"Sodom was lefs deform'd with vice,
"Lewdness of all kinds, cards and dice."
Frank blush'd (which, by the way, was more
Than ever he had done before);
And own'd it was a wretched place,
Unfit for any child of grace..
The good old aunt o'erjoyed to fee
These glimmerings of fanctity;

"My dear," faid fhe," this purse is yours,
"It coft me many painful hours;
"Take it, improve it, and become
"By art and industry a plumb.

"But leave, for fhame, this impious street,
"All over mark'd with cloven feet;
"In our more holy quarter live,
"Where both your foul and ftock may thrive;
"Where righteous citizens repair,
"And heaven and earth the godly fhare,
"Gain this by jobbing, that by prayer.
"At Jonathan's go smoke a pipe,
"Look very serious, dine on tripe;
"Get early up, late close your eyes,
"And leave no stone unturn'd to rife:
"Then each good day at Salter's-Hall
"Pray for a bleffing upon all."

Lowly the ravish'd Franky bows,
While joy fat fmiling on his brows;
And without fcruple, in a trice,
He took her money and advice.
Not an extravagant young heir,
Befet with duns, and in defpair,
When joyful tidings reach his ear,
And dad retires by heaven's commands,
To leave his chink to better hands;
Not wandering failors almost loft,
When they behold the wifh'd-for coaft;
Not culprit when the knot is plac'd,
And kind reprive arrives in haste;
E'er felt a joy in fuch excefs,

As Frank reliev'd from this distress.
A thousand antic trics he play'd,

The purse he kifs'd, fwore, curs'd and pray'd;
Counted the pieces o'er and o'er,
And hugg'd his unexpected ftore;
Built ftately caftles in the air,
Supp'd with the great, enjoy'd the fair;
Pick'd out his title and his place,
Was scarce contented with your Grace.
Strange visions working in his head,
Frantic, half mad, he strolls to bed;
Sleeps little; if he fleeps, he dreams
Of fceptres, and of diadems.
"Fortune," faid he," shall now no more
"Trick and deceive me as of yore:
"This pasport shall admittance gain,
"In fpight of all the jilt's difdain:
"'Tis this the tyrant's pride difarms,
"And brings her blushing to my arms;
"This golden bough my wifh fhall speed,
"And to th' Elyfian fields fhall lead."
The morn scarce peep'd, but up he rose,
Impatient huddled on his clothes;
Call'd the next coach, gave double pay,
And to 'Change-Alley whirl'd away.
'Tis here dame Fortune every day

Opens her booth, and shows her play;

Here laughing fits behind the fcent,
Dances her puppets here unfeen,
And turns her whimsical machine.
Powel, with all his wire and wit,
To her great genius muft fubmit:
Exact at twelve the goddess shows.
And fame aloud her trumpet blows;
Harangues the mob with shams and lies,
And bids their actions fall, or rise.
Old Chaos here his throne regains;
And here in odd confufion reigns;
All order, all distinction loft,
Now high, now low, the fools are toft.
Here lucky coxcombs vainly rear
Their giddy heads, there in defpair
Sits humbled pride, with downcast look,
Bankrupts reftor'd, and mifers broke,
Strange figures here our eyes invade,
And the whole world in masquerade;
A carman in a hat and feather,

A lord in frieze, his breeches leather:
Tom Whiplash in his coach-of state,
Drawn by the tits he drove of late:
A colonel of the bold train-bands,
Selling his equipage and lands.
Hard by a cobler bidding fair,

For the gold chain, and next lord mayor:
A butcher bluftering in the crowd,
Of his late purchas'd 'fcutcheon proud,
Retains his cleaver for his creft,
His motto too beneath the rest,
"Virtue and merit is a jest."
Two toasts with all their trinkets gone,
Padding the streets for half a-crown:
A daggled countess and her maid,
Her houre-rent and her flaves unpaid,
A tailor's wife in rich brocade.
All fects, all parties, high and low,
At fortune's fhrine devoutly bow;
Nought can their ardent zeal restrain,
Where each man's godlinefs is gain.
From taverns, meeting-houses, ftews,
Atheists and Quakers, bawds and Jews,
Statefmen and fidlers, beaux and porters,
Blue aprons here, and there blue garters.
As human race of old began

