GOOSILION.
OF old e'er half Time's Glass was run,
when
Jove the Sire, and
Mars the Son,
With all their jolly Kin above
The Heavenly
Family of Love,
As Records tell in
Heathen Letter
Were Gods of
Rome for want of better;
'Twas then when
Vandal and grim
Goth,
With more than
Hannibal's dire Oath,
Rome's Foe, well nigh, by Thunder hurl'd
Had tam'd the Mistress of the World,
Pent in her almost total Fall
Within her narrow Capitol-Wall;
Short Bounds for her no Bar late found,
But elbow'd justled Empires round.
'Twas here, when her last All at Stake,
Her Foes had but one push to make;
And that so near the last dire stroke,
As if by all her Gods forsook,
Her own great
Jove had took a Nap
So sound in some new
Danae's Lap,
That all his Mortal Charge neglected,
Left his own Capitol unprotected:
When, loe, kind Chance, more tender-hearted
Than all her Guardian Pow'rs, departed,
This Miracle of Safety started.
An humble Gosling's Nest, in Story
More fam'd than all her Eagles Glory;
Those Capitol Centinels shrill Cackle
Retriev'd lost
Rome from foreign Shackle.
Thus rescu'd State from Chains got loose;
The Fame of Nation-saving Goose
Sounded so high, and rung so shrill,
That wondring Ages talk on't still.
But 'mongst the still fresh Trumps that sound
These long-neck'd Champions so renown'd,
A certain Bard of
British Nation
Paid Goose profoundest Veneration:
The Foes of Nations down to trample,
Set vigilant Goose his great Example;
Goose, Guardian, Patriot and Defender,
Style none too great, nor name too tender;
And when in
England s equal danger,
To St.
Jago plots no stranger,
He saw the Pilgrim-Troops advancing,
To
Babylonian Tymbrels dancing;
Foresaw the dark Cabals designing,
With Rights and Liberties undermining,
Assaulting Popery, Capitol shaking;
Then like a popular Gosling waking,
With more than Emulation fired,
By transmigrating Goose inspired,
To break the Enemies toils and tackle,
Set up his
Julian-Larum Cackle,
Renown'd by this prodigious Piece,
(Though, troth, it cost his Back a Fleece)
Chuckled and tickled with Applause,
At every little starting Cause,
He cackles o'er and o'er agen:
So nimble is a running Pen.
But this Canonical State-Faber,
His greatest Work and noblest Labour,
Was a late Pamphlet of Renown
As has fill'd every Tongue in Town;
The Author so admir'd, so courted,
Till elevated and transported
With more than strutting Peacock-pride,
With homely Houshold-drudge by 's side,
A Thing call'd Spouse, to join i'th'Quire,
One day by sooty sea-coal fire,
He thus began himself t' admire.
Goosilion.
Ah, Child, what secret Joys I find
To see th' applauding World so kind.
Kind and applauding! Yes, tis true;
But what's that more than my just due.
How can they pay me over-measure,
In the return for such a Treasure!
Goosiliana.
Nay, hold, my Dear, make no such haste
In praising the kind World too fast.
Kind! 'Pray, what Recompense has't made you,
When aery Praise is all't has paid you?
Are empty sounds of so much value,
As can with all your Sufferings tally!
Goosilion.
True, an ungrateful World we serve,
Where naked Vertue's doom'd to starve.
[Page 5]
I must confess I once was proffer'd,
Forsooth, in part of Payment offer'd,
Only Four hundred pound a-year;
A paltry Sum.
Goosiliana.
And cou'd my Dear
Refuse Four hundred pound a Year?
Goosilion.
Four hundred! Ay, at this good season,
A triffling sum quite out of reason.
Besides, think how refus'd, and what?
A drudging Benefice, God wot,
Incumbred with the Toil of Teaching;
And, Child, thou know'st I ne'er lov'd preaching.
Besides, my Sufferings, Dear Chick,
Thou know'st deserve a Bishoprick.
And think'st thou I have so poor a Spirit,
As to descend beneath my Merit?
What if th' ungrateful World forget
How much they're in my
Julian's Debt.
Nor is't my fault: How have I thresh'd
To keep their Memories refresh'd:
[Page 6]
Have writ, and writ, double and treble
Whole Volumes of Republick Scribble.
And if this last home-Stroke don't win 'em,
I must conclude the Devil's in 'em.
