Juggler And Vice.

        A juggler once had travelled thorough
        Each city, market-town, and borough;
        You'd think, so far his art transcended,
        Old Nick upon his fingers tended.

        Vice heard his name: she read his bill,
        And sought his booth - defied his skill.

        The juggler, willing, laid a wager,
        Not yet by losses rendered sager;
        He played his tricks of high emprize, -
        Confounding touch, deluding eyes.
        Then cards obeyed his will, and gold
        From empty bags in torrents rolled!
        He showed an ivory egg: and then
        Hatched and brought forth the mother-hen!

        Vice then stepped forth, with look serene
        Enough to stir a juggler's spleen:
        She passed a magic looking-glass,
        Which pleased alike dame, lad, and lass;
        Whilst she, a senator addressing,
        Said: "See this bank-note - lo! a blessing -
        Breathe on it - Presto! hey! 'tis gone!"
        And on his lips a padlock shone.
        "Hey, presto!" and another puff,
        It went, and he spoke well enough!
        She placed twelve bottles on the board,
        They were with some enchantment stored;
        "Hey, presto!" and they disappear -
        A pair of bloody swords were there.
        She showed a purse unto a thief,
        His fingers closed on it in brief;
        "Hey, presto!" and - the treasure fled -
        He grasped a halter, noosed, instead.
        Ambition held a courtier's wand,
        It turned a hatchet in his hand.
        A box for charities, she drew;
        "Blow here!" and a churchwarden blew -
        "Hey, presto, open!" Opened, in her,
        For gold was a parochial dinner!
        Vice shook the dice, she smote the board,
        And filled all pockets from her hoard.
        A counter, in a miser's hand,
        Grew twenty guineas at command;
        She bade a rake to grasp them, fain -
        They turned a counter back again.
        The transmutations of a guinea
        Made every one stare like a ninny;
        But fair was false, and false was fair,
        By which Vice cheated eye and ear.

        The juggler, though with grief at heart,
        In recognition of her art,
        Said: "Now and then I cheat the throng,
        You every day - and all day long!"