THE GHOST.

THE GHOST . WITH eager search to dart the soul , Curiously vain , from Pole to Pole , And from the Planets wand'ring spheres T'extort the number of our years , And whether all those years shall flow Serenely smooth , and free from woe , Or rude Misfortune shall deform Our life , with one continual storm ; Or if the Scene shall motley be , Alternate Joy and Misery , Is a desire which , more or less , All men must feel , tho' few confess . HENCE ev'ry place and ev'ry age Affords subsistence to the Sage , Who free from this world and it's cares , Holds an acquaintance with the Stars , From whom he gains intelligence Of things to come some ages hence , Which unto friends at easy rates He readily communicates . AT its first rise , which all agree on , This noble Science was CHALDEAN . That antient people , as they fed Their flocks upon the Mountain's head , Gaz'd on the Stars , observ'd their motions , And suck'd in Astrologic notions , Which they so eagerly pursue , As folks are apt whate'er is new , That things below at random rove Whilst they're consulting things above ; And when they now so poor were grown That they'd no houses of their own , They made bold with their friends the Stars , And prudently made use of their's . TO EGYPT from CHALDEE it travell'd , And Fate at MEMPHIS was unravell'd , Th' exotic Science soon struck root , And flourish'd into high repute . Each learned Priest , O strange to tell , Could circles make , and cast a spell , Could read and write , and taught the Nation The holy art of Divination . Nobles themselves , for at that time Knowledge in Nobles was no crime , Could talk as learned as the Priest , And prophesie as much at least . Hence all the fortune-telling Crew , Whose crafty skill mars Nature's hue , Who in vile tatters , with smirck'd face Run up and down from place to place , To gratify their friends' desires , From BAMPFIELD CAREW , to MOLL SQUIRES , Are rightly term'd EGYPTIANS all , Whom we , mistaking , GYPSIES call . THE GRECIAN Sages borrow'd this , As they did other Sciences , From fertile EGYPT , tho' the loan They had not honesty to own . DODONA's Oaks , inspir'd by JOVE , A learned and prophetic Grove , Turn'd vegetable Necromancers , And to all comers gave their answers ; At DELPHOS , to APOLLO dear , All men the voice of Fate might hear , Each subtle Priest on three-legg'd stool , To take in wise men , play'd the fool . A Mystery , so made for gain , E'en now in fashion must remain . Enthusiasts never will let drop What brings such business to their shop , And that Great Saint , we WH—TF—LD call , Keeps up the HUMBUG SPIRITUAL . AMONG the ROMANS not a Bird Without a Prophecy was heard ; Fortunes of Empires often hung On the Magician Magpye's tongue , And ev'ry Crow was to the State A sure interpreter of Fate . Prophets , embodied in a College , ( Time out of mind your seat of knowledge , For Genius never fruit can bear Unless it first is planted there , And solid Learning never falls Without the verge of College walls ) Infallible accounts would keep When it was best to watch or sleep , To eat or drink , to go or stay , And when to fight or run away , When matters were for action ripe By looking at a double tripe ; When Emperors would live or die They in an Ass's scull could spy , When Gen'rals would their station keep Or turn their backs , in hearts of sheep . In matters , whether small or great , In private families or state , As amongst us , the holy Seer Officiously would interfere , With pious arts and rev'rend skill Would bend Lay Bigots to his will , Would help or injure foes or friends , Just as it serv'd his private ends . Whether in honest way of trade Traps for Virginity were laid , Or if , to make their party great , Designs were form'd against the State , Regardless of the Common Weal , By Int'rest led which they call zeal , Into the scale was always thrown , The will of Heav'n to back their own . ENGLAND , a happy land we know , Where Follies naturally grow , Where without Culture they arise , And tow'r above the common size ; ENGLAND , a fortune-telling host , As num'rous as the Stars could boast , MATRONS , who toss the Cup , and see The grounds of Fate in grounds of Tea , Who vers'd in ev'ry modest lore , Can a lost Maidenhead restore , Or if their Pupils rather chuse it Can shew the readiest way to lose it ; GYPSIES , who ev'ry ill can cure , Except the ill of being poor , Who charms 'gainst Love and Agues sell , Who can in Henroost set a spell , Prepar'd by arts , to them best known , To catch all feet except their own , Who as to Fortune can unlock it , As easily as pick a pocket ; SCOTCHMEN , who in their Country's right Possess the gift of second-sight , Who ( when their barren heaths they quit , Sure argument of prudent wit , Which reputation to maintain , They never venture back again ) By lies prophetic heap up riches , And boast the luxury of breeches . AMONG the rest , in former years , CAMPBELL , illustrious name , appears , Great Heroe of futurity , Who blind could ev'ry thing foresee , Who dumb could ev'ry thing foretel , Who , Fate with equity to sell , Always dealt out the will of Heaven , According to what price was given . OF SCOTTISH race , in HIGHLANDS born , Possess'd with native pride and scorn , He hither came , by custom led , To curse the hands which gave him bread . With want of truth , and want of sense , Amply made up by impudence , ( A succedaneum , which we find , In common