A plain good man, and Balaam was his name; An added pudding solemniz'd the Lord's : Constant at Church, and 'Change; his gains were sure, His givings rare, save farthings to the poor. The devil was piqued such saintship to behold, And long'd to tempt him, like good Job of old. But Satan now is wiser than of yore, And tempts by making rich, not making poor. Rous'd by the Prince of Air the whirlwinds sweep The surge, and plunge his Father in the deep; Then full against his Cornish lands they roar, And two rich shipwrecks bless the lucky shore. Sir Balaam now, he lives like other folks, He takes his chirping pint, and cracks his jokes : « Live like yourself, >> was soon my Lady's word; And lo! two puddings smok'd upon the board. Asleep and naked as an Indian lay, An honest factor stole a gem away; He pledg'd it to the knight; the knight had wit, So kept the di'mond, and the rogue was bit. Some scruple rose, but thus he eas'd his thought: << I'll now give six-pence where I gave a groat; >> Where once I went to Church, I'll now go >>> twice >> And am so clear too of all other vice. >>>> The Tempter saw his time; the work he ply'd; Stocks and subscriptions pour on ev'ry side, 'Till all the Dæmon makes his full descent In one abundant show'r of Cent per Cent; Sinks deep within him, and possesses whole, Then dubs Director, and secures his soul. Behold sir Balaam now a man of spirit, Ascribes his gettings to his parts and merit; What late he call'd a Blessing, now was Wit, And God's good Providence, a lucky Hit. Things change their titles, as our manners turn: His Compting-house employ'd the Sunday morn There (so the Devil ordain'd) one Christmas-tide A Nymph of Quality admires our Knight: He marries, bows at Court, and grows polite: Leaves the dull Cits, and joins (to please the fair) The well-bred cuckolds in St. James's air: In Britain's Senate he a seat obtains, And one more Pensioner St. Stephen gains. My Lady falls to play; so bad her chance, He must repair it; takes a bribe from France; The House impeach him; Coningsby harangues; The Court forsake him, and Sir Balaam hangs. Wife, son, and daughter, Satan! are thy own, His wealth, yet dearer, forfeit to the Crown: The Devil and the King divide the prize, And sad Sir Balaam eurses God and dies. F Edwin and Emma. AR in the windings of a vale, Nor let the pride of great ones scorn POPE. Long had she fired each youth with love, Yet knew not she was fair; 'Till Edwin came, the pride of swains, The father too, a sordid man, From whence his riches grew. In sighs to pour his soften'd soul, His cheeks, where love with beauty glow'd, A deadly pale o'ercast; So fades the fresh rose in its prime, Before the northern blast. The parents now, with late remorse, And weary'd Heaven with fruitless pray'rs, 'Tis past, he cry'd, but if your souls She came; his cold hand softly touch'd, But oh! his sister's jealous care Now homeward as she hopeless went, The blast blew cold, the dark owl scream'd Her lover's fun'ral song. Amid the falling gloom of night, Alone, appall'd thus had she pass'd When lo! the death-bell smote her ear, Sad sounding in the gale. Just then she reach'd, with trembling steps, Her aged mother's door : He's gone, she cried, and I must see That angel face no more. 1 I feel, I feel, I feel, this breaking heart Beat high against my side: From her white arm down sunk her head, She shiver'd, sigh'd, and died. CHAP. XVI. Celadon and Amelia. MALLEY. 'T thought: And yet not always on the guilty head They lov'd; but such their guiltless passion was, C |