תמונות בעמוד
PDF
ePub

1

Severe tho' juft, affli&t our life
With that prime ill, a talking wife;
'Till death shall bring the kind relief:
We must be patient, or be deaf.

You know, a certain lady, Dick,
Who faw me, when I laft was fick:
She kindly talk'd, at least three hours,
Of Plastic forms, and Mental pow'rs:
Defcrib'd our pre-existing station,
Before this vile terrene creation:
And left I should be weary'd, Madam,
To cut things fhort, came down to Adam;
From whence, as fast as she was able,
She drowns the world, and builds up Babel:
Thro' Syria, Perfia, Greece fhe goes;

And takes the Romans in the close.

But we'll defcant on genʼral nature:
This is a fyftem, not a fatyr.
Turn we this globe; and let us fee,
How diff'rent nations disagree,
In what we wear, or eat and drink;
Nay, Dick, perhaps in what we think,
In water as you smell and taft

The foils, thro' which it rose and past ;
In Alma's manners you may read
The place where she was born and bred.
One people from their swadling bands
Releas'd their infants feet and hands:
Here Alma to these limbs was brought;
And Sparta's offspring kick'd and fought :
Another taught their babes to talk,
Ere they cou'd yet in goe-carts wałk:
There Alma fettl'd in the tongue;
And orators from Athens fprung.

Observe but in these neighb'ring lands, The diff'rent ufe of mouths and hands: As men repos'd their various hopes, In battles these, and those in tropes.

In Britain's ifles, as Heylin notes, The ladies trip in petticoats; Which, for the honour of their nation, They quit but on some great occafion. Men there in breeches clad you view: They claim that garment, as their due. In Turkey the reverse appears;

Long coats the haughty husband wears:
And greets his wife with angry speeches;
If the be feen without her breeches.

In our fantastic Climes the fair
With cleanly powder dry their hair:
And round their lovely breast and head
Fresh flow'rs their mingl'd odors shed.
Your nicer Hottentotes think meet,
With guts and tripe to deck their feet:
With down-caft looks on Totta's legs,
The ogling youth most humbly begs,'
She would not from his hopes remove
At once his breakfast, and his love:
And if the skittish nymph should fly;
He in a double fense must die.

We fimple Toasters take delight
To fee our women's teeth look white.
And ev'ry faucy ill-bred fellow
Sneers at a mouth profoundly yellow.
In China none hold women sweet,
Except their fnags are black as jett.
King Chihu put nine queens to death,
Convict on statute, Iv'ry teeth.

At Tonquin if a prince should die

(As Jefuits write, who never lye)
The wife, and counsellor, and priest,
Who ferv'd him most, and lov'd him beft;
Prepare, and light his fun'ral fire,
And chearful on the pile expire.
In Europe 'twould be hard to find
In each degree one half so kind.
Now turn we to the farthest east,
And there observe the gentry dreft;
Prince Giolo, and his royal fifters,
Scar'd with ten thousand comely blisters;
The marks remaining on the skin,
To tell the quality within.
Distinguish'd flashes deck the great:
As each excells in birth, or state;
His oylet-holes are more, and am pler:
The king's own body was a famplar.
Happy the climate, where the beau
Wears the fame fuit for use, and fhow:
And at a small expence your wife,
If once well pink'd, is cloath'd for life.
Weftward again the Indian fair

Is nicely fmear'd with fat of bear:
Before you fee, you smell your toast:
And sweetest she, who flinks the most.
The finest sparks, and cleanest Beaux
Drip from the shoulders to the toes.
How fleek their skins! their joints how eafy!
There flovens only are not greafy.

I mention'd diff'rent ways of breeding:
Begin we in our children's reading.
To Mafter John the English maid
A horn-book gives of ginger-bread:

And that the child may learn the better,
As he can name, he eats the letter:
Proceeding thus with vaft delight,

He spells, and gnaws, from left to right.
But fhew a Hebrew's hopeful fon,

Where we suppose the book begun;

The child would thank you for your kindness,
And read quite backward from our Finis.
Devour he learning ne'er so fast,
Great A would be referv'd the last.

An equal inftance of this matter,

Is in the manners of a daughter.
In Europe, if a harmless maid,
By nature and by love betray'd,
Should e'er a wife become a nurse;

Her friends would look on her the worse...

In China, Dampier's travels tell ye:
(Look in his index for Pagelli:)
Soon as the British ships unmoore,
And jolly long-boat rows to fhore;
Down come the nobles of the land:
Each brings his daughter in his hand,
Befeeching the imperious tar

To make her but one hour his care.
The tender mother stands affrighted,
Left her dear daughter should be flighted:
And poor Miss Yaya dreads the shame
Of going back the maid fhe came.
Obferve how custom, Dick, compells
The lady that in Europe dwells:
After her tea fhe flips away;
And what to do, one need not say.
Now fee great Pomonque's queen
Behav'd herself amongst the men:
VOL. II.

I

Pleas'd with her punch, the gallant foul
First drank, then water'd in the bowl;
And sprinkl'd in the captain's face
The marks of her peculiar grace

To close this point, we need not roam
For instances so far from home.

What parts gay France from sober Spain?
A little rifing rocky chain.

Of men born fouth or north o'th' hill,
Those seldom move; these ne'er stand still.
Dick, you love maps, and may perceive
Rome not far diftant from Geneve.
If the good Pope remains at home,
He's the first prince in Christendome.
Choose then, good Pope, at home to stay;
Nor weftward curious take thy way.
Thy way unhappy should'st thou take
From Tyber's bank to Leman-lake;
Thou art an aged priest no more,
But a young flaring painted whore;
Thy fex is loft: thy town is gone,
No longer Rome, but Babylon..

That fome few leagues fhould make this change,
To men unlearn'd feems mighty strange.

But need we, friend, infift on this?

Since in the very Cantons Swiss,

All your philofophers agree,

And prove it plain, that one may be
A heretic, or true believer,

On this, or t'other fide a river.

Here with an artful fmile, quoth Dick, Your proofs come mighty full, and thickThe bard on this extenfive chapter, Wound up into poetic rapture,

« הקודםהמשך »