THE DISPENSARY; A POEM.  
LONDON, Printed, and Sold by john Nutt, near Stationers-Hall. 1699.   

The Dispensary.  

SPeak, Goddess! since 'tis Thou that best canst tell  
How ancient Leagues to modern Discord fell;  
Whence 'twas, Physicians were so frugal grown  
Of others Lives, and lavish of their own;  
How by a Journey to th' Elysian Plain  
Peace triumphed, and old Time returned again.   

Not far from that most celebrated Place,  
Where angry Justice shows her awful Face;  
Where little Villains must submit to Fate,  
That great ones may enjoy the World in state;  
There stands a Dome, majestic to the sight  
And sumptuous Arches bear its oval height;  
A golden Globe placed high with artful skill,  
Seems, to the distant sight, a gilded Pill:  
This Pile was by the pious Patron's aim,  
Raised for a use as noble as its Frame;  
Nor did the learned Society decline  
The propagation of that great Design;  
In all her mazes Nature's Face they viewed,  
And as she disappeared, they still pursued.  
They find her dubious now, and then, as plain;  
Here, she's too sparing, there profusely vain.  
Now she unfolds the faint, and dawning strife  
Of infant Atoms kindling into life:  
How ductile Matter new Meanders takes,  
And slender trains of twisting Fibres makes.  
And how the viscous seeks a closer tone,  
By just degrees to harden into bone;  
Whilst the more loose flow from the vital Urn,  
And in full Tides of Purple Streams return;  
How from each sluice a briny Torrent pours,  
T' extinguish feavourish heats with ambient showers;  
Whence their mechanic powers the Spirits claim,  
How great their force, how delicate their Frame:  
How the same Nerves are fashioned to sustain  
The greatest Pleasure and the greatest Pain.  
Why bileous Juice a golden light puts on,  
And floods of Chyle in silver Currents run.  
How the dim speck of Entity began  
T' extend its recent Form, and stretch to Man.  
To how minute an Origin we owe  
Young Ammon, Caesar, and the Great Nassau.  
Why paler looks impetuous rage proclaim,  
And why i'll Virgins redden into flame.  
Why Envy oft transforms with wan disguise,  
And why gay Mirth sits smiling in the Eyes.  
All Ice why Lucrece, or Sempronia, fire,  
Why S— enrages to survive desire.  
Whence Milo's Vigour at th' Olympics shown,  
Whence tropes to F—ch or impudence to S—  
Why Atticus polite, Brutus severe,  
Why Me— and muddy, M—gue why clear.  
Hence 'tis we wait the wondrous Cause to find,  
How Body acts upon impassive Mind.  
How Fumes of Wine the thinking part can fire,  
Past Hopes revive, and present Joys inspire:  
Why our Complexions oft our Soul declare,  
And how the Passions in the Features are.  
How Touch and Harmony arise between  
Corporeal Substances, and Things unseen.  
With mighty Truths, mysterious to descry,  
Which in the Womb of distant Causes lie.   

But now those great Inquiries are no more,  
And Faction Skulks, where Learning shone before:  
The drooping Sciences neglected pine,  
And Paeans Beams with fading lustre shine.  
No Readers here with Hectic looks are found,  
Or Eyes in rheum, through midnight watching drowned:  
The lonely Edifice in Sweats complains  
That nothing there but empty Silence reigns.   

This Place so fit for undisturbed repose,  
The God of Sloth for his Asylum chose.  
Upon a Couch of Down in these Abodes  
The careless Deity supinely nods.  
His leaden Limbs at gentle ease are laid,  
With Poppies and dull Nightshade o'er him spread;  
No Passions interrupt his easy reign,  
No Problems puzzle his lethargic Brain.  
But dull oblivion guards his peaceful Bed,  
And lazy Fogs bedew his thoughtless Head.   

As at full length the pampered Monarch lay,  
Batt'ning in ease, and slumbering life away  
A spiteful noise his downy Chains unties,  
Hastes forward, and increases as it flies.   

Frst, some to cleave the stubborn Flint engage, 
The building of the Dispensary.   
Till urged by blows, it sparkles into rage.  
Some temper Lute, some spacious Vessels move;  
These Furnaces erect, and Those approve.  
Here Phyals in nice discipline are set,  
There Galley-pots are ranged in Alphabet.  
In this place, Magazines of Pills you spy,  
In that, like forage, Herbs in bundles lie.  
Whilst lifted Pestles, brandished in the Air,  
Descend in peals and civil Wars declare.  
Loud strokes, with pounding Spice, the Fabric rend,  
And aromatic Clouds in Spires ascend.  
So when the Cyclops o'er their Anvils sweat,  
And their swollen Sinews echoing blows repeat;  
From the Vulcano's gross eruptions rise,  
And, with curled sheets of smoke, obscure the Skies.   

The slumbering God amazed at this new din,  
Thrice strove to rise, and thrice sunk down again.  
Then, half erect, he rubbed his opening Eyes,  
And faulter'd thus betwixt half words and sighs.   

How impotent a Deity am I!  
With Godhead born, but cursed, that cannot die!  
Through my indulgence 'tis, that Mortals share  
A grateful negligence, and ease from Care.  
Lulled in my arms, how long have I withheld,  
The Northern Monarches from the dusty Field.  
How have I kept the British Fleet at ease,  
From tempting the rough dangers of the Seas.  
Hibernia owns the mildness of my Reign,  
And my Divinity's adored in Spain.  
I Swains to Sylvan Solitudes convey,  
Where stretched on Mossy Beds, they waste away,  
In gentle inactivity, the day.  
What marks of wondrous Clemency I've shown,  
My bright and blooming Clergy hourly own.  
Triumphant Plenty, with a cheerful grace,  
Basks in their Eyes, and sparkles in their Face.  
How sleik their looks, how goodly is their Mien,  
When big they strut behind a double Chin.  
Each Faculty in blandishments they lull,  
Aspiring to be venerably dull.  
No learned Debates molest their downy Trance  
Or discompose their pompous ignorance:  
But undisturbed, they loiture life away,  
So whither Green, and blossom in decay.  
Deep sunk in Down, they by my gentle Care  
Avoid th' Inclemencies of Morning Air,  
And leave to tattered Crape the Drudgery of Prayer.   

Mankind my fond propitious Power has tried,  
Too oft to own, too much to be denied.  
And in return I ask but some recess,  
T'enjoy th' entrancing Ecstasies of Peace.  
But that, the Great Nassau's heroic Arms  
Has long prevented with his loud Alarms.  
Still my indulgence with contempt he flies,  
His Couch a Trench, his Canopy the Skies.  
Nor Skies nor Seasons his resolves control,  
Th' Aequator has no heat, no Ice the Pole.  
From Clime to Clime his wondrous Triumphs move,  
And jove grows jealous of his Realms above.   

But as the slothful God to Yawn begun,  
He shook off the dull Mist, and thus went on.   

Sometimes among the Caspian Cliffs I creep,  
Where solitary Bats, and Swallows sleep.  
Or if some Cloyster's refuge I implore,  
Where holy Drones o'er dying Tapers snore;  
Still Nassau's Arms a soft repose deny,  
Keep me awake, and follow were I fly.   

Now since he has vouchsafed the World a Peace,  
And with a Nod has bid Bellona cease:  
I sought the Covert of some peaceful Cell,  
Where silent Shades in harmless raptures dwell;  
That Rest might past Tranquillity restore,  
And Mortal never interrupt me more.   

'Twas here, alas! I thought I might repose,  
These Walls were that Asylum I had chose.  
Nought underneath this Roof, but Damps are found,  
Nought heard, but drowsy Beetles buzzing round.  
Spread Cobwebs hide the Walls, and Dust the Floors,  
And midnight Silence guards the noiseless Doors.  
But now some busy Wretch's feavourish Brain,  
Invents new Fancies to renew my Pain,  
And labours to dissolve my easy Reign.   

With that, the God his darling Phantom calls,  
And from his faltering Lips this Message falls.   

Since Mortals will dispute my Power, I'll try  
Who has the greatest Empire, they or I.  
Find Envy out, some Prince's Court attend,  
Most likely there, you'll meet the famished Fiend.  
Or in Cabals, or Camps, or at the Bar,  
Or where ill Poets Pennyless confer,  
Or in the Senate-house at Westminster.  
Tell the bleak Fury what new Projects reign,  
Among the Homicides of Warwick-Lane.  
And what th' Event, unless her Care inclines,  
To blast their Hopes, and baffle their Designs.   

