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No Hurt shall come to you, or yours;
But, for that Pack of churlíth Boors,
Not fit to live on Christian Ground,
They and their Houses fhall be drown'd;
Whilst you shall see your Cottage rise,
And grow a Church before your Eyés.
They scarce had spoke-; when, fair and soft,
The Roof began to niount aloft : ......
Aloft rose ev'ry Beam and-Rafter, ???
The heavy Wall climb'd slowly after.
The Chimney widen'd, and grew higher;
Became a Steeple with a Spire.
The Kettle to the Top was hoist,
And there stood faltend toi ajoitt;
But with the upside down, to shew
Its Inclination for below:
In vain; for a füperior Force,
Apply'd at Bottoin, stops its Course,
Doom'd ever in Suspence to dwell;
Tis now nu Kettle, but a Bell
A wooden Jack, which had almost
Lost, by Disuse, the Art to Roaft, • A sudden Alteration feels,
Increas'd by new Intestin: Wheels;
And, what txalts the Wonder niore,
The Number made the Motion flow'r.
The Flyer, tho't had Leaden Feet,
Turn'd round fo quick, you scarce could feet;
But Nacken’d by some fucret Pow's
Now hardly noves an Inch an Hour.
The Jack and Chimney near ally'd,
Had never left each other's Side;
The Chimney to a Steeple grown,
The Jack would not be left alone;
But up against the Steeple rear'd,
Became a Clock, and still adherd:
And ftill its Love to Houshold Careson
By a Shrill Voice, at Noon declares,
Warning the Cook-Maid not to burn
That Roaft-Meat which it cannot turn..
The Groaning-Chair began to Crawl,
Like a huge Snail, along the Wall;
There fuck aloft, in publick View,
And, with small Change, a Pulpit grew..
The Porringers, that in a Row
Hung high, and made a glitt'ring show,
To a less noble Substance chang'd,
Were now but leathern Buckets rangda-
The Ballads pasted on the Wally
Of Joan of France, and English Moll
Fair-Rosamond and Robin-Hood,
The Little Children in the Wood;
Now seem'd to look abundance better;
Inzprov'd in Picture, Size and Letter
And, high in Order plac'd, describe
The Heraldry of ev'ry Tribe.
A Beadstead of the antique Mode,
Compact of Timber many a Load;
Such as our Ancestors did use,
Was metamorphos'd into Pews;
Which till their ancient Nature keepz..
By Lodging Folks dispos'd to Sleep.
The Cottage, by such Feats as thele,
Grown to a Church by just Degrees,
The Hermits then desir'd their Host
To ask for what he fancy'd most..
Philemon having paus'd a while,
Return'd 'em Thanks in homely Stile;
Then said, my Houle is grown fo fine,
Methinks, I still would callit.mine:
I'm old, and fain wou'd live at Eafe,
Make me the Parson, if you pleale...
He spoke, and presently he feels
His Grazier's Coat fall down his Heels :
He sees, yet hardly can believe,
About each Armà Pudding-Sleeve:
His Wattcoat to a Cassock grew,
And both aflum'd a Sable Hue;
But being old, continu'd just
As Thread-bare, and as full of Dust.
His Talk was now of Tythes and Dues,
Could smoak.his Pipe, and read the News;
Knew how to preach old Sermons nexty
Tampt in the Preface and the Text;
At Christnings well could act his Part,
And had the Service all by Heart;
Wind Women might have Children fast,
And thought whose som had farrom'd laft
Against Diflenters would repine,
And stood up firm for Right Divinen
Found his Head filtd with many á Syftem.
But Classic Authorsche ne'er miss'd 'em.
Thus having furbish'd upa Parson,
Dame Baucis next they play'd their Farce on:
Instead of Home-fpun Coifs were feen
Good Pinners edg'd with Colberteen;
Her Petticoat transform'd a-pace,
Becane black Sattin flounc'di with Lace.
Plain G cody would no longer down,
'Twas Madam, in her Grogram Gown.
Philomin was in great surprize,
And hardly could believe his Eyes,
Amaz'd to see her look fo primi
And she admir'd as much at him.
Thus happy, in their Change of Life,
Were several Years this Man and Wife;
When on a Day, which prov'd their last,
Discoursing on old Stories past,
They went by Chance, amidst their Talk;
To the Church-yard to take a Walk;
When Baucis hastily cry'd out,
My Dear, I see your Fore-head fprout,
Sprout, quoth the Man, What's this you tell us?
I hope you don't believe me Jealous :
But yet, methinks I feel it true;
And truly, you 's is buding too --
- now I cannot stir my Foot;
It feels, as if 'twere taking Root
Description would but tire ny Muf:
In short they both were turned to Yeppso
Old Goodman Dobson of the Green
Remembers, he the Trees has seen ;
He'll talk of them from Noon till Night,
And goes with Folks to thew the Sight
On Sundays, after Ev'ning Pray's,
He gathers all the Parish there,
Points out the Place of either Tew
Here Baucis, there Philemon grew :
Till once a Parson of our Town,
To niend his Barn, cut Baucis down ::
At which, 'tis hard to be believ'd,
How much the other Tree was griev'd..
Grew Scrubby, died a-top, was Itunted,
So the next Parson ftubb'd and burnt it.
The Bleflings of Religion.
ARUS by hardy Epicurus taught,
From Greece to Rome his impious System brought;
Then War with Heav'n he did insulting Wage,
And breath'd against the Gods immortal Rage:
See, he exclainis, the source of all our Woe! Our Fears and Suff'rings from Religion flow. We grant a Train of Mischiefs oft proceeds From superstitious Rites, and penal Creeds; But view Religion in her Native Charms: Dispersing Bleslings with indulgent Arms, From her fair Eyes what heav'nly Rays are spread? What blooming Joys smile round her blissful Head? Offspring Divine! by thee we bless the Cause, Who form'd the World, and rules it by his Laws; His Independent being we adore, Extol his Goodness, and revere his Pow'r. Our wondring Eyes his high Perfections view, The lofty Contemplation we pursue, Till ravilh'd we the great Idea find, Shining in bright Impressions on our Mind. Inspir'd by thee, Guest of Celestial Race, With generous Love, we Human-kind enbrace; We Provocations unprovok'd receive. Patient of wrong, and easie to forgive; Protect the Orphan, plead the Widow's Cause, Nor deviate from the Line unerring Justice draws. Thy Lustre, blest Effulgence, can dispel The Clouds of Error, and the Gloom of Hell; Can to the Soul impart Etherial Light, Give Life Divine, and Intellectual Sight": Before our ravish'd Eyes thy Beanis display, The opening Scenes of Bliss, and endless Day; By which incited we with Ardour rise, Scorn this inferior Ball, and claim the Skies. Tyrants to thee a change of Nature owe, Break, all their Tortures, and indulgent grow. Ambitious Conquerors in their mad Career, Check'd by thy Voice,lay down the Sword and Spear. The boldest Champions of Impiety, Escornful of Heav'n, subdu'd or won by thee, Before thy hallow'd Altars bend the Knee.