Satires 1.8 (Creech): Olim Truncus Eram

LOng time I lay a useless Piece of Wood,
Till Artists doubtful for what the Log was good,
A Stool, or God; resolved to make a God:
So I was made, my Form the Log receives,
A mighty Terror I to Birds and Thieves:
My Hook and my vast Pole the Thieves affright,
And keep the Garden safe from Rogues by night:
My gastly Head is Crown'd with staring Reed,
To fright the Sparrows from the new-sown Seed;

This Plat where now I stand was heretofore
A Common Place of Burial for the Poor,
Here by the Common Beadle of the Town
The Poorer sort, and Spendthrifts Corps were thrown,
They got this Plat when they had spent their own.
A thousand Foot in length, three hundred broad
As the Inscription shows, by Will bestow'd
For Publick Use, and for the Common Good.
But now where only frightful Bones were seen,
That Checkred with a gastly White the Green,
Mecaenas built a Summers soft retreat:
The Air is Good, and 'tis a pretty Seat.
And now I take but very little Care,
For Thieves and Birds that come and rifle here;
The troublesome Witches vex me more then They,
Those Wretches I can never drive away:
For when the Moon is up, each comes and pulls
Her pois'nous Herbs, or gathers Bones and Skulls.

I oft have seen the Hag Canidia there,
Bare-foot, Her Coat tuck't short, and loose her Hair:
With elder Sagana, I saw them run,
(They both were gastly, pale to look upon.)
I heard them howl, and saw the furious Witch,
Whilst with her Nails she scrap't a little Ditch,
Then tear black Lambs, and pour in all the Blood,
And call the hungry Ghosts to take their Food,
The Ghosts that were to tell her what she wou'd.
Of Wool and Wax they made two Images,
Which the bewitch't and Witches Forms express,
The Wool the greater, to torment the less:
The Wax was to be whipt, and seem'd to bow,
And there stood cringing as it fear'd the blow.
One Hecate invokes with dreadful Pray'r,
And one Tisiphone, and streight They hear
Black Serpents hiss and Hell-hounds barking there.
The Moon skulk't streight, and as afraid to view
This gastly sight, behind the Tombs withdrew.
Now if I lye let Birds disdain my Reed,
And come and Perch, and dung upon my Head:
Let me be spit, let me be piss't upon
By all the Rogues and Rascals of the Town:
Why should I mention all I saw or heard?
How in their Ditch They hid a Tyger's Beard;
And Serpent's Tooth: how with a squeaking Voice
The Witch and Ghost discours't? how harsh the Noise?
How by slow Fires the Waxen Form did wast:
And frighted I reveng'd my self at last.
For loud, as a blown Bladder when 'tis broak,
I stoutly farted from my Arse of Oak;
The frighted Witches start and drop for fear
Canidia Teeth, and Sagana false Hair;
Away their Charms and pois'nous Herbs were thrown,
Each takes her ambling Switch, and hasts to Town,
It would have made you split to see Them run.