ON MATTHEW DAY
Beneath this slab lies Matthew
If his body had not been snatched away
To be by Science dissected;
Should it have gone, one thing is clear:
His soul the last trump is sure to hear,
And thus be resurrected.
* * * * *
TIME AND ETERNITY
Where the soul drinks of misery’s power,
Each moment seems a lengthened hour;
But when bright joy illumes the mind,
Time passes as the fleetest wind.—
How to a wicked soul must be
Whole ages of eternity?
FROM THE LATIN
As swallows shrink before the wintry blast,
And gladly seek a more congenial soil,
So flatterers halt when fortune’s lure is past,
And basely court some richer lordling’s smile.
SATAN IN SEARCH OF A WIFE
With the Whole Process
of his Courtship
and Marriage, and who Danced at the Wedding
By an Eye Witness_
To delicate bosoms, that have sighed over the Loves of the Angels, this Poem is with tenderest regard consecrated. It can be no offence to you, dear Ladies, that the author has endeavoured to extend the dominion of your darling passion; to shew Love triumphant in places, to which his advent has been never yet suspected. If one Cecilia drew an Angel down, another may have leave to attract a Spirit upwards; which, I am sure, was the most desperate adventure of the two. Wonder not at the inferior condition of the agent; for, if King Cophetua wooed a Beggar Maid, a greater king need not scorn to confess the attractions of a fair Tailor’s daughter. The more disproportionate the rank, the more signal is the glory of your sex. Like that of Hecate, a triple empire is now confessed your own. Nor Heaven, nor Earth, nor deepest tracts of Erebus, as Milton hath it, have power to resist your sway. I congratulate your last victory. You have fairly made an Honest Man of the Old One; and, if your conquest is late, the success must be salutary. The new Benedict has employment enough on his hands to desist from dabbling with the affairs of poor mortals; he may fairly leave human nature to herself; and we may sleep for one while at least secure from the attacks of this hitherto restless Old Bachelor. It remains to be seen, whether the world will be much benefited by the change in his condition.
The Devil was sick and queasy
And his sleep and his appetite fail’d him;
His ears they hung down, and his tail it was clapp’d
Between his poor hoofs, like a dog that’s been rapp’d—
None knew what the devil ail’d him.
He tumbled and toss’d
on his mattress o’ nights,
That was fit for a fiend’s disportal;
For ’twas made of the finest of thistles and thorn,
Which Alecto herself had gather’d in scorn
Of the best down beds that are mortal.