The Names and Virtues

Old Mother D'Acier, in her Notes On Homer, some hard Greek Word quotes, Calls it Nep, nep,—I know not what, And says it is the very Plant that The tawny Queen to Helen sent, To cure her Griefs at all Event. Great Milton's Murd'rer says it is The fam'd Machæra Herculis, And proves from some old Grecian Poet, So plain that all Men sure must know it, That of this Tree the Club was made, With which he overcame ('tis said) Thespius' Daughters, all grown wild, And fifty Mad-Women made mild; Which very Club—(it makes one Laugh) Omphale turn'd into a Distaff. Nay, the Hesperian Tree was this, As shew the Poma Veneris; These Apples doubtless were the Fruit That 'twixt the Queens rais'd such Dispute, To make 'em all stark-naked stand, While Paris held it in his Hand, And chuck'd it into Venus' Mouth, 'Cause she with Beauty fir'd the Youth. The Virtues are of such great Note, That twenty Volumes might be wrote; The Juice alone Green-Sickness cures, And purges thro' all corporal Pores; If any Maid be sick, or faint Of Love, or Father's close Constraint, One Spoonfull of this Cordial Balm Soon stops each Grief, and every Qualm; 'Tis true, they sometimes Tumours cause, And in the Belly make strange Flaws, But a few Moons will make 'em sound, And safely fetch the Swelling down. Not Saffron chears the Heart like this, Nor can Champaign give such a Bliss: When Wife and Husband do fall out, And both remain in sullen pout, This brings them to themselves again, And fast unites the broken Chain; Makes Feuds and Discords straightway cease And gives at least a Night of Peace. This Rarity may now be seen In Lambeth, at a Garden Green, Bowen his Name, who in high Tone, Calls it the Tree of Silver Spoon, Which all the Maids of curious Eyes May there behold of largest Size.