ATLAS; OR, THE MINISTER OF STATE.
TO THE LORD-TREASURER OXFORD. 1710.
ATLAS, we read in ancient song,
Was so exceeding tall and strong,
IIe bore the skies upon his back,
Just as the pedlar does his pack;
But, as the pedlar overpress'd
Unloads upon a stall to rest,
Or, when he can no longer stand,
Desires a friend to lend a hand;
So Atlas, lest the ponderous spheres
Should sink and fall about his ears,
Got Hercules to bear the pile,
That he might sit and rest awhile.

Yet Hercules was not so strong,
Nor could have borne it half so long.
Great statesmen are in this condition;
And Atlas is a politician,

A premier minister of state;
Alcides one of second rate.

Suppose then Atlas ne'er so wise;
Yet when the weight of kingdom lies
Too long upon his single shoulders,
Sink down he must, or find upholders.

LINES

WRITTEN EXTEMPORE ON MR. HARLEY'S BEING STABBED, AND ADDRESSED TO HIS PHYSICIAN, 1710-11.

ON Britain Europe's safety lies,

Britain is left if IIarley dies:

Harley depends upon your skill:

Think what you save, or what you kill.1

AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG:

BEING THE INTENDED SPEECH OF A FAMOUS ORATOR AGAINST PEACE. 1711.

AN orator dismal of Nottinghamshire,

Who has forty years let out his conscience to hire,

Out of zeal for his country and want of a place,

Is come up, vi et armis, to break the queen's peace.

He has vamp'd an old speech, and the court, to their sorrow,
Shall hear him harangue against Prior to-morrow.

When once he begins he never will flinch,

But repeats the same note a whole day like a Finch.2

I told lord-treasurer of four lines I writ extempore, with my pencil, on a bit of paper, in his house, while he lay wounded. Some of the servants, I suppose, made waste-paper of them; and he never heard of them."-Journal to Stella,

I have heard all the speech repeated by Hoppy,
And, "mistakes to prevent, I've obtained a copy."

THE SPEECII.

WHEREAS, nowithstanding I am in great pain
To hear we are making a peace without Spain;
But, most noble senators, 'tis a great shame,
There should be a peace, while I'm Not-in-game.

The duke show'd me all his fine house; and the duchess
From her closet brought out a full purse in her clutches:

I talk'd of a peace, and they both gave a start,
His grace swore by G-d, and her grace let a f―t:
My long old-fashion'd pocket was presently cramm'd;
And sooner than vote for a peace I'll be damn'd.

But some will cry turn-coat, and rip up old stories,
How I always pretended to be for the Tories:

I answer; the Tories were in my good graces,
Till all my relations were put into places
But still I'm in principle ever the same,

And will quit my best friends while I'm Not-in-game.
When I and some others subscribed our names
To a plot for expelling my master king James,
I withdrew my subscription by help of a blot,
And so might discover or gain by the plot:
I had my advantage and stood at defiance,
For Daniel1 was got from the den of the lions:
I came in without danger, and was I to blame?
For, rather than hang, I would be Not-in-game.

I swore to the queen that the prince of Hanover
During her sacred life would never come over;
I made use of a trope; that "an heir to invite,
Was like keeping her monument always in sight."
But, when I thought proper, I alter'd my note;
And in her own hearing I boldly did vote
That her majesty stood in great need of a tutor,
And must have an old or a young coadjutor:
For why? I would fain have put all in a flame,
Because, for some reasons, I was Not-in-game.

Now my new benefactors have brought me about,
And I'll vote against peace, with Spain or without:

Though the court gives my nephews, and brothers, and cousins,
And all my whole family, places by dozens;

Yet, since I know where a full purse may be found,
And hardly pay eighteen-pence tax in the pound,-
Since the Tories have thus disappointed my hopes,
And will neither regard my figures nor tropes,-
I'll speech against peace while Dismal's my name,
And be a true Whig while I'm Not-in-game.

THE WINDSOR PROPHECY.

"ABOUT three months ago, at Windsor, a poor knight's widow was buried in the cloisters. In digging the grave the sexton struck against a small leaden coffer, about half a foot in length and four inches wide. The poor man, expecting he had discovered a treasure, opened it with some difficulty, but found only a small parchment, rolled up very fast, put into a leather case; which case was tied at the top and sealed with a St. George, the impression on black wax, very rude and gothic. The parchment was carried to a gentleman of learning, who found in it the following lines, written in a black old English letter, and in the orthography of the age, which seems to be about two hundred years ago. made a shift to obtain a copy of it; but the transcriber, I find, hath in many parts altered the spelling to the modern way. The original, as I am informed, is now in the hands of the ingenious Dr. W, F. R. S., where, I suppose, the curious will not be refused the satisfaction of seeing it.

66

The lines seem to be a sort of prophecy, and written in verse, as old prophecies usually are, but in a very hobbling kind of measure. Their meaning is very dark, if it be any at all; of which the learned reader can judge better than I: however it be, several persons were of opinion that they deserved to be published, both as they discover somewhat of the genius of a former age, and may be an amusement to the present."