More He had spoke but sudden Vapours rise,  
And with their silken Cords tie down his Eyes.    

The Dispensary. CANTO II.  

SOON as with gentle sighs the evening Breeze  
Begun to whisper through the murmuring Trees;  
And Night had wrapped in Shades the Mountains  
Whilst Winds lay hushed in Subterranean Beds. [Heads,  
Officious Phantom did with speed prepare  
To slide on tender Pinions through the Air.  
He often sought the Summit of a Rock,  
And oft the Hollow of some blasted Oak;  
At length approaching where bleak Envy lay,  
He found, by th' hissing of her Snakes, the way.   

Beneath the gloomy Covert of an Yew  
That taints the Grass with sickly sweats of Dew;  
No verdant Beauty entertains the sight,  
But baneful Hemlock, and cold Aconite;  
There crawled the meager Monster on the ground,  
And Breathed a livid Pestilence around:  
A bald and bloated Toad-stool raised her Head;  
And Plumes of boding Ravens were her Bed.  
Down her wan Cheeks sulphureous Torrents flow,  
And her red haggard Eyes with Fury glow.  
Like Aetna with Metallick streams oppressed,  
She breathes a bleu Eruption from her Breast.  
And rends with cankered Teeth the pregnant Scrolls  
Where Fame the Acts of Demigods enrolls.  
And as the rend Records in pieces fell,  
Each Scrap did some immortal Action tell.  
This showed, how fixed as Fate Torquatus stood,  
And That, the passage of the Granick Flood.  
The julian Eagles, here, their Wings display;  
And there, all pale, th' expiring Decii lay.  
This does Camillus as a God extol,  
That points at Manlius in the Capitol.  
How Cochles did the Tyber's Surges brave,  
How Curtius plunged into the gaping Grave.  
Great Cyrus, here, the Medes and Persians join,  
And, there, th' immortal Battle on the Boyn.   

As th' airy Messenger the Fury spied,  
A while his curdling Blood forgot to glide.  
Confusion on his fainting Vitals hung,  
And faltering accents fluttered on his Tongue.  
At length assuming Courage, he essayed  
T' inform the Fiend, then shrunk into a shade.   

The Hag lay long revolving what might be  
The blessed Event of such an Embassy.  
She blazons in dread Smiles her hideous Form,  
So lightning guilds the unrelenting Storm.  
Then she, Alas! how long in vain have I  
Aimed at those noble ills the Fates deny:  
Within this Isle for ever must I find  
Disasters to distract my restless Mind.  
Good Te— ns Celestial Piety  
Has raised his Virtues to the Sacred See.  
So— rs does sickening Equity restore,  
And helpless Orphans now need weep no more.  
Pm— ke to Britain endless Blessings brings;  
He spoke and Peace clapped her Triumphant wings:  
Unshaken is the Throne and safe its Lord,  
Whilst M— d or O—nd wears a Sword.  
The noble ardour of a Loyal Fire,  
Inspires the generous breast of De— re.  
Like Leda's shining Sons, divinely clear,  
P— land and I—sey decked in Rays appear  
To Gild, by turns, the gallic Hemisphere.  
Worth in Distress is raised by M—gue,  
Augustus listens if Maecenas sue.  
And V—ns Vigilance no slumber takes,  
Whilst Faction peeps abroad, and Anarchy awakes.   

Since therefore by no Arts I can defeat  
The happy Erterprises of the Great,  
I'll calmly stoop to more inferior things;  
And try if my loved Snakes have Teeth or Stings.   

She said; and strait shrill Colon's Person took,  
In Morals loose, but most precise in look.  
Black-Fryar's Annals lately pleased to call  
Him Warden of Apothecaries-Hall.  
And, when so dignified, he'd not forbear  
That Operation which the learned declare  
Gives colicks ease, and makes the Ladies Fair.  
In vain Formality his Talon lies,  
And th' empty Head's defects, the Band supplies.  
Hourly his learned Impertinence affords  
A barren Superfluity of Words.  
In haste he strides along to recompense  
The want of business with its vain pretence.  
The Fury thus assuming Colon's grace,  
So slung her Arms, so shuffled in her Pace.  
Onward she hastens to the famed Abodes,  
Where Horoscope invokes th' infernal Gods,  
And reached the Mansion where the Vulgar run  
T' increase their Ills, and throng to be undone.   

This Wight all mercenary Projects tries,  
And knows that to be rich is to be wise.  
By useful Observations he can tell  
The sacred Charms that in true Sterling dwell.  
How Gold makes a Patrician of a Slave,  
A Dwarf an Atlas, a Therfites brave.  
It cancels all defects, and in their place  
Finds Sense in Br—w, Charms in Lady G—ce.  
It guides the fancy, and directs the mind,  
No Bankrupt ever found a Fair one kind.   

So truly Horoscope its Virtues knows,  
To this bright Idol 'tis, alone, he bows;  
And fancies that a Thousand Pound supplies  
The want of twenty Thousand Qualities.  
Long has he been of that amphibious Fry,  
Bold to prescribe, and busy to apply.  
His Shop the gazing Vulgar's Eyes employs  
With foreign Trinkets, and domestic Toys.  
Here, Mummies lay most reverendly stale,  
And there, the Tortoise hung her Coat o' Mail;  
Not far from some huge Shark's devouring Head,  
The flying Fish their finny Pinions spread.  
Aloft in rows large Poppy Heads were strung,  
And near, a scaly Alligator hung.  
In this place, Drugs in Musty heaps decayed,  
In that, dried Bladders, and drawn Teeth were laid.  
An inner Room receives the numerous Shoals  
Of such as pay to be reputed Fools.  
Globes stand by Globes, Volumes on Volumes lie,  
And Planitary Schemes amuse the Eye.  
The Sage, in Velvet Chair, here lolls at ease,  
To promise future Health for present Fees.  
Then, as from Tripod, solemn shams reveals,  
And what the Stars know nothing of, foretells.  
One asks how soon Panthea may be won,  
And longs to feel the Marriage Fetters on.  
Others, convinced by Melancholy proof,  
Would know how soon kind Fates will strike 'em off.  
Some, by what means they may redress the wrong,  
When Fathers the Possession keep too long.  
And some would know the issue of their Cause,  
And whether Gold can sodder up its flaws.  
Poor pregnant Laijs his advice would have,  
To lose by Art what fruitful Nature gave:  
And Portia old in expectation grown,  
Laments her barren Curse, and begs a Son.  
Whilst Iris, his cosmetick Wash, must try,  
To make her Bloom revive, and Lovers die.  
Some ask for Charms, and others Philters choose  
To gain Corinna, and their Quartans lose.  
Young Hylas, botched with Stains too foul to Name,  
In Cradle here, renews his Youthful Frame:  
Cloyed with Desire, and forfeited with Charms,  
A Hothouse he prefers to Julia's arms.  
And old Lucullus would th' Arcanum prove,  
Of kindling in cold Veins the sparks of Love.   

With pleasure those dull Fraud's bleak Envy sees,  
And wonders at the senseless Mysteries.  
In Colon's Voice she thus calls out aloud  
On Horoscope environed by the Crowed.   

Forbear, forbear, thy vain Amusements cease,  
Thy Woodcocks from their Gins a while release;  
And to that dire Misfortune listen well,  
Which thou shouldst fear to know, or I to tell.  
'Tis true, Thou ever wast esteemed by me  
The great Alcides of our Company.  
When we with Noble Scorn resolved to ease  
Ourselves of all Parochial Offices;  
And to our Wealthier Patients left the care,  
And draggled dignity of Scavenger;  
Such Zeal in that affair thou didst express,  
Nought could be equal to't, but the Success.  
Now call to mind thy generous Prowess passed,  
Be what thou shouldst, by thinking what thou wast.  
The Faculty of Warwick-Lane design,  
If not to Storm, at least to Undermine:  
Their Gates each day ten thousand Nightcaps crowed,  
And their attempts their Mortars speak aloud.  
If they should once unmasque our Mystery,  
Each Nurse e'er long would be as learned as We,  
Our Art exposed to every Vulgar Eye,  
And, none in Complaisance to us, would die.  
What if We claim their right to assassinate,  
Must they needs turn Apothecaries strait?  
Prevent it, Gods! all Stratagems we try,  
To crowd with new Inhabitants your Sky.  
'Tis we who wait the Destiny's command,  
To purge the troubled Air, and weed the Land.  
And dare the College of Physicians aim  
To equal our Fraternity in Fame?  
Crabs Eyes as well with Pearl for use may try,  
Or Highgate Hill with lofty Pindus' vie:  
So Glow-worm's may compare with Titan's Beams,  
Or Hare Court Pump with Aganippe's Streams.  
Our Manufacture now they meanly sell,  
And spitefully, th' intrinsic value tell:  
Nay more, (but heavens prevent) they'll force us soon,  
To act with Conscience, and to be undone.   

