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Each pictur’d vice so impudently bad,
Men's faults, like Martin's 3 broider'd coat, demard The crimes turp frolics, and the villain mad; The nicest touches of the steadiest hand. Rapes, murders, incest, treasons, mirth create, Some yield with ease, while some their posts mainAnd Rome scarce hates the author of her fate.
tain; 'Tis true, the comic Muse, confin'd to rules, And parts defective will at last remain. Supply'd the laws, and sham'd the tardy schools; There, where they best succeed, your labours bend; With living precepts urg'd the moral truth, Nor render useless, what you strive to mend. And by example form'd the yielding youth.
The youthful Curio blush'd whenever be spoke, The titled knave with honest freedom shown, His ill-tim'd modesty the general joke; His person mimick’d, nor his name unknown, Sneer'd by his friends, nor could that sneer enTaught the young breast its opening thoughts to dureraise
Behold, sad instance of their skill to cure ! From dread of infamy to love of praise,
The conscious blood, which fir'd his cheek before, From thence to virtue; there perfection ends, Now leaves his bosom cool, and warus no more. As gradual from the root the flower ascends;
But affectation—there, we all confess, Ștrain’d through the varying stems the juices Strong are the motives, and the danger less. flow,
Sure we may smile where fools themselves have Bloom o'er the top, and leave their dregs below.
made, 'Twas thus awhile th’ instructive stage survey'd, As balk'd spectators of a farce ill play'd, From breast to breast its glowing influence spread, and laugh, if satire's breath should rudely raise Till, from his nobler task by passions won, The painted plumes which vanity displays. The man unravel'd what the bard had done;
O fruitful source of everlasting mirth!
By fashion govern’d, Nature each neglects,
The scholar's title to the laureld brow;
plead, And well-bred satire wears a milder air.
Who court with zeal what others fly with dread ? Still vice we brand, or titled fools disgrace,
Affect ev'n vice! poor folly's last excces, But dress in fable's guise the borrow'd face. As Picts mistook deformity for dress, --Or as the bee, through Nature's wild retreats, And smeard with so much art their hideous charms, Drinks the moist fragrance from th' unconscious That the grim beauty scar'd you from her arms. sweets,
Too oft these follies 4 bask in virtue's shine, To injure none, we lightly range the ball,
The wild luxuriance of a soil too fine. And glean from diff'rent knaves the copious gall; Yet oh, repress them, wheresoe'er they riseExtract, compound, with all a chymist's skill, But how perform it?-there the danger lies. And claim the motley characters who will. Short are the lessons taught in Nature's school,
Happy the Muse, could thus her tuneful aid Here each peculiar asks a sep'rate rule. To sense, to virtue, wake the more than dead ! Nice is the task, be gen’ral if you can, But few to fiction lend attentive ears,
Or strike with caution if you point the man: They view the face, but soon forget 'tis theirs. And think, O think, the cause by all assign'd " 'Twas not from them the bard their likeness stole, To raise our laughter, makes it most unkind : The random pencil haply hit the mole;
For though from Nature these no strength receive, Ev'n from their prying foes such specks retreat ;" We give them nature when we bid them live. -They hide them from themselves, and crown the Like Jove's Minerva springs the gentle train, cheat.
The genuine offspring of each teeming brain; Or should, perhaps, some softer clay admit On which, like tend'rest sires, we fondly doat, The sly impressions of instructive wit;
Plan future fame in luxury of thought, To virtue's side in conscious silence steal,
And scarce at last, o'erpower'd by foes or friends, And glow with goodness, ere we find they feel; Torn from our breasts the dear delusion ends. Yet more, 'tis fear'd, will closer methods take, Then let good-nature every charm exert, And keep with caution what they can't forsake; And, while it mends it, win th' unfolding heart. For fear of man, in his most mirthful mood, Let moral mirth a face of triumph wear, May make us hypocrites, but seldom good.
