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So fishes, rifing from the main,

Can foar with moisten'd wings on high;
The moisture dry'd, they fink again,
And dip their fins again to fly.
Undone at play, the female troops
Come here their loffes to retrieve;
Ride o'er the waves in fpacious hoops,
Like Lapland witches in a fieve.

Thus Venus to the fea defcends,

As poets feign; but where 's the moral ? It fhews the Queen of Love intends

To fearch the deep for pearl and coral.
The fea is richer than the land,

I heard it from my grannam's mouth,
Which now I clearly understand;
For by the fea fhe meant the South.

Thus by directors we are told,

"Pray, Gentlemen, believe your eyes;
Our ocean's cover'd o'er with gold,
Look round, and fee how thick it lies:

We, Gentlemen, are your affifters,
We'll come, and hold you by the chin.
Alas! all is not gold that glifters,
Ten thousand fink by leaping in.

Oh! would thofe patriots be so kind,
Here in the deep to wash their hands,
Then, like Pactolus, we should find
The fea indeed had golden fänds.

A fhil

A fhilling in the bath you fling,

The filver takes a nobler hue,
By magic virtue in the spring,
And feems a guinea to your view.
But, as a guinea will not pafs

At market for a farthing more,
Shewn through a multiplying-glafs,
Than what it always did before:
So caft it in the Southern feas,

Or view it through a jobber's bill; Put on what fpectacles you please, Your guinea 's but a guinea still. One night a fool into a brook

Thus from a hillock looking down,
The golden ftars for guineas, took,
And filver Cynthia for a crown.

The point he could no longer doubt;
He ran, he leapt into the flood:

There sprawl'd a while, and fearce got out,
All cover'd o'er with flime and mud.

"Upon the water, caft, thy bread,

"And after many days thou 'lt find it But gold upon this ocean fpread

Shall fink, and leave no mark behind it.

There is a gulph, where thousands fell,

Here all the bold adventurers came, A narrow found, though deep as hell; 'Change-Alley is the dreadful name.



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Nine times a day it ebbs and flows,
Yet he that on the furface lies,
Without a pilot seldom knows

The time it falls, or when 'twill rife.
Subscribers here by thousands float,
And joftle one another down;
Each paddling in his leaky boat,
And here they fish for gold, and drown.
*Now bury'd in the depth below,
"Now mounted up to Heaven again,
"They reel and stagger to and fro,

"At their wits end, like drunken men."

Mean time, fecure on Garraway + cliffs,
A favage race by fhipwrecks fed,
Lie waiting for the founder'd skiffs,
And strip the bodies of the dead.

But thefe, you fay, are factious lyes,

From fome malicious Tory's brain;

For, where Directors get a prize,

The Swifs and Dutch whole millions drain.

Thus, when by rooks a lord is ply'd,

Some cully often wins a bet,
By venturing on the cheating fide,
Though not into the fecret let.

While fome build caftles in the air,

Directors build them in the feas; Subfcribers plainly fee them there,

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For fools will fee as wife men please.

Pfalm cvii. + A coffee-house in Change-Alley.


Thus oft' by mariners are shown

(Unless the men of Kent are lyars)
Earl Godwin's caftles overflown,
And palace-roofs, and steeple-fpires.
Mark where the fly Directors creep,
Nor to the fhore approach too nigh!
The monsters nestle in the deep,
To feize you in your paffing by.
Then, like the dogs of Nile, be wise,
Who, taught by inftinct how to fhun
The crocodile, that lurking lies,

Run as they drink, and drink and run.

Antæus could, by magic charms,
Recover ftrength whene'er he fell;
Alcides held him in his arms,

And fent him up in air to hell.

Directors, thrown into the fea,
Recover strength and vigour there;
be tam'd another way,
Sufpended for a while in air.

But may

Directors! for 'tis you I warn,

By long experience we have found
What planet rul'd when you were born;
We see you never can be drown'd.

Beware, nor over-bulky grow,
Nor come within your cully's reach ;
For, if the fea fhould fink fo low
To leave you dry upon the beach,


You'll owe your ruin to your bulk :
Your foes already waiting ftand,
To tear you like a founder'd hulk,
While you lic helpless on the fand.

Thus, when a whale hath loft the tide,
The coafters crowd to feize the spoil;
The monster into parts divide,

And ftrip the bones, and melt the oif.
Oh! may fome western tempeft fweep
Thefe locufts whom our fruits have fed,
That plague directors to the deep,

Driv'n from the South-Sea to the Red. May he, whom Nature's laws obey,

Who lifts the poor, and finks the proud, "Quict the raging of the fea,

“And still the madness of the crowd!”,

But never fhall our isle have rest,

Till thofe devouring fwine run down,
(The devils leaving the poffeft,)
And headlong in the waters drown,

The nation then too late will find,
Computing all their coft and trouble,
Directors promifes but wind,

South-Sea at beft a mighty bubble.


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