Thus, in a Bafon drop a Shilling,

Then fill the Vessel to the Prim ;
You shall observe, as you are filling,

The pond'rous Metal seems to swim.

It rises both in Bulk and Height,

Behold it swelling like a Sop!
The Liquid Medium cheats your Sight;

Behold it mounted to the Top!


In Stock three hundred thoufand Pounds

I have in view a Lord's Estate;
My Manors all contiguous round ;

A Coach and Six, and serv'd in Plate !

Thus, the deluded Bankrupt raves ;

Puts all upon a desp'rate Bet į
Then plunges in the Southern Waves,

Dipt over Head and Earsin Debt.

So, by a Calenture mised,

The Mariner with Rapture sees,
On the smooth Ocean's azure Bed,

Enamel'd Fields, and verdant Trees.

With eager Hafte he longs to rove

In that fantastick Scene, and thinks,
It must be some enchanted Grove;

And in he leaps, and down he finks.

Five hundred Chariots just bespoke,

Are funk in these devouring Waves, The Horses drown'd, the Harness broke,

And here the Owners find their Graves.

Like Pharaoh, by Directors led;

They, with their Spoils went safe before ; His Chariots, tumbling out the Dead,

Lay shatter'd on the Red-Sea Shore.

Rais’d up on Hope's aspiring Plumes,

The young Advent'rer o'er the Deep An Eagle's Flight and State assumes,

And scorns the middle Way to keep.

On Paper Wings he takes his Flight,

With Wax the Falber bound them fast; The Wax is melted by the Height,

And down the tow'ring Boy is caft.

A Moralist might here explain

The Rashness of the Cretan Youth ; Describe his Fall into the Main,

And from a Fable form a Truth.

His Wings are his paternal Rent,

He melts the Wax at ev'ry Flame; His Credit sunk, his Money spent,

In Southern Seas be leaves bis Name.



Inform us, you that beft can tell,

Why in yon dangʻrous Gulph profound,
Where hundreds, and where thousands fell,

Fools chiefly float, the Wife are drown'd ?

So, have I seen from Severn's Brink

A Flock of Geese jump down together ;
Swim where the Bird of Jove would sink,

And swimming never wet a Feather.

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One Fool may from another win,

And then get off with Money stor'd;
But, if a Sharper once comes in,

He throws at all, and sweeps the Board.

As Fishes on each other prey,

The great Ones swallowing up the small;
So fares it in the Southern Sea ;

But, Whale Directors eat up all.

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When Stock is high, they come between,

Making by second-hand their Offers ;
Then cunningly retire unseen,

With each a Million in his Çoffers.

So, when upon a Moon-fhine Night,

An Ass was drinking at a Stream ;
A Cloud arose, and stopt the Light,

By intercepting ev'ry Beam ;


The Day of Judgment will be foon,

(Cries out a Sage among the Crouds) An Ass hath swallow'd up the Moon ;

The Moon lay fafe behind a Cloud.

Each poor Subscriber to the Sea,

Sinks down at once, and there he lies ; Dire&tors fall as well as they,

Their Fall is but a Trick to rise.

So, Fishes rising from the Main,

Can soar with moisten'd Wings on high ; The Moisture dry'd, they sink again,

And dip their Fins again to fly.

Undone at Play, the Female Troops

Come here their Loffes to retrieve; Ride o'er the Waves in spacious Hoops,

Like Lapland Witches in a Sieve.

Thus Venus to the Sea descends,

As Poets feign; but where's thc Moral? It Shews the Queen of Love intends

To search the Deep for Pearl and Coral.

The Sea is richer than the Land,

I heard it from my Grannam's Mouth, Which now I clearly understand ;

For by the Sea, the meant the South.

Thus, Thus, by Direitors we are told,

Pray, Gentlemen, believe your Eyes ; Our Ocean's cover'd oʻer with Gold,

Look round, and Le how thick it lies!

Oh! would those Patriots be so kind,

Here in the Deep to wash their Hands, Then, like Paftolus, we should find

The Sea indeed had golden Sands.

A Shilling in the Balk you fing,

The Silver takes a nobler Hue, By Magick Virtue in the Spring,

And seems a Guinea to your View.

But, as a Guinea will not pass

At Market for a Farthing more, Shewn thro' a multiplying Glass,

Than what it always did before,

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So, cast it in the Southern Seas,

Or view it thro' a Jobber's Bill ; Put on what Spectacles you pleafe,

Your Guinea's but a Guinea ffill.

One Night a Fool into a Brook,

Thus from a Hillock looking down, The golden Stars for Guineas took,

And Silver Cynthia for a Crown.


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