She ceased. Then swells the chapel-royal[286] throat: God save King Cibber! mounts in every note. 320 Familiar White's, God save King Colley! cries; God save King Colley! Drury lane replies: To Needham's quick the voice triumphal rode, But pious Needham[287] dropp'd the name of God; Back to the Devil[288] the last echoes roll, And Coll! each butcher roars at Hockley-hole. So when Jove's block descended from on high (As sings thy great forefather Ogilby[289]), Loud thunder to its bottom shook the bog, And the hoarse nation croak'd, God save King Log! VARIATIONS. VER. 1. The mighty mother, &c. In the first edition it was thus-- Books and the man I sing, the first who brings The Smithfield muses to the ear of kings. Say, great patricians! since yourselves inspire These wondrous works (so Jove and Fate require) Say, for what cause, in vain decried and cursed, Still--- After VER. 22, in the MS.-- Or in the graver gown instruct mankind, Or silent let thy morals tell thy mind. But this was to be understood, as the poet says, _ironice_, like the 23d verse. VER. 29. Close to those walls, &c. In the former edition thus-- Where wave the tatter'd ensigns of Rag-fair,[245] A yawning ruin hangs and nods in air;[246] Keen hollow winds howl through the bleak recess, Emblem of music caused by emptiness; Here in one bed two shivering sisters lie, The cave of Poverty and Poetry. VER. 41 in the former lines-- Hence hymning Tyburn's elegiac lay, Hence the soft sing-song on Cecilia's day. VER. 42 alludes to the annual songs composed to music on St Cecilia's Feast. VER. 85 in the former editions-- 'Twas on the day--when Thorald,[290] rich and grave. VER. 108. But chief in Bayes's, &e. In the former edition thus-- But chief, in Tibbald's monster-breeding breast; Sees gods with demons in strange league engage, And earth, and heaven, and hell her battles wage. She eyed the bard, where supperless he sate, And pined, unconscious of his rising fate; Studious he sate, with all his books around, Sinking from thought to thought, &c-- VER. 121. Round him much embryo, &c. In the former editions thus-- He roll'd his eyes, that witness'd huge dismay, Where yet unpawn'd much learned lumber lay; Volumes whose size the space exactly fill'd, Or which fond authors were so good to gild, Or where, by sculpture made for ever known, The page admires new beauties not its own. Here swells the shelf, &c.-- VER. 146. In the first edition it was-- Well-purged, and worthy W--y, W--s, and Bl---. VER. 162. A twisted, &c. In the former edition-- And last, a little Ajax[291] tips the spire. VER. 177. Or, if to wit, &c. In the former edition--