'TWAS past the Date of sav'ry Noon,
And downwards roll'd the radiant Sun,
When all (except us rhyming Sinners)
Had rosted, boil'd, and eat their Dinners;
In my great Chair I sat to pout,
And beat my weary Brains about;
About (what did not much avail)
Riddle of the Nail;
When  took me by Surprise,
And put his Finger in my Eyes:
'Twas He, for Poets never nod
Without the Influence of a God:
I dream'd of what — Why, you shall hear,
Good People all, I pray draw near,
Methought there lay before my Eyes
A Nail of more than common Size;
'Twas one that nails our Garden Door,
And oft my Petticoat has tore:
When sudden (it is true, my Friend)
It rear'd itself, and stood an end,
And tho' no Mouth I cou'd descry,
It talk'd as fast as you or I:
And thus began — As I am told
'You Poets seldom deal in Gold;
'That's not the Price of empty Songs,
'But to Sir  belongs;
'Bright Silver is Sir  Claim,
'And Copper for the lab'ring Dame;
'If so (that each may have their due)
'We rusty Nails belong to you;
'I therefore ask as my Desert
'(I hope you bear a grateful Heart)
'You write my Life — and be it shown
'What strange Adventures I have known.
'I must confess I was not made.
'So early quite as  Spade;
'Yet many Ages I have known,
'And double with my Labours grown:
'I occupy'd, the first of all,
'A worthy Post at
'Where I, with seven hundred more,
'Were hammer'd in the spacious Door:
'And there had haply stuck till now,
'Had not old  broke his Plough;
'Who seeing none but us at hand,
'And knowing us a trusty Band,
'Me with the Pincers sore oppress'd,
'And drew me headlong from the rest:
'My lazy Life, alas! was done,
'And now I toil'd from Sun to Sun:
'None pity me, and none relieve,
'Till Fortune gave me a Reprieve:
'My Master broke his Plough again,
'And I from thence was dragg'd amain.
'To  Chamber next I came,
'And bore a Glass with curious Frame;
'To whom the lovely Nymphs repair:
'There  spread her shining Hair;
'All smiling there was  seen,
'And  ty'd her Ribbands green.
'At last my Mistress drew too nigh,
'And some ill Genius standing by,
'Drove me directly in her Eye.
'Then I was banish'd from her Train,
'Hurl'd on a Dunghill with Disdain.
'But idle long I did not lie,
'For old Sir  walking by,
'Who held it was a crying Sin,
'To trample o'er and slight a Pin.
'And that they well deserve a Jail,
'Who proudly scorn a rusty Nail,
'Carry'd me home, and made secure
'With me — a stately oaken Door.
'Through the strong Boards he made me go,
'To keep his Daughter from a Beau;
'But she (what is't but Love can do?)
'With  eat me through:
'A Cripple now, and useless quite,
'I'm banish'd from the chearful Light:
'And all folk despise me that behold;
'At last I to a Smith was sold,
'Who had Compassion on my Pain,
'And brought me to myself again.