At this, famed Horoscope turned pale, and strait  
In silence tumbled from his Chair of State.  
The Crowd in great Confusion sought the Door,  
And left the Magus fainting on the Floor.  
Whilst in his Breast the Fury breathed a Storm,  
Then sought her Cell, and reassumed her Form,  
Thus from the Sore altho' the Insect flies,  
It leaves a brood of Maggots in disguise.   

Officious Squirt in haste forsaken the Shop,  
To succour the expiring Horoscope.  
Oft he essayed the Magus to restore,  
By Salt of Succinums prevailing power;  
But still supine the solid Lumber lay,  
An Image of scarce animated Clay;  
Till Fates, indulgent when Disasters call,  
Bethought th' Assistant of a Urinal;  
Whose Steam the Wight no sooner did receive,  
But roused, and blest the Stale Restorative.  
The Springs of Life their former Vigour feel,  
Such Zeal he had for that vile Urensil.   

So when Pelides did blue Thetis see,  
He knew the Fishy smell, and owned her Deity.    

The Dispensary. CANTO III.  

ALL Night the Sage in pensive tumults lay,  
Complaining of the slow approach of Day;  
Oft turned him round, and strove to think no  
Of what shrill Colon spoke the Day before. [more,  
Cowslips and Poppies o'er his Eyes he spread,  
And S— nd's Works he laid beneath his Head.  
But all those Opiates still in vain he tries,  
Sleeps gentle Image his embraces flies.  
Tumultuous cares lay rolling in his Breast,  
And thus his anxious thoughts the Sage expressed.   

The Earth has rolled twelve annual turns, and more,  
Since first high heavens bright Orbs I've numbered o'er.  
Such my applause, so mighty my success,  
I once thought my Predictions more than guess.  
But, doubtful as I am, I'll entertain  
This Faith, there can be no mistake in gain.  
For the dull World most Honour pay to those  
Who on their Understanding most impose.  
First Man creates, and then he fears the Elf,  
Thus others cheat him not, but he himself:  
He loathes the Substance, and he loves the show,  
'Tis hard e'er to convince a Fool, He's so:  
He hates Realities, and hugs the Cheat,  
And still the Pleasure lies in the deceit.  
So Meteors flatter with a dazzling die  
Which no existence has, but in the Eye.  
Prospects at distance please, but when we're near,  
We find but desert Rocks, and fleeting Air.  
From Stratagem, to Stratagem we run,  
And he knows most who latest is undone.   

Mankind one day serene and free appear;  
The next, they're cloudy, sullen, and severe:  
New Passions, new Opinions still excite,  
And what they like at Noon, despise at Night:  
They gain with labour, what they quit with ease,  
And Health for want of Change grows a Disease.  
Religion's bright Authority they dare,  
And yet are Slaves to superstitious Fear.  
They Counsel others, but themselves deceive,  
And tho' they're cozened still, they still believe.   

Shall I then, who with penetrating sight  
Inspect the Springs that guide each appetite;  
Who with unfathomed searches hourly pierce  
The dark Recesses of the Universe,  
Be passive, whilst the Faculty pretend  
Our Charter with unhallowed hands to rend?  
If all the Fiends that in low darkness reign,  
Be not the Fictions of a sickly Brain;  
That Project, the 
* Medicines made up there for the use of the Poor.  Dispensary, they call,  
Before the Moon can blunt her Horns, shall fall.   

With that a glance from mild Aurora's Eyes,  
Shoots through the Crystal Kingdoms of the Skies;  
The Savage Kind in Forests cease to roam,  
And Sots o'ercharged with nauseous Loads reel home.  
Light's cheerful smiles o'er th' azure waste are spread,  
And Miss from Inns o' Court bolts out unpaid.  
The Sage transported at th' approaching hour,  
Imperiously thrice thundered on the Floor;  
Officious Squirt that moment had access,  
His trust was great, his vigilance no less.  
To him thus Horoscope.   

My kind Companion in this dire affair,  
Which is [more light, since thou assum'st a share;  
Fly with what hast, thou used to do of old,  
When Clyster was in danger to be cold:  
With expedition on the Beadle call  
To summon all the Company to th' Hall.   

Away the trusty Coadjutor hies,  
Swift as from Phyal steam of Hartshorn flies.  
The Magus in the int'rim mumbles o'er  
Vile terms of Art to some infernal Power,  
And draws mysterious Circles on the Floor.  
But from the gloomy Vault no glaring Spirit,  
Ascends to blast the tender bloom of Light.  
No mystic sounds from Hell's detested Womb,  
In dusky exhalations upwards come.  
And now to raise an Altar He decrees,  
To that devouring Harpy called Disease.  
Then Flowers in Canisters he hastes to bring,  
The withered product of a blighted Spring,  
With cold Solanum from the Pontic Shoar,  
The Roots of Mandrake and black Ellebore.  
And on the Structure next he heaps a load,  
Of Sassafras in chips and mastic Wood  
Then from the Compter he takes down the File,  
And with Prescriptions lights the solemn Pyle.   

Feebly the Flames on clumsy Wings aspire,  
And smouldering Fogs of smoke benight the Fire.  
With sorrow he beheld the sad portent,  
Then to the Hag these Orisons he sent.   

Disease! thou ever most propitious Power,  
Whose soft Indulgence we perceive each Hour;  
Thou that wouldst lay whole States and Regions waste,  
Sooner than we thy Cormorants should fast;  
If, in return, all Diligence we pay  
T' extend your Empire, and confirm your Sway,  
Far as the weekly Bills can reach around,  
From Kent-Street end to famed St. Giles's-Pound;  
Behold this poor Libation with a Smile,  
And let auspicious Light break through the Pyle.   

He spoke: and on the Pyramid he laid  
Bay-Leaves and Viper's Hearts, and thus he said;  
As These consume in this mysterious Fire,  
So let the cursed Dispensary expire;  
And as Those crackle in the Flames and die,  
So let its Vessels burst, and Glasses fly.  
But a sinister Cricket strait was heard,  
The Altar fell, and th' Offering disappeared.  
As the famed Wight the Omen did regret,  
Squirt brought the News the Company was met.   

Nigh where Fleet-Ditch descends in sable Streams,  
To wash his sooty Naiads in the Thames;  
There stands a 
* Apothecary's Hall.  Structure on a rising Hill,  
Where Tyroes take their Freedom out to kill.  
Some Pictures in these dreadful Shambles tell,  
How by the Delian God the Python fell;  
And how Medea did the Philter brew,  
That could in Aesons Veins young force renew;  
How sanguine Swains their Amorous Hours repent,  
When Pleasure's passed, and Pains are permanent;  
And how frail Nymphs, oft by abortion aim  
To lose a Substance, to preserve a Name.  
Soon as each Member in his rank was placed,  
Th' Assembly Diasenna thus addressed.   

My kind Confederates, if my poor intent,  
As 'tis sincere, had been but prevalent;  
We'd met upon a more serene Design,  
And on no other business but to dine;  
The Faculty had still maintained their sway,  
And interest had directed us t'obey;  
Then we'd this only emulation known,  
Who best could fill his Purse, and thin the Town.  
But now from gathering Clouds Destruction pours,  
And threatens with mad rage our Halcyon Hours:  
Mists from black Jealousies the Tempest form,  
And late Divisions reinforce the Storm.  
Know, when these Feuds, like those at Law, are past,  
The Winners will be Losers at the last.  
Like Heroes in Sea-Fights we seek Renown,  
To Fire some hostile Ship, we Burn our own.  
That Juggler which fewer Slight will show,  
But teaches how the World his own may know.  
Thrice happy were those Golden days of old,  
When dear as Burgundy, Ptisans were sold.  
When Patients chose to die with better will,  
Than live to pay th' Apothecary's Bill.  
And cheaper, than for our assistance call,  
Might yield to Fine for Sheriff Spring and Fall.  
But now late Jars our practices detect,  
For Mines, when once discovered, lose th' Effect  
Dissensions, like small Streams, are first begun,  
Scarce seen they rise, but gather as they run.  
So Lines that from their Parallel decline,  
More they advance, the more they still disjoin.  
'Tis therefore my advice, in haste we send,  
And beg the Faculty to be our Friend.  
As he revolving stood to speak the rest,  
Rough Colocynthis thus his rage expressed.   

