Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/249

Rh And if your voice had not been loud, You must have pass’d among the crowd. But now, your danger to prevent, You must apply to Mrs. Brent; For she, as priestess, knows the rites Wherein the god of earth delights. First, nine ways looking, let her stand With an old poker in her hand; Let her describe a circle round In Saunders' cellar on the ground: A spade let prudent Archy hold, And with discretion dig the mould: Let Stella look with watchful eye, Rebecca, Ford, and Grattans by. Behold the bottle, where it lies With neck elated toward the skies! The god of winds and god of fire Did to its wondrous birth conspire; And Bacchus for the poet's use Pour'd in a strong inspiring juice. See! as you raise it from its tomb, It drags behind a spacious womb, And in the spacious womb contains A sovereign medicine for the brains. You'll find it soon, if fate consents; If not, a thousand Mrs. Brents, Ten thousand Archys, arm'd with spades, May dig in vain to Pluto's shades. From thence a plenteous draught infuse, And boldly then invoke the Muse; But first let Robert on his knees, With caution drain it from the lees: The Muse will at your call appear, With Stella's praise to crown the year. A SA-