When a holy black Swede, the son of Bob,'

5

With a saint2 at his chin, and a seal 2 at his fob,
Shall not see one new-year's-day in that year,
Then let old England make good cheer:
Windsor and Bristow then shall be
Joined together in the Low-countree.^
Then shall the tall black Daventry Bird
Speak against peace right many a word;
And some shall admire his conying wit,
For many good groats his tongue shall slit.
But, spite of the Harpy that crawls on all four,
There shall be peace, pardie, and war no more.
But England must cry alack and well-a-day,
If the stick be taken from the dead sea.7
And, dear England, if ought I understand,
Beware of Carrots from Northumberland.
Carrots sown Thynne a deep root may get,
If so be they are in Somer set;

6

'Dr. John Robinson, bishop of Bristol.

2 He was dean of Windsor, and lord privy seal.

The new style (which was not used in Great Britain and Ireland till 1752) was then observed in most parts of Europe.

4

Alluding to the deanery and bishopric being possessed by the same person, then at Utrecht.

Earl of Nottingham.

Duke of Marlborough.

"The treasurer's wand taken from Harley, whose second title was lord Mortimer. The duchess of Somerset.

Thomas Thynne of Longleate, esq., married the above lady after the death of her first husband, Henry Cavendish, earl of Ogle.

I have heard all the speech repeated by IIoppy,
And, "mistakes to prevent, I've obtained a copy."

THE SPEECHI.

WHEREAS, nowithstanding I am in great pain,
To hear we are making a peace without Spain;
But, most noble senators, 'tis a great shame,
There should be a peace, while I'm Not-in-game.

The duke show'd me all his fine house; and the duchess
From her closet brought out a full purse in her clutches:

I talk'd of a peace, and they both gave a start,
His grace swore by G-d, and her grace let a f―t:
My long old-fashion'd pocket was presently cramm'd;
And sooner than vote for a peace I'll be damn'd.

But some will cry turn-coat, and rip up old stories,
How I always pretended to be for the Tories:
I answer; the Tories were in my good graces,
Till all my relations were put into places
But still I'm in principle ever the same,

And will quit my best friends while I'm Not-in-game.
When I and some others subscribed our names
To a plot for expelling my master king James,
I withdrew my subscription by help of a blot,
And so might discover or gain by the plot:
I had my advantage and stood at defiance,
For Daniel' was got from the den of the lions:
I came in without danger, and was I to blame?
For, rather than hang, I would be Not-in-game.

I swore to the queen that the prince of Hanover
During her sacred life would never come over;
I made use of a trope; that "an heir to invite,
Was like keeping her monument always in sight."
But, when I thought proper, I alter'd my note;
And in her own hearing I boldly did vote
That her majesty stood in great need of a tutor,
And must have an old or a young coadjutor:
For why? I would fain have put all in a flame,
Because, for some reasons, I was Not-in-game.

Now my new benefactors have brought me about,
And I'll vote against peace, with Spain or without:

Though the court gives my nephews, and brothers, and cousins,
And all my whole family, places by dozens;

Yet, since I know where a full purse may be found,
And hardly pay eighteen-pence tax in the pound,-
Since the Tories have thus disappointed my hopes,
And will neither regard my figures nor tropes,-
I'll speech against peace while Dismal's my name,
And be a true Whig while I'm Not-in-game.

THE WINDSOR PROPHECY.

"ABOUT three months ago, at Windsor, a poor knight's widow was buried in the cloisters. In digging the grave the sexton struck against a small leaden coffer, about half a foot in length and four inches wide. The poor man, expecting he had discovered a treasure, opened it with some difficulty, but found only a small parchment, rolled up very fast, put into a leather case; which case was tied at the top and sealed with a St. George, the impression on black wax, very rude and gothic. The parchment was carried to a gentleman of learning, who found in it the following lines, written in a black old English letter, and in the orthography of the age, which seems to be about two hundred years ago. I made a shift to obtain a copy of it; but the transcriber, I find, hath in many parts altered the spelling to the modern way. The original, as I am informed, is now in the hands of the ingenious Dr. W, F. R. S., where, I suppose, the curious will not be refused the satisfaction of seeing it.

Their

The lines seem to be a sort of prophecy, and written in verse, as old prophecies usually are, but in a very hobbling kind of measure. meaning is very dark, if it be any at all; of which the learned reader can judge better than I: however it be, several persons were of opinion that they deserved to be published, both as they discover somewhat of the genius of a former age, and may be an amusement to the present.'

When a holy black Swede, the son of Bob,'

With a saint2 at his chin, and a seal at his fob,
Shall not see one new-year's-day3 in that year,

6

Then let old England make good cheer:
Windsor and Bristow then shall be
Joined together in the Low-countree.1
Then shall the tall black Daventry Bird
Speak against peace right many a word;
And some shall admire his conying wit,
For many good groats his tongue shall slit.
But, spite of the Harpy that crawls on all four,
There shall be peace, pardie, and war no more.
But England must cry alack and well-a-day,
If the stick be taken from the dead sea.7
And, dear England, if ought I understand,
Beware of Carrots from Northumberland.
Carrots sown Thynne a deep root may get,
If so be they are in Somer set;

Dr. John Robinson, bishop of Bristol.

" He was dean of Windsor, and lord privy seal.

The new style (which was not used in Great Britain and Ireland till 1752) was then observed in most parts of Europe.

Alluding to the deanery and bishopric being possessed by the same person, then at Utrecht.

Earl of Nottingham.

Duke of Marlborough.

The treasurer's wand taken from Harley, whose second title was lord Mortimer.
The duchess of Somerset.

Thomas Thynne of Longleate, esq., married the above lady after the death of her first husband, Henry Cavendish, earl of Ogle.