Thou scandal of the mighty Paeans Art,  
At thy approach, the Springs of Nature start,  
The Nerves unbrace: Nay at the sight of thee  
A Scratch turns Cancer, th' Itch a Leprosy.  
Couldst thou propose that we the Friends o' Fates,  
Who fill Churchyards, and who unpeople States,  
Who baffle Nature, and dispose of Lives,  
Whilst Russel, as we please, or starves, or thrives;  
Should e'er submit to their imperious Will,  
Who out o' Consultation scarce can kill?  
Th' aspiring Alps shall sooner sink to Vales,  
And Leeches, in our Glasses, swell to Whales;  
Or Norwich trade in Implements of Steel,  
And Bromingham in Stuffs and Druggets deal:  
The Sick to th' Hundreds sooner shall repair,  
And change the Gravel Pits for Essex Air.  
No, no, the Faculty shall soon confess  
Our Force increases, as our Funds grow less;  
And what required such Industry to raise,  
We'll scatter into nothing as we please.  
Thus they'll acknowledge to Annihilate,  
Shows as immense a Power as to Create.  
We'll raise our numerous Cohorts, and oppose  
The feeble Forces of our Pigmy Foes;  
Whole Troops of Quacks shall join us on the Place,  
From great Kirleus, down to Doctor Case.  
Tho' Such vile Rubbish sink, yet we shall rise,  
Directors still secure the greatest Prize.  
Such poor Supports serve only like a stay,  
The Tree once fixed, its Rest is torn away.  
So Patriots, in the times of Peace and Ease,  
Forget the Fury of the late Disease:  
Imaginary Dangers they Create,  
And loathe th' Elixir which preserved the State.  
Arm therefore, gallant Friends, 'tis Honour's call,  
Or let us boldly Fight, or bravely Fall.   

To this the Session seemed to give consent,  
Much liked the War, but dreaded much th' Event.  
At length, the growing difference to compose,  
Two Brothers named Ascarides arose.  
Both had the Volubility of Tongue,  
In Meaning faint, but in Opinion strong.  
To speak they both assumed a like pretence,  
But th' Elder gained his just preeminence;   

Then he: 'Tis true when Privilege and Right  
Are once invaded, Honour bids us Fight.  
But to the fatal Field before we fly,  
We'll first reflect, and then consider why.  
Suppose th' unthinking Faculty unveil,  
What we, through wiser Conduct; would conceal;  
Is't Reason we should quarrel with the Glass  
That shows the monstrous Features of our Face?  
Or grant some grave Pretenders have of late  
Thought fit an Innovation to Create;  
Soon they'll repent, what rashly they begun,  
Tho' Projects please, Projectors are undone.  
All Novelties must this success expect;  
When good, our Envy; and when bad, neglect:  
If things of Use were valued, there had been  
Some Workhouse, where the Monument is seen.  
Or if the Voice of Reason could be heard,  
ere this, triumphal Arches had appeared.  
Then since no Veneration is allowed,  
Or to the real or th' appearing good;  
The Project that we vainly apprehend,  
Must, as it blindly rose, as vilely end.  
Some Members of the Faculty there are,  
Who Interest prudently to Oaths prefer.  
Our Friendship with a servile air they court,  
And their Clandestine Arts are our support.  
Them we'll Consult about this Enterprise,  
And boldly Execute what they Advise.  
But from below (whilst such resolves they took)  
Some Aurum Fulminans the 
* The Room th' Apothecaries meet in, is over the Laboratory.  Fabric shook.  
The Champions daunted at the crack retreat,  
Regard their Safety, and their Rage forget.   

So thus at Bathos, when the Giants strove  
T'invade the Skies, and wage a War with jove;  
Soon as the Ass of old Silenus brayed,  
The trembling Rebels in confusion fled.    

The Dispensary. CANTO IU.  

NOT far from that most famous Theatre,  
Where wand'ring Punks each Night at five re-  
[pair;  
Where purple Emperors in Buskins tread,  
And rule imaginary Worlds for Bread;  
Where Bently by old Writers wealthy grew,  
And Briscoe jately was undone by New:  
There triumphs a Physician of Renown;  
To scarce a Mortal, but Himself, unknown.  
None e'er was placed more luckily than He,  
For th' exercise of such a Mystery.  
When Bu— ss deafens all the listening press.  
With Peals of most seraphic Emptiness;  
Or when Mysterious F— n mounts on high  
To preach his Parish to a Lethargy:  
This Aesculapius waits hard by to ease  
The Martyrs of such Christian Cruelties.   

Long has this happy Quarter of the Town,  
For Lendness, Wit, and Gallantry been known.  
All Sorts meet here, of whatsoever degree,  
To blend and justle into Harmony.  
The Politicians of Parnassus prate,  
And Poets canvas the affairs of State;  
The Cits ne'er talk of Trade, and Stock, but tell  
How Virgil writ, how bravely Turnus fell.  
The Country Dames drive to Hippolito's,  
First find a Spark, and after lose a Nose.  
The Lawyer for lac'd-Coat the Robe does quit,  
He grows a Madman, and then turns a Wit.  
And in the Cloister pensive Strephon waits,  
Till Chloes Hackney comes, and then retreats.  
And if th' ungenerous Nymph a Shaft le's fly  
More fatally than from a sparkling Eye,  
Mirmillo, that famed Opifer, is nigh.  
Th' Apothecaries thither throng to dine,  
And want of Elbow-room's supplied in Wine.  
Cloyed with Variety they surfeit there,  
Whilst the wan Patients on thin Gruel fare.  
'Twas here the Champions o' th' Party met,  
Of their Heroic Enterprise to treat.  
Each Hero a tremendous Air put on,  
And stern Mirmillo in these Words begun.   

'Tis with concern, my Friends, I meet you here;  
No Grievance you can know, but I must share.  
'Tis plain, my Interest you've advanced so long,  
Each Fee, tho' I was mute, would find a Tongue.  
And in return, tho' I have striven to rend  
Those Statutes, which on Oath I should defend;  
Yet that's a Trifle to a generous Mind,  
Great Services, as great Returns should find.  
And you'll perceive, this Hand, when Glory calls,  
Can brandish Arms, as well as Urinals.   

Oxford and all her passing Bells can tell,  
By this Right Arm, what mighty numbers fell.  
Whilst others meanly asked whole Months to slay,  
I oft dispatched the Patient in a Day:  
With Pen in hand I pushed to that degree,  
I scarce had left a Wretch to give a Fee.  
Some sell by Laudanum, and some by Steel,  
And Death in ambush lay in every Pill.  
For save or slay, this Privilege we claim,  
Tho' Credit suffers, the Reward's the same.  
What tho' the Art of Healing we pretend,  
He that designs it least, is most a Friend.  
Into the right we err, and must confess,  
To Oversights we often owe Success.  
Thus Bessus got the Battle in the Play,  
His glorious Cowardice restored the Day.  
So the famed Grecian Piece owed its desert  
To Chance, and not the laboured Strokes of Art.  
Physicians, if they're wise, should never think  
Of any other Arms than Pen and Ink.  
But th' Enemy, at their expense, shall find,  
When Honour calls, I'll scorn to stay behind.   

He said; and Sealed the Engagement with a Kiss,  
Which was returned by th' Younger Askaris;  
Who thus advanced; Each word, Sir, you impart  
Has something Killing in it, like your Art.  
How much we to your boundless Friendship owe,  
Our Files can speak, and your Prescriptions show.  
Your Ink descends in such excessive Showers,  
'Tis plain, you can regard no Health but ours.  
Whilst Poor Pretenders trifle o'er a Case,  
You but appear, and give the Coup de Grace.  
O that near Xanthus' Banks you had but dwelled,  
When Ilium first Achaean Fury felt,  
The Flood had cursed young Peleus' Arm in vain,  
For troubling his choked Streams with heaps of slain.  
No Trophies you had left for Greeks to raise,  
Their ten Years toil, you'd finished in ten Days.  
Fate smiles on your Attempts, and when you list,  
In vain the Cowards fly, or Brave resist.  
Then let us Arm, we need not fear Success,  
No labours are too hard for Hercules.  
Our military Ensigns we'll display;  
Conquest pursues, where Courage leads the way.   