Yet smile unconscious of th’extorted tear. And what avails that seas confess their bounds, See, with what grace instructive satire flows, If subtler insects sap the Belgian mounds ? Politely keen, in Clio's number'd prose ! Though no wing'd mischief cleave the mid-day That great example should our zeal excite, skies,
And censors learn from Addison to write. Still through the dark the baleful venom flies, So, in our age, too prone to sport with pain, Still virtue feels a sure though ling'ring fate, Might soft humavity resume her reign; And, stabb’d in secret, bleeds th’ unguarded Pride without rancour feel th' objected fault, state,
And folly blush, as willing to be taught; Besides, in men have varying passions made Critics grow mild, life's witty warfare cease, Such nice confusions, blending light with shade,
And true good-nature breathe the balm of peace. That eager zeal to laugh the vice away May hurt some virtue's interiniogling ray.
3 Tale of a Tub.
TO THE EART, OF ASHBURNHAM.
Might not, in Pagan days, and open air,
Some wand'ring Jove surprise th'unguarded fair?
A dying Damjan ?, with’ring in his prime?
Or, more politely to their vows untrue, Condemn'd to flatter the too easy great,
Lov'd, and elop'd, as modern ladies do? Have oft, regardless of their Heav'n-born flame, But grant them virtuous, were they all of birth? Enshrin'd a title, and ador'd a naine ;
Did never nobles mix with vulgar earth, For idol deities forsook the true,
And city maids to envy'd heights translate, And paid to greatness what was virtue's due. Subdu'd by passion, and decay'd estate?
Yet hear, at least, one recreant bard maintain Or, sigh, still hunibler, to the passing gales Their incense fruitless, and your honours vain :
By turf-built cots in daisy-painted vales ? Teach you to scorn the auxiliar props, that raise
Who does not, Pamela, thy suff'rings feel ? The painted produce of these sun-shive days;
Who has not wept at beauteous Grisel's wheel? Proud from yourself, like India's worm, to weave
And each fair marchioness 3, that Gallia pours Tb' ennobling thread, which fortune cannot give.
(Exotic sorrows) to Britannia's shores ? In two short precepts your whole lesson lies;
Then blame us not, if backward to comply Wou'd you be great ? --be virtuous, and be wise.
With your demands: we fear a forgery. In elder time, ere heralds yet were known
In spite of patents, and of kings' decrees, To gild the vain with glories not their own;
And blooming coronets on parchment-trees, Or infant language saw such terms prevail,
Your proofs are gone, your very claims are lost, As fess and chev'ron, pale and contrepale;
But by the manners of that race you boast. 'Twas he alone the shaggy spoils might wear,
O if true virtue fires their gen'rous blood, Whose strength subdu'd the lion, or the bear;
The feel for fame, the pant of public good, For him the rosy spring with smiles beheld
The kind concern for innocence distrest, Her honours stript from every grove and field;
The Titus' wish to make a people blest, Por him the rustic quires with songs advance ;
At every deed we see their father's tomb For him the virgins form the annual dance.
Shoot forth new laurels in eternal bloom ; Born to protect, like Gods they hail the brave;
We hear the rattling car, the neighing steeds, And sure 'twas godlike, to be born to save!
A Poictiers thunders, and a Cressy bleeds! In Turkey still these simple manners reign,
Titles and birth, like di'monds from the mine, Tho' Pharamond has liv'd, and Charlemagne:
Must by your worth be polish'd ere they shine ; The cottage hind may there admitted rise
Thence drink new lustre, there unite their rays, A chief, or statesman, as his talent lies;
And stream through ages one unsully'd blaze. And all, but Othman's race, the only proud,
But what avails the crest with Aow'rets crown'd, Fall with their sires, and mingle with the crowd.
The mother virtuous, or the sires renown'd, Politer courts, ingenious to extend
If, from the breathing walls, those sires behold The father's virtues, bid his pomps descend;
The midnight gamester trembling for his gold : Chiefs premature with suasive wreaths adorn,
And see those hours, when sleep their toils repair'd, And force to glory heroes yet unborn,
(Or, if they wak'd, they wak'd for Britain's guard,) Plac'd like Hamilcar's son', their path's coufin'd,
Now on lewd loves bestow'd, or drench'd in wine, Forward they must, for monsters press behind ;
Drown and embrute the particle divine ? Monsters more dire than Spain's, or Barca's snakes,
How must they wish, with many a sigh, unheard If fame they grasp not, infamy o'ertakes.
