DR. SWIFT'S ANSWER.

HER majesty never shall be my exalter; And yet she would raise me, I know, by a halter!

TO THE REVEREND DR. SWIFT,

WITH A PRESENT OF A PAPER BOOK FINELY
BOUND, ON HIS BIRTH-DAY,
NOV. 30, 1732.*

BY JOHN EARL OF ORRERY.

To thee, dear Swift, these spotless leaves I send;
Small is the present, but sincere the friend.