use with all mankind , Caress'd and favour'd too by those , Whose heart with Patriot feelings glows , Who FOOLISHLY , where'er dispers'd , Still place their native Country first ; For ENGLISHMEN alone have sense , To give a stranger preference , Whilst modest merit of their own , Is left in poverty to groan ) CAMPBELL foretold , just what he wou'd , And left the Stars to make it good , On whom he had impress'd such awe , His dictates current pass'd for LAW ; Submissive all his Empire own'd ; No Star durst smile , when CAMPBELL frown'd . THIS Sage deceas'd , for all must die , And CAMPBELL's no more safe than I , No more than I can guard the heart , When Death shall hurl the fatal dart ; Succeeded ripe in art and years , Another fav'rite of the spheres , Another and Another came , Of equal skill , and equal fame ; As white each wand , as black each gown , As long each beard , as wise each frown , In ev'ry thing so like , you'd swear , CAMPBELL himself was sitting there . To all the happy Art was known , To tell our fortunes , make their own . SEATED in Garret , for you know , The nearer to the Stars we go , The greater we esteem his art , Fools curious flock'd from ev'ry part . The Rich , the Poor , the Maid , the Married , And those who could not walk , were carried . THE BUTLER , hanging down his head , By Chamber-Maid , or Cook-Maid led , Enquires , if from his friend the Moon , He has advice of pilfer'd spoon . THE COURT-BRED WOMAN OF CONDITION , ( Who , to approve her disposition , As much superior , as her birth , To those compos'd of common earth , With double spirit must engage In ev'ry folly of the age ) The honourable arts would buy , To pack the Cards , and cog a Die . THE PARSON too ( for now and then , PARSONS are just like other men , And here and there a grave DIVINE Has Passions such as yours and mine ) Burning with holy lust to know When FATE Preferment will bestow , 'Fraid of detection , not of sin , With circumspection sneaking in , To Conj'rer , as he does to Whore , Thro' some bye Alley , or Back-door , With the same caution Orthodox , Consults the Stars , and gets a Pox . THE CITIZEN , in fraud grown old , Who knows no Deity but Gold , Worn out , and gasping now for breath , A Med'cine wants to keep off Death ; Would know , if THAT he cannot have , What Coins are current in the grave ; If , when the Stocks ( which by his pow'r , Would rise or fall in half an hour , For , tho' unthought of and unseen , He work'd the springs behind the screen ) By his directions came about , And rose to Par , he should sell out ; Whether he safely might or no , Replace it in the Funds below . BY all address'd , believ'd , and paid , Many pursu'd the thriving trade , And great in reputation grown , Successive held the MAGIC throne . Favour'd by ev'ry darling passion , The love of Novelty and Fashion , Ambition , Av'rice , Lust , and Pride , Riches pour'd in on ev'ry side . But when the prudent Laws thought fit , To curb this insolence of Wit ; When Senates wisely had Provided , Decreed , Enacted , and Decided , That no such vile and upstart elves , Should have more knowledge than themselves , When Fines and Penalties were laid To stop the progress of the trade , And Stars no longer could dispense With honour farther influence , And Wizards ( which must be confest , Was of more force than all the rest ) No certain way to tell had got , Which were Informers , and which not , Affrighted SAGES were perforce , Oblig'd to steer some other course . By various ways these Sons of Chance , Their Fortunes labour'd to advance , Well-knowing by unerring rules , KNAVES starve not in the Land of Fools . SOME with high Titles and Degrees , Which wise Men borrow when they please , Without or trouble or expence , PHYSICIANS instantly commence , And proudly boast an equal skill With those who claim the right to kill . OTHERS about the Countries roam , ( For not ONE thought of going home ) With pistol and adopted leg Prepar'd at once to rob or beg . SOME , the more subtle of their race , ( Who felt some touch of Coward Grace , Who TYBURN to avoid had wit , But never fear'd deserving it ) Came to their Brother SM-LL-T's aid , And carried on the CRITIC trade . ATTACH'D to Letters and the Muse Some Verses wrote , and some wrote News . Those each revolving Month are seen , The Heroes of a Magazine ; These ev'ry morning great appear In LEDGER , or in GAZETTEER ; Spreading the falshood of the day , By turns for F-D-N and for S-Y ; Like SWISS , their force is always laid On that side where they best are paid . Hence mighty PRODIGIES arise , And daily MONSTERS strike our eyes , Wonders , to propagate the trade , More strange than ever BAKER made , Are hawk'd about from street to street , And Fools believe , whilst Liars eat . Now armies in the Air engage To fright a superstitious age ; Now Comets thro' the Aether range In Governments portending change ; Now Rivers to the Ocean fly , So quick , they leave their channels dry ; Now monstrous Whales on LAMBETH shore , Drink the THAMES dry , and thirst for more ; And ev'ry now and then appears An IRISH Savage , numb'ring years More than those happy Sages cou'd , Who drew their breath before the flood . Now , to the wonder of all people , A Church is left without a Steeple ; A Steeple now is left in lurch , And mourns departure of the Church , Which borne on wings of mighty wind Remov'd a furlong off we find . Now , wrath on Cattle to discharge , Hail stones