I lay a Pris'ner twenty Years ;
And then the Jovial Cavaliers,
To their old Post restor'd all Three,
I mean the Church, the King, and Me,


On WOOD the Patentee's Irish Half-Pence.

Written in the Year 1724.


S, when the 'Squire and Tinker, Wood,

Gravely consulting Ireland's Good,
Together mingl'd in a Mass
Smith's Duft, and Copper, Lead and Brass ;
The Mixture thus by Chymick Art
United close in ev'ry Part,
In Fillets rolld, or cut in Pieces,
Appear'd like one continued Species ;
And by the forming Engine ftruck,
On all the same Impression stuck.

So, to confound this bated Coin,
All Parties and Religions join ;
Wbigs, Tories, Trimmers, Hanoverians,
Quakers, Conformists, Presbyterians.


198 POEMS on several OCCASIONS.
Scotch, Irish, English, French, unite
With equal Intrest, equal Spite ;
Together mingled in a Lump,
Do all in one Opinion jump:
And ev'ry one begins to find
The same Impresion on his Mind.


A STRANGE Event! whom Gold incites,
To Blood and Quarrels, Brass unites :
So Goldsmith's say, the coarseft Stuff
Will serve for Solder well enough ;
So, by the Kettle's loud Alarm,
The Bees are gather'd to a Swarm :
So, by the Brazen Trumpet's Bluster,
Troops of all Tongues and Nations muster :
And so the Harp of Ireland brings
Whole Crowds, about its Brazen Strings.


There is a Chain let down from Jove,
But faften'd to his Throne above;
So strong, that from the lower End,
They say, all human Things depend :
This Chain, as ancient Poets hold,
When Jove was young, was made of Golel.
Prometheus once this Chain purloin'd,
Diffoly'd, and into Money coin'd ;
Then whips me on a Chain of Brass,
(+ Venus was brib'd to let it pass.)

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† A great Lady was reported to have been bribed by Wood.

Now, while this brazen Chain prevailed, Jove saw that all Devotion faild; No Temple to his Godship rais'd; No Sacrifice on Altars blaz'd; In short, such dire Confusion follow'd, Earth must have been in Chaos swallow'd. Jove stood amaz'd, but looking round, With much ado the Cheat he found; 'Twas plain he could no longer hold The World in any Chains but Gold; And to the God of Wealth, his Brother, Sent Mercury to get another.


PROMETHEUS on a Rock was laid,
Ty'd with the Chain himself had made ;
On Icy Caucasus to shiver,
While Vultures eat his growing Liver.


Ye Pow'rs of Grub-street, make me able, Discreetly to apply this Fable, Say, who is to be understood By that old Thief Prometheus? WOOD, For Jove, it is not hard to guess him, I mean His M-y, God bless Him. This Thief and Blacksmith was so bold, He strove to steal that Chain of Gold,

Which links the Subject to the King ;
And change it for a Brazen String.
But sure, if nothing else must pass
Between the King and us but Brass,
Although the Chain will never crack,
Yet our Devotion may grow Nack.

But Jove will soon convert, I hope,
This brazen Chain into a Rope ;
With which Prometheus shall be ty'd,
And high in Air for ever ride ;
Where, if we find his Liver

grows, For want of Vultures, we have Crows,

Verses on the upright Judge, who con

demned the DRAPIER's Printer.

Written in the Year 1724.

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HE Church I hate, and have good Reason:
For, there


Grandfire cut his Weazon ; He cut his Weazon at the Altar ; I keep my Gullet for the Halter.


On the fame.


N Church your Grandfire cut his Throat ;

To do the Jobb too long he tarry'd, He should have had my hearty Vote,

To cut his Throat before he marry'd:

On the fame.

The JUDGE speaks,

'M not the Grandson of that Ass * Quin ;

Nor can you prove it, Mr, Pasquin. My Grand-dame had Gallants by Twenties, And bore my Mother by a Prentice. This, when my Grandfire knew; they tell us he, In Christ-Church cut his Throat for Jealousy. And, since the Alderman was mad you say, Then, I must be fo too, ex traduce.

* An Alderman.


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