I Need no Genial Muse to call upon;
A Celler was the Muses Helicon:
Verse under ground first learnt to tread on Hoof,
Swelling Parnassus was the nat'ral Roof;
The Sisters here first put on Soreing Wing,
And in a Cave were first inspir'd to Sing;
Those Earthen Walls their Secrets did inclose,
To lofty Rhime, subliming humble Prose.
My thirsty Muse can't chuse but make a hault,
To Bath our Genius at th' inspiring Vault,
Where every Seat's a several Muses Throne,
And every Hogshead a fresh Helicon.
The New-Exchange, the Beauty of our Nation,
A structure worthy of so rich Foundation;
The Worlds great Ware-house, and may yet Engage
With her Fair Sister, Envy of our Age.
Thy Wealth above may serve to make a show;
But Nature plants her Richest Pearls below,
And all thy spacious Outside is no more,
Than a Rich Cabinet to inclose the Store.
The Riches which intomb'd within our Cell,
Outvie the Ruby, and the Carbuncle:
Here for small Cost you Treasure may have store,
This oft makes Poor Men Rich, that Rich Men Poor;
No Bankrupts here, whilst Faith does but remain,
If Broke, next Sixpence sets him up again.
Nature ordain'd us first in Caves to dwell,
And Adam dig'd, to make his Eve a Cell:
They knew no other Court: When Cain was curst,
He Built a City, and that was the first;
The rest content with Natures House, the Cell,
In Holes, and Concaves of the Earth did dwell:
Through Europe, Asia, and Black Africk rig'd,
No other Palaces but what they dig'd.
O're Spacious Vaults they their Foundations found;
Faiths, in old Pauls, was planted under ground:
A Thousand Danish Courts within this Isle,
Do yet remain a Monumental Pile:
Caves were the Thrones of Kings; he was the Slave,
Who for a House exchang'd his Princely Cave:
The Cynnicks Tub was but a Tanners Pit,
And an old Cask wall'd in its Guest, and it:
High Tow'rs on Heav'n were deem'd but an Intrusion,
And lofty Babel only brought Confusion.
But this vast Work excels, and dare outvie,
The proudest Structure that Invades the Skie.
Had the great Queen beheld our Helicon,
She'd blush'd to see her tot'ring Babylon;
More than its Rise, she'd glory in the Fall,
And downwards hence Erect her Towers all.
The highest Pyramids their Cells possest,
And Cellers are but Palaces transverst;
The lower the Foundation sinks, the higher
The Structures vast Circumference does aspire:
Here Stories do descend from Floor to Floor,
And sinking deeper, adds a Story more.
Thus the vast Work increaseth every day,
And does enlarge by what they take away:
As Hollanders incroaching on the Main,
The more they shuffle out, the more they gain.
As if kind Art with Nature did compound,
To hide her Richest Treasure under ground:
In the first Room Sev'n Sisters Fair abide,
As Bacchus with Minerva were ally'd:
The Liberal Arts their Beauties there display,
Making the Guests as Liberal as they.
Grammar denys to speak incongruous there,
And Lady Musick holds them by the Ear;
Dame Geometry learns how to clear the Cost,
And Numbers not to reckon before Host;
Madam Astronomy, the Starry Dame,
By Stars reflect, makes day and night the same;
The Argument close-fisted Logick opes,
And Rhetorick speaks nothing but in Tropes.
Who thus inthron'd amongst the Sisters sits,
Are Vertuoso's, and may pass for Wits;
And he that drinking learns the best, may be
A Royal Member oth' Society.
Next over head the Elements appear,
Each by Apartment in his proper Sphere;
As if wise Nature, that fore-sees the dark
Designs of Fate (like Noah in the Ark,)
After so lively, and Mysterious fashion,
Preserv'd 'em here against a new Creation.
Within the next Division you may see,
The Scenes of Landcips, Prospects, Husbandry;
One with a Spade, another with a Hook,
You'd think the Picture sweat, with pains they took.
The Fruit so lively does adorn the Trees,
It cheats the Birds, and we are caught by these;
One by the Fowler Shot, so plump did fall,
I run to take it up, and catch'd the Wall;
Another scatter'd from the Flock, by th' Tail,
I thought had dropt into a Milkmaids Pail;
I'de snatch'd it thence, but only to be Just,
I learnt it there, Weaving my Truth with Trust.
I pass the rest, the Stare-case and the Seats,
And now my Muse into the Vault retreats.
The Vault, that Artificial Arbour, where
The Vine, and Grape's in season all the Year;
So full and plump they look, I've seen 'em scrape
The Sapless Sieling, hoping for the Grape.
And many who Commend, and Flock to see
The rich Adornment of the Pillory,
From Islington and Hamsted quit their Gate,
To see the Rat, and Baker hang in State.
On th' other end you may behold the Doom
Of all the Caesars, and the state of Rome;
In Charcoal-work old Rome so much surpasses,
Like a new Phoenix sprung from her own Ashes.
The mighty Capitol in Charcoal Ore,
More glorious in the shadow, than before;
And all the Structures, and the Hero's round,
In Sable Dust of their own Ruins Crown'd:
Such had proud Nero but beheld, his Fame
Wou'd not commend his Building, but the Flame,
That by Mysterious Pencil, we at home
Shou'd from her Ashes raise a braver Rome;
And Furies for this Cause his Tomb wou'd range;
Because his Rome falls short of our Exchange.
But to refresh, my thirsty Muse is gone,
To the Rich Fountains of her Helicon,
Who in a Celler lives, or dies in Cave,
Hath found at once a Lodging, and a Grave.

London, Printed by T. Ratcliffe and N. Thompson, Anno Dom. MDCLXXV.

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