The warmest pray'r they once to Heav'n prefer'd! 'Tis the same virtue's vigorous, just effort
When not content with fame for kingdoms won, Must grace alike St. James's or the Porte;
They sought an added boon, and ask'd a son ; Alike, my lord, must Turk, or British peer,
That cloud eternal in their sky serene, Be to his king, and to his country dear;
That dull dead weight that drags them down to men, Alike must either bonour's cause maintain,
And speaks as plainly as the Muse's tongue, You to preserve a fame, and they to gain.
“Prail were the sires from whom we mortals sprung." For birth-precarious were that boasted gem,
Incense to such may breathe, but breathes in Tho'wath flow'd copious in the vital stream:
vain, (of which a sad reverse historians preach,
The dusky vapour but obscures the fane: And sage Experience proves the truths they teach.)
Loretto's lady like 4, such patrons bear For say, ye great, who boast another's scars,
The flatt'ring stains of many a live-long year; And, like Busiris, end among the stars,
While but to shame them beams fictitious day, What is this boon of Heav'n? dependent still
And their own filth eternal lamps betray. On woman's weakness, aud on woman's will. Tell us, ye names, preserv'd from Charles's times
In dedication proe, heroic rhymes ;
Would ye not now, with equal joy resign ' Ibi fama est, in quiete visum ab eo Juvenem (Tho' taught to flow in Dryden's strain divine) dirinâ specie, qui se ab Jove diceret ducem in Italiam Annibali missum, Proinde sequeretur, neque usquam à se deflecteret oculos. Pavidum 2 See January and May, in Chaucer and Mt. primo, nusquam respicientem, &c.—Tandem,- | Pope. temperare oculis nequivisse: tuni vidisse post se
3 Marianne, the Fortunate Country Maid, Sc. serpentem mirå magnitudine cum ingenti arborum
4 See Dr. Middleton's Letter from Rome, (4the ac virgultorum strage ferri, &c. Liv. lib. xxi. c. 22. edit. octavo) page 155. VOL XVIL
The awkward virtues never meant to sit,
Wisdom alone is true ambition's aim, The alien morals, and imputed wit,
Wisdom the source of virtue, and of fame, Whose very praise but lends a fatal breath Obtain’d with labour, for mankind employ'd, To save expiring infamy from death?
And then, when most you share it, best enjoy'd. And yet, in conqu’ring vice small virtue lies; See! on yon sea-girt isle the goddess stands, The weak can shun it, and the vain despise. And calls her vot’ries with applauding hands ! 'Tis yours, my lord, to form a nobler aim, They pant, they strain, they glow thro' climes voAnd build on active merit endless fame ;
known, Unlike the loit'ring, still forgotten crowd,
With added strength, and spirits not their own. Who, ev'n at best but negatively good,
Hark! what loud shouts each glad arrival hail ! Thro' sloth's dull round drag out a length of days, How full fame's fragrance breathes in ev'ry gale! While life's dim taper gradually decays;
How tempting nod the groves for ever green! And numbers fall, and numbers rise the same, –“But tempests roar, and oceans roll between."Their country's burden, and their nature's shame. Yet see, my lord, your friends around you brave
Whattho’in youth, while flatt'ring hopes presume That roaring tempest, and contending wave. On health's vain flourish for long years to come, See-lab'ring through the billowy tide! Thoughtless and gay, a mad good-nature draws See-impatient for the adverse side!. From followers flatt'ry, and from crowds applause; O much-lov'd youths! to Britain justly dear, Nay from the wise, by some capricious whim, Her spring, and promise of a fairer year. Should, mix'd with pity, force a faint esteem: Success be theirs, whate'er their hopes engage, Yet will in age that syren charm prevail,
Worth grace their youth, and honours crown their When cares grow peevish, and when spirits fail ; And ev'ry warmest wish sincere, and free, [age, Or must, despis'd, each fool of fortune sigh My soul e'er breathes, O ASHBURNHAM, for thee! O'er years mispent with retrospective eye,
Hard is your stated task by all allow'd, Till pomp's last honours load the pageant bier, And modern greatness rarely bursts the cloud. And much solemnity without a tear?
Lullid bigh in Fortune's silken lap, you feel 'Tis yours with judgment nobly to bestow, No shocks, nor turns of her uncertain wheel: And treasure joys the bounteous only know. Amusements dazzle, weak admirers gaze, See, sav'd from sloth by you, with venial pride, And flatt'ry sooths, and indolence betrays. Laborious health the stubborn glebe divide ; Yet still, my lord, on happy peers attends Instructed want her folded arms unbend,
That noblest privilege, to chuse their friends; And smiling industry the loom attend.
