What could our Hero more desire,
What more his anxious wish require,
When with a calm and reas'ning eye
He ponder'd o'er his destiny,
As he unwound the tangled thread
That to his present comforts led,
And serv'd as a directing clue
In such strange ways to guide him through?
—To what new heights his hopes might soar,
It would be needless to explore:
For now the threat'ning time appears
When he is troubled with his fears.
His hopes have triumph'd o'er the past;
But then the present may not last;
And what succession he might find
Harass'd with doubts his anxious mind.
—Of the gross, cumbrous flesh the load
Sir Jeffery bore did not forebode
Through future years a ling'ring strife
Between the powers of death and life;
The legs puff'd out with frequent swell,
Did symptoms of the dropsy tell;
The stiffen'd joints no one could doubt
Were children of a settled gout;
And humours redd'ning on the face,
Bespoke the Erysipelas.
Indeed, whene'er Quæ Genus view'd,
With rich and poignant sauce embued,
As dish to dish did there succeed,
Which seem'd by Death compos'd to feed
With fatal relishes to please
The curious taste of each disease,
That did Sir Jeffery's carcase share
And riot on the destin'd fare:
When thus he watch'd th' insidious food,
He fear'd the ground on which he stood.
—Oft did he curse the weighty haunch
Which might o'ercharge Sir Jeff'ry's paunch;
And to the turtle give a kick,
Whose callipash might make him sick.
He only pray'd Sir Jeff'ry's wealth
Might keep on life and purchase health.
"Let him but live," he would exclaim,
"And fortune I will never blame."
Money is oft employ'd in vain,
To cure disease and stifle pain;
And though he hop'd yet still he fear'd
Whene'er grave Galen's self appear'd;
For when the solemn Doctor came,
(Sir Midriff Bolus was his name,)
He often in a whisper said,
"I wonder that he is not dead,
Nay, I must own, 'tis most surprising,
That such a length of gormandising
Has not ere this produc'd a treat
For hungry church-yard worms to eat,
And 'tis the skill by which I thrive
That keeps him to this hour alive. |
Nay, though I now Sir Jeffery see
In spirits and such smiling glee,
I tremble for to-morrow's fee." | } |
—When this brief tale he chose to tell
And ring his patient's fun'ral bell,
Quæ Genus fail'd not to exclaim,
As he call'd on the Doctor's name,
"O tell me not of the disaster
That I must feel for such a master,
Nay, I may add, for such a friend
Were I to go to the world's end,
Alas, my journey would be vain,
Another such I ne'er should gain!" |
| |
Sir Midriff, member of the college,
And of high standing for his knowledge,
In lab'ring physic's mystic sense
And practical experience,
As common fame was pleas'd to say,
Expected more than common pay.
Now, as Sir Jeff'ry never thought
His health could be too dearly bought,
Whene'er the healing Knight was seen,
Wrapt up within the Indian screen,
To shape the drugs that might becalm
Some secret pain or sudden qualm;
Or when there was a frequent question,
Of bile's o'erflow and indigestion,
Or some more serious want had sped
Sir Jeff'ry Gourmand to his bed,
Quæ Genus fail'd not to convey
(For he had learn'd the ready way),
The two-fold fee, by strict command,
Into Sir Midriff's ready hand.
Thus, in this kind of double dealing,
The Doctor had a pleasant feeling,
That seem'd to work up a regard
For him who gave the due reward,
And knew so well to shape the fee
From the sick chamber's treasury. |
Thus when our Hero told his pain
And did his future fears explain,
Galen replied,—"Those fears restrain, | } |
To this grave promise pray attend,
Sir Midriff Bolus is your friend." |