To gratify their friends desires,
From Bampfield Carew to Moll Squires,
Are rightly term'd Egyptians all,
Whom we mistaken-Gypsies call.
The Grecian sages borrow'd this,
As they did other sciences,
From fertile Egypt-tho' the loan
They had not honesty to own.
Dodona's oaks, inspir'd by Jove,
A learned and prophetic grove,
Turn'd vegetable necromancers,
And to all comers gave their answers.
At Delphos, to Apollo dear,
All men the voice of Fate might hear;
Each subtle priest on three-leg'd stool,
To take in wise men, play'd the fool:
A mystery so made for gain
Even now in fashion must remain :
Enthusiasts never will let drop
What brings such bus'ness to their shop :
And that great saint we Whitfield call,
Keeps up the humbug spiritual.
Among the Romans not a bird
Without a prophecy was heard ;
Fortunes of empires often hung
On the magician-magpie's tongue,
And ev'ry crow was to the state
A sure interpreter of Fate.
Prophets embody'd in a college,
(Time out of mind your seat of knowledge; 80
For genius never fruit can bear
Unless it first be planted there,
And solid learning never fails
Without the verge of college walls)
Infallible accounts would keep
When it was best to watch or sleep;
To eat or drink, to go or stay,
And when to fight or run away!
When matters were for action ripe,
By looking at a double tripe;
When emperors would live or die
They in an ass's skull could spy,
When gen rals would their station keep,
Or turn their backs, in hearts of sheep;
In matters whether small or great,
In private families or state,
As amongst us, the holy seer
Officiously would interfere,
With pious arts and rev'rend skill
Would bend lay bigots to his will,
Would help or injure foes or friends
Just as it serv'd his private ends;
Whether in honest way of trade
Traps for virginity were laid,
Or if, to make their party great,
Designs were form'd against the state,
Regardless of the commonweal,
By int'rest led, which they call Zeal,
Into the scale was always thrown
The will of Heav'n to back their own.
England, a happy land we know,
Where follies naturally grow,
Where without culture they arise,
And tow'r above the common size-
England a fortune-telling host
As numerous as the stars could boast;
Matrons who toss the cup, and see
The grounds of fate in grounds of tea,
Who, vers'd in ev'ry modest lore,
Can a lost maidenhead restore,
Or, if their pupils rather choose it,
Can show the readiest way to loose it;
Gypsies, who ev'ry ill can cure
Except the ill of being poor,
Who charms 'gainst love and agues sell,
Who can in hen-roost set a spell,
Prepar'd by arts, by them best known,
To catch all feet except their own,
Who as to fortune can unlock it
As easily as pick a pocket;
Scotchmen, who in their country's right
Possess the gift of second-sight,
Who (when their barren heaths they quit,
Sure argument of prudent wit,
Which reputation to maintain
They never venture back again)
By lies prophetic heap us riches,
And boast the luxury of breeches.
Among the rest, in former
Campbell, illustrious name! appears,
Great hero of futurity,
Who, blind, could ev'ry thing foresee,
Who dumb could every thing foretel,
Who, Fate with equity to sell,
Always dealt out the will of Heav'n
According to what price was giv'n.
Of Scottish race, in Highlands born,
Possess'd with native pride and scorn,
He hither came, by custom led,
To curse the hands which gave him bread.
With want of truth and want of sense,
Amply made up by impudence,
(A succedaneum which we find
In common use with all mankind)
Caress'd and favour'd too by those
Whose hearts with patriot feelings glows,
Who foolishly, where'er dispers'd,
Still place their native country first,
(For Englishmen alone have sense
To give a stranger preference;
Whilst modest merit of their own
Is left in poverty to groan)
Campbell foretold just what he wou'd,
And left the stars to make it good,
On whom he had impress'd such awe
His dictates current pass'd for law;
Submissive, all his empire own'd;
No star durst smile when Campbell frown'd.
This sage deceas'd, for all must die,
And Campbell's no more safe than I,
No more than I can guard the heart
When death shall hurl the fatal dart,
Succeeded, ripe in art and years,
Another fav'rite of the spheres ;
Of equal skill and equal fame;
As white each wand, as black each gown,
As long each beard, as wise each frown;
In ev'ry thing so like, you'd swear
Campbell himself was sitting there:
To all the happy art was known
To tell our fortunes, make their own,
Seated in garret, for you know
The nearer to the stars we go
The greater we esteem his art,
Fools curious flock'd from ev'ry part :
The rich, the poor, the maid, the marry'd,
And those who could not walk were carry'd.
The butler, hanging down his head, By chambermaid or cookmaid led,
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