as deadly fall and large As those which were on EGYPT sent , At once their crime and punishment , Or those which , as the Prophet writes , Fell on the necks of AMORITES , When struck with wonder and amaze , The Sun suspended stay'd to gaze , And , from her duty longer kept , In AJALON his Sister slept . BUT if such things no more engage The Taste of a politer age , To help them out in time of need Another TOFFS must Rabbits breed . Each pregnant Female trembling hears , And , overcome with spleen and fears , Consults her faithful glass no more , But madly bounding o'er the floor , Feels hairs all o'er her body grow , By FANCY turn'd into a Doe . Now , to promote their private ends , NATURE her usual course suspends , And varies from the stated plan Observ'd e'er since the World began . Bodies , ( which foolishly we thought , By Custom's servile maxims taught , Needed a regular supply , And without nourishment must die ) ; With craving appetites , and sense Of Hunger easily dispense , And , pliant to their wond'rous skill , Are taught , like watches , to stand still Uninjur'd , for a month or more ; Then go on as they did before . The Novel takes , the Tale succeeds , Amply supplies its author's needs , And BETTY CANNING is at least , With GASCOYNE's help , a six months feast . WHILST , in contempt of all our pains , The Tyrant SUPERSTITION reigns Imperious in the heart of Man , And warps his thoughts from Nature's plan ; Whilst fond CREDULITY , who ne'er The weight of wholesome doubts could bear , To Reason and Herself unjust , Takes all things blindly up on trust ; Whilst CURIOSITY , whose rage No Mercy shews to Sex or Age , Must be indulg'd at the expence Of Judgment , Truth , and Common Sense ; Impostures cannot but prevail , And when old Miracles grow stale , JUGGLERS will still the art pursue , And entertain the World with New . FOR THEM , obedient to their will , And trembling at their mighty skill , Sad SPIRITS , summon'd from the tomb , Glide ghastly glaring thro' the gloom . In all the usual Pomp of storms , In horrid customary forms , A Wolf , a Bear , a Horse , an Ape , As Fear and Fancy give them shape , Tormented with despair and pain , They roar , they yell , and clank the chain . FOLLY and GUILT ( for GUILT , howe'er The face of Courage it may wear , Is still a Coward at the heart ) At fear-created phantoms start . The PRIEST , that very word implies That he's both innocent and wise , Yet fears to travel in the dark , Unless escorted by his CLERK . BUT let not ev'ry Bungler deem Too lightly of so deep a scheme . For reputation of the Art , Each GHOST must act a proper part , Observe Decorum's needful grace , And keep the laws of Time and Place , Must change with happy variation His manners with his situation . What in the Country might pass down , Would be impertinent in Town . No SPIRIT of discretion HERE Can think of breeding awe and fear , 'Twill serve the purpose more by half To make the Congregation laugh . We want no ensigns of surprize , Locks stiff with gore , and sawcer eyes , Give us an entertaining Sprite , Gentle , Familiar , and Polite , One who appears in such a form As might an holy Hermit warm , Or who on former schemes refines , And only talks by sounds and signs , Who will not to the eye appear But pays her visit to the ear , And knocks so gently , 'twould not fright A Lady in the darkest Night . Such is Our FANNY , whose good will , Which cannot in the Grave lie still , Brings her on Earth to entertain Her Friends and Lovers in COCK-LANE . END OF THE FIRST BOOK .

THE GHOST . BOOK II . A SACRED standard Rule we find By Poets held time out of mind , To offer at APOLLO's shrine , And call on One , or All the NINE . THIS Custom , thro' a Bigot zeal , Which MODERNS of fine Taste must feel , For those who wrote in days of yore , Adopted stands , like many more , Tho' ev'ry Cause , which then conspir'd To make it practis'd and admir'd , Yielding to Time's destructive course , For ages past hath lost its force . WITH antient Bards an INVOCATION Was a true act of Adoration , Of Worship an essential part , And not a formal piece of Art , Of paultry reading a Parade , A dull Solemnity in trade , A pious Fever taught to burn An hour or two , to serve a turn . THEY talk'd not of CASTALIAN SPRINGS , By way of saying pretty things , As we dress out our flimsy Rhimes ; 'Twas the RELIGION of the Times , And they believ'd that holy stream With greater force made FANCY teem , Reckon'd by all a true specific , To make the barren brain prolific . Thus ROMISH CHURCH ( a scheme which bears Not half so much excuse as theirs ) Since FAITH implicitly hath taught her , Reveres the force of Holy Water . THE PAGAN SYSTEM , whether true Or false , its strength , like Buildings , drew From many parts dispos'd to bear In one great Whole , their proper share . Each GOD of eminent degree , To some vast Beam compar'd might be ; Each GODLING was a Peg , or rather A Cramp , to keep the Beams together . And Man as safely might pretend From JOVE the thunder-bolt to rend , As with an impious pride aspire To rob APOLLO of his Lyre . WITH settled faith and pious awe , Establish'd by the voice of Law , Then POETS to the MUSES came And from their Altars caught the flame . GENIUS , with PHOEBUS for his guide , The MUSE ascending by his side , With tow'ring pinions dar'd to soar , Where Eye could scarcely strain before . BUT why should WE , who cannot feel These glowings of a Pagan zeal , That wild enthusiastic force , By which above her common course , NATURE in Exstasy up-borne , Look'd down on earthly things with scorn ; Who have no more regard , 'tis known , For their Religion than our own , And feel not half so fierce a flame At CLIO's as at FISHER's name ; Who know these boasted sacred streams Were mere romantic idle dreams , That THAMES has waters clear as those Which on the top of PINDUS rose , And that the FANCY to refine , Water's not half so good as Wine ; Who know , if Profit strikes our eye , Should we drink HELICON quite dry , Th' whole fountain would not thither lead So soon as one poor jug from TWEED , Who , if to raise poetic fire The Pow'r of Beauty we require , In any public place can view More than the GRECIANS ever knew ; If Wit into the scale is thrown , Can boast a LENOX of our own , Why should we servile customs chuse , And court an antiquated Muse ? No matter why — to ask a Reason In PEDANT BIGOTRY is Treason . IN the broad , beaten , turnpike-road Of hackney'd Panegyric Ode , No Modern Poet dares to ride Without APOLLO by his side , Nor in a Sonnet take the air , Unless his Lady Muse be there . SHE , from some Amaranthine grove , Where little Loves and Graces rove , The Laurel to my Lord must bear , Or Garlands make for Whores to wear ; SHE with soft Elegeiac verse Must grace some mighty Villain's hearse , Or for some Infant , doom'd by Fate To wallow in a large estate , With Rhimes the Cradle must adorn , To tell the World a Fool is born . SINCE then our CRITIC LORDS expect , No hardy Poet should reject Establish'd maxims , or presume To place much better in their room , By Nature fearful , I submit , And in this dearth of Sense and Wit , With nothing done , and little said , ( By wild excursive FANCY led , Into a second Book thus far , Like some unwary Traveller , Whom varied scenes of wood and lawn , With treacherous delight have drawn ; Deluded from his purpos'd way , Whom ev'ry step leads more astray ; Who gazing round can no where spy , Or house , or friendly cottage nigh , And resolution seems to lack To venture forward or go back ) Invoke some GODDESS to descend And help me to my journey's end . Tho' conscious — — all the while Hears the petition with a smile , Before the glass her charms unfolds , And in herself MY Muse beholds . TRUTH , GODDESS of celestial birth , But little lov'd , or known on earth , Whose pow'r but seldom rules the heart , Whose name , with hypocritic art , An errant stalking horse is made , A snug pretence to drive a trade , An instrument convenient grown To plant , more firmly , FALSHOOD's throne , As Rebels varnish o'er their cause With specious colouring of Laws , And pious Traitors draw the knife In the KING's Name against his life , Whether ( from Cities far away , Where Fraud and Falshood scorn thy sway ) The faithful Nymph's and Shepherd's pride , With LOVE and VIRTUE by thy side , Your hours in harmless joys are spent Amongst the Children of CONTENT ; Or , fond of gaiety and sport , You tread the round of ENGLAND's COURT , Howe'er my LORD may frowning go , And treat the Stranger as a Foe , Sure to be found a welcome guest In GEORGE's and in CHARLOTTE's breast ; If , in the giddy hours of Youth , My constant Soul adher'd to TRUTH ; If , from the Time I first wrote Man , I still pursued thy sacred plan , Tempted by Interest in vain To wear mean Falshood's golden chain ; If , for a season drawn away , Starting from Virtue's path astray , All low disguise I scorn'd to try , And dar'd to sin , but not to lie ; Hither , O hither , condescend , ETERNAL TRUTH , thy steps to bend , And favour Him , who ev'ry hour Confesses and obeys thy pow'r ! BUT come not with that easy mien By which you won the lively DEAN , Nor yet assume that Strumpet air Which RABELAIS taught Thee first to wear , Nor yet that arch ambiguous face Which with CERVANTES gave thee grace , But come in sacred vesture clad , Solemnly dull , and truly sad ! FAR from thy seemly Matron train Be Idiot MIRTH , and LAUGHTER vain ! For WIT and HUMOUR , which pretend At once to please us and amend , They are not for my present turn , Let them remain in France with STERNE . OF Noblest City Parents born , Whom Wealth and Dignities adorn , Who still one constant tenor keep , Not quite awake , nor quite asleep ; With THEE let formal DULNESS come , And deep ATTENTION , ever dumb , Who on her lips her fingers lays , Whilst every circumstance she weighs , Whose down-cast Eye is often found Bent without motion to the ground , Or to some outward thing confin'd Remits no image to the mind , No pregnant mark of meaning bears , But stupid without Vision stares ; Thy steps let GRAVITY attend , Wisdom's and Truth's unerring friend . For One may see with half an eye , That GRAVITY can never lie ; And his arch'd brow , pull'd o'er his eyes , With solemn proof proclaims him Wise . FREE from all waggeries and sports , The produce of luxurious Courts , Where Sloth and Lust enervate Youth , Come Thou , a down-right City TRUTH ; The CITY , which we ever find A sober pattern for Mankind , Where Man in EQUILIBRIO hung , Is seldom Old , and never Young , And from the Cradle to the Grave Not Virtue's friend , nor Vice's slave ; As Dancers on the Wire we spy , Hanging between the Earth and Sky . SHE comes — I see her from afar Bending her course to Temple-Bar : All sage and silent is her train , Deportment grave , and garments plain , Such as may suit a Parson's wear , And