The wise, the good are theirs, their call obey; Yours too the task to spread indul
If pride refuse not, fortune points the way. Steal cares from wrinkled age, disarm disease; Nor great your toils, on wisdom's seas, compar'd Insulted worth from proud oppression screen, With theirs who sbift the sail, or watch the card. And give neglected science where to lean.
For you the sages every depth explore, Titles, like standard-flags, exalted rise,
For you, the slaves of science ply the oar; To tell the wretched where protection lies; And Nature's Genii fly with sails unfurl'd, And he who hears unmov'd affliction's claim, The Drakes and Raleighs of the mental world. Deserts his duty, and denies his name.
But stay—too long mere English lays detain Nor is't enough, tho' to no bounds confin'd, Your light-wing'd thoughts, that rove beyond the Your cares instruct, or bounties bless mankind.
No fancy'd voyage there expects the gale, [main: ”Tis yours, my lord, with various skill to trace,
No allegoric zephyr swells the sail.
In cælum scopuli; tum sylvis scena coruscis Wake ev'ry latent faculty of soul,
Desuper, horrentique atrum Nemus imminet umTeach from your lips the glowing sense to roll, Intus Aqua dulces, vivoque sedilia saxo (bra. Till list'ning senates bless the kind alarm,
NYMPHARUM domus !
Virg. Convinc'd, not dazzled, and with judgment warm. Superior talents on the great bestow'd,
Nymph of the fount! from whose auspicious urn Are Heav'n's peculiar instruments of good : Flows health, flows strength, and beauty's roseate Not for the few, who have them, are design'd :
bloom, What flows from Heav'n, must flow for all mankind. Which warms the virgin's cheek, thy gifts I sing! Blush then, ye peers, who, niggards of your store, Whether inclining from thy rocky couch Brood o'er the shining heap, not make it more; Thou hear'st attentive, or with sister-nymphs Or Wilmot like, at some poor fool's expense, Fast by Sabrina's hoarse-resounding stream, Squander in wit the sacred funds of sense. Thou cull'st fresh flowers, regardless of my song.
Avonia, hear'st thou, from the neighb'ring stream By force almighty, streams were taught to flow : So call'd; or Bristoduna; or the sound
In narrower channels, and once more relieve Well known, Vinceutia' Sithence from thy rock The thirsty hind, and wash the fruitful vale. The hermit pour'd his orisons of old,
What shriekf, what groans, torment the lab'ring And, dying, to thy fount bequeath'd his name. And pierce the astonish'd hearer? ah, behold (air, Whate'er thy title, thee the azure god
Yon agonizing wretch, that pants and writhes, of ocean erst beheld, and to the shore
Rack'd with the stone, and calls on thee for ease ! Fast flew his pearly car; th' obsequious winds Nor calls he long in vain; the balmy draught Drop'd their light pinions, and no sounds were heard Has done its office, and resign'd and calm Jo earth, air, sea, but murmuring sighs of love. The poor pale sufferer sinks to sweet repose. He left thee then; yet not, penurious, left
() could thy lenient wave thus charm to peace Without a boon the violated maid;
That fiercer fiend, Ill-nature ; Argus-like, But, grateful to thy worth, with bounteous hand Whose eyes still open watch th' unwary steps Gave thee to pour the salutary rill,
Which tread thy margin, and whose subtle brain And pay this precious tribute to the main.
To real mischief turns ideal ills! And still he visits ?, faithful to his flame,
But not thy stream nectareous, nor the smiles Thy moist abode, and each returning tide
Of rosy-dimpled innocence, can charm [damps, Mingles his wave with thine; hence brackish oft That monster's rage: dark, dark as midnight And foul, we fly th' adulterated draught
And ten times deadlier, steal along unseen And scorn the proffer'd bev'rage; thoughtless we, Her blasting venom, and devours at once That then thy Naiads hymeneals chant,
Fair virtue's growth, and beauty's blooming spring. And rocks re-echo to the Triton's shell.
