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No pills, no potions can to life restore ;
ABRACADABRA, Necromantic pow'r
Can charm, and conjure up from death no more.

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But more than aught that's marvellous and rare,
The ftudious Soph makes Polychasm' his care;
Explores what fecret spring, what hidden cause,
Diftends with hideous chafin th' unwilling jaws,
What latent ducts the dewy moisture
pour
With found tremendous, like a thunder-fhow'r :
How fubtile matter, exquifitely thin,
Pervades the curious net-work of the skin,
Affects th' accordant nerve---all eyes are drown'd
In drowsy vapours, and the
yawn goes round.
When Phoebus thus his flying fingers flings
Across the chords, and sweeps the trembling strings;

If e'er a lyre at unifon there be,

It fwells with emulating harmony,
Like Memnon's harp, in ancient times renown'd,
Breathing, untouch'd, fweet-modulated found.

But oh! ungrateful! to thy own true bard,
Oh! Polychafm', is this my juft reward?
Thy drowsy dews upon my head distill,
Juft at the entrance of th' Aonian hill;
Liftlefs I gape, unactive, and fupine,
And at vaft diftance view the facred Nine:

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Wiftful

Caftalias fitus inter aquas, inhiantis ab ore
Nectarei fugiunt latices---hos Popius urnâ
Excipit undanti, & fontem fibi vendicat omnem.

Hand aliter Socium efuriens Sizator edacem
Dum videt, appofitusque cibus frustratur hiantem,
Dentibus infrendens nequicquam lumine torvo
Sæpius exprobrat; nequicquam brachia tendit
Sedulus officiofa, dapes removere paratus.
Olli nunquam exempta fames, quin frusta suprema
Devoret, & peritura immani ingurgitet ore :
Tum demum jubet auferri; nudata capaci
Offa fonant, lugubre fonant, allifa catino.

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Wistful I view---the fireams increase my thirst,
In vain---like Tantalus, with plenty curft,
No draughts nectareous to my portion fall,
These godlike Pope exhaufts, and greatly claims them all.

Thus the lean Sizar views, with gaze agast,
The hungry Tutor at his noon's repast;
In vain he grinds his teeth---his grudging eye,
And visage sharp, keen appetite imply;
Oft he attempts, officious, to convey
The leffening relicks of the meal away---
In vain---no morsel 'scapes the greedy jaw,
All, all is gorg'd in magifterial maw;
Till at the last, obfervant of his word,

The lamentable waiter clears the board,

And inly-murmuring miserably groans,

To fee the empty difh, and hear the founding bones.

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