fit the Head-piece of a Mayor . BY TRUTH inspir'd , our BACON'S force Open'd the way to Learning's source ; BOYLE thro' the works of NATURE ran ; And NEWTON , something more than man , Div'd into Nature's hidden springs , Laid bare the principles of things , Above the earth our spirits bore , And gave us Worlds unknown before . By TRUTH inspir'd , when Lauder's spight O'er MILTON cast the Veil of Night , DOUGLAS arose , and thro' the maze Of intricate and winding ways , Came where the subtle Traitor lay , And dragg'd him trembling to the day ; Whilst HE ( O shame to noblest parts , Dishonour to the Lib'ral Arts , To traffic in so vile a scheme ! ) Whilst HE , our Letter'd POLYPHEME , Who had Confed'rate forces join'd , Like a base Coward , skulk'd behind . By TRUTH inspir'd , our Critics go To track FINGAL in Highland snow , To form their own and others Creed From Manuscripts they cannot read . By TRUTH inspir'd , we numbers see Of each Profession and Degree , Gentle and Simple , Lord and Cit , Wit without wealth , wealth without wit ; When PUNCH and SHERIDAN have done , To FANNY's Ghostly Lectures run ; By TRUTH and FANNY now inspir'd , I feel my glowing bosom fir'd ; Desire beats high in ev'ry vein To sing the SPIRIT of COCK-LANE ; To tell ( just as the measure flows In halting rhime , half verse , half prose ) With more than mortal arts endued , How She united force withstood , And proudly gave a brave defiance To Wit and Dulness in Alliance . THIS APPARITION ( with relation To antient modes of Derivation , This we may properly so call , Although it ne'er appears at all , As , by the way of Inuendo , Lucus is made à non lucendo ) Superior to the vulgar mode , Nobly disdains that servile road , Which Coward Ghosts , as it appears , Have walk'd in full five thousand years , And for restraint too mighty grown , Strikes out a method of her own . OTHERS , may meanly start away , Aw'd by the Herald of the Day , With faculties too weak to bear The freshness of the Morning air , May vanish with the melting gloom , And glide in silence to the tomb ; She dares the Sun's most piercing light , And knocks by Day as well as Night ; Others , with mean and partial view , Their visits pay to one or two , She , great in Reputation grown , Keeps the best Company in Town . Our active enterprising Ghost , As large and splendid Routs can boast As those , which rais'd by PRIDE's command , Block up the passage thro' the Strand . GREAT adepts in the fighting trade , Who serv'd their time on the Parade ; She Saints , who true to pleasure's plan , Talk about God , and lust for man ; Wits , who believe nor God , nor Ghost , And Fools , who worship ev'ry post ; Cowards , whose lips with war are hung ; Men truly brave , who hold their tongue ; Courtiers , who laugh they know not why , And Cits , who for the same cause cry ; The canting Tabernacle Brother , ( For one Rogue still suspects another ) Ladies , who to a Spirit fly , Rather than with their Husbands lie ; Lords , who as chastly pass their lives With other Women as their Wives ; Proud of their intellects and cloaths , Physicians , Lawyers , Parsons , Beaux , And , truant from their desks and shops , Spruce Temple Clerks , and 'Prentice Fops , To FANNY come , with the same view To find her false , or find her true . HARK ! something creeps about the house ! Is IT a Spirit , or a Mouse ? HARK ! something scratches round the room ! A Cat , a Rat , a stubb'd Birch-broom . HARK ! on the wainscote now IT knocks ! If Thou'rt a Ghost , cried ORTHODOX , With that affected solemn air Which HYPOCRITES delight to wear , And all those forms of CONSEQUENCE Which FOOLS adopt instead of Sense , If Thou'rt a Ghost , who from the tomb Stalk'st sadly silent thro' this gloom , In breach of NATURE's stated laws , For good , or bad , or for no cause , Give now NINE knocks ; like PRIESTS of old , NINE we a sacred Number hold . 'PSHA , cried PROFOUND , ( a man of parts Deep read in all the curious Arts , Who to their hidden springs had trac'd The force of NUMBERS , rightly plac'd ) As to the NUMBER you are right , As to the form mistaken quite . What's NINE ? — Your ADEPTS all agree , The VIRTUE lies in Three times Three . HE said , no need to say it twice , For THRICE She knock'd , and THRICE , and THRICE . THE Croud , confounded and amaz'd , In silence at each other gaz'd . From CAELIA's hand the Snuff-box fell , TINSEL , who ogled with the Belle , To pick it up attempts in vain , He stoops , but cannot rise again . Immane POMPOSO was not heard T' import one crabbed foreign word . Fear seizes Heroes , Fools , and Wits , And PLAUSIBLE his pray'rs forgets . AT length , as People just awake , Into wild dissonance they break ; All talk'd at once , but not a word Was understood , or plainly heard . Such is the noise of chatt'ring Geese Slow sailing on the Summer breeze ; Such is the language DISCORD speaks In Welch women o'er beds of Leeks ; Such the confus'd and horrid sounds Of Irish in Potatoe grounds . BUT tir'd , for even Woman's tongue Is not on Iron hinges hung , FEAR and CONFUSION sound retreat , REASON and ORDER take their seat . The fact confirm'd beyond all doubt , They now would find the causes out . For this a sacred rule we find Among the nicest of Mankind , Which never might exception brook From HOBBES e'en down to BOLINGBROKE , To doubt of facts , however true , Unless they know the causes too . TRIFLE , of whom 'twas hard to tell When he intended ill or well , Who , to prevent all farther pother , Probably meant nor one nor to'ther , Who to be silent always loth , Would speak on either side or both , Who , led away by love of Fame , If any new Idea came , Whate'er it made for , always said it , Not with an eye to Truth , but Credit . For ORATORS profest , 'tis known , Talk not for our sake , but their own ; Who always shew'd his talents best When serious things were turn'd to jest , And , under much impertinence , Possess'd no common share of sense ; Who could deceive the flying hours , To chat on Butterflies and Flow'rs ; Could talk of Powder , Patches , Paint , With the same zeal as of a Saint ; Could prove a Sibil brighter far , Than Venus , or the Morning Star ; Whilst something still so gay , so new , The smile of approbation drew , That Females ey'd the charming man , And their hearts flutter'd with their Fan ; TRIFLE , who would by no means miss An opportunity like this , Proceeding on his usual plan , Smil'd , strok'd his Chin , and thus began . WITH Sheers , or Scissars , Sword , or Knife , When the Fates cut the thread of life , ( For , if we to the Grave are sent , No matter with what instrument ) The Body in some lonely spot , Or Dung-hill vile , is laid to rot , Or sleeps among more holy dead , With Pray'rs irreverently read ; The Soul is sent , where Fate ordains , To reap rewards , or suffer pains . THE VIRTUOUS to those mansions go , Where Pleasures unembitter'd flow , Where , leading up a jocund band , VIGOUR and YOUTH dance hand in hand , Whilst ZEPHYR with harmonious gales PIPES softest Music thro' the vales , And SPRING and FLORA , gaily crown'd , With Velvet Carpets spread the ground ; With livelier blush where Roses bloom , And every shrub expires perfume , Where chrystal streams maeandring glide , Where warbling flows the amber tide , Where other Suns dart brighter beams , And LIGHT thro' purer aether streams . FAR other seats , far diff'rent state The Sons of Wickedness await . JUSTICE ( not that old Hag I mean , Who's nightly in the Garden seen , Who lets no spark of Mercy rise For Crimes , by which men lose their eyes ; Nor HER , who with an equal hand , Weighs Tea and Sugar in the STRAND ; Nor HER , who by the World deem'd wise , Deaf to the Widow's piercing cries , Steel'd 'gainst the starving Orphan's tears , On Pawns her base Tribunal rears ; But HER , who after Death presides , Whom sacred TRUTH unerring guides , Who , free from partial influence , Nor sinks , nor raises Evidence , Before whom nothing's in the dark , Who takes no bribe , and keeps no Clerk ) JUSTICE with equal scale below , In due proportion weighs out woe , And always with such lucky aim Knows punishments so fit to frame , That she augments their grief and pain , Leaving no Reason to complain . SLOVENS and Beaux are join'd together , Coquettes and Prudes , like April weather , Wit's forc'd to Chum with Common Sense , And Lust is yok'd to Impotence . PROFESSORS ( Justice so decreed ) Unpaid must constant Lectures read ; On Earth it often doth befal , They're paid , and never read at all . Parsons must practice what they teach , And B—ps are compell'd to preach . SHE , who on earth was nice and prim , Of delicacy full , and whim , Whose tender Nature could not bear The rudeness of the churlish air , Is doom'd , to mortify her pride , The change of weather to abide , And sells , whilst tears with liquor mix , Burnt Brandy on the Shore of STYX . AVARO , by long use grown bold In ev'ry ill which brings him gold , Who his REDEEMER would pull down , And sell his GOD for Half a Crown , Who , if some Block-head should be willing To lend him on his Soul a Shilling , A well-made bargain would esteem it , And have more sense than to redeem it , JUSTICE shall in those shades confine , To drudge for PLUTUS in the Mine , All the Day long to toil and roar , And cursing work the stubborn ore , For Coxcombs here who have no brains , Without a Sixpence for his pains . Thence , with each due return of Night , COMPELL'D the tall , thin , half-starv'd SPRITE , Shall earth re-visit , and survey The place where once his treasure lay , Shall view the stall , where holy PRIDE , With letter'd IGNORANCE allied , Once hail'd him mighty and ador'd , Descended to another Lord . Then shall He screaming pierce the air , Hang his lank jaws , and scowl despair ; Then shall He ban at Heav'n's decrees , And howling sink to Hell for ease . THOSE , who on Earth thro' life have past With equal pace from first to last , Nor vex'd with passions , nor with spleen , Insipid , easy , and serene , Whose heads were made too weak to bear The weight of business , or of care , Who without Merit , without Crime , Contriv'd to while away their time , Nor Good , nor Bad , nor Fools , nor Wits , Mild JUSTICE with a smile permits , Still to pursue their darling plan , And find amusement how they can . THE BEAU , in gaudiest plumage drest , With lucky Fancy , o'er the rest Of AIR a curious mantle throws , And chats among his Brother BEAUX ; Or , if the weather's fine and clear , No sign of rain or tempest near , Encourag'd by the cloudless day , Like gilded Butterflies at play , So lively All , so gay , so brisk , In AIR They flutter , float , and frisk . THE BELLE ( what mortal doth not know , BELLES after death admire a BEAU ? ) With happy grace renews her art , To trap the Coxcomb's wand'ring heart . And after death , as whilst they live , A heart is all which BEAUX can give . IN some