the adverse Host descry, Blew Aprons in the Air for Colours fly. With unresisted Force they urge their Way, And find the Foe embattel'd in Array. Then, from their level'd Syringes they pour The liquid Volly of a missive Show'r. Not Storms of Sleet, which o're the Baltick drive, Push't on by Northern Gusts, such Horrour give. Like Spouts in Southern Seas the Deluge broke, And Numbers sunk beneath th' impetuou Stroak. So when Leviathans Dispute the Reign, And uncontrol'd Dominion of the Main. From the rent Rocks whole Coral Groves are torn, And Isles of Sea-weed on the Waves are born. Such watry Stores from their spread Nostrils fly, 'Tis doubtful, which is Sea, and which is Sky. And now the stagg'ring Braves, led by Despair, Advance, and to return the Charge prepare. Each seizes for his Sheild, an ample Scale, And the Brass Weights fly thick as showr's of Hail. Whole heaps of Warriours welter on the Ground, With Gally-Pots, and broken Phials crown'd, And th' empty Vessels the Defeat resound. Thus when some Storm its Chrystal Quarry rends, And Iove in ratling Show'rs of Ice descends; Mount Athos shakes the Forests on his Brow, Whilst down his wounded Sides fresh Torrents flow, And Leaves and Limbs of Trees o're spread the vale below. But now, all Order lost, promiscuous Blows Confus'dly fall; perplex'd the Battel grows. From Stentor's sinewy Arm an Opiate flys, And straight a deadly Sleep clos'd Carus Eyes. Chiron hit Siphilus with Calomel, And scaly Crusts from his maim'd Fore-head fell. At Colon great Iapix Rhubarb flung, Who with fierce Gripes, like those of Death, was stung; And with an angry and revengefull Mien Hurl'd back Steel Pills, and hit Him on the Spleen. Scribonius a vast Eagle-stone let fly At Psylas, but Lucina put it by. And Querpo, warm'd with more than mortal Rage, Sprung thro' the Battel, Stentor to engage. Fierce was the Onset, the Dispute was great, Both cou'd not vanquish, Neither wou'd retreat. Each Combatant his Adversary mauls With batter'd Bed-pans, and stav'd Urinals. But as bold Stentor, eager of Renown, Design'd a fatal Stroak, he tumbl'd down; And whilst the Victor, hov'ring o're him stood, With arms extended, thus the Suppliant su'd. When Honour's lost 'tis a relief to dye, Death's but a sure retreat from Infamy. But to the lost, if pity might be shown, Think on Querpoides thy darling Son; Mine's small as He, just such an infant Grace, Sports in his Eyes and flatters in his Face. If he was by, Compassion He'd create, Or else lament his wretched Parent's fate. Thine is the Glory, and the Field is thine; To Thee the lov'd Dispensary I resign. The Chief at this the deadly Stroak declin'd, And found Compassion pleading in his Mind. But whilst He view'd with pity the Distress'd, He spy'd Those Members of the College that observe a late Statute, are call'd by the Apothecaries Signetur Men. Signetur writ upon his Breast. Then tow'rds the Skies He toss'd his threat'ning Head. And fir'd with mortal Indignation, said; Sooner than I'll from vow'd Revenge desist, His Holiness shall turn a Quietist. La Chase shall with the Iansenists agree, And th' Inquisition wink at Heresy. Faith stand unmov'd thro' S—fleet's Defence, And L—k for Mystery abandon Sense. With that, unsheathing an Incision Knife, He offer'd at the prostrate Stentor's Life. But whilst his Thoughts that fatal Act decree, Apollo interpos'd in form of Fee. The Chief great Paean's golden Tresses knew, He own'd the God, and his rais'd Arm withdrew. Thus often at the Temple-Stairs we've seen Two Tritons of a rough Athletick Mien, Sowrly dispute some quarrel of the Flood, With Knucles bruis'd, and Face besmear'd in blood. But at the first appearance of a Fare Both quit the Fray, and to their Oars repair. The Hero thus his Enterprise recalls, His Fist unclinches, and the Weapon falls.