From ftones and clods, transform'd to man,
So from each dunghill, ftrange furprise!
In troops the recent gentry rife,
Of mushroom growth, they wildly ftare,
And ape the great with awkward air:
So Pinkethman upon the stage,
Mounting his afs in warlike rage,
With fimpering Dicky for his page,
In Lee's mad rant, with monkey face,
Burlesques the prince of Ammon's race.
Industrious Frank, among the rest,
Bought, fold, and cavil'd, bawl'd and prefs'd;
Lodg'd in a garret on the fpot,
Follow'd instructions to a jot,
The praying part alone forgot.
Learnt every dealing term of art,
And all th' ingenious cant by heart;
Nor doubted but he foon fhould find
Dame Fortune complaifant and kind.

}

}

After her oft he call'd aloud,

But ftill fhe vanish'd in the crowd;
Now with fmooth looks and tempting fmiles
The faithlefs hypocrite beguiles;
Then with a cool and fcornful air,
Bids the deluded wretch defpair;
Takes pet without the leaft pretence,
And wonders at his infolence.
Thus with her fickle humours vex'd,
And between hopes and fears perplex'd ;
His patience quite worn out at laft
Refolves to throw one desperate caft.
"Tis vain," faid he, " to whine and woo,
"Tis one brisk ftroke the work must do.
Fortune is like a widow won,
And truckles to the bold alone;
"I'll push at once and venture all,

At least I fhall with honour fall."
But, curfe upon the treacherous jade,
Who thus his fervices repaid;

When now he thought the world his own, He bought a bear, and was undone.

CANTO III.

As here is fomething in a face,
An air, and a peculiar grace,
Which boldest painters cannot trace;
That more than features, fhape, or hair,
iftinguishes the happy fair;

Strikes every eye, and makes her known
A ruling toaft through all the town:
So in each action 'tis fuccefs

That gives it all its comeliness;
Guards it from cenfure and from blame,
Brightens and burnifhes our fame.
For what is virtue, courage, wit,
In all men, but a lucky hit?
But, vice versa, where this fails,
"The wifeft conduct nought avails;
The man of merit foon fhall find

The world to profperous knaves inclin'd,
Himfelf the laft of all mankind.
Too true poor Frank this thefis found,
Bankrupt, defpoil'd, and run aground,
In durance vile detain'd and loft,
And all his mighty projects croft:
With grief and fhame at once oppreft,
Tears fwell his eyes, and fighs his breast;
A poor, forlorn, abandon'd rake,

Where fhall he turn? what measures take?
Betray'd, deceiv'd, and ruin'd quite,
By his own greedy appetite;
He mourns his fatal luft of pelf,
And curfes Fortune and himself:

In limbo pent, would fain get free,
Importunate for liberty.

So when the watchful hungry mouse,
At midnight prowling round the house.
Winds in a corner toafted cheefe,
Glad the luxurious prey to feize;

With whiskers curl'd, and round black eyes,
He meditates the lufcious prize,
Till caught, trepann'd, laments too late
The rigorous decrees of fate :

Reftlefs his freedom to regain,

He bites the wire, and climbs in vain.
The wretched captive thus diftrefs'd,
His bufy thoughts allow no reft:
Fond on cach project to depend,
Kind hope his only faithful friend;
Odd whimfies floating in his brain,
He plots, contrives, but all in vain,
Approves, rejects, and thinks again.
As when the fhipwreck'd wretch is toft
From wave to wave, and almost loft,
Beat by the billows from the fhore,
Returns half drown'd, and hugs once more
The friendly plank he grasp'd before:
So Frank, when all expedients fail,
To fave his carcafe from a gaol,
Eat up with vermin and with care,
And almoft finking in defpair,
Refolves once more to make his court

To his old aunt, his laft refort:

