.Nw.OTA5

[pg] 117

Of those more vulgar tubes that downward peep Near where the Lion aws the raging deep, The waggish youths, I tell, wt I am told Oft smeer the sides with excremental gold; Say then when peas within the body pent, Roar at the port, and struggle for a vent, Say -- shall I plunge on Dung remisely down And with unseemly ordure stain the gown? Or shall I (terrible to think) displode, Against the unbutton'd plush the smoaky load? The laugh of swabbers -- Heaven avert the Jest! And from impending storm preserve [crossed out: avert] your Priest! But grant that Cloacina gracious Queen should keep her odrous shrine for ever clean! Yet frequent must I feel the offensive spray When the toss'd vessel ploughs the swelling Sea; And as I sit; incessant must I hear The language of the nauseous Galley near; Where blockheads by the listning Priest unaw'd Tho uncomission'd, dare blaspheme their God! Happy the man* admitted oft to ride Within the wardroom, where his tools abide, The man of Leather -- he when nature calls, Can for the needful space repose his awls, And while I squeeze on some ignoble seat Can disembogue his vile burgoo in state; While peeping Nereids smoak the Christian jest The Honour'd Cobler and neglected Priest;

[in margin] *the Cobler who us'd to mend the Lieuts shoes in the quarter gallery