To this Design fly Querpo did agree,  
A worthless Member of the Faculty;  
Drained from an Elder's Loins with awkard gust,  
In Lees of Stale Hypocrisy and Lust.  
His Sire's pretended pious Steps he treads,  
And where the Doctor fails, the Saint succeeds.  
A Conventicle fleshed his greener Years,  
And his full Age th' envenomed Rancour shares.  
Thus Boys hatch Game Fggs under Birds o' prey,  
To make the Fowl more furious for the Fray.   

Dull Carus next discovered his intent,  
With much ado explaining what he meant.  
His Spirit's stagnate like Cocitus' Flood,  
And nought but Calentures can warm his Blood.  
In his i'll Veins the sluggish Puddle flows,  
And loads with lazy Fogs his sable Brows.  
The brainless Wretch claims a Preeminence  
In settling Lunatics, and helping Sense.  
So when Perfumes their fragrant Scent give o'er,  
Nought can their Odour, like a Jakes, restore.  
When for Advice the vulgar throng, he's found  
With lumber o' vile Books besieged around.  
The gazing Fry acknowledge their Surprise,  
Consulting less their Reason than their Eyes.  
And He perceives it stands in greater stead,  
To furnish well his Classes, than his Head.  
Thus a weak State, by wise Distrust, inclines  
To numerous Stores, and Strength in Magazines.  
So Fools are always most profuse of Words,  
And Cowards never fail of longest Swords.  
Abandoned Authors here a Refuge meet,  
And from the World, to Dust and Worm's retreat.  
Here Dregs and Sediment of Auctions reign,  
Refuse of Fares, and Glean of Duck-lane;  
And up these shelves, much Gothick Lumber climbs '  
With Swiss Philosophy, and Danish Rhymes.  
And hither, rescued from the Grocers, come  
M— Works entire, and endless Rheims of Bloom.  
Where would the long neglected C— s fly,  
If bounteous Carus should refuse to buy?  
But each vile Scribler's happy on this score,  
He'll find some Carus still to read him o'er.   

Nor must we the obsequious Umbra spare,  
Who, soft by Nature, yet declared for War.  
But when some Rival Power invades on Right,  
Flies set on Flies, and Turtles Turtles fight.  
Else courteous Umbra to the last had been  
Demurely meek, insipidly serene.  
With Him, the present still some Virtues have,  
The Vain are sprightly, and the Stupid, grave.  
The Slothful, negligent; the Foppish neat;  
The Lewd are airy, and the Sly discreet.  
A Wren's an Eagle, a Baboon a Beau;  
C— t a Lycurgus, and a Photion, R—.   

Heroic Ardour now th' Assembly warms,  
Each Combatant breathes nothing but Alarms.  
And whilst the Scheme for future Glory's laid,  
Famed Horoscope thus offers to dissuade.   

Since of each Enterprise th' Event's unknown,  
Let's quit the Sword, and hearken to the Gown.  
Nigh lives Vagellius, one reputed long,  
For Strength of Lungs, and Pliancy of Tongue.  
Which way He pleases, he can mould a Cause,  
The Worst has Merits, and the Best has Flaws,  
Five Guinneas make a Criminal to Day,  
And ten to Morrow wipe the Stain away.  
Whatever he affirms is undenyed,  
Milo's the Lecher, Clodius th' Homicide.  
Cato pernicious, Catiline a Saint,  
Or— rd suspected, D— comb innocent.  
Let's then to Law, for 'tis by Fate decreed,  
Vagellius, and our Money, shall succeed.  
Know, when I first invoked Disease by Charms  
T'assist, and be propitious to our Arms;  
Ill Omens did the Sacrifice attend,  
Nor would the Sibyl from her Grot ascend.   

As Horoscope urged farther to be heard,  
He thus was interrupted by a Bard.   

In vain your Magic Mysteries you use,  
Such sounds the Sybil's Sacred Ears abuse.  
These Lines the pale Divinity shall raise,  
Such is the Power of Sound, and Force of Lay.   


* K. Arth. p. 307.  Arms meet with Arms, Falchions with Falchions clash,  
And sparks of Fire struck out from Armour flash.  
Thick Clouds of Dust contending Warriors raise,  
And hideous War o'er all the Region brays.   


* K. Ar. p. 327  Some raging ran with huge Herculean Clubs,  
Some massy Balls of Brass, some mighty Tubs  
Of Cinders bore.—   


* Pr. Ar. p. 189.  Naked and half burnt Hulls, with hideous wreck,  
Affright the Skies, and fry the Ocean's back,   


* Pr. Ar. p. 136.  High Rocks of Snow, and sailing Hills of Ice,  
Against each other with a mighty crash,  
Driven by the Winds, in rude rencontre dash.   


* K. Ar. p. 189.  Blood, Brains, and Limbs the highest Walls distain,  
And all around lay squalid Heaps of Slain.   

As he went rumbling on, the Fury strait  
Crawled in, her Limbs could scarce support her Weight.  
A noisome Rag her pensive Temples bound,  
And faintly her parched Lips these Accents sound.   

Mortal, how dar'st thou with such Lines address  
My awful Seat, and trouble my Recess?  
In Essex Marshy Hundreds is a Cell,  
Where lazy Fogs, and drissing Vapours dwell:  
Thither raw Damps on drooping Wings repair,  
And shivering Quartans shake the sickly Air.  
There, when fatigued, some silent Hours I pass,  
And substitute Physicians in my place.  
Then dare not, for the future, once rehearse  
Th' offensive Discord of such hideous Verse.  
But in your Lines let Energy be found,  
And learn to rise in Sense, and sink in Sound.  
Harsh words, tho' pertinent, uncooth appear,  
None please the Fancy, who offend the Ear.  
In Sense and Numbers if you would excel,  
Read W W—y, consider D—den well.  
In one, what vigorous turns of Fancy shine,  
In th' other, Sirens warble in each Line.  
If D— sets sprightly Muse but touch the Lyre,  
The Smiles and Graces melt in soft desire,  
And little Loves confess their amorous Fire.   

The Tiber now no gentle Gallus sees,  
But smiling Thames enjoys his N— bies.  
And gentle Isis claims the Ivy Crown,  
To bind th' immortal Brows of A—son.  
As tuneful C— greve tries his rural Strains,  
Pan quits the Woods, the listening Fawns the Plains;  
And Philomela, in Notes like his, complains.  
And Britain, since Pausanias was writ,  
Knows Spartan Virtue, and Athenian Wit.  
When St— nigh paints the Godlike Acts of Kings,  
Or P— r some Facetious Fancy sings:  
The Banks of Rhine a pleased Attention show,  
And Silver Sequena forgets to flow.   

Such just Examples carefully read o'er,  
Slide without falling, without straining soar.  
Oft tho' your Strokes surprise, you should not choose,  
A Theme so mighty for a Virgin Muse.  
Long did Apelles his Famed Piece decline,  
His Alexander was his last Design.  
'Tis M— gue's rich Vein alone must prove,  
None but a Phidias should attempt a jove.   

She said; and as She vanished from their Sight,  
She cried, to Arms; so left the Realms of Light.  
The Combatants to th' Enterprise consent,  
And the next day smiled on the great Event.    

The Dispensary. CANTO V.  

WHen the still Night, with peaceful Poppies crowned,  
Had spread her shady Pinions o'er the Ground;  
And slumbering Chiefs of painted Triumphs dream,  
Whilst Groves and Streams are the soft Virgin's Theme.  
The Surges gently dash against the Shoar,  
Flocks quit the Plains, and Galleyslaves the Oar.  
Sleep shakes its downy Wings o'er mortal Eyes,  
Mirmillo is the only Wretch, it Flies.  
He finds no respite from his anxious Grief,  
Then seeks from this Soliloquy relief.   

Long have I reigned unrivalled in the Town,  
And great as my Ambition's my Renown.  
There's none can die with due Solemnity,  
Unless his Passport first be signed by Me.  
My arbitrary Bounty's undenyed,  
I give Reversions, and for Heirs provide.  
None could the tedious Nuptial State support;  
But I, to make it easy, make it short.  
I set the discontented Matrons free,  
And ransom Husbands from Captivity.  
And shall so useful a Machine as I  
Engage in civil Broils, I know not why?  
No, I'll endeavour straight a Peace, and so  
I save my Honour, and my Person too.   

