full low:

And pluck'd him up, though he grew
And, as I had done, the cocke did crow.

4 WITCH.

And I ha' beene chusing out this scull
From charnell houses that were full;
From private grots, and publike pits;
And frighted a sexton out of his wits.

By day; and, when the childe was a-sleepe
At night, I suck'd the breath; and rose,
And pluck'd the nodding nurse by the nose.

6 WITCH.

I had a dagger: what did I with that?

Killed an infant to have his fat.

A piper it got at a church-ale,

I bade him again blow the wind i' the taile.

7 WITCH.

A murderer, yonder, was hung in chaines ;
The sunne and the wind had shrunke his veines:
I bit off a sinew; I clipp'd his haire;

I brought off his ragges, that danced i' the ayre.

8 WITCH.

The scrich-owles

egges

and the feathers blacke,

The bloud of the frogge, and the bone in his backe

I have been getting; and made of his skin
A purset, to keep Sir Cranion in.

9 WITCH.

And I ha' beene plucking (plants among)
Hemlock, henbane, adders-tongue,
Night-shade, moone-wort, libbards-bane;
And twise by the dogges was like to be tane,

10 WITCH.

I from the jawes of a gardener's bitch

Did snatch these bones, and then leap'd the ditch; Yet went I back to the house againe,

Kill'd the blacke cat, and here is the braine,

11 WITCH.

I went to the toad, breedes under the wall,
I charmed him out, and he came at my call;
I scratch'd out the eyes of the owle before;

I tore the batt's wing: what would

you

have more?

DAME.

Yes: I have brought, to helpe your vows, Horned poppie, cypresse boughes,

The fig-tree wild, that

growes on tombes,

And juice that from the larch-tree comes,

The basiliske's bloud, and the viper's skin: And now our orgies let's begin.

No. XXXV.

ADMIRAL HOSIER'S GHOST.

GLOVER.

"This was a Party Song, written by the ingenious Author of Leonidas, on the taking of Porto-Bello from the Spaniards by Admiral Vernon, Nov. 22, 1739.-The case of Hosier, which is here so pathetically represented, was briefly this: In April, 1726, that commander was sent with a strong fleet into the Spanish West Indies, to block up the galleons in the ports of that country, or should they presume to come out, to seize and carry them into England: he accordingly arrived at the Bastimentos near Porto-Bello; but being employed rather to overawe than to attack the Spaniards, with whom it was probably not our interest to go to war, he continued long inactive on that station, to his own great regret. He afterwards removed to Carthagena, and remained cruizing in these seas, till far the greater part of his men perished deplorably by the diseases of that unhealthy climate. This brave man, seeing his best officers and men thus daily swept away, his ships exposed to inevitable destruction, and himself made the sport of the enemy, is said to have died of a broken heart. Such is the account of Smollet, compared with that of other less partial writers."

As near Porto-Bello lying,

On the gently swelling flood,
At midnight, with streamers flying,
Our triumphant navy rode;

There, while Vernon sate all glorious
From the Spaniards' late defeat,
And his crews, with shout victorious,
Drank success to England's fleet,

On a sudden, shrilly sounding,

Hideous yells and shrieks were heard; Then, each heart with fear confounding, A sad troop of ghosts appear'd, All in dreary hammocks shrouded, Which for winding sheets they wore, And with looks, by sorrow clouded, Frowning on that hostile shore.

On them gleam'd the moon's wan lustre,
When the shade of Hosier brave

His pale bands was seen to muster,
Rising from their watery grave.
O'er the glimmering wave he hied him,
Where the Burford* rear'd her sail,
With three thousand ghosts beside him,
And in groans did Vernon hail.

"Heed, oh heed our fatal story, "I am Hosier's injured ghost; "You, who now have purchased glory, "At this place where I was lost!

* Admiral Vernon's ship.