And he who, 'cause he has not seen, Will not believe, hath ne'er, I ween, With due attention mused upon Thy page, O BRITISH SOLOMON ! Thus far in preface--Now I'll tell How Spleen arose, when Witchcraft fell. By vengeful laws the Wizard brood Long harass'd and at last subdued, Their black Familiars all repair Before the throne of Lucifer, With sad petitions, setting forth Their many grievances on earth, What torments they were doom'd to bear While tending on their Witches there: Some drown'd, to prove their innocence, Or, scaping, hang'd on that pretence; Some burnt within their steeple hats, Some nine times murder'd in their Cats: Brief, they petition'd to enjoy Some less adventurous employ, Since witchcraft now was thought so common They were not safe in an old woman. Their suit was granted-up they came New-liveried in sulphur flame, With licence thro' the realm to range; But, with their pow'r, their name they change. Magic no longer now is seen, And what was Witchcraft once, is Spleen : Yet still they most delight to vex, As first they did, the female sex; And still, like an old witch's charm, They tease, but have no power to harm. Tho' Doctors otherwise have told, The tale is true that I unfold: And with my system suits the name, For Spleen and Vapours are the same; |