The Man bitten by Fleas. Anne Finch (née Kingsmill), countess of Winchilsea Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T94539 pp. 274-5 K076314.000 Winchilsea, Anne Kingsmill Finch, Countess of, 1661-1720. Miscellany poems, on several occasions: Written by the Right Honble Anne, Countess of Winchilsea. London printed for J. B. and sold by Benj. Tooke, William Taylor, and James Round 1713 pp. 223-226. [8],390p. ; 8⁰.

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The Man bitten by Fleas . A Peevish Fellow laid his Head On Pillows , stuff'd with Down ; But was no sooner warm in Bed , With hopes to rest his Crown , But Animals of slender size , That feast on humane Gore , From secret Ambushes arise , Nor suffer him to snore ; Who starts , and scrubs , and frets , and swears , 'Till , finding all in vain , He for Relief employs his Pray'rs In this old Heathen strain . Great Jupiter ! thy Thunder send From out the pitchy Clouds , And give these Foes a dreadful End , That lurk in Midnight Shrouds : Or Hercules might with a Blow , If once together brought , This Crew of Monsters overthrow , By which such Harms are wrought . The Strife , ye Gods ! is worthy You , Since it our Blood has cost ; And scorching Fevers must ensue , When cooling Sleep is lost . Strange Revolutions wou'd abound , Did Men ne'er close their Eyes ; Whilst those , who wrought them wou'd be found At length more Mad , than Wise . Passive Obedience must be us'd , If this cannot be Cur'd ; But whilst One Flea is slowly bruis'd , Thousands must be endur'd . Confusion , Slav'ry , Death and Wreck Will on the Nation seize , If , whilst you keep your Thunders back , We're massacr'd by Fleas . Why , prithee , shatter-headed Fop , The laughing Gods reply ; Hast thou forgot thy Broom , and Mop , And Wormwood growing nigh ? Go sweep , and wash , and strew thy Floor , As all good Housewives teach ; And do not thus for Thunders roar , To make some fatal Breach : Which You , nor your succeeding Heir , Nor yet a long Descent Shall find out Methods to repair , Tho' Prudence may prevent . For Club , and Bolts , a Nation call'd of late , Nor wou'd be eas'd by Engines of less Weight : But whether lighter had not done as well , Let their Great-Grandsons , or their Grandsons tell .