But Discord, that still haunts with hideous Mien  
Those dire Abodes where Hymen once has been,  
O'erheard Mirmillo reas'ning in his Bed;  
Then raging inwardly the Fury said.   

Have I so often banished lazy Peace  
From her dark Solitude, and loved Recess?  
Have I made S—th and S— lock disagree,  
And puzzle Truth with learned Obscurity?  
And does my faithful Fer— son profess  
His Ardour still for Animosities?  
Have I, Britannia's Safety to insure,  
Exposed her naked, to be more secure?  
Have I made Parties opposite, unite,  
In monstrous Leagues of amicable Spite.  
T' embroil their Country, whilst the common Cry,  
Is Freedom, but their Aim, the Ministry?  
And shall a Dastard's Cowardice prevent  
The War so long I've laboured to foment?  
No, 'tis resolved, he either shall comply,  
Or I'll renounce my wan Divinity.   

With that, the Hag approached Mirmillo's Bed,  
And taking Querpo's meager Shape, She said;   

I come, altho' at Midnight, to dispel,  
Those Tumults in your pensive Bosom dwell.  
I dreamt, but now, my Friend, that you were by;  
Methought I saw your Tears, and heard you sigh.  
O that 'twere but a Dream! But sure I find  
Grief in your Looks, and Tempests in your Mind.  
Speak, whence it is this late disorder flows,  
That shakes your Soul, and troubles your Repose.  
Erroneous Practice scarce could give you Pain,  
Too well you know the Dead will ne'er complain.   

What Looks discover, said the Homicide,  
Would be but too impertinent to hide.  
My Stars direct me to decline the Fight;  
The way to serve our Party, is to write.   

How many, said the Fury, had not split  
On Shelves so fatal, if they ne'er had writ!  
Had C—h printed nothing of his own,  
He had not been the S— fold o' the Town.   

Asses and Owls unseen themselves betray,  
If These attempt to Hoot, or Those to Bray.  
Had We We —y never aimed in Verse to please,  
We had not ranked him with our Ogilbys.  
Still Censures will on dull Pretenders fall,  
A Codrus should expect a juvenal.  
Ill Lines, but like ill Paintings, are allowed  
To set off, and to recommend the good.  
So Diamonds take a Lustre from their Foil;  
And to a B—ly 'tis, we owe a B—le.   

Consider well the Talon you possess,  
To strive to make it more would make it less;  
And recollect what Gratitude is due,  
To Those whose Party you abandon now.  
To Them you owe your odd Magnificence,  
But to your Stars your penury of Sense.  
Haspt in a Tombril, awkardly you've shined  
With one fat Slave before, and none behind.  
But soon, what They've exalted They'll discard,  
And set up Carus, or the City Bard.   

Alarmed at this, the Hero Courage took,  
And Storms of Terror threatened in his Look.  
My dread Resolves, he cried, I'll strait pursue,  
The Fury smiled, and sullenly withdrew.   

In omnious Dreams Mirmillo spent the Night,  
And frightful Phantoms danced before his Sight.  
At length gay Morn smiles in the Eastern Sky,  
From rifling silent Graves the Sexton's fly.  
The rising Mists skud o'er the dewy Lawns,  
The Chanter at his early Matins yawns.  
The Violets open their Buds, Cowslips their Bells,  
And Progne, her Complaint of Tereus, tells.  
As bold Mirmillo the grey dawn descries,  
Armed Cap-a-pe, where Honour calls, he flies  
And finds the Legions planted at their Post;  
Where Querpo in his Armour shone the most.  
His Shield was wrought, if we may credit Fame  
By Mulciber, the Mayor of Bremigham.  
A Folliage of dissembled Senna Leaves,  
Graved round its Brim, the wondering sight deceives.  
Embossed upon its Field, a Battle stood  
Of Leeches spouting Hemorrhoidal Blood.  
The Artist too expressed the solemn state  
Of grave Physicians at a Consult met;  
About each Symptom how they Disagree,  
But how unanimous in case of Fee.  
And whilst one Assassin another plies,  
With starched Civilities, the Patient dies.   

Beneath this Blazing Orb bright Querpo shone,  
Himself an Atlas, and his Shield a Moon.  
A Pestle for his Truncheon led the Van,  
And his high Helmet was a Close stool-pan.  
His Crest an 
* This Bird, according to the ancients, gives itself a Clyster with its Beek.  Ibis, brandishing her Beak,  
And winding in loose Folds her spiral Neck.  
This, when the Young Querpoides beheld,  
His Face in Nurse's Breast the Boy concealed.  
Then peep't, and with th' effulgent Helm would play,  
But as the Monster gaped, he'd shrink away.  
Thus sometimes Joy prevailed, and sometimes Fear,  
And Tears and Smiles alternate Passions were.   

But Fame that whispers each profound Design,  
And tells the Consultations at the Vine.  
And how at Church and Bar all gape and stretch,  
If Widow— tun but plead, or O—ly preach;  
On nimble Wings to Warwick-Lane repairs,  
And what the Enemy intends, declares.  
Disordered Murmurs through the College pass,  
And pale Confusion glares in every Face.  
In hast a Council's called, th' Occasion's great,  
And quick as Thought, the summoned Members meet.  
Loud Stentor to th' Assembly had Access,  
None courted business more, or knew it less.  
True to Extremes, yet to dull Forms a Slave,  
He's always dully gay, or vainly grave.  
With Indignation, and a daring Air,  
He paused awhile, and thus addressed the Chair.   

Machaon, whose Experience we adore,  
Great as your matchless Merits, is your Power.  
At your Approach, the baffled Tyrant Death,  
Breaks his keen Shafts, and grinds his clashing Teeth.  
To you we leave the Conduct of the Day,  
What you command, your Vassals must obey.  
If this dread Enterprise you would decline,  
We'll send to treat, and stifle the Design.  
But if my Arguments had force, we'd try  
To scatter our audacious Foes, or die.   

What Stentor offered was by most approved,  
But several Voices several Methods moved.  
At length th' adventurous Heroes all agree  
T' expect the Foe, and act defensively.  
Into the Shop their bold battalions move,  
And what their Chief commands, the rest approve.  
Down from the Walls they tear the Shelves in haste,  
Which, on their Flank, for Pallisades are placed.  
And then, behind the Compter ranged, they stand,  
Their Front so well secured t' obey Command.   

And now the Scouts the adverse Host descry,  
Blue Aprons in the Air for Colours fly.  
With unresisted Force they urge their Way,  
And find the Foe embattled in Array.  
Then, from their levelled Syringes they pour  
The liquid Volley of a missive Show'r.  
Not Storms of Sleet, which o'er the Baltic drive,  
Pushed on by Northern Gusts, such Horror give.  
Like Spouts in Southern Seas the Deluge broke,  
And Numbers sunk beneath th' impetuou Stroke.  
So when Leviathans Dispute the Reign,  
And uncontrol'd Dominion of the Main.  
From the rend Rocks whole Coral Groves are torn,  
And Isles of Seaweed on the Waves are born.  
Such watery Stores from their spread Nostrils fly,  
'Tis doubtful, which is Sea, and which is Sky.   

And now the staggering Braves, led by Despair,  
Advance, and to return the Charge prepare.  
Each seizes for his Shield, an ample Scale,  
And the Brass Weights fly thick as showrs of Hail.  
Whole heaps of Warriors welter on the Ground,  
With Galley-pots, and broken Phials crowned,  
And th' empty Vessels the Defeat resound.  
Thus when some Storm its Crystal Quarry rends,  
And jove in rattling Showers of Ice descends;  
Mount Athos shakes the Forests on his Brow,  
Whilst down his wounded Sides fresh Torrents flow,  
And Leaves and Limbs of Trees o'er spread the vale below.   

