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DR. SW IF T*.

ARE you difpute, you faucy brute,
And think there's no refelling
Your fcurvy lays, and fenfelefs praise
You give to Ballyfpellin?

Howe'er you bounce, I here pronounce,
Your medicine is repelling;

Your water 's mud, and fours the blood,
When drunk at Ballyfpellin.

Those pocky drabs, to cure their scabs,
You thither are compelling,

Will back be fent worse than they went,
From nafty Ballyfpellin.

Llewellyn why? As well may I
Name honeft doctor Pellin;

So hard fometimes you tug for rhymes,

To bring in Ballyfpellin.

No fubject fit to try your wit,

When you went colonelling;

But dull intrigues 'twixt jades and teagues,

That met at Ballyfpellin.

*This anfwer was refented by Dr. Sheridan, as an

affront on himself and the lady he attended to the fpaw. N.

Our

Our laffes fair, fay what you dare,
Who fowing make with shelling,
At Market-hill more beaux can kill, '
Than yours at Ballyfpellin.

Would I was whipt, when Sheelah stript,
To wash herself our well in ;

A bum fo white ne'er came in fight,
At paultry Ballyfpellin.

Your mawkins there fmocks hempen wear,

Of Holland not an ell in;

No, not a rag, whate'er you brag,

Is found at Ballyfpellin.

But Tom will prate at any rate,
All other nymphs expelling;

Because he gets a few grifettes
At loufy Ballyfpellin.

There's bonny Jane, in yonder lane,
Juft o'er against The Bell-inn ́;
Where can you meet a lafs so sweet,
Round all your Ballyspellin ?

We have a girl deserves an earl;
She came from Enniskillin:
So fair, fo young, no such among
The belles at Bally spellin.

How would you ftare, to fee her there,

The foggy mift difpelling,

That clouds the brows of every blowse
Who lives at Ballyfpellin !

Now as I live, I would not give

A ftiver for a fkellin,

To towfe and kifs the faireft mifs
That leaks at Ballyfpellin.

Whoe'er will raife fuch lies as thefe
Deferves a good cudgélling:
Who falfely boafts of belles and toafts,
At dirty Ballyfpellin.

My rhymes are gone, to all but one,
Which is, our trees are felling;
As proper quite as thofe you write,
To force in Ballyfpellin.

HORACE, PART OF BOOK I. SAT. VI.
PARAPHRASED.

F noify Tom* fhould in the fenate prate,

Is That he would anfiver both for church and state;

"And, further to demonftrate his affection,
"Would take the kingdom into his protection:"

All mortals must be curious to inquire,

Who could this coxcomb be, and who his fire? "What! thou, the fpawn of him who tham'd our ifle, “That traitor, affaffin, informer vile!

*Sir Thomas Prendergaft. IRISH ED.

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+ The father of Sir Thomas P, who engaged in a plot to murder king William III; but, to avoid being hanged, turned informer against his affociates, for which he was rewarded with a good eftate, and made a baronet. Ibid.

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"Though by the female fide* you proudly bring, "To mend your breed, the murderer of a king : "What was thy grandfire † but a mountaineer,

"Who held a cabbin for ten groats a year;

"Whose master Moore ‡ preferv'd him from the halter, "For ftealing cows; nor could he read the Pfalter! "Durft thou, ungrateful, from the fenate chace "Thy founder's grandfon §, and ufurp his place? "Juft heaven! to fee the dunghill baftard brood "Survive in thee, and make the proverb good | ! "Then vote a worthy citizen ** to jail,

"In fpite of juftice, and refufe his bail !”

*Cadogan's family. IRISH ED.

A poor thieving cottager under Mr. Moore, condemned at Clonmell aflizes to be hanged for ftealing COWS. Ibid.

The grandfather of Guy Moore, efq; who procured him a pardon. Ibid.

§ Guy Moore was fairly elected member of parliament for Clonme, bat Si Thomas, depending upon his intereft with a certain party then prevailing, and fince known by the title of Parfon-hunters, petitioned the house against him; out of which he was turned upon pretence of bribery, which the paying of his lawful debts was then voted to be. Ibid.

"Save a thief from the gallows, and he will cut "your throat." Ibid.

** Mr. George Faulkner. See the verses in the following page. N.

On

On a PRINTER'S being fent to NEWGATE.

BETTER we all were in our graves

Than live in flavery to flaves,

Worfe than the anarchy at fea,

Where fishes on each other prey;

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Where every trout can make as high rants
O'er his inferiors as our tyrants ;
And fwagger while the coaft is clear:
But, fhould a lordly pike appear,
Away you fee the varlet feud,
Or hide his coward fnout in mud.
Thus, if a gudgeon meet a roach,
He dare not venture to approach;
Yet ftill has impudence to rife,
And, like Domitian, leap at flies.

THE DAY OF JUDGEMENT*.

7ITH a whirl of thought opprefs'd,

WITH

I funk from reverie to rest.

An horrid vifion feiz'd my head,

I faw the graves give up

their dead!

Jove, arm'd with terrors, burfts the skies,
And thunder roars, and lightning flies!
Amaz'd, confus'd, its fate unknown,

The world ftands trembling at his throne !

That this poem is the genuine production of the Dean, Lord Chefterfield bears ample teftimony in his Letter to M. Voltaire, Aug. 27, 1752. N.

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