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Who prowl'd the country far and near, Bewitch'd the children of the peasants,
Dry'd up the cows, and lam'd the deer, And fuck'd the eggs, and kill'd the pheasants.
My Lady heard their joint petition, Swore by her coronet and ermine, . She'd iffue out her high commiflion
To rid the manour of such vermin.
The Heroines undertook the task,
Thro' lanes unknown, o'er ftiles they ventur'd,
Rapp'd at the door, nor ftay'd to afk, But bounce into the parlour enter'd.
The trembling family they daunt,
Rummage his Mother, pinch his Aunt,
Each hole and cupboard they explore, Each creek and cranny of his chamber,
Run hurry-fkurry round the floor, And o'er the bed and tester clamber,
Into the Draw'rs and China pry,
Under a tea-cup he might lie,
On the first marching of the troops The Mufes, hopelefs of his pardon, Convey'd him underneath their hoops To a small closet in the garden.
So Rumour fays. (Who will, believe) But that they left the door a-jarr,
Where, fafe and laughing in his fleeve, He heard the diftant din of war.
Short was his joy. He little knew,
The power of Magic was no fable.
But left a pell upon the table.
The words too eager to unriddle
And chains invifible the border.
So cunning was the apparatus,
The powerful pot-hooks did fo move him,
That, will he, nill he, to the Great-house He went, as if the Devil drove him.
Yet on his way (no fign of grace, For folks in fear are apt to pray)
To Phœbus he prefer'd his cafe,
And begg'd his aid that dreadful day.
The God-head would have back'd his quarrel, But with a blush, on recollection
Own'd, that his quiver and his laurel 'Gainst four such eyes were no protection.
The Court was fate, the Culprit there, Forth from their gloomy mansions creeping
The Lady Janes and Joans repair, And from the gallery ftand peeping.
Such as in filence of the night
(*Styack has often feen the fight) Or at the chapel-door ftand fentry,