But now, all Order lost, promiscuous Blows  
Confusedly fall; perplexed the Battle grows.  
From Stentor's sinewy Arm an Opiate flies,  
And strait a deadly Sleep closed Carus Eyes.  
Chiron hit Siphilus with Calomel,  
And scaly Crusts from his maimed Forehead fell.  
At Colon great japix Rhubarb flung,  
Who with fierce Gripes, like those of Death, was stung;  
And with an angry and revengeful Mien  
Hurled back Steel Pills, and hit Him on the Spleen.  
Scribonius a vast Eagle-stone let fly  
At Psylas, but Lucina put it by.  
And Querpo, warmed with more than mortal Rage,  
Sprung through the Battle, Stentor to engage.  
Fierce was the Onset, the Dispute was great,  
Both could not vanquish, Neither would retreat.  
Each Combatant his Adversary mauls  
With battered Bed-pans, and staved Urinals.  
But as bold Stentor, eager of Renown,  
Designed a fatal Stroak, he tumbled down;  
And whilst the Victor, hovering o'er him stood,  
With arms extended, thus the Suppliant sued.  
When Honour's lost 'tis a relief to die,  
Death's but a sure retreat from Infamy.  
But to the lost, if pity might be shown,  
Think on Querpoides thy darling Son;  
Mine's small as He, just such an infant Grace,  
Sports in his Eyes and flatters in his Face.  
If he was by, Compassion He'd create,  
Or else lament his wretched Parent's fate.  
Thine is the Glory, and the Field is thine;  
To Thee the loved Dispensary I resign.   

The Chief at this the deadly Stroke declined,  
And found Compassion pleading in his Mind.  
But whilst He viewed with pity the Distressed,  
He spied 
* Those Members of the College that observe a late Statute, are called by the Apothecaries Signetur Men.  Signetur writ upon his Breast.  
Then towards the Skies He tossed his threatening Head.  
And fired with mortal Indignation, said;   

Sooner than I'll from vowed Revenge desist,  
His Holiness shall turn a Quietist.  
La Chase shall with the jansenists agree,  
And th' Inquisition wink at Heresy.  
Faith stand unmoved through S— fleet's Defence,  
And L— k for Mystery abandon Sense.   

With that, unsheathing an Incision Knife,  
He offered at the prostrate Stentor's Life.  
But whilst his Thoughts that fatal Act decree,  
Apollo interposed in form of Fee.  
The Chief great Paean's golden Tresses knew,  
He owned the God, and his raised Arm withdrew.   

Thus often at the Temple-Stairs we've seen  
Two Tritons of a rough Athletic Mien,  
Sowrly dispute some quarrel of the Flood,  
With Knucles bruised, and Face besmeared in blood.  
But at the first appearance of a Fare  
Both quit the Fray, and to their Oars repair.   

The Hero thus his Enterprise recalls,  
His Fist unclinches, and the Weapon falls.    

The Dispensary. CANTO VI.  

WHilst the shrill clangour of the Battle rings,  
Auspicious health appeared on Zephir's Wings;  
She seemed a Cherub most divinely bright,  
More soft than Air, more gay than morning Light.  
A Charm she takes from each excelling Fair,  
And borrows C— ll's Shape, and G—ton's Air.  
Her Eyes like R— agh's their Beams dispense,  
With Ch— ill's Bloom, and B— kley's Innocence.  
From her bright Lips a vocal Music falls,  
Whilst to Machaon thus the Goddess calls.   

Enough th' achievement of your Arms you've shown,  
You seek a Triumph you should blush to own.  
Hast to th' Elysian Fields, those blessed abodes,  
Where Harvy sits among the Demigods.  
Consult that sacred Sage, He'll soon disclose  
The method that must terminate these woes.  
Let Celsus for that Enterprise prepare,  
His conduct to the Shades shall be my care.   

Aghast the Heroes stood dissolved in fear,  
A Form so heavenly bright They could not bear,  
Celsus alone unmoved, the Sight beheld,  
The rest in pale confusion left the Field.   

So when the Pigmies marshaled on the Plains;  
Wage puny War against th' invading Cranes;  
The Poppets to their bodkin Spears repair,  
And scattered Feathers flutter in the Air.  
But soon as e'er th' imperial Bird of Jove  
Stoops on his sounding Pinions from above,  
Among the Brakes, the Fairy Nation crowds,  
And the Strimonian Squadron seeks the Clouds.   

And now the Delegate prepares to go  
And view the Wonders of the Realms below;  
Then takes Amomum for the Golden Bough.  
Thrice did the Goddess with her Sacred Wand  
The Pavement strike; and strait at her Command  
Th' obedient Surface opens, and descries  
A deep Descent that leads to nether Skies.  
Higeia to the silent Region tends;  
And with his Heavenly Guide the Charge descends.   

Within the Chambers of the Globe they spy  
The Beds where sleeping Vegetables lie:  
Till the glad Summons of a Genial Ray  
Unbinds the Glebe, and calls them out to Day.  
Hence Pansies trick themselves in various Hue,  
And hence junquils derive their fragrant Dew.  
Hence the Carnation, and the bashful Rose  
Their Virgin Blushes to the Morn disclose.  
Hence Arbours are with twining Greene's arrayed.  
T' oblige complaining Lovers with their Shade.  
And hence on Daphne's verdant Temples grow  
Immortal Wreaths, for Phoebus and Nassau.   

The Infects here their lingering Trance survive:  
Benumned they seem, and doubtful if alive.  
From Winter's Fury hither they repair,  
And stay for milder Skies and softer Air.  
Down to these Cells obscener Reptiles creep;  
And there the nuts and painted Lizzards sleep.  
There shivering Snakes the Summer Solstice wait;  
Unfurl their painted Folds, and slide in State.   

Now, those profounder Regions they explore,  
Where Metals ripen in vast Cakes of Oar.  
Here, sullen to the Sight, at large is spread  
The dull unwieldy Mass of lumpish Lead.  
There, glimmering in their dawning Beds, are seen  
The more aspiring Seeds of sprightly Tin.  
The Copper sparkles next in ruddy Streaks;  
And in the Gloom betrays its glowing Cheeks.  
The Silver then, with bright and burnished Grace,  
Youth and a blooming Lustre in its Face,  
To th' opening Arms of these loved Metals flies;  
And in the Folds of their Embraces lies.  
So close they cling, so stubbornly retire;  
Their Love's more violent than the Chymist's Fire.   

Near These the Delegate with Wonder spies  
Where living Floods of Merc'ry serpentize:  
Where richest Metals their bright Beams put on,  
While Silver Streams through Golden Channels run.  
Here he observes the subterranean Cells,  
Where wanton Nature sports in idle Shells.  
Some Helicoeids, some Conical appear,  
These, Mitres emulate, Those, Turbans are:  
Here Marcasites in various Figure wait,  
To ripen to a true Metallick State:  
Till Drops that from impending Rocks descend,  
Their Substance petrify, and Progress end.  
Nigh, livid Seas of kindled Sulphur flow;  
And, whilst enraged, their Fiery Surges glow:  
Convulsions in the labouring Mountains rise,  
And hurl their melted Vitals to the Skies.   

He views with Horror next the noisy Cave;  
Where with hoars din th' imprisoned Tempests rave:  
Where clamorous Hurricanes attempt their Flight,  
Or, whirling in tumultuous Eddies, fight.   

And now the Goddess with her Charge descends,  
Where scarce one cheerful Glimpse their Steps befriends,  
Here his forsaken Seat old Chaos keeps;  
And undisturbed by Form, in Silence sleeps.  
A grisly Wight, and hideous to the Eye;  
An awkard Lump of shapeless Anarchy.  
With sordid Age his Features are defaced;  
His Lands unpeopled, and his Country's waste.  
Here Lumber, undeserving Light, is kept,  
And P— p's Bill to this dark Region's swept:  
Where Mushroom Libels silently retire;  
And, soon as born, with Decency expire.  
Upon a Couch of jet in these Abodes,  
Dull Night, his melancholy Consort, nods.  
No Ways and Means their Cabinet employ;  
But their dark Hours they waste in barren Joy.   