Takes pen in hand, now writes, now tears,
Then blots his paper with his tears,
Ranfacks his troubled foul, to raise
Each tender fentiment and phrafe;
And every lame excufe fupplies
With artful colouring and disguise;
Kind to himself, lays all the blame
On Fortune, that capricious dame:
In fhort informs her all was loft,
And fends it by the penny-poft.
Soon as the ancient nymph had read
The fatal fcroll, fhe took her bed,
Cold palfies feize her trembling head;
She groans, the fighs, fhe fobs, the fmears
Her fpectacles and beard with tears;
Her nofe that wont to fympathise
With all th' o'erflowings of her eyes,
Adown in pearly drops diftils,
Th' united stream each chasm fills.
Geneva now, nor Nants will do,
Her toothless gums their hold let go;
And on the ground, O fatal ftroke!
The fhort coæval pipe is broke:
With vapours chok'd, entranc'd the lies,
Belches, and prays, and f-ts, and dies,
But fleep, that kind restorative,
Recall'd her foul, and bid her live;
With cooler thoughts the case she weigh'd,
And brought her reason to her aid.
Away the hobbles, and with speed
Refolves to fee the captive freed;
Wipe off this ftain and foul difgrace,
And vindicate her ancient race.
With her a fage director comes,
More weighty than a brace of plumbs,
A good man in the city cant,

Where cafh, not morals, makes the faint.
T improve a genius fo polite,

The clumfy thing was dubb'd a knight:
Fortune's chief confident and friend,
Grown fat by many a dividend;
And ftill her favour he retains,
By want of merit and of brains;
On her top spoke fublime he fits,
The jest and theme of fneering wits:

For fools in fortune's pillory plac'd Are mounted to be more disgrac'd. This rich old Hunks, as Woodcock wife, Was call'd the younker to advife : "Young man," said he, " refrain from tears, "While joyful tidings bless thine ears; "Up and be doing, boy, and try "To conquer fate by industry; "For know that all of mortal race, "Are born to loffes and difgrace: "Ev'n I broke twice, I, heretofore "A tailor defpicably poor, "In every hole for shelter crept,

"On the fame bulk, botch'd, lous'd, and flept,
"With scarce one penny to prepare
"A friendly halter in defpair;
"My credit like my garment torn,
"Threadbare, and ragged, over-worn:
"But foon I patch'd it up again,
"These bufy hands, this working brain,
"Ne'er ceas'd from labour, pain, and sweat,
"Till fortune fmil'd, and I was great.
"Now at each pompous city feast,
"Who but Sir Triftram? Every guest
"Respectful bows. In each debate,
"My nod must give the sentence weight:
"On me prime ministers attend,
"AndAiflabie 's my friend:
"In embryo cach bold project lies,
"Till my confenting purfe fupplies.
"This hand-nay do not think me vain,
Soften'd the Swede, and humbled Spain.
"To me the fair, whom all adore,
"Addrefs their prayers, and own my power;
"When the poor teaft by break of day
"Has punted all her gold away,
"Undrefs'd, and in her native charms,
"She flies to these indulgent arms;
"She curls each dimple in her face

"To win the good Sir Triftram's grace;
"Offers her brilliants with a smile,
"That might an achoret beguile;
"And when my potent aid is lent,
"Away the dear-one wheels content.
"He that can money get, my boy,
"Shall every other good enjoy;
"Be rich, and every boon receive,
"That man can with, or Heaven can give.
"Now to the means, dear youth, attend,
"By which thy forrows foon shall end:
"Thy good old aunt refolves to bail
"Her hopeful godfou out of gaol;
"But what is freedom to the poor?
"The man who begs from door to door
"Is free; in lazy wretchedness

"He lives, till Heaven his fubftance blefs;
"But, having learnt to cog and chouse,
"To cut a purse, or break a house,
"Then foon he mends his own apparel,
"Eats boil'd and roast, and taps his barrel;
"Drinks double bub, with all his might,
"And hugs his doxy every night:
"Thy fprightly genius ne'er ihall lie
"Depreis'd by want and penury;
"Go, with a profperous merry gale,
"To the South Seas adventurous fail;

