The ferpents round about it twin'd,
Denote him of the reptile kind;
Denote the rage with which he writes,
His frothy flaver, venom'd bites;

An equal femblance still to keep,

Alike too both conduce to, fleep.
This difference only as the God
Drove fouls to Tart'rus with his rod,
With his goofequill the fcribbling elf,
Inftead of others, damns himself.

And here my fimile almost tript,
Yet grant a word by way of postscript.
Moreover, Merc'ry had a failing:

Well! what of that? out with it-ftealing;
In which all modern bards agree,

Being each as great a thief as he:

But ev❜n this deity's existence

Shall lend my fimile affiftance.
Our modern bards! why what a pox
Are they but fenfeless stones and blocks

DESCRIPTION

DESCRIPTION

OF AN

AUTHOR'S BED-CHAMBER.

WHERE the Red Lion ftaring o'er the way,
Invites each paffing ftranger that can pay ;
Where Calvert's butt, and Parson's black champaign,
Regale the drabs and bloods of Drury-lane ;
There, in a lonely room, from bailiffs fnug,
The Muse found Scroggen ftretch'd beneath a rug;
A window patch'd with paper, lent a ray,
That dimly fhew'd the fate in which he lay;
The fanded floor that grits beneath the tread;
The humid wall with paltry pictures spread :
The Royal game of goofe was there in view,
And the twelve, rules the royal martyr drew;
The feasons, fram'd with lifting, found a place,
And brave prince William fhew'd his lamp-black face:
The morn was cold, he views with keen defire
The rufty grate unconscious of a fire:

With beer and milk arrears, the frieze was fcor'd,

And five crack'd tea-cups dress'd the chimney board; A night-cap deck'd his brows instead of bay,

La

A cap by night a ftocking all the day!

THE