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And tho' no marriage words are spoke,
They part not till the ring is broke.
Yet hypocrite fanaticks cry,
I'm but an idol rais'd on high;
And once a weaver in our town,

A damn'd Cromwellian, knock'd me down.
I lay a pris'ner twenty years;
And then the jovial cavaliers

To their old posts restor'd all three,
I mean the church, the King, and me.

PROMETHEUS.

On Wood the Patentee's Irish Halfpence.

Written in the Year 1724.

S, when the 'Squire and tinker, Wood,
Gravely confulting Ireland's good,

Together mingled in a mass

Smith's duft, and copper, lead, and brass;
The mixture, thus by chymick art
United close in ev'ry part,

In fillets roll'd, or cut. in pieces,
Appear'd like one continued fpecies;
And by the forming engine ftruck,
On all the fame impression ftuck.

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So, to confound this hated coin,
All parties and religions join;

Whigs, Tories, Trimmers, Hanoverians,
Quakers, Conformifts, Prefbyterians,
Scots, Irish, English, French, unite,
With equal int'reft, equal spite;
Together mingled in a lump,
Do all in one opinion jump;
And ev'ry one begins to find
The fame impreffion on his mind.

A ftrange event! whom gold incites
To blood and quarrels, brass unites :
So, goldfmiths fay, the coarfest stuff
Will ferve for folder well enough:
So, by the kettle's loud alarm,
The bees are gather'd to a warm:
So, by the brazen trumpet's blufter,
Troops of all tongues and nations mufter:
And fo the Harp of Ireland brings
Whole crowds about its brazen ftrings.

II.

THERE is a chain let down from Jove,,

But faften'd to his throne above,

So ftrong, that from the lower end,
They fay, all human things depend:

This chain, as antient Poets hold,

When Jove was young, was made of gold.
Prometheus once this chain purloin'd,

Diffolv'd, and into money coin'd;

Then

Then whips me on a chain of brafs: * (Venus was brib'd to let it pass).

Now, while this brazen chain prevail'd,
Jove faw that all devotion fail'd;
No temple to his Godship rais'd;
No facrifice on altars blaz❜d;

In fhort, fuch dire confufion follow'd,
Earth must have been in chaos swallow'd.
Jove food amaz'd, but, looking round,
With much ado the cheat he found
'Twas plain, he could no longer hold
The world in any chain but gold;
And to the God of wealth, his brother,
Sent Mercury to get another.

III.

PROMETHEUS on a rock was laid,

Ty'd with the chain himself had made;

On icy Caucafus to shiver,

While vultures eat his growing liver.

IV.

YE pow'rs of Grubfireet, make me able, Difcreetly to apply this fable,

Say, who is to be understood

By that old thief Prometheus? WOOD,
For Jove, it is not hard to guefs him,
I mean his Majefty, God bless him.

Wood.

A

great Lady was reported to have been bribed by

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This thief and blacksmith was so bold,
He ftrove to steal that chain of gold,
Which links the fubject to the King;
And change it for a brazen ftring.
But fure, if nothing else must pass
Between the King and us but brass,
Although the chain will never crack,
Yet our devotion may grow flack.

BUT Jove will foon convert, I hope,
This brazen chain into a rope,
With which Prometheus fhall be ty'd,
And high in air for ever ride;
Where, if we find his liver grows,
For want of vultures, we have crows.

Verfes on the upright Judge who condemned the DRAPIER'S Printer.

Written in the Year 1724.

THE church I hate, and have good reason; For there my grandfire cut his weazon :

He cut his weazon at the altar;

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I keep my gullet for the halter.

On

IN

On the SAME.

N church your grandfire cut his throat;
To do the jobb, too long he tarry'd,

He should have had my hearty vote,
To cut his throat before he marry'd.

I'M

On the SAME.

The Judge Speaks.

'M not the grandson of that afs * Quin;
Nor can you prove it, Mr. Pafquin.

My grand-dame had gallants by twenties,
And bore my mother by a 'prentice.
This, when my grandfire knew, they tell us, he
In Chrifts-church cut his throat for jealousy.
And fince the Alderman was mad you fay,
Then I must be so too, ex traduce.

An Alderman.

STELLA's

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