And then the hospitable fire
Bid goody Baucis mend the fire;
While he from out the chimney took
A flitch of bacon off the hook,
And freely from the fatteft fide
Cut out large flices to be fry'd;
Then stepp'd afide to fetch 'em drink,
Fill'd a large jug up to the brink,
And faw it fairly twice go
round;
Yet (what is wonderful!) they found,
'Twas ftill replenish'd to the top,
As if they had not touch'd a drop.
The good old couple were amaz'd,
And often on each other gaz'd;
For both were frighten'd to the heart,
And just began to cry,-What ar't!
Then foftly turn'd afide to view
Whether the lights were burning blue.
The gentle pilgrims, foon aware on't,
Told them their calling, and their errant ;
Good folks, you need not be afraid,
We are but faints, the hermits faid;
No hurt fhall come to you or yours:
But for that pack of churlifh boors,
Not fit to live on chriftian ground,
They and their houses fhall be drown'd;
Whilft you shall fee your cottage rife,
And grow a church before your eyes.
They fcarce had fpoke, when fair and
foft
The roof began to mount aloft;
Aloft rofe ev'ry beam and rafter;
The heavy wall climb'd flowly after.
The chimney widen'd, and grew higher,
Became a fteeple with a fpire.
The kettle to the top was hoift,
And there ftood fasten'd to a joist,
But with the upfide down, to fhow
Its inclination for below:
In vain; for a fuperior force
Apply'd at bottom ftops its courfe:
Doom'd ever in fufpence to dwell,
'Tis now no kettle, but a bell.
A wooden jack, which had almost
Loft by difufe the art to roaft,
A fudden alteration feels,
Increas'd by new inteftine wheels;
And, what exalts the wonder more,
The number made the motion flow'r.
The flyer, though't had leaden feet,
Turn'd round fo quick, you fcarce could
But, flacken'd by fome fecret pow'r,
Now hardly moves an inch an hour.
The jack and chimney, near ally'd,
Had never left each other's fide:
The chimney to a steeple grown, The jack wou'd not be left alone; But, up against the steeple rear'd, Became a clock, and still adher'd; And still its love to houfhold cares By a fhrill voice at noon declares, Warning the cook-maid not to burn That roaft meat, which it cannot turn. The groaning-chair began to crawl, Like a huge fnail, along the wall; There ftuck aloft in publick view, And, with small change, a pulpit grew. The porringers, that in a row Hung high, and made a glitt'ring fhow, To a lefs noble fubftance chang'd, Were now but leathern buckets rang'd. The ballads pafted on the wall, Of Joan of France, and English Moll, Fair Rofamond, and Robin Hood, The Little Children in the Wood, Now feem'd to look abundance better, Improv'd in picture, fize, and letter ; And, high in order plac'd, defcribe 'The heraldry of ev'ry tribe.
Of the twelve tribes of ed by the enfigns appropriated Ifrael, which in country chur- to them by Jacob on his deathches are fometimes diftinguish- bed.
A bedstead of the antique mode,
Compact of timber many a load,
Such as our ancestors did use,
Was metamorphos'd into pews;
Which ftill their ancient nature keep
By lodging folks difpos'd to fleep.
The cottage by fuch feats as these
Grown to a church by juft degrees,
The hermits then defir'd their hoft
To ask for what he fancy'd moft.
Philemon, having paus'd a while,
Return'd 'em thanks in homely ftyle;
Then faid, my house is grown fo fine,
Methinks, I still wou'd call it mine:
I'm old, and fain wou'd live at ease;
Make me the parfon, if you please.
He spoke; and presently he feels,
His grazier's coat fall down his heels ;
He fees, yet hardly can believe,
About each arm a pudding-fleeve;
His waistcoat to a caffock grew,
And both affum'd a fable hue
But, being old, continu'd juft
As thread-bare, and as full of duft.
His talk was now of tythes and dues :
He fmok'd his pipe, and read the news;
Knew how to preach old fermons next,
Vamp'd in the preface and the text;
At chrift'nings well could act his part,
And had the fervice all by heart;
Wish'd women might have children fast,
And thought whose fow had farrow'd last ;
Against diffenters would repine,
And ftood up firm for right divine;
Found his head fill'd with many a system:
But claffick authors,--he ne'er mifs'd 'em.
Thus having furbish'd up a parfon,
Dame Baucis next they play'd their farceon.
Instead of home-fpun coifs, were feen
Good pinners edg'd with colberteen;
Her petticoat, transform'd a-pace,
Became black fattin flounc'd with lace.
Plain goody would no longer down;
'Twas madam, in her grogram gown.
Philemon was in great furprize,
And hardly could believe his eyes,
Amaz'd to fee her look fo prim;
And the admir'd as much at him.
Thus happy in their change of life
Were feveral years this man and wife;
When on a day which prov'd their laft,
Difcourfing o'er old ftories paft,
They went by chance amidst their talk
To the church-yard to take a walk ;
When Baucis haftily cry'd out,
My dear, I fee your forehead sprout!
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