still solemn sacred shade , Behold a group of AUTHORS laid . News-paper WITS , and SONNETEERS , Gentlemen BARDS , and Rhiming PEERS , BIOGRAPHERS , whose wond'rous worth , Is scarce remember'd now on earth , Whom FIELDING's humour led astray , And plaintive FOPS , debauch'd by GRAY , All sit together in a ring , And laugh , and prattle , write and sing . ON his own works , with laurel crown'd , Neatly and elegantly bound , ( For this is one of many rules , With writing Lords and laureat Fools , And which for ever must succeed With other Lords who cannot read , However destitute of wit , To make their works for BOOKCASE fit ) Acknowledg'd Master of those seats , CIBBER his Birth-Day Odes repeats . WITH Triumph now possess that seat , With Triumph now thy Odes repeat , Unrivall'd Vigils proudly keep , Whilst ev'ry hearer's lull'd to sleep , But know , Illustrious BARD , when Fate , Which still pursues thy name with hate , The Regal Laurel blasts , which now Blooms on the placid WHITEHEAD's brow , Low must descend thy Pride and Fame , And CIBBER's be the second Name . HERE TRIFLE cough'd ( for Coughing still Bears witness to the Speaker's skill , A necessary piece of art , Of Rhet'ric an essential part , All Adepts in the Speaking trade Keep a Cough by them ready made , Which they successfully dispense When at a loss for words or sense ) Here TRIFLE cough'd , here paus'd — but while He strove to recollect his smile , That happy engine of his art , Which triumph'd o'er the female heart , CREDULITY , the Child of FOLLY , Begot on Cloyster'd MELANCHOLLY , Who heard with grief the florid Fool Turn sacred things to ridicule , And saw him , led by WHIM away , Still farther from the subject stray , Just in the happy nick , aloud In shape of M—E address'd the Crowd . WERE we with Patience here to sit , Dupes to th' impertinence of Wit , Till TRIFLE his harangue should end , A Greenland Night we might attend , Whilst He , with fluency of speech , Would various mighty nothings teach , ( Here TRIFLE , sternly looking down , Gravely endeavour'd at a Frown , But NATURE unawares stept in , And , mocking , turn'd it to a Grin ) And when , in FANCY's Chariot hurl'd , We had been carried round the world , Involv'd in error still and doubt , He'd leave us where we first set out . Thus Soldiers ( in whose exercise Material use with Grandeur vies ) Lift up their legs with mighty pain , Only to set them down again . BELIEVE ye not ( yes , all I see In sound belief concur with me ) That PROVIDENCE for worthy ends , To us unknown , this SPIRIT sends ? Tho' speechless lay the trembling tongue , Your Faith was on your Features hung , Your Faith I in your eyes could see When all were pale and star'd like me . But scruples to prevent , and root Out ev'ry shadow of dispute , POMPOSO , PLAUSIBLE , and I , With FANNY have agreed , to try A deep concerted scheme . This night , To fix , or to destroy HER quite . If it be True , before we've done We'll make it glaring as the Sun ; If it be false , admit no doubt , E're Morning's dawn we'll find it out . Into the vaulted womb of Death , Where FANNY now , depriv'd of breath , Lies fest'ring , whilst her troubled Sprite Adds horror to the gloom of night , Will We descend , and bring from thence Proofs of such force to Common Sense , Vain Triflers shall no more deceive , And ATHEISTS tremble , and believe . HE said , and ceas'd ; the Chamber rung With due applause from ev'ry tongue . The mingled sound ( now let me see , Something by way of Simile ) Was it more like Strymonian Cranes , Or Winds , low murm'ring , when it rains , Or drowsy hum of clust'ring Bees , Or the hoarse roar of angry Seas , Or ( still to heighten and explain , For else our Simile is vain ) Shall we declare it like all four , A Scream , a Murmur , Hum , and Roar ? LET FANCY now in awful state Present this great TRIUMVIRATE , ( A method which receiv'd we find In other cases by mankind ) Elected with a joint consent All Fools in Town to represent . THE Clock strikes Twelve — M—E starts and swears , In Oaths we know as well as Pray'rs RELIGION lies , and a Church Brother May use at will or one or t'other ; PLAUSIBLE , from his Cassock drew , A holy Manual , seeming new , A Book it was of private Pray'r , But not a pin the worse for wear , For , as we by the bye may say , None but small Saints in private pray . RELIGION , fairest Maid on earth , As meek as good , who drew her birth From that blest union , when in heaven PLEASURE was Bride to VIRTUE given , RELIGION , ever pleas'd to pray , Possess'd the precious gift one day ; HYPOCRISY , of CUNNING born , Crept in and stole it e'er the morn . WH—TF—D , that greatest of all Saints , Who always prays , and never faints , Whom SHE to her own Brothers bore , RAPINE and LUST , on SEVERN's shore , Receiv'd it from the squinting Dame ; From Him to PLAUSIBLE it came , Who , with unusual care opprest , Now trembling pull'd it from his breast . Doubts in his boding heart arise , And fancied Spectres blast his eyes . DEVOTION springs from abject fear , And stamps his Pray'rs for once sincere . POMPOSO ( insolent and loud , Vain idol of a scribbling croud , Whose very name inspires an awe , Whose ev'ry word is Sense and Law , For what his Greatness hath decreed , Like Laws of PERSLAN and of MEDE , Sacred thro' all the realm of Wit , Must never of Repeal admit ; Who , cursing flatt'ry , is the tool Of ev'ry fawning flatt'ring fool ; Who Wit with jealous eye