"Fat Plenty dwells on those rich shores, "Abundance opens all her stores; "Ingots and pearls for beads are fold, "And rivers glide on fands of gold; "Profit and Pleasure hand in hand, "Smile on the fields, and bless the land; "The fwains unlabour'd harvests reap, "Fountains run wine, and whores are cheap. "Fortune is always true and kind, "Nor veers, as here, with every wind; "Not, as in thefe penurious ifles, "Retails her blessings and her smiles; "But deals by wholefale with her friends, "And gluts them with her dividends. "Then hafte, fet fail, the fhip's unmoor'd, "And waits to take thee now on board." The youth o'erjoy'd this project hears, From his flock-bed his head he rears, And waters all his rags with tears. In fhort, he took his friend's advice, Pack'd up his baggage in a trice; Dancing for joy, on board he flew, With all Potofi in his view.

CANTO IV.

BEHOLD the youth just now set free
On land, immur'd again at fea;
Stow'd with his cargo in the hold,
In quest of other worlds for gold.
He who fo late regal'd at ease,
On olios, foups, and fricaffees;
Drank with the witty and the gay,
Sparkling Champaign, and rich Tokay;
Now breaks his faft with Suffolk cheese,
And bursts at noon with pork and peafe;
Inftead of wine, content to fip,
With noify tars, their nauseous flip :
Their breath with chew'd mundungus sweet,
Their jefts more fulfome than their meat,
While thunder rolls, and ftorms arise,
He fnoring in his hammock lies;
In golden dreams enjoys the night,
And counts his bags with vast delight.
Mountains of gold erect his throne,
Each precious gem is now his own;
Kind Jove defcends in golden fleet,
Pactolus murmurs at his feet;
The fea gives up its hoarded ftore,
Poffeffing all he covets more.
O gold. attractive gold! in vain
Honour and confcience would restrain
Thy boundless universal reign.
To thee each ftubborn virtue bends,
The man oblig'd betrays his friends;
The patriot quits his country's cause,
And fells her liberty and laws;
The pious prude's no longer nice,
And ev'n lawn fleeves can flatter vice.
At thy too abfolute command,

Thy zealots ranfack fea and land:
Where'er thy beams thy power difplay,
The fwarming infects hafte away,
To bask in thy refulgent ray.

Now the bold crew with profperous wind, Leave the retreating land behind;

Fearless they quit their native fhore,
Albion's cliffs are feen no more.
Then on the wide Atlantic borne,
Their rigging and their tackle torn;
Danger in various shapes appears,
Sudden alarms, and shivering fears.
Here, might fome copious bard dilate
And show fierce Neptune drawn in state;
While guards of Triton's clear his way,
And Nereids round his chariot play;
Then bid the stormy Boreas rise,
And forky lightning cleave the fkies;
The fhip nigh foundering in the deep,
Or bounding o'er the ridgy steep:
Defcribe the monsters of the main,
The Phocæ, and their finny train,
Tornados, hurricanes, and rain.
Spouts, fhoals, and rocks of dreadful fize,
And pirates lurking for their prize;
Amazing miracles rehearse,
And turn all Dampier into verfe.
My negligent and humble muse
Lefs ambitious aims pursues ;
Content with more familiar phrase,
Nor deals in fuch embroider'd lays;
Pleas'd if my rhyme just measure keeps,
And stretch'd at eafe my reader fleeps.
Hibernian matrons thus of old,
Their foporific ftories told;

To fleep in vain the patient ftrove,
Perplex'd with bufinefs, crofs'd in love;
Till foothing tales becalm'd his breast,
And lull'd his troubled foul to rest.
Suffice it only to recite,

They drank all day, they fnor'd all night:
And, after many moons were past,
They made the wifh'd-for fhores at laft.
Frank, with his cargo in his hand,
Leap'd joyful on the golden flrand;
Open'd his toy-fhop in the port,
Trinkets of various fize and fort;
Bracelets and combs, bodkins and tweezers,
Bath-metal rings, and knives, and fciffars;
And in one lucky day got more
Than Bubble-boy in half a fcore:
For Fortune now, no longer coy,
Smil'd on her darling favourite boy;
No longer from his arms retir'd,
But

gave him all his heart defir'd,

Ah thoughtless youth! in time beware,
And fhun the treacherous harlot's fnare;
The wifer favages behold,

