Wrought by the music of the spheres—­
Your spouse shall then no longer hector,
You need not fear a curtain-lecture;
Nor shall she think that she is undone
For quitting her beloved London. 
When she’s exalted in the skies,
She’ll never think of mutton-pies;
When you’re advanced above Dean Viz,
You’ll never think of Goody Griz;
But ever, ever live at ease,
And strive, and strive your wife to please;
In her you’ll centre all your joys,
And get ten thousand girls and boys;
Ten thousand girls and boys you’ll get,
And they like stars shall rise and set. 
While you and spouse, transform’d, shall soon
Be a new sun and a new moon: 
Nor shall you strive your horns to hide,
For then your horns shall be your pride.

[Footnote 1:  Diana, also called Lucina, for the reason given in the text.—­W.  E. B.]

PARODY ON A CHARACTER OF DEAN SMEDLEY, WRITTEN IN LATIN BY HIMSELF[1]

The very reverend Dean Smedley,
Of dulness, pride, conceit, a medley,
Was equally allow’d to shine
As poet, scholar, and divine;
With godliness could well dispense,
Would be a rake, but wanted sense;
Would strictly after Truth inquire,
Because he dreaded to come nigh her. 
For Liberty no champion bolder,
He hated bailiffs at his shoulder. 
To half the world a standing jest,
A perfect nuisance to the rest;
From many (and we may believe him)
Had the best wishes they could give him. 
To all mankind a constant friend,
Provided they had cash to lend. 
One thing he did before he went hence,
He left us a laconic sentence,
By cutting of his phrase, and trimming
To prove that bishops were old women. 
Poor Envy durst not show her phiz,
She was so terrified at his. 
He waded, without any shame,
Through thick and thin to get a name,
Tried every sharping trick for bread,
And after all he seldom sped. 
When Fortune favour’d, he was nice;
He never once would cog the dice;
But, if she turn’d against his play,
He knew to stop a quatre trois. 
Now sound in mind, and sound in corpus,
(Says he) though swell’d like any porpoise,
He hies from hence at forty-four
(But by his leave he sinks a score)
To the East Indies, there to cheat,
Till he can purchase an estate;
Where, after he has fill’d his chest,
He’ll mount his tub, and preach his best,
And plainly prove, by dint of text,
This world is his, and theirs the next. 
Lest that the reader should not know
The bank where last he set his toe,
’Twas Greenwich.  There he took a ship,
And gave his creditors the slip. 
But lest chronology should vary,
Upon the ides of February,
In seventeen hundred eight-and-twenty,
To Fort St. George, a pedler went he. 
Ye Fates, when all he gets is spent,
RETURN HIM BEGGAR AS HE WENT!