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Who makes it appear, by all he has writ, "His judgement alone can fet bounds to his wit; "Like Virgil correct, with his own native cafe, "But excels even Virgil in elegant praife;
"Who admires the ancients, and knows 'tis their due, "Yet writes in a manner entirely new;
"Though none with more ease their depths can explore, "Yet whatever he wants he takes from my ftore; "Though I'm fond of his virtues, his pride I can fee, "In fcorning to borrow from any but me;
"It is owing to this, that, like Cynthia, his lays
Enlighten the world by reflecting my rays."
This faid, the whole audience foon found out his drift: The convention was fummon'd in favour of Swift.
The RUN upon the BANKERS. 1720.
HE bold encroachers on the deep
Gain by degrees huge tracts of land,
Money, the life-blood of the nation,
Its motion and its heat maintains.
Becaufe 'tis lordly not to pay,
Bills turn the lenders into debtors:
"That they had never known their letters." Conceive the works of midnight hags, Tormenting fools behind their backs: Thus bankers o'er their bills and bags Sit fqueezing images of wax. Conceive the whole enchantment broke; The witches left in open air, With power no more than other folk, Expos'd with all their magic ware.
"So powerful are a banker's bills,
Where creditors demand their due; They break up counters, doors, and tills, And leave the empty chefts in view.
Thus when an earthquake lets in light
He hides within his darkeft cell.
As when a conjurer takes a lease
A baited banker thus defponds,
From his own hand forefees his fall; They have his foul, who have his bonds; 'Tis like the writing on the wall.
How will the caitiff wretch be fcar'd,
At the last trumpet unprepar'd,
And all his grand account to make!
For in that univerfal call
Few bankers will to Heaven be mounters;
When other hands the fcales fhall hold,
The DESCRIPTION of an IRISH FEAST, Tranflated almoft literally out of the Original Irish. 1720.
ROURK'S noble fare will ne'er be forgot,
By those who were there, or those who were not. His revels to keep, we fup and we dine
On feven score fheep, fat bullocks, and fwine.
O there is the fport! we rife with the light
A wooden veffel. + Handkerchief. An Irish oath.
To fhew I don't flinch, fill the bowl up again;
What ftabs and what cuts, what clattering of fticks;
AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG
To the tune of, "Packington's Pound."
ROCADOS and damasks, and tabbies, and gawfes, Are by Robert Ballentine lately brought over, With forty things more: now hear what the law fays, Whoe'er will not wear them, is not the king's lover. +Daggers or fhort-fwords. Propofal for the univerfal use of Irish manufactures, for which Waters the printer was feverely profecuted. Though
*Irifh for a woman.