Who truck not liberty for gold;
Proof against all her fubtle wiles,
Regardless of her frowns or fmiles;
If frugal Nature want fupplies,
The lance or dart unerring flies:
The mountain boar their prey defcends,
Or the fat kid regales their friends;
The jocund tribe, from fun to fun,
Feaft on the prize their valour won.
Ceafe, babbling mute, thy vain advice,
'Tis thrown away on avarice:
Bid hungry lions quit their prey,

Or ftreams that down the mountains ftray

Divert their course, return again,
And climb the steep from whence they came.
Unbleft with his ill-gotten ftore,
Th' infatiate youth still craves for more;
To counsel deaf, t' examples blind,
Scrapes up whatever he can find.
Now mafter of a veffel grown,
With all the glittering freight his own,
To Fortune still he makes his court,
And coafts along from port to port.
Each rolling tide brings fresh supplies,
And heaps on heaps delight his eyes.
Through Panama's delicious bay,
The loaded veffel ploughs her way;
With the rich freight opprefs'd the fails,
And fummons all the friendly gales,
Frank on her deck triumphant ftood,
And view'd the calm tranfparent flood;
Let book-learn'd fots, faid he, adore
Th' afpiring hills that grace thy fhore;
Thy verdant ifles, the groves that bow
Their nodding heads, and shade thy brow;
Thy face ferene, thy gentle breaft.
Where fyrens fing, and halcyons reft;
Propitious flood! on me bestow
The treafures of thy depths below;
Which long in thy dark womb have flept,
From age to age securely kept.
Scarce had he spoke, when, ftrange furprife!
Th' indignant waves in mountains rife,
And hurricanes invade the fkies;
The ship against the fhoals was ftruck,
And in a thoufand pieces broke;
But one poor trufty plank, to fave
Its owner from the watery grave;
On this he mounts, is caft on shore,
Half dead, a bankrupt as before:
Spiritlefs, fainting, and alone,

On the hare beach he makes his moan.
Then climbs the ragged rock, t' explore
If aught was driving to the fhore,
The poor remains of all his store:
With greedy diligence prepar'd
To fave whate'er the waves had spar'd.
But, oh! the wretch expects in vain
Compaffion from the furious main;
Men, goods, are funk. Mad with despair
He beat his breaft, he tore his hair:
Then leaning o'er the craggy steep,
Look'd down into the boiling deep;
Almoft refolv'd to caft himself,
And perish with his dear, dear pelf.

CANTO V.

If Heaven the thriving trader blefs,
What fawning crowds about him prefs!
But, if he fail, diftrefs'd and poor,
His mob of friends are feen no more;
For all men hold it meet to fly
Th' infectious breath of poverty.
Poor Frank, deferted and forlorn,
Curfes the day that he was born:
Each treacherous crony hides his face,
Or ftarts whene'er he haunts the place.

His wealth thus loft, with that his friends,
On Fortune still the youth depends:
One smile, said he, can foon reftore
A bankrupt wretch, and give him more;
She will not, fure, refufe her aid?
Fallacious hope for the false jade
That very day took wing, was flown,
And on her wonted journey gone
(Intent her coftly goods to fell)
From Panama to Portobel:
Five hundred mules her baggage bear,
And groan beneath the precious ware,
The goddess rides fublime in air;
And hence conveys a fresh fupply,
For pride, debate, and luxury.
Frank, when he heard th' unwelcome news,
Like a ftaunch hound the chafe pursues,
Takes the fame rout, doubles his speed,
Nor doubts her help in time of need.