surveys , And sickens at another's praise ; Who , proudly seiz'd of Learning's throne , Now damns all Learning but his own ; Who scorns those common wares to trade in , Reas'ning , Convincing , and Persuading , But makes each Sentence current pass With Puppy , Coxcomb , Scoundrel , Ass , For 'tis with him a certain rule , The Folly's prov'd , when He calls Fool ; Who , to increase his native strength , Draws words , six syllables in length , With which , assisted with a frown , By way of Club , he knocks us down ; Who 'bove the Vulgar dares to rise , And sense of Decency defies , For this same Decency is made Only for Bunglers in the trade ; And , like the Cobweb Laws , is still Broke thro' by Great ones when they will ) — POMPOSO , with strong sense supplied , Supported , and confirm'd by Pride , His Comrades' terrors to beguile , Grin'd horribly a ghastly smile : Features so horrid , were it light , Would put the Devil himself to flight . SUCH were the Three in Name and Worth , Whom ZEAL and JUGDMENT singled forth To try the Sprite on REASON's plan , Whether it was of God or Man . DARK was the Night ; it was that Hour , When TERROR reigns in fullest Pow'r , When , as the Learn'd of old have said , The yawning Grave gives up her dead , When MURDER , RAPINE by her side , Stalks o'er the earth with Giant stride ; Our QUIXOTES ( for that Knight of old Was not in Truth by half so bold , Tho' REASON at the same time cries Our QUIXOTES are not half so wise , Since they with other follies boast An Expedition 'gainst a Ghost ) Thro' the dull deep surrounding gloom In close array tow'rds FANNY's tomb Adventur'd forth — CAUTION before With heedful step the lanthorn bore , Pointing at Graves , and in the Rear , Trembling , and talking loud , went FEAR . The Church-yard teem'd — th' unsettled ground , As in an Ague , shook around ; While in some dreary vault confin'd , Or riding on the hollow Wind , HORROR , which turns the heart to stone , In dreadful sounds was heard to groan . All staring , wild , and out of breath , At length they reach the place of death . A VAULT it was , long time applied To hold the last remains of Pride : No Beggar there , of humble race , And humble fortunes , finds a place ; To rest in Pomp as well as Ease The only way's to pay the Fees . FOOLS , ROGUES , and WHORES , if Rich and Great , Proud e'en in death , HERE rot in State . No Thieves disrobe the well-drest Dead , No Plumbers steal the sacred lead , Quiet and safe the Bodies lie , No SEXTONS sell , no SURGEONS buy . THRICE each the pond'rous key apply'd , And Thrice to turn it vainly try'd , Till taught by Prudence to unite , And straining with collected might , The stubborn wards resist no more , But open flies the growling door . THREE paces back They fell amaz'd , Like Statues stood , like Madmen gaz'd . The frighted blood forsakes the face , And seeks the heart with quicker pace ; The throbbing heart its fears declares , And upright stand the bristled hairs ; The head in wild distraction swims ; Cold sweats bedew the trembling limbs ; NATURE , whilst Fears her bosom chill , Suspends her Pow'rs , and LIFE stands still . THUS had they stood till now , but SHAME ( An useful , tho' neglected Dame , By Heav'n design'd the Friend of Man , Tho' we degrade Her all we can , And strive , as our first proof of Wit , Her Name and Nature to forget ) Came to their aid in happy hour , And with a wand of mighty pow'r Struck on their hearts ; vain Fears subside , And baffled leave the field to PRIDE . SHALL THEY , ( forbid it Fame ) shall THEY The dictates of vile Fear obey ? Shall They , the Idols of the Town , To Bugbears Fancy-form'd bow down ? Shall They , who greatest zeal exprest , And undertook for all the rest , Whose matchless Courage all admire , Inglorious from the task retire ? How would the Wicked Ones rejoice , And Infidels exalt their voice , If M—E and PLAUSIBLE were found , By shadows aw'd , to quit their ground ? How would Fools laugh , should It appear POMPOSO was the slave of Fear ? " Perish the thought ! tho' to our eyes " In all its terrors Hell should rise , " Tho' thousand Ghosts in dread array , " With glaring eye-balls cross our way , " Tho' CAUTION trembling stands aloof , " Still will we on , and dare the proof . " They said , and without farther halt , Dauntless march'd onward to the VAULT . WHAT mortal men , whoe'er drew breath , Shall break into the House of DEATH With foot unhallow'd , and from thence The Myst'ries of that State dispense , Unless they with due rites prepare Their weaker sense , such sights to bear , And gain permission from the State , On Earth their journal to relate ? POETS themselves , without a crime , Cannot attempt it e'en in Rhime , But always on such grand occasion , Prepare a solemn Invocation , A Posy for grim PLUTO weave , And in smooth numbers ask his leave . But why this Caution ? why prepare Rites needless now , for thrice in air The SPIRIT of the NIGHT hath sneez'd , And thrice hath clap'd his wings well-pleas'd . DESCEND then TRUTH , and guard my side , My Muse , my Patroness , and Guide ! Let Others at Invention aim , And seek by falsities for fame ; Our Story wants not at this time , Flounces and Furbelows in Rhime : Relate plain Facts ; be brief and bold ; And let the POETS , fam'd of old , Seek , whilst our artless tale we tell , In vain to find a PARALLEL : SILENT ALL THREE WENT IN , ABOUT ALL THREE TURN'D SILENT , AND CAME OUT . END OF THE SECOND BOOK .