SLANDER: OR, THE WITCH OF WOKEY. Dr Henry Harington Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
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Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T116245 1122 K093079.001 Pearch, G. A collection of poems in four volumes. By several hands. Vol. I. [The second edition]. London printed for G. Pearch 1770 pp. 139-142. 4v. ; 8⁰.

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SLANDER : OR , THE WITCH OF WOKEY Wokey-hole is a noted cavern in Somersetshire , which has given birth to as many wild fanciful stories as the Sybils cave in Italy . Through a very narrow entrance , it opens into a large vault , the roof whereof , either on account of its height , or the thickness of the gloom , cannot be discovered by the light of torches . It goes winding a great way underground , is crost by a stream of very cold water , and is all horrid with broken pieces of rock : many of these are evident petrifactions ; which on account of their singular forms , have given rise to the fables alluded to in this poem . . IN aunciente days tradition shows , A sorry wicked elf arose , The witch of Wokey hight A petrifaction in the cavern of Wokey so called . , Oft have I heard the fearful tale . From Sue and Roger of the vale , Told out in winter night . Deep in the dreary dismal cell Which seem'd , and was y-cleped hell , This blue-eye'd hag was sty'd ; Nine wicked elves have legends sayne By night she chose her guardian train , All kennell'd close her side . Here screeching owls oft made their nest , While wolves its craggy sides possest , Night howling through the rocks ; No wholesome herb cou'd here be found , She blasted every plant around , And blister'd o'er the flocks . Her haggard face so foul to see , Her mouth unmeet a mouth to be , With eyne of deadly leer ; She nought devis'd but neighbours ill , On all she wreak'd her wayward will , And marr'd all goodly cheer . All in her prime , have poets sunge , No gaudy youth , gallante and younge Ere blest her longing arms ; Hence rose her fell despight to vex , And blast the youth of either sex , By dint of hellish charms . From Glaston came a lerned wight , Full bent to marr her fell despight , And well he did I ween ; Save hers , sich mischief ne'er was knowne , And since his mickle lerninge showne , Sich mischief ne'er has beene . He chauntede out his godlie booke , He cross'd the water , bleste the brooke , Then — Pater-noster done , The gastly hag he sprinkled o'er , When lo ! where stood the hag before , Now stood a gastly stone . Full well 'tis knowne adown the vale , Tho' strange may seem the dismal tale Eke wondrous may appear ; I'm bold to say , there ; s never one That has not seen the witch in stone , With all her household gear . But tho' this lernede clerke did well , With grieved heart , alas I tell , She left this curse behind ; " My sex shall be forsaken quite , " " Tho' sense and beauty both unite , " " Nor find a man that's kinde . " Now lo e'en as this fiend did say , The sex have found it to this day , That men are wondrous scante ; Here's beauty , wit , and sense combin'd , With all that's good , and virtuous join'd , Yet scarce there's one gallante . Shall such fair nymphs thus daily moan ! They might I trow as well be stone , As thus forsaken dwell ; Since Glaston now can boast no clerks From Oxenford come down , ye sparks , And help revoke the spell . Yet stay — nor thus despond , ye fair , Virtue's the gods peculiar care , Then mark their kindly voice ; " Your sex shall soon be blest again , " " We only wait to find sich men " " As best deserve sich choice . "