Classic Poem

As mastiff dogs in modern phrase are
Called Pompey, Scipio, and Caesar;
As pies and daws are often styled
With Christian nicknames like a child;
As we say 'Monsieur' to an ape
Without offence to human shape:
So men have got from bird and brute
Names that would best their natures suit:
The lion, eagle, fox and boar
Were heroes' titles heretofore,
Bestowed as hieroglyphics fit

To show their valour, strength or wit.
For what is understood by fame
Besides the getting of a name?
But e'er since men invented guns,
A different way their fancy runs:
To paint a hero, we inquire
For something that will conquer fire.
Would you describe Turenne or Trump,
Think of a bucket or a pump.
Are these too low? Then find out grander,
Call my Lord Cutts a salamander.
'Tis well: but since we live among
Detractors with an evil tongue,
Who may object against the term,
Pliny shall prove what we affirm:
Pliny shall prove, and we'll apply,
And I'll be judged by standers-by.

First then, our author has defined
This reptile, of the serpent kind,
With gaudy coat, and shining train,
But loathsome spots his body stain:
Out from some hole obscure he flies
When rains descend, and tempests rise,
Till the sun clears the air; and then
Crawls back, neglected, to his den.

So when the war has raised a storm
I've seen a snake in human form,
All stained with infamy and vice,
Leap from the dunghill in a trice;
Burnish and make a gaudy show,
Become a general, peer and beau,
Till peace hath made the sky serene,
Then shrink into its hole again.

All this we grant--why, then look yonder,
Sure that must be a salamander!

Farther we are by Pliny told,
This serpent is extremely cold;
So cold, that put it in the fire,
'Twill make the very flames expire:
Besides, it spews a filthy froth,
(Whether through rage, or lust, or both)
Of matter purulent and white,
Which happening on the skin to light,
And there corrupting to a wound,
Spreads leprosy and baldness round.

So have I seen a battered beau
By age and claps grown cold as snow,
Whose breath or touch, where'er he came,
Blew out love's torch, or chilled the flame:
And should some nymph who ne'er was cruel,
Like Carleton cheap, or famed Du Ruel,
Receive the filth which he ejects;
She soon would find the same effects,
Her tainted carcass to pursue,
As from the salamander's spew:
A dismal shedding of her locks
And, if no leprosy, a pox.

Then I'll appeal to each bystander,
If this be not a salamander?