Page:The dispensary - a poem in six canto's (sic) (IA b30356775).pdf/84

 A Foliage of the Vulnerary Leaves, Grav'd round the Brim, the wond'ring Sight deceives. Around the Center Fate's bright Trophies lay, Probes, Saws, Incision Knives, and Tools to slay. Embost upon the Field, a Battel stood Of Leeches spouting Hemorrhoidal Blood. The Artist too exprss'd the solemn State Of grave Physicians at a Consult met; About each Symptom how they disagree, But how unanimous in case of Fee. Whilst each Assassin his learn'd Colleague tires With learn'd Impertinence, the Sick expires.

Beneath this Blazing Orb bright Querpo shone, Himself an Atlas, and his Shield a Moon. A Pestle for his Truncheon led the Van, And his high Helmet was a Close-stool Pan. His Crest an Ibis, brandishing her Beak, And winding in loose Folds her spiral Neck. This, when the Young Querpoides beheld, His Face in Nurse's Breast the Boy conceal'd; Then peept, and with th' effulgent Helm wou'd play, And as the Monster gap'd wou'd shrink away. Thus sometimes Joy prevail'd, and sometimes Fear; And Tears and Smiles alternate Passions were.

As Querpo tow'ring stood in Martial Might, Pacifick Carus sparkled on the Right. An