Soto. A Character

IN Soto's Bosom you may find
The Glimm'ring of a worthy Mind:
Tis but a faint and feeble Ray,
Imperfect as the dawning Day;
Yet were the jarring Passions tun'd,
And the wild Branches nicely prun'd,
The Soil from Thorns and Thistles clear,
Some latent Virtues might appear:
I'th' Morning catch him, (early tho'
Your Bird will else be flown, I trow,)
E'er he has reach'd the bowzing Can,
You'll find the Stamp of reas'ning Man:
Then see the Wretch whom none can rule,
E'er Night a Mad-man and a Fool;
The witty Soto then you'll find,
Just level with the brutal Kind.
With crimson Face and winking Eyes,
That look like Woodcocks, mighty wise:
See streams a Current down his Chin,
From soft Tobacco lodg'd within;
Be pleas'd to steal a Glance or two,
But one may serve to make you—

He fain wou'd walk, but cannot stand,
And see a Palsy in his Hand;
And tho' his Throat has swallow'd down
Two Gallons of October brown,
His greedy Guts impatient roar,
And seem to call aloud for more:
More they shall have: But hark, within
Is heard a rude and lawless Din:
Wind, Ale, and Phlegm their Powers wage,
And Hickups call them to engage;
And now, Ah now! incessant flows
The frothy Tide from Mouth and Nose:
No more is seen the cover'd Ground,
But a huge River floating round:
Down drops the Youth, his giddy Head
Falls easy on the liquid Bed:
So swam Achilles fierce and brave,
On angry Xanthus's swelling Wave;
And 'scap'd with being wet to th' Skin;
For Pallas held him up by th' Chin:
So Bacchus saves, by mighty Charms,
His helpless Devotee from Harms:
And Soto sleeps till break of Day,
Then shakes his Ears and walks away.