Skip to main content

(2) next ››› [Page 2][Page 2]






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

Images and transcriptions on this page, including medium image downloads, may be used under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International Licence unless otherwise stated. Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International Licence