But turn we from the sight, and dive beneath Love warm'd thy breast; to love thy waters pay Thy darksome caverns; or unwearied climb A kind regard: and thence the pallid maid, Thy tow'ring mountains, studious to explore Who pines-in fancy for some fav'rite youth, The latent seeds and magazines of health. Drinks in new lustre, and with surer aim
“ Ye rocks that round me rise, ye pendant woods Darts more enliven’d glances. Thence the boy, High waving to the breeze, ye gliding streams Who mourns in secret the polluted charms That steal in silence thro' the mossy clefts Of Lais or Corinna, grateful feels
Unnumber'd, tell me in what secret vale Health's warm return, and pants for purer joys. Hygenia shuns the day?-0, often seen
Nor youth alone thy power indulgent owns ; In dreams poetic, pour thy radiant form Age shares thy blessings, and the tott'ring frame Full on my sight, and bless my waking sense !By thee supported: not, Tithonus-like,
But not to me such visions, not to me ; To linger in decay, and daily feel
No son of Pæon I, like that sweet bard [Muse 4 A death in every pain; such cruel aids,
Who sung her charms profest 3; or him, whose Unknown to Nature, art alone can lend :
Now builds the lofty rhyme, and nobly wild But, taught by thee, life's latter fruits enjoy Crops each unfading flower from Pindar's brow, A warmer winter, and at last fall off,
To form fresh garlands from the Naiad train. Shook by no boist'rous, or untimely blasts.
Yet will I view her still, however coy, But why on single objects dwell my song? In dreams poetic; see her to the sound Wide as the neighb'ring sons of commerce waft Of dulcet symphonies harmonious lead Their unexhausted stores, to every clime
Her sportive sister-graces, Mirth serene, On every wind up-born thy triumphs spread! And Peace, sweet inmate of the sylvan shade. Thee the glad merchant hails, whom choice or fate These are thy handmaids, goddess of the fount, Leads to some distant home, where Sirius reigns, And these thy offspring. Oft have I beheld And the blood boils with many a fell disease
Their airy revels on the verdant steep Which Albion knows not. Thee the sable wretch, Of Avon, elear as fancy's eye could paint. To ease whose burning entrails swells in vain What time the dewy star of eve invites The citron's dewy moisture, thee he hails;
To lonely musing, by the wave-worn beach, And oft from some steep cliff at early dawul Along the extended mead. Nor less intent In seas, in winds, or the vast void of Heaven Their fairy forms I view, when from the height Thy power unknown adores; or ranks, perhaps, Of Clifton, tow'ring mount, th' enraptur'd eye Amid his fabled gods Avonia's name.
Behulds the cultivated prospect rise Scard at thy presence start the train of Death, Hill above hill, with many a verdant bound And hide their whips and scorpions. Thee confus'd Of hedge-row chequer'd. Now on painted clouds Slow Febris creeps from ; thee the meagre fiend Sportive they roll, or down yon winding stream Consumption flies, and checks his rattling coughs. Give their light mantles to the wafting wind, But chief the dread disease, whose wat’ry power, And join the sea-green sisters of the flood. Curb'd by thy wave restringent, knows its bounds, Happy the man whom these amusive walks, And feels a firmer barrier. Ocean thus
These waking dreams delight! no cares molest Once flow'd, they say, impetuous ; 'till, restrain's His vacant bosom: Solitude itself
But opens to his keener view new worlds, The spring at Bristol is usually called St. Vincent's Well, and the rocks near it St. Vincent's 3 Dr. Armstrong, author of that elegant didactic Rocks, on a fabulous tradition that that saint re poem, called The Art of preserving Health. sided tbere.
4 Alluding to a manuscript poem of Dr. AkenThe high tides in the Avon generally foul the side's (since published) written in the spirit and spring in such a manner as to make the waters im- manner of the ancients, called, An Hymn to the proper to be drank till some hours afterward,
Worlds of his own: from every genuine scene See in what myriads to her watry shrine
O for a Shakspeare's pencil, while I trace Light satyrs danc'd, along the woodland shade In Nature's breathing paint, the dreary waste Pan's mystic pipe resounded, and each rill Of Buxton, dropping with incessant rains Confess'd its tutelary power, like thine.