Nigh this Recess, with Terror they survey,  
Where Death maintains his dread tyrannic Sway:  
I'th' middle of a dusky Cypress Grove,  
Where Goblins frisk, and Airy Spectres rove,  
Yawns a dark Cave most formidably wide;  
And there the Monarch's Triumphs are descried.  
Within its Dreadful Jaws those Furies wait,  
Which execute the harsh Decrees of Fate.  
Febris is first: The Hag relentless hears  
The Virgin's Sighs; and sees the Infant's Tears.  
In her parched Eyeballs fiery Meteors reign;  
And restless Ferments revel in each Vein.  
Then Hydrops next appears amongst the Throng;  
Bloated, and big, she slowly sails along.  
But, like a Miser, in Excess she ' s poor;  
And pines for Thirst amidst her wat'ry Store.  
Now loathsome Lepra, that offensive Spirit,  
With foul Eruptions stained, offends the Sight.  
She ' s deaf to Beauty's soft persuading Power:  
Nor can bright Hebe's Charms her Bloom secure.  
Whilst meager 
* Consumption.  Phthisis gives a silent Blow;  
Her Strokes are sure; but her Advances slow.  
No loud Alarms, nor fierce Assaults are shown:  
She starves the Fortress first; then takes the Town.  
Behind stood Crowds of much inferior Name,  
Too numerous to repeat, too soul to name;  
The Vassals of their Monarch's Tyranny:  
Who, at his Nod, on fatal Errands fly.   

Now Celsus, with his glorious Guide, invade  
The silent Region of the fleeting Shades.  
Where Rocks and rueful Deserts are descried;  
And sullen Styx rolls down his lazy Tide.  
Then shows the Ferryman the Plant he bore,  
And claims his Passage to the further Shore.  
To whom the Stygian Pilot smiling, said,  
You need no Passport to demand our Aid.  
Physicians never linger on this Strand:  
Old Charon ne'er refuses their Command.  
Our awful Monarch and his Consort owe  
To them the peopl'ing of their Realms below.  
Then in his swarthy Hand he grasped his Oar,  
Received his Guests aboard, and shoved from Shoar.   

Now, as the Goddess and her Charge prepare  
To breathe the Sweets of soft Elysian Air;  
Upon the left they spy a pensive Shade,  
Who on his bended Arm had raised his Head:  
Pale Grief sat heavy on his careful Look:  
To whom, not unconcerned, thus Celsus spoke:   

Tell me, Thou much afflicted Shade, why Sighs  
Burst from your Breast, and Torrents from your Eyes:  
And who those mangled Manes are which show  
A sullen Satisfaction at your Woe?  
Since, said the Ghost, with Pity you'll attend,  
Know, I'm Guiacum, once your valued Friend.  
And on this barren Beach in Discontent,  
Am doomed to stay till th' angry Powers relent.  
Those Spectres seamed with Scars, that threaten there,  
The Victims of my late ill Conduct are.  
They vex with endless Clamours my Repose:  
This wants his Palate; That demands his Nose.  
And here they execute stern Pluto's Will,  
To ply me every moment with a Pill.   

Then Celsus thus: O much-lamented state!  
How movings the Disaster you relate.  
Methinks I recollect your former Air,  
But ah, how much you're changed from what you were?  
If Mortals ere the Stygian Power could bend,  
Entreaties to their awful Seats I'd send.  
But since no human Arts the Fates dissuade,  
Direct me how to find blessed Harvy's Shade.  
In vain th' unhappy Ghost still urged his stay,  
Then rising from the ground, he showed the way.   

Nigh the dull Shore a shapeless Mountain stood,  
That with a dreadful frown surveyed the Flood.  
It's fearful Brow no lively Greene's puts on,  
No frisking Goats bound o'er the ridgy Stone.  
To gain the Summit the bright Goddess tried,  
And Celsus followed, by degrees, his Guide.   

Th' Ascent thus conquered, now They tower on high,  
And taste th' indulgence of a milder Sky.  
Loose Breezes on their airy Pinions play,  
And with refreshing Sweets perfume the way.  
Cool streams thro' flowery Meadows gently glide,  
And as They pass, their painted Banks they chide.  
These blissful Plains no Blites, nor Mildews fear,  
The Flowers ne'er fade, and Shrubs are Myrtles there.   

The Delegate observes with wondering Eyes  
Ambrosial Dews descend, and Incense rise.  
Then hastens onward to the pensive Grove,  
The silent Mansion of disastrous Love.  
No Winds but Sighs are there, no Floods but Tears,  
Each conscious Tree a tragic Signal bears.  
Their wounded Bark records some broken Vow,  
And Willow Garlands hang on every Bough.   

His Mistress here in solitude he found,  
Her downcast Eyes fixed on the silent ground:  
Her Dress neglected, and unbound her Hair,  
She seemed the mournful image of Despair.  
How lately did this celebrated Thing  
Blaze in the Box, and sparkle in the Ring,  
Till the Green-sickness and Love's force betrayed  
To Death's remorseless arms th' unhappy Maid.   

Cold and confused the guilty Lover stood,  
The light forsook his Eyes, his Cheeks the Blood;  
An icy horror shivered in his Look,  
Then softly in these gentle words, He spoke:   

Tell me, dear Shade, from whence such anxious care  
Your Looks disordered and your Bosom bare?  
Why thus you languish like a drooping Flower  
Crushed by the weight of some unfriendly shower.  
Your pale Complexion your late Conduct tell,  
O that instead of Trash you'd taken Steel.  
Then as he strove to clasp the fleeting Fair,  
His empty Arms confessed th' impassive Air.  
From his Embrace the unbodyed Spectre flies,  
And as she moved, she chid him with her Eyes.   

They hasten now to that delightful Plain  
Where the glad Manes of the Blessed remain:  
Where Harvy gathers Simples to bestow  
Immortal Youth on Hero's Shades below.  
Soon as the bright Higeia was in view  
The venerable Sage her Presence knew.  
Thus He—   

Hail blooming Goddess, Thou propitious Power,  
Whose Blessings mortals next to Life implore.  
Such Graces in your heavenly Eyes appear,  
That Cottages are Courts when you are there.  
Mankind, as you vouchsafe to smile or frown,  
Finds ease in Chains, or anguish in a Crown.  
With just resentments and contempt you see  
The mean dissensions of the Faculty;  
How sickening Physic hangs her pensive head,  
And what was once a Science, now's a Trade.  
Her Sons ne'er rifle her mysterious Store,  
But study Nature less, and Lucre more.   

I showed of old, how vital Currents glide,  
And the Meanders of their refluent Tide.  
Then, Willis, why spontaneous Actions here,  
And whence involuntary Motions, there:  
And how the Spirits by mechanic Laws,  
In wild Carrier's, tumultuous Riots cause.  
Nor would our Wharton, Bates and Glisson lie  
In the Abyss of blind Obscurity.  
But now such wondrous Searches are forborn,  
And Paean's Art is by divisions torn.  
Then let your Charge attend, and I'll explain  
How Physic her lost Lustre may regain.  
Haste and the matchless. Atticus Address  
From Heaven, and great Nassau he has the Mace.  
Th' oppressed to his Asylum still repair,  
Arts He supports, and Learning is his care.  
He softens the harsh rigour of the Laws,  
blunt's their keen Edge, and cuts their harpy Claws;  
And graciously he casts a pitying Eye  
On the sad state of virtuous Poverty.  
When e'er he speaks, heavens! how the listening Throng  
Dwells on the melting music of his Tongue.  
His Arguments are th' Emblems of his Mein,  
Mild, but not faint, and forcing, tho' serene;  
And when the power of Eloquence, He'd try,  
Here, Lightning strikes you, there, soft Breezes sigh.   

To him you must your sickly state refer,  
Your Charter claims Him as your Visitor.  
Your Wounds he'll close, and sov'reignly restore  
Your Science to the height it had before.  
Then Nassau's Health shall be your glorious Arm,  
His Life should be immortal as his Name.  
Some Princes claims from Devastations spring,  
He condescends in pity to be King:  
And when, amidst his Olives placed, He stands,  
And governs more by Candour than Commands:  
Even than not less a Hero he appears,  
Than when his Laurel Diadem he wears.  
Would but Apollo some great Bard inspire  
With sacred veh'mence of Poetic Fire;  
To celebrate in Song that Godlike Power,  
Which did the labouring Universe restore.  
Fair Albian's Cliffs would Echo to the Strain,  
And praise the Arm that Conquered to regain  
The Earth's repose, and Empire o'er the Main.   

Still may th' immortal Man his Cares repeat,  
To make his Blessings endless as they're great:  
Whilst Malice and Ingratitude confess,  
They've striven for Ruin long without success.   

Had some famed Hero of the Latin blood,  
Like julius great, and like Octavius good,  
But thus preserved the sinking Latian Power,  
Rome had erected Columns every hour;  
Loud Io's her proud Capitol had shaken,  
And all the Statues of the Gods had spoke.   

No more, the Sage his Raptures could pursue,  
He paused: and Celus with his Guide withdrew.   
FINIS.