The Dispensary. CANTO VI. WHilst the shrill clangour of the Battel rings, Auspicious health appear'd on Zephir's Wings; She seem'd a Cherub most divinely bright, More soft than Air, more gay than morning Light. A Charm she takes from each excelling Fair, And borrows C—ll's Shape, and G—ton's Air. Her Eyes like R—agh's their Beams dispence, With Ch—ill's Bloom, and B—kley's Innocence. From her bright Lips a vocal Musick falls, Whilst to Machaon thus the Goddess calls. Enough th' atchievement of your Arms you've shown, You seek a Triumph you shou'd blush to own. Hast to th' Elysian Fields, those bless'd abodes, Where Harvy sits among the Demi-Gods. Consult that sacred Sage, He'll soon disclose The method that must terminate these woes. Let Celsus for that Enterprize prepare, His conduct to the Shades shall be my care. Aghast the Heroes stood dissolv'd in fear, A Form so heav'nly bright They cou'd not bear, Celsus alone unmov'd, the Sight beheld, The rest in pale confusion left the Field. So when the Pigmies marshal'd on the Plains; Wage puny War against th' invading Cranes; The Poppets to their bodkin Spears repair, And scatter'd Feathers flutter in the Air. But soon as ee'r th' imperial Bird of Jove Stoops on his sounding Pinions from above, Among the Brakes, the Fairy Nation crowds, And the Strimonian Squadron seeks the Clouds. And now the Delegate prepares to go And view the Wonders of the Realms below; Then takes Amomum for the Golden Bough. Thrice did the Goddess with her Sacred Wand The Pavement strike; and straight at her Command Th' obedient Surface opens, and descries A deep Descent that leads to nether Skies. Higeia to the silent Region tends; And with his Heav'nly Guide the Charge descends. Within the Chambers of the Globe they spy The Beds where sleeping Vegetables lie: Till the glad Summons of a Genial Ray Unbinds the Glebe, and calls them out to Day. Hence Pancies trick themselves in various Hew, And hence Iunquils derive their fragrant Dew. Hence the Carnation, and the bashful Rose Their Virgin Blushes to the Morn disclose. Hence Arbours are with twining Greens array'd. T' oblige complaining Lovers with their Shade. And hence on Daphne's verdant Temples grow Immortal Wreaths, for Phoebus and Nassau. The Insects here their lingring Trance survive: Benumn'd they seem, and doubtful if alive. From Winter's Fury hither they repair, And stay for milder Skies and softer Air. Down to these Cells obscener Reptils creep; And there the Nutes and painted Lizzards sleep. There shiv'ring Snakes the Summer Solstice wait; Unfurl their painted Folds, and slide in State. Now, those profounder Regions they explore, Where Metals ripen in vast Cakes of Oar. Here, sullen to the Sight, at large is spread The dull unwieldy Mass of lumpish Lead. There, glimm'ring in their dawning Beds, are seen The more aspiring Seeds of sprightly Tin. The Copper sparkles next in ruddy Streaks; And in the Gloom betrays its glowing Cheeks. The Silver then, with bright and burnish'd Grace, Youth and a blooming Lustre in its Face, To th' op'ning Arms of these lov'd Metals flyes; And in the Folds of their Embraces lyes. So close they cling, so stubbornly retire; Their Love's more violent than the Chymist's Fire. Near These the Delegate with Wonder spies Where living Floods of Merc'ry serpentize: Where richest Metals their bright Beams put on, While Silver Streams thro' Golden Channels run. Here he observes the subterranean Cells, Where wanton Nature sports in idle Shells. Some Helicoeids, some Conical appear, These, Miters emulate, Those, Turbans are: Here Marcasites in various Figure wait, To ripen to a true Metallick State: Till Drops that from impending Rocks descend, Their Substance petrifie, and Progress end. Nigh, livid Seas of kindl'd Sulphur flow; And, whilst enrag'd, their Fiery Surges glow: Convulsions in the lab'ring Mountains rise, And hurl their melted Vitals to the Skies. He views with Horror next the noisy Cave; Where with hoars dinn th' imprison'd Tempests rave: Where Clam'rous Hurricanes attempt their Flight, Or, whirling in tumultuous Eddies, fight. And now the Goddess with her Charge descends, Where scarce one cheerful Glimpse their Steps befriends, Here his forsaken Seat old Chaos keeps; And undisturb'd by Form, in Silence sleeps. A grisly Wight, and hideous to the Eye; An awkard Lump of shapeless Anarchy. With sordid Age his Features are defac'd; His Lands unpeopl'd, and his Countries waste. Here Lumber, undeserving Light, is kept, And P—p's Bill to this dark Region's swept: Where Mushroom Libels silently retire; And, soon as born, with Decency expire. Upon a Couch of Iett in these Abodes, Dull