Cold and ungenial; or its sweet reverse But not like thine, bright deity, their urns Enchanting Matlock, from whose rocks like thine Pour'd health's rare treasures ; on their grassy sides Romantic foliage hangs, and rills descend, The panting swain reclin'd with his tir'd ftock And echoes murinur. Derwent, as he pours At sultry noon-tide, or at evening led
His oft obstructed stream down rough cascades His unyok'd heifers to the common stream. And broken precipices, views with awe, Yet some there have been, and there are, like With rapture, the fair scene his waters form. thee
Nor yet has Nature to one spot confin'd Profuse of liquid balm; from the fair train Her frugal blessings. Many a different site Of eldest Tadmor $, where the sapient king And different air, to suit man's varying frame For the faint traveller, and diseas'd, confin'd The same relief extends. Thus Cheltenham sinks To salutary baths the fugitive stream.
Rural and calm amid the flowery vale, And still, though now perhaps their power unknown, Pleas'd with its pastoral scenes ; while Scarbrough Unsought, the solitary waters creep
lifts Amid Palmyra's ruino, and bewail
Its towering summits to th' aspiring clouds, To rocks, and desert caves, the mighty loss And sees th' unbounded ocean roll beneath. Of two imperial cities ! so may sink
Avonia frowns ! and justly may'st thou frown, Yon cloud-envelop'd tow'rs; and times to come O goddess, on the hard, th' injurious bard, Inquire where Avon flow'd, and the proud mart Who leaves thy pictur'd scenes, and idly roves Of Bristol rose. Nay, Severn's self may fail, For foreign beauty to adorn bis song. With all that waste of waters : and the swain Thine is all beauty ; every site is thine. From the tall summit (whence we now survey Thine the sweet vale, and verdure-crowned mead The anchoring bark, and see with every tide Slow rising from the plain, which Cheltenham Pass and repass the wealth of either world)
boasts. May hail the softer scene where groves aspire, Thine Scarbrough's cliffs; and thine the russet And bosom'd villages, and golden fields
heaths Unite the Cambrian to the English shore.
Of sandy Tunbridge; o'er thy spacious downs Why should I mention many a fabled fount Stray wide the nibbling flocks; the hunter train By bards recorded, or historians old;
May range thy forests; and the muse-led youth, Whether they water'd Asia's fertile plains
Who loves the devious walk, and simple scene, With soft Callirrhoë 7; or to letter'd Greece May in thy Kingswood view the scatter'd cots Or warlike Latium lent their kindly aid?
And the green wilds of Dulwich. Does the Sun, Nor ye of modern fame, whose rills descend Does the free air delight? lo! Clifton stands From Alps to Appennines, or grateful lave Courted by every breeze; and every Sun Germania's harass'd realms, expect my verse There sheds a kinder ray; whether he rides Shall chant your praise, and dwell on foreign In southern skies sublime, or mildly pours themes ;
O'er Bristol's red’ning towers his orient beam, When chief o'er Albion have the healing powers Shed wide their influence: from a thousand rocks Health gushes, through a thousand vales it flows 9 Antonius Musa, physician to Augastus Cæsar, Spontaneous. Scarce can luxury produce was the first who brought cold bathing into great More pale diseases than her streams relieve. repute at Rome. But the same prescription which
Witness, Avonia, the unnumber'd tongues had saved Augustus, unhappily killed "Marcellus. Which hail thy sister's name 8 ! on the same banks Horace describes the inhabitants of Baïæ as very Your fountains rise, to the same stream they flow. uneasy at this new method of proceeding in phy
....... Mihi Baias s Tadmor in the wilderness, built by king Solo Musa supervacuas Antonius, et tamen illis mon, celebrated for its baths.
Me facit invisum gelida dum perluor unda 6 Palmyra is generally allowed to have stood Per medium frigus. Sanè myrteta relinqui on the same spot of ground as Tadmor. See the Dictaque cessantein nervis elidere morbum Universal History, vol. ii. 8vo. edit. where is a Sulfura contemni, Vicus gemit; incidus agris print representing the ruins of that city.
Qui caput aut stomachum supponere fontibus au1 A fountain in Judea beyond Jordan, which
dent, &c. empties itself in the lake Asphaltes. Its waters 10 See a beautiful description of the source of this were not only medicinal, but remarkably soft and river in Pliny's Epistles, Ep. 8. Book viii. where he agreeable to the taste. Herod the Great made use mentions it as a custom for persons to leave inscrip. of them in his last dreadful distemper. Josephus, tions, &c. as testimonies of their being cured 1, xvii. c. 8.
there; something in the manner of the crutches at Bath.