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              THE

          VIRTUES

                    OF

SID HAMET the MAGICIAN's

              ROD.

THE Rod was buta harmleſs Wand,
While Moſes heldit in his Hand,
But ſoon as e'er he lay'd it down,
'
Twas a devouring Serpent grown.

OUR great Magician, Hamet Sid,
Reverſes what the Prophet did ;
His Rod was honeſt Engliſh Wood,
That, ſenſeleſs, in a Corner ſtood,
Till Metamorphos'd by his Graſp,
It grew an all-devouring Aſp ;
Would hiſs,and ſting, and roll, and twiſt,
By the meer Virtue of his Fiſt :
But when he lay'd it down, as quick
Reſum'd the Figure of a Stick.

SO to Her Midnight Feaſt the Hag,
Rides on a Broomſtick for a Nag,
That, rais'd by Magick of her Breech,
O'er Sea and Land conveys the Witch;
But, with the Morning-Dawn, reſumes
The Peaceful State of common Brooms.

THEY tell us ſomething ſtrange and odd,
About a certain Magick Rod,
That, bending down it's Top, divines
When e'er the Soil has Golden Mines :
Where there are none, it ſtands erect,
Scorning to ſhow the leaſt Reſpect.
As ready was the Wand of Sid
To bend where Golden Mines were hid;
In Scottiſh Hills found precious Ore,
Where none e'er look'd for it before ;
And, by a gentle Bow, divin'd
How well a Cully'sPurſe was lin'd :
To a forlorn and broken Rake,
Stood without Motion, like a Stake.

THE Rod of Hermes was renown'd
For Charms above and under Ground ;
To ſleep could Mortal Eye-lids fix
And drive departed Souls to Styx.           That

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