Night, his melancholy Consort, nodds. No Ways and Means their Cabinet employ; But their dark Hours they waste in barren Joy. Nigh this Recess, with Terror they survey, Where Death maintains his dread tyrannick Sway: I'th' middle of a dusky Cypress Grove, Where Goblins frisk, and Airy Spectres rove, Yawns a dark Cave most formidably wide; And there the Monarch's Triumphs are descry'd. Within its Dreadful Jaws those Furies wait, Which execute the harsh Decrees of Fate. Febris is first: The Hagg relentless hears The Virgin's Sighs; and sees the Infant's Tears. In her parch'd Eye-Balls fiery Meteors reign; And restless Ferments revel in each Vein. Then Hydrops next appears amongst the Throng; Bloated, and big, she slowly sails along. But, like a Miser, in Excess she's poor; And pines for Thirst amidst her wat'ry Store. Now loathsome Lepra, that offensive Spright, With foul Eruptions stain'd, offends the Sight. She's deaf to Beauty's soft persuading Pow'r: Nor can bright Hebe's Charms her Bloom secure. Whilst meagre Consumption. Phthisis gives a silent Blow; Her Stroaks are sure; but her Advances slow. No loud Alarms, nor fierce Assaults are shown: She starves the Fortress first; then takes the Town. Behind stood Crouds of much inferiour Name, Too num'rous to repeat, too soul to name; The Vassals of their Monarch's Tyranny: Who, at his Nod, on fatal Errands fly. Now Celsus, with his glorious Guide, invade The silent Region of the fleeting Shades. Where Rocks and ruful Desarts are descry'd; And sullen Styx rolls down his lazy Tide. Then shews the Ferry-man the Plant he bore, And claims his Passage to the further Shore. To whom the Stygian Pilot smiling, said, You need no Pass-port to demand our Aid. Physicians never linger on this Strand: Old Charon ne'er refuses their Command. Our awful Monarch and his Consort owe To them the peopl'ing of their Realms below. Then in his swarthy Hand he grasp'd his Oar, Receiv'd his Guests aboard, and shov'd from Shoar. Now, as the Goddess and her Charge prepare To breathe the Sweets of soft Elysian Air; Upon the left they spy a pensive Shade, Who on his bended Arm had rais'd his Head: Pale Grief sate heavy on his careful Look: To whom, not unconcern'd, thus Celsus spoke: Tell me, Thou much afflicted Shade, why Sighs Burst from your Breast, and Torrents from your Eyes: And who those mangl'd Manes are which show A sullen Satisfaction at your Woe? Since, said the Ghost, with Pity you'll attend, Know, I'm Guiacum, once your valu'd Friend. And on this barren Beach in Discontent, Am doom'd to stay till th' angry Pow'rs relent. Those Spectres seam'd with Scarrs, that threaten there, The Victims of my late ill Conduct are. They vex with endless Clamours my Repose: This wants his Palate; That demands his Nose. And here they execute stern Pluto's Will, To ply me ev'ry moment with a Pill. Then Celsus thus: O much-lamented state! How moving's the Disaster you relate. Methinks I recollect your former Air, But ah, how much you're chang'd from what you were? If Mortals e're the Stygian Power cou'd bend, Entreaties to their awful Seats I'd send. But since no human Arts the Fates disswade, Direct me how to find bless'd Harvy's Shade. In vain th' unhappy Ghost still urg'd his stay, Then rising from the ground, he shew'd the way. Nigh the dull Shore a shapeless Mountain stood, That with a dreadful frown survey'd the Flood. Its fearful Brow no lively Greens puts on, No frisking Goats bound o'er the ridgy Stone. To gain the Summit the bright Goddess try'd, And Celsus follow'd, by degrees, his Guide. Th' Ascent thus conquer'd, now They towr on high, And tast th' indulgence of a milder Sky. Loose Breezes on their airy Pinions play, And with refreshing Sweets perfume the way. Cool streams thro flowry Meadows gently glide, And as They pass, their painted Banks they chide. These blissful Plains no Blites, nor Mildews fear, The Flowers ne'er fade, and Shrubs are Myrtles there. The Delegate observes with wondring Eyes Ambrosial Dews descend, and Incense rise. Then hastens onward to the pensive Grove, The silent Mansion of disastrous Love. No Winds but Sighs are there, no Floods but Tears, Each conscious Tree a tragick Signal bears. Their wounded Bark records some broken