Invoke not Cytherea's aid,

Nor borrow from the blue-ey'd maid;
Nor need you on the Graces call,
Take qualities from Donegal.

E PIG RA M*.

BEHOLD! a proof of Irish fenfe!

Here Irish wit is feen!

When nothing's left, that's worth defence,
We build a magazine.

EPIGRAMS, Occafioned by Dr. SWIFT's intended Hofpital for IDEOTS and LUNATICKS.

I.

HE Dean muft die

TH

Perish, ye Ideots! and long live the Dean!

* The Dean, in his lunacy, had fome intervals of fense; at which time his guardians, or phyficians, took him out for the air. On one of these days, when they came to the Park, Swift remarked a new building, which he had never seen, and asked what it was defigned for. To which Dr. Kingsbury answered, "That, Mr. "Dean, is the magazine for arins and powder, for the "fecurity of the city." "Oh! oh!" fays the Dean, pulling out his pocket-book, " let me take an item of ❝that. This is worth remarking: my tablets, as "Hamlet fays, my tablets-memory put down that !"

Which produced the above lines, faid to be the laft he ever wrote. N.

II. O GENIUS

II.

O GENIUS of Hibernia's ftate,
Sublimely good, feverely great!

How doth this latest act excel

All have done or wrote fo well!
you

Satire may be the child of fpite,

And Fame might bid the Drapier write :
But to relieve, and to endow,

Creatures that know not whence or how,
Argues a foul both good and wise,
Refembling Him who rules the skies.
He to the thoughtful mind displays
Immortal fkill ten thousand ways;
And, to compleat his glorious task,
Gives what we have not sense to ask !

III.

LO! Swift to Ideots bequeaths his flore: Be wife, ye rich! confider thus the poor!

On the DEAN of ST. PATRICK'S Birth-day*, Nov. 30, ST. ANDREW'S-DAY.

BETWEEN the hours of twelve and one,

When half the world to reft were gone,

Intranc'd in fofteft fleep I lay,
Forgetful of an anxious day;
From every care and labour free,
My foul as calm as it could be.

*See, in Parnell's Poems, an elegant compliment on

the fame occafion. N.

Bb 2

The

The Queen of Dreams, well pleas'd to find An undisturb'd and vacant mind,

With magic pencil trac'd my brain,

And there fhe drew St. Patrick's Dean.
I ftraight beheld on either hand

Two Saints, like Guardian Angels, stand,
And either claim'd him for their fon;
And thus the high dispute begun.

St. Andrew firft, with reason strong,
Maintain'd to him he did belong :
"Swift is my own, by right divine,
"All born upon this day are mine."

St. Patrick faid, "I own this true, "So far he does belong to you : "But in my church he 's born again, "My fon adopted, and my Dean.

"When firft the Chriftian-truth I fpread,

“The poor within this isle I fed,
"And darkeft errors banish'd hence,

"Made knowledge in their place commence ;
"Nay more, at my divine command,
"All noxious creatures fled the land.
"I made both Peace and Plenty smile.
"Hibernia was my favourite isle;
"Now his - for he fucceeds to me,

--

"Two angels cannot more agree.

"His joy is, to relieve the poor; "Behold them weekly at his door! "His knowledge too, in brightest rays, "He like the fun to all conveys,

"Shews.

"Shews wisdom in a single page,
“And in one hour instructs an age.
"When ruin lately stood around
“Th' inclosures of my facred ground,
"He gloriously did interpofe,
"And fav'd it from invading foes;
"For this I claim immortal Swift;
"As my own fon, and Heaven's best gift."
The Caledonian Saint, enrag'd,

Now closer in dispute engag'd, ́
Effays to prove, by transmigration,
The Dean is of the Scottish nation;
And, to confirm the truth, he chofe
The loyal foul of great Montrose.
"Montrose and He are both the fame,
"They only differ in the name:
"Both, heroes in a righteous caufe,
"Affert their liberties and laws;

"He's now the fame, Montrofe was then,
"But that the word is turn'd a pen;
"A pen of fo great power, each word
"Defends beyond the hero's word."

Now words grew high - we can't fuppofe
Immortals ever come to blows;

But, left unruly paflion should
Degrade them into flesh and blood,
An angel quick from Heaven descends,
And he at once the conteft ends:

"Ye reverend pair, from difcord ceafe, "Ye both mistake the prefent cafe ;

"One kingdom cannot have pretence
"To fo much virtue fo much fenfe:
"Search Heaven's record; and there
"That He was born for all mankind."

you

'll find,

EPISTLE to ROBERT NUGENT, Esq; with a PICTURE of DEAN SWIFT.

Ο

BY DR. DUNKIN*.

To gratify thy long defire

(So Love and Piety require),

From Bindon's + colours you may trace

The Patriot's venerable face,

The laft, O Nugent! which his art
Shall ever to the world impart ;
For know, the prime of mortal men,
That matchlefs monarch of the pen
(Whose labours, like the genial fun,
Shall through revolving ages run,
Yet never, like the fun, decline,
But in their full meridian fhine),
That ever-honour'd, envied Sage,
So long the wonder of his age,
Who charm'd us with his golden ftrain,
Is not the fhadow of the Dean :

* This elegant tribute of gratitude, as it was written at a period when all fufpicion of flattery muft vanish, reflects the highest honour on the ingenious Writer, and cannot but be agreeable to the admirers of Dr. Swift. N. Samuel Bindon, efq; a celebrated painter. N.

He