Led with amazing art along

The bafhful dame, and loos'd her tongue;
And, whilst he made her value known,
Yet more difplay'd and rais'd his own.

Thus young, thus proof to all temptations,
He rises to the highest stations

(For where high honour is the prize,
True Virtue has a right to rife) :
Let courtly flaves low bend the knee
To Wealth and Vice in high degree:
Exalted Worth difdains to owe
Its grandeur to its greatest foe.

Now rais'd on high, fee Virtue fhows
The godlike ends for which he rofe;
For him, let proud Ambition know
The height of glory here below,
Grandeur, by goodness made compleat !
To bless, is truly to be great!
He taught how men to honour rise,
Like gilded vapours to the skies,
Which, howfoever they display
Their glory from the god of day,
Their nobleft ufe is to abate
His dangerous excess of heat,

To fhield the infant fruits and flowers,
And bless the earth with genial showers.
Now change the fcene; a nobler care
Demands him in a higher sphere * :

* Lord Carteret had the honour of mediating peace

for Sweden with Denmark and with the Czar.

Distress

Distress of nations calls him hence,
Permitted fo by Providence;

For models, made to mend our kind,
To no one clime should be confin'd;
And Manly Virtue, like the fun,
His courfe of glorious toils fhould run;
Alike diffufing in his flight
Congenial joy, and life, and light.
Pale Envy fickens, Error flies,
And Difcord in his prefence dies;
Oppreffion hides with guilty dread,
And Merit rears her drooping head;
The arts revive, the vallies sing,
And winter foftens into fpring:

The wondering world, where'er he moves,
With new delight looks up and loves;
One fex confenting to admire,

Nor lefs the other to defire;

Whilft he, though seated on a throne,
Confines, his love to one alone;
The reft condemn'd, with rival voice
Repining, do applaud his choice.

Fame now reports, the Western Ifle`
Is made his manfion for a while,
Whofe anxious natives night and day
(Happy beneath his righteous fway)
Weary the gods with ceafeless prayer,
To blefs him, and to keep him there;
And claim it as a debt from fate,
Too lately found, to lofe him late.

VERSES on the UPRIGHT JUDGE, who condemned the DRA PIER'S PRINTER.

HE church I hate, and have good reason;

THE

For there my grandfire cut his weazand:

He cut his weazand at the altar;

I keep my gullet for the halter.

IN church your grandfire cut his throat :
To do the job, too long he tarry'd :

He should have had my hearty vote,
To cut his throat before he marry'd.

(The JUDGE fpeaks.)

I'M not the grandfon of that afs* Quin;

Nor can you prove it, Mr. Pafquin.
My grand-dame had gallants by twenties,
And bore my mother by a 'prentice.
This when my grandfire knew, they tell us he
In Chrift-church cut his throat for jealousy.
And, fince the alderman was mad you say,
Then I must be so too, ex traduce.

VOL. I.

* An alderman

X

RIDDLES,

BY DR. SWIFT AND HIS FRIENDS,

Written in or about the Year 1724.

IN

Or bathing in the waters fair,
Nature to form me took delight,
And clad my body all in white,
My person tall, and flender waift,
On either fide with fringes grac'd
Till me that tyrant man efpy'd,
And dragg'd me from my mother's fide:
No wonder now I look fo thin;

The tyrant ftript me to the skin :

My skin he flay'd, my hair he cropt;
At head and foot my body lopt:

And then, with heart more hard than stone,
He pick'd my marrow from the bone.
To vex me more, he took a freak
To flit my tongue, and make me fpeak:
But, that which wonderful appears,
I fpeak to eyes, and not to ears.
He oft' employs me in difguife,
And makes me tell a thousand lies:
To me he chiefly gives in truft
To please his malice or his luft,
From me no fecret he can hide;
I fee his vanity and pride:

And

And my delight is to expofe
His follies to his greatest foes.

All languages I can command,.
Yet not a word I understand.
Without my aid, the best divine
In learning would not know a line:
The lawyer must forget his pleading;
The scholar could not fhew his reading.
Nay; man my mafter is my flave:
I give command to kill or save,
Can grant ten thousand pounds a year,
And make a beggar's brat a peer.

But, while I thus

I only haften on my

my life relate,

fate.

My tongue is black, my mouth is furr'd,

I hardly now can force a word.
I die unpitied and forgot,
And on fome dunghill left to rot.

II. On GOLD.

ALL-ruling tyrant of the earth,

To vileft flaves I owe my birth.

How is the greatest monarch bleft,
When in my gawdy livery drest!
No haughty nymph has power to run
From me; or my embraces fhun.
Stabb'd to the heart, condemn'd to flame,
My conftancy is still the fame.

The favourite meffenger of Jove,

And Lemnian God, confulting ftrove