THE SLEEPING Thames one Morn I crossed, | |
| By two contending Charons tost; | |
| I Landed and I found, | |
| By one of Neptune’s juggling Tricks, | |
| Enchanted Thames was turned to Styx, | 5 |
| Lambeth the Elysian Ground. | |
| |
| The Dirty Linkboy of the Day, | |
| To make himself more fresh and gay, | |
| Had spent five Hours, and more; | |
| Scarce had he Combed and Curled his Hair, | 10 |
| When out there comes a brighter Fair, | |
| Eclipsed him o’er, and o’er. | |
| |
| The dazzled Boy would have retired, | |
| But durst not, because he was hired, | |
| To light the Purblind Skies; | 15 |
| But all on Earth, will Swear and say, | |
| They saw no other Sun that Day, | |
| Nor Heav’n, but in her Eyes. | |
| |
| Her starry Eyes, both warm and shine, | |
| And her dark Brows, do them enshrine, | 20 |
| Like Love’s Triumphal Arch; | |
| Their Firmament is Red and White, | |
| Whilst the other Heaven is but bedight, | |
| With Indigo and Starch. | |
| |
| Her Face a Civil War had bred, | 25 |
| Betwixt the White Rose and the Red, | |
| Then Troops of Blushes came; | |
| And charged the White with might and main, | |
| But stoutly were repulsed again, | |
| Retreating back with shame. | 30 |
| |
| Long was the War, and sharp the Fight, | |
| It lasted dubious until Night, | |
| Which would to the other yield; | |
| At last the Armies both stood still, | |
| And left the Bridegroom at his Will, | 35 |
| The Pillage of the Field. | |
| |
| But, oh, such Spoils! which to compare, | |
| A Throne is but a rotten Chair, | |
| And Scepters are but sticks; | |
| The Crown itself, ’twere but a Bonnet, | 40 |
| If her Possession lay upon it, | |
| What Prince would not here fix. | |
| |
| Heaven’s Master-piece, Divinest frame, | |
| That e’er was spoke of yet by Fame, | |
| Rich Nature’s utmost Stage; | 45 |
| The Harvest of all former years, | |
| The past’s Disgrace, the future’s fears, | |
| And glory of this Age. | |
| |
| Thus to the Parson’s Shop they trade, | |
| And a slight Bargain there is made, | 50 |
| To make Him her Supreme; | |
| The Angels perched about her Light, | |
| And Saints themselves had Appetite, | |
| But I will not Blaspheme. | |
| |
| The Parson did his Conscience ask, | 55 |
| If he were fit for such a Task, | |
| And could perform his Duty; | |
| Then straight the Man put on the Ring, | |
| The Emblem of another thing, | |
| When strength is joined to Beauty. | 60 |
| |
| A modest Cloud her Face invades, | |
| And wraps it up in Sarsnet Shades, | |
| While thus they mingle Hands; | |
| And then she was obliged to say, | |
| Those Bug-bear Words, Love and Obey, | 65 |
| But meant her own Commands. | |
| |
| The envious Maids looked round about, | |
| To see what One would take them out, | |
| To terminate their Pains; | |
| For tho’ they Covet, and are Cross, | 70 |
| Yet still they value more one Loss, | |
| Than many Thousand Gains. | |
| |
| Knights of the Garter, two were Called, | |
| Knights of the Shoe-string, two installed, | |
| And all were bound by Oath; | 75 |
| No further than the Knee to pass, | |
| But oh! the Squire of the Body was | |
| A better place than both. | |
| |
| A tedious Feast protracts the time, | |
| For eating now, was but a Crime, | 80 |
| And all that interposed; | |
| For like two Duellists they stood, | |
| Panting for one another’s Blood, | |
| And longing till they closed. | |
| |
| Then came the Jovial Music in, | 85 |
| And many a merry Violin, | |
| That Life and Soul of Legs; | |
| Th’ impatient Bridegroom would not stay, | |
| Good Sir, cry they, what Man can play, | |
| Till he’s wound up his pegs. | 90 |
| |
| But then he Dances till he reels, | |
| For Love and Joy had Winged his Heels, | |
| And puts the Hours to flight; | |
| He leapt and skipt, and seemed to say, | |
| Come Boys, I’ll drive away the Day, | 95 |
| And shake away the Night. | |
| |
| The lovely Bride, with Murdering Arts, | |
| Walks round, and Brandishes her Darts, | |
| To give the deeper Wound; | |
| Her Beauteous Fabric, with such grace, | 100 |
| Ensnares a Heart, at every pace, | |
| And Kills at each rebound. | |
| |
| She glides as if there were no Ground, | |
| And slily draws her Nets around, | |
| Her Lime-twigs are her Kisses; | 105 |
| Then makes a Curtsie with a Glance, | |
| And strikes each Lover in a Trance, | |
| That Arrow never misses. | |
| |
| Thus have I oft a Hobby seen, | |
| Daring of Larks over a Green, | 110 |
| His fierce occasion tarry; | |
| Dances about them as they fly, | |
| And gives them sport before they Die, | |
| Then stoops and Kills the Quarry. | |
| |
| Her Sweat, like Honey-drops did fall, | 115 |
| And Stings of Beauty pierced us all, | |
| Her shape was so exact; | |
| Of Wax she seemed framed alive, | |
| But had her Gown too been a Hive, | |
| How Bees had thither flocked. | 120 |
| |
| Thus envious Time prolonged the Day, | |
| And stretched the Prologue to the Play, | |
| Long stopped the sluggish Watch; | |
| At last a Voice came from above, | |
| Which called the Bridegroom and his Love, | 125 |
| To Consummate the Match. | |
| |
| But (as if Heav’n would it retard) | |
| A Banquet comes, like the Night-Guard, | |
| Which stayed them half the Night; | |
| The Bridegroom then with’s Men retired, | 130 |
| The Train was laying to be fired, | |
| He went his Match to light. | |
| |
| When he returned, his Hopes was crowned, | |
| An Angel in the Bed he found, | |
| So glorious was her Face; | 135 |
| Amazed he stopt —— but then, quoth He, | |
| Tho’ ’tis an Angel, ’tis a She, | |
| And leaped into his Place. | |
| |
| Thus lay the Man with Heav’n in’s Arms, | |
| Blessed with a Thousand pleasing Charms, | 140 |
| In Raptures of Delight; | |
| Reaping at once, and Sowing Joys, | |
| For Beauty’s Manna never cloys, | |
| Nor fills the Appetite. | |
| |
| But what was done, sure was no more, | 145 |
| Than that which had been done before, | |
| When she her self was Made; | |
| Something was lost, which none found out, | |
| And He that had it could not shew’t, | |
| Sure ’tis a Juggling Trade. | 150 |
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