O'er the wide wafte, through pathless ways, The folitary pilgrim strays;

Now on the swampy defart plain,

Through brakes of mangroves works with pain;
Then climbs the hills with many a groan,
And melts beneath the torrid zone.
With berries and green plantains fed,
On the parch'd earth he leans his head;
Fainting with thirst, to heaven he cries,
But finds no stream but from his eyes.
Ah, wretch thy vain laments forbear,
And for a worse extreme prepare;
Sudden the lowering forms arife,
The bursting thunder rend, the skies,
Aflant the ruddy lightning flies;
Darts through the gloom a transient ray,
And gives a fhort, but dreadful day:
With pealing rain the woods refound,
Convulfions shake the folid ground.
Benumb'd with cold, but more with fear,
Strange phantoms to his mind appear,
The wolves around him howl for food,
The ravenous tigers hunt for blood,
And canibals more fierce than they
(Monsters who make mankind their prey)
Riot and feaft on human gore,
And, ftill infatiate, thirsts for more.
Half dead at every noise he hears,
His fancy multiplies his fears;
Whate'er he read or heard of old,
Whate'er his nurse or Crufoc told,
Each tragic scene his eyes behold:
Things paft as prefent fear applies.
Their pains he bears, their deaths he dies.

At length the fun began to peep,
And gild the furface of the deep,
Then on the reeking moisture fed,
The scatter'd clouds before him fled,
The rivers fhrunk into their bed:
Nature revives; the feather'd throng
Salute the morning with a fong.
Frank with his fellow-brutes arose,
Yet dreaming ftill he faw his foes,
Reels to and fro, laments and grieves,
And starting, doubts if yet he lives.
At last his fpirits mend their pace,
And hope fat dawning on his face;

Ev'n fuch is human life, faid he,
A night of dread and mifery,
Till heaven relents, relieves our pain,
And fun-fhine days return again.
O Fortune! who doft now beltow,
Frowning, this bitter cup of woc,
Do not thy faithful flave defroy,
But give th' alternative of joy.
Then many a painful ftep he takes,
O'er hills and vales, through woods and brakes a
No sturdy defperate buccaneer

E'er fuffer'd hardships more fevere.
Stubborn, incorrigibly blind,
No dangers can divert his mind;
His tedious journey he purfues,
At laft his eye tranfported views
Fair Portobel, whofe rifing fpires
Inflame his heart with new defires.
Secure of Fortune's grace, he fmiles,
And flattering hope the wretch beguiles.
Though nature calls for fleep and food,
Yet ftronger avarice fubdued;
Ev'n fhameful nakedness and pain,
And thirst and hunger, plead in vain :
No rest he gives his weary feet,
Fortune he fecks from street to street;
Careful in every corner pries,

Now here, now there, impatient flies,
Wherever bufy crowds refort,
The change, the market, and the port;
In vain he turns his eye-balls round,
Fortune was no where to be found;
The jilt, not many hours before,
With the Plate-fleet had left the fhore
Laughs at the credulous fool behind,
And joyful feuds before the wind.
Poor Frank forfaken on the coaft,
All his fond hopes at once are loft.
Aghaft the fweiling fails he views,
And with his eye the fleet purfues,
Till, leffen'd to his wearied fight,
It leaves him to defpair and night.
So when the faithlefs Thefeus fled
The Cretan nymph's deferted bed,
Awak'd, at diftance on the main,
She view'd the profperous perjur'd swain,
And call'd th' avenging gods in vain.
Proftrate on earth till break of day,
Senfelcfs and motionlefs he lay,
Till tears at laft find out their way;
Gufh like a torrent from his eyes,
In bitterness of foul he cries,
"O Fortune! now too la e I fee,
"Too late, alas! thy treachery.
"Wretch that I am, abandon'd, loft,
"About the world at random toft,
"Whither, oh, whither fhall I run?
"Sore pinch'd with hunger, and undone.
"In the dark mines go hide thy head
"Accurs'd, exchange thy fweat for bread,
"Sculk under ground, in earth's dark womb
"Go, flave, and dig thyfelf a tomb:
"There's gold enough; pernicious gold!
"To which long fince thy peace was fold;
"Vain helpless idol! canft thou fave
"This fhatter'd carcafe from the grave?