HORACE

I

Saty. 2. Lib. 1.

By Mr. STAFFORD.

Was, at firft, a piece of Fig-tree Wood,

And long an honeft Joyner pond'ring stood, Whether he should employ his fhaping Tool, To make a God of me, or a Joint-stool; Each Knob he weigh'd, on every Inch did plod, And rather chose to turn me to a God:

As a Priapus hence I grew ador'd,

The fear of ev'ry Thief, and ev'ry Bird.

The Raskals from their pilfring Tricks desist, And dread each wooden Finger of my Fift. The Reeds stuck in my Cap the Peckers fright, From our new Orchards far they take their flight, And dare not touch a Pippin in my fight.

When any of the Rabble did decease, They brought 'em to this place to ftink in peace. Unnoisom here the fnuffs of Rogues went out, Twas once a common Grave for all the Rout.

Loofe

Loofe Nomentanus left his Riots here,
- And lewd Pantalabus forgot to jeer.
Nor in these Pit-holes might they put a Bone,
Cou'd lye beneath a Dunghil of its own.

But now the ground for Slaves no more they tear, Sweet are the Walks, and vital is the Air:

Myrtle and Orange Groves the Eye delight,
Where Sculls and Shanks did mix a ghastly sight.
While here I stand, the Guardian of the Trees,
Not all the Jays are half the Grievances,
As are those Hags, who diligent in ill,
Are either poyf'ning or bewitching still.
These I can neither hurt nor terrifie;

But ev'ry Night, when once the Moon is high,
They haunt these Allies with their fhricks and groans,
And pick up baneful Herbs, and human Bones.
I faw Canidia here, her Feet were bare,
Black were her Robes, and loofe her flaky Hair;
With her fierce Sagana went stalking round,
Their hideous howlings shook the trembling ground,
A Paleness, cafting Horror round the place,
Sat dead, and terrible on eithers Face."

Their impious Trunks upon the Earth they caft,
And dug it with their Nails in frantick haste.

A

A cole-black Lamb then with their Teeth they tore, And in the Pit they pour'd the reeking Gore:

By this they force the tortur'd Ghosts from Hell, And Answers to their wild Demands compel.

Two Images they brought of Wax, and Wool, The Waxen was a little puling Fool:

A chidden Image ready ftill to skip,
Whene're the Woollen one but, fnapt his Whip.
On Hecate aloud this Beldame calls,

Tifiphone as loud the other bawls.

A thousand Serpents hifs'd upon

the Ground,

And Hell-hounds compass'd all the Gardens round.
Behind the Tombs, to fhun the horrid fight,

The Moon skulk'd down, or out of fhame or fright.
May every Crow and Cuckow, if I lie,
Aim at my Crown as often as they flie:
And never miss a Dab tho' ne're so high.
May villain Julius, and his raskal Crew,
Ufe me with juft fuch Ceremony too.

But how much time and patience wou'd it cost,
To tell the Gabblings of each Hag and Ghost?
Or how the Earth the ugly Beldame fcrapes,
And hides theBeards of Wolves, andTeeth ofSnakes;

While on the Fire the waxen Image fries.
Vext to the Heart to fee their Sorceries,
My Ears torn with their bellowing Sprights,my Guts,
My Figtree Bowels, wambled at the Sluts.
Mad for Revenge I gather'd all my Wind,
And bounc'd, like fifty bladders, from behind.
Scar'd with the noise they fcudd away to Town,
While Sagana's false Hair comes dropping down:
Canidia tumbles o're, for want of Breath,

And scatters from her Jaws her fet of Teeth;
I almoft burst to fee their Labours croft,
Their Bones, their Herbs, and all their Devils loft.

AN

ODE

Sung before KING CHARLES the II. on New-Years-Day.

A

By Mr. J. ALLESTRY.

Rife, Great Monarch; see the joyful Day,
Dreft in the glories of the Eaft,

Prefumes to interrupt your Sacred Reft.

Never did Night more willingly give way, Or Morn more chearfully appear,

Big with the mighty tidings of a New-born Year. I I.

Bleft be that Sun, who in Time's fruitful Womb, Was to this noble Embaffie design'd,

To Head the Golden Troops of Days to come, Nor lagg'd ingloriously behind,

Ignobly in the last Years Throng to rife and fet. In this 'tis happier far than May,

Since to add Years is greater than to give a Day.

Chorus