Had I writ half so much, and tried
My dint of Pen on th'other side;
My Labours and my Pains rewarded,
I had been respected and regarded:
The good old Gentleman, I wis,
Had sent me a Cardinal's Cap e'er this.
But thus to serve Ungrates! Alas,
Fool that I was; — but let that pass.
Goosiliana.
If thou hast no Reward; for shame
Why wouldst thou play a losing Game?
Nay, Time was, when, to thy undoing,
Thou run'steven desperate into Ruine:
Remember
Julian, when no stranger
To all thy too apparent danger,
The certain Mischiefs wou'd befall thee,
And
Molock hands prepared to maul thee,
Inspired with move than Courage doughty,
How durst thou raise such storms about thee?
[Page 7]
Expose thy self to all the Rage
Of such an Iron-Tory-Age!
The hardest heart of Stone must melt,
Even but to think what Pains thou 'st felt.
Goosilion.
Fye, Chicken, how can'st talk so odly,
To put this Question to the Godly!
Pains, did st thou say! No, Lady mine,
Raptures and Extasie divine.
What Tongue, what Eloquence can paint
The Pleasures of a suffering Saint!
Through every Vein, ane every Arter'
The Titillations of a Martyr.
Think'st thou the Militants of old
At Fires, and Stakes, and VVracks so bold;
Cou'd the hard Gauntlet run so often,
VVere there not inward Sweets to soften?
VVhen pain buys pleasure, who can traffick
Too high for Joys so much Seraphick,
To hazard Fortune, Life, and all,
Too poor the venture, price too small.
I tell thee, cou'd this mortal Mould
Outlive the Patriarchs of old,
[Page 8]
Out-number Hundreds with the Crow,
And even
Methus'lem's Beard out-grow;
The dear remembrance, pleasing thought
Of al lmy Sufferings cheaply bought,
VVith their great Cause together join'd;
Are Contemplations so refin'd,
As even my aged Snow shou'd warm;
Not
Mahomet's Heav'n my equal Charm:
His thousand Years tumultuous Bliss,
In the Embrace of large-eyed Miss,
Nor half, not half my Paradice.
Thou can'st not think what heartning Cordial
Supports us Saints o'er fiery Ordeal;
Nor can'st thou guess what Charms invite us.
VVhat say'st t' our elder Brother
Titus,
That
Proto-Martyr, Heart of Oak,
The toughest Oracle e'er spoke,
That great Original of Glory,
The famousest that e'er swell'd Story!
That bold, no flincher, constant still
To
bloody Pilgrim and
Black-bill.
Think'st thou his Flogging. Gaol, or Pillory,
Or all the battering Artillery
From
Observator's backside Favour
Cou'd damp that hardy Nation-saviour!
[Page 9]
Fines, Prisons, Dungeons, or Strapado
E're cow that valiant
Rhod'montado.
Think'ft thou sore shoulders, or Eggs rotten
Answer the Sweets o'th'Fame h▪has gotten.
Goosiliana.
No more, no more, I stand convinced:
No wonder now thou'st never winced.
Oh, Child, thou plead'st thy suffering Case
VVith so much Charm and such a Grace;
With that bewitching Face and Air,
Hast painted Martyrdom so fair;
Thy Fame so great, thy Glory such,
My Dear, I envy thee so much,
Thy Nine-tail Cat and trolling Cart,
I vow I cou'd e'en act thy Part;
But that thou know'st I have one Leg shorter,
A little failing in low'r Quarter:
And t'hop and limp behind the Tumbler,
Wou'd but perform it like a Fumbler;
Else, were it not for that Mischance,
I swear I cou'd e'en lead thy Dance.
But (hang't) let's leave these sadder Stories,
Quit cloudy Scenes for smiling Glories:
[Page 10]
Thanks Heav'n those scorching Dog-days done,
Thou livest beneath a gentler Sun.
Come, man, bear up, Rewards will come
And pay thee in a lumping Sum.
The Royal Cause so great Supporter,
Ne'er fear thou'rt cut out for a Courtier.
Goosillion.
The Royal Cause! Poor Innocence;
Think'st thou we write for Crown's Defence?
Dimocks and Champions for Kings?
No, Chicken, we know better things.
'Tis true, that Piece so gaudy drest
Looks high that way; but there's the Jest.
As fair a Glance does that way roll,
Look through't, thou'lt find a deeper soul.