Vow, And Willow Garlands hang on ev'ry Bough. His Mistress here in solitude he found, Her down-cast Eyes fix'd on the silent ground: Her Dress neglected, and unbound her Hair, She seem'd the mournful image of Despair. How lately did this celebrated Thing Blaze in the Box, and sparkle in the Ring, Till the Green-sickness and Love's force betray'd To Death's remorsless arms th' unhappy Maid. Cold and confus'd the guilty Lover stood, The light forsook his Eyes, his Cheeks the Blood; An icy horrour shiver'd in his Look, Then softly in these gentle words, He spoke: Tell me, dear Shade, from whence such anxious care Your Looks disorder'd and your Bosom bare? Why thus you languish like a drooping Flow'r Crush'd by the weight of some unfriendly shower. Your pale Complexion your late Conduct tell, O that instead of Trash you'd taken Steel. Then as he strove to clasp the fleeting Fair, His empty Arms confess'd th' impassive Air. From his Embrace the unbody'd Spectre flies, And as she mov'd, she chid him with her Eyes. They hasten now to that delighful Plain Where the glad Manes of the Bless'd remain: Where Harvy gathers Simples to bestow Immortal Youth on Hero's Shades below. Soon as the bright Higeia was in view The venerable Sage her Presence knew. Thus He— Hail blooming Goddess, Thou propitious Pow'r, Whose Blessings mortals next to Life implore. Such Graces in your heav'nly Eyes appear, That Cottages are Courts when you are there. Mankind, as you vouchsafe to smile or frown, Finds ease in Chains, or anguish in a Crown. With just resentments and contempt you see The mean dissentions of the Faculty; How sick'ning Physick hangs her pensive head, And what was once a Science, now's a Trade. Her Sons ne'er rifle her mysterious Store, But study Nature less, and Lucre more. I shew'd of old, how vital Currents glide, And the Meanders of their refluent Tyde. Then, Willis, why spontaneous Actions here, And whence involuntary Motions, there: And how the Spirits by mechanick Laws, In wild Cariers, tumultuous Riots cause. Nor wou'd our Wharton, Bates and Glisson lye In the Abyss of blind Obscurity. But now such wondrous Searches are forborn, And Paean's Art is by divisions torn. Then let your Charge attend, and I'll explain How Physick her lost Lustre may regain. Haste and the matchless. Atticus Address From Heav'n, and great Nassau he has the Mace. Th' oppress'd to his Asylum still repair, Arts He supports, and Learning is his care. He softens the harsh rigour of the Laws, Blunts their keen Edge, and cuts their harpy Claws; And graciously he casts a pitying Eye On the sad state of vertuous Poverty. When e'er he speaks, heav'ns! how the list'ning Throng Dwells on the melting musick of his Tongue. His Arguments are th' Emblems of his Mein, Mild, but not faint, and forcing, tho' serene; And when the power of Eloquence, He'd try, Here, Lightning strikes you, there, soft Breezes sigh. To him you must your sickly state refer, Your Charter claims Him as your Visiter. Your Wounds he'll close, and sov'reignly restore Your Science to the height it had before. Then Nassau's Health shall be your glorious Arm, His Life shou'd be immortal as his Name. Some Princes claims from Devastations spring, He condescends in pity to be King: And when, amidst his Olives plac'd, He stands, And governs more by Candour than Commands: Ev'n then not less a Heroe he appears, Than when his Laurel Diadem he wears. Wou'd but Apollo some great Bard inspire With sacred veh'mence of Poetick Fire; To celebrate in Song that God-like Power, Which did the labouring Universe restore. Fair Albian's Cliffs wou'd Eccho to the Strain, And praise the Arm that Conquer'd to regain The Earth's repose, and Empire o'er the Main. Still may th' immortal Man his Cares repeat, To make his Blessings endless as they're great: Whilst Malice and Ingratitude confess, They've strove for Ruine long without success. Had some fam'd Heroe of the Latin blood, Like Iulius great, and like Octavius good, But thus preserv'd the sinking Latian Power, Rome had erected Columns ev'ry hour; Loud Io's her proud Capitol had shook, And all the Statues of the Gods had spoke. No more, the Sage his Raptures cou'd pursue, He paus'd: and Celus with his Guide withdrew. FINIS.