Though Royal Title only stated,
For Cause Republick calculated;
For in the same defensive stress
The strength and hold of Crowns we press;
Don't we without distinction strike
A full home blow, and plead alike
All Pow'r whate'er, o'th'up'most hand,
By
Right and
Heav'n supported stand.
[Page 11]
And so poor honest
Massanello
Was three days Sovereign Hail-fellow.
Wat Tyler and
Jack Straw, poor Vermine,
Had Fate but drest in Roval Ermine,
Had born the Royal Stamp as fair
As dull Descent to th' hundredth Heir.
If such poor Tools had nought to fear;
Oh, what a brave occasion's here!
Oh, what dear Harbour! what safe sleeping
For
Plato Redivive to creep in?
For a new bold
Titanian Race
To brave the tiresome
Jove t'his Face;
His Throne to seize, and Thunder grapple,
And hold by Tenure stout and staple;
Sceptre's to break, and Crowns to bow,
To set th' old dear State-hands to plough.
The very Thought a Charm so soft,
As bears my ravish'd Soul aloft,
Till it throws off the sullen Cloud
Of forty years Monarchick Load,
And in our once, all bright display,
Looks back to
England's Glorious Day.
Goosiliana.
Nay, then it has a Soul indeed,
If for that mighty Work decreed.
Goosilion.
Yes, Child, this Birth for vast Design
Was help'd by greater Heads than mine,
State-mongers, Whisperers, Writers, Talkers,
From Coffe-
Dicks to Lobby-walkers.
All Politicks and Cabals resulted,
And every Oracle consulted.
All Hands to spur the work a-gallop
From poor
T. D. to Counsellor —
And if it fail the work Divine,
Heav'n knows it is no Fault of mine.
Goosiliana.
Oh, Child, I can't but wondring sit
To think o' th'reach of Humane Wit,
How high thy soaring Soul can climb,
A Grasp and Fathom so sublime!
Goosilion.
Ay, my sweet Spouse, this Maxim learn,
Great Machines still great Weights must turn.
This studied Piece has yet more in it;
Consider, Child, the critick minute,
The hour when hatcht, the day when printed,
Then guess for what high Service minted;
A politick State Shooing-horn
To gain a Point and serve a Turn:
Just in the nick, by manage nice,
Presented round no less than twice,
About to Senate-Members bandied.
When
Abjuration-Oath was bandied.
Dear Abjuration, if turn'd Trump,
The best Republick-Card, since Rump;
A cutting Tool of edge more keen
Than ev'n by'ts Founders e'er foreseen.
An Embrio, which to Life but hatcht,
Had all our glorious Work dispatcht:
For when one kind inclosing Fold
Cou'd Sheep and Goat united hold;
Both lull'd and husht together kept,
And under Royal Cedar slept;
[Page 14]
This Scourge for
Jacobite-shoulders plotted
With all its Thongs of Steel, so knotted,
The cover'd Embers had unraked,
And all the sleeping Dudgeon waked;
Fated for troubled State turmoiling,
And setting hot mad Blood a boiling;
In short, a Master-piece of Art
To
Job's old
Tempter Second Part.
Touch em to th'quick in that soft place,
Thou'lt find theyll curse thee to thy face.
Had that great Birth but got the day,
Then, then was our great Game to play.
Goosiliana.
T'enlighten my poor Intellectual
Thou'st read a Lecture so effectual,
That give me leave to own my Pride
To sit by my
Gamaliel's side.
And to reward thy burning Zeal,
And pushing▪ hand, for Common-weal:
What though no fair Prelatick Dawn
From Mitre, and a slieve of Lawn,
Thy radiant Lorded Brow entwine;
Yet still some Beams of Comfort shine.
[Page 15]
The Brethren, Child, I understand
Are lending thee their helping Hand:
A Purse, my Dearest, a kind Lift,
Like trusty
Roger's New-years Gift.
Goosilion.
Yes, my dear Child, I hear a humming
Of Comfortable
Guineas coming:
A kind Collection, Girl—but mum!
In better Time it ne'er cou'd come:
For let me whisper in thy Ear,
Claret, divine, blest Claret's dear;
Claret, that I may justly call
My Saint, my Mistress, Idol, All,
My Study, Learning,
Aristotle;
And more than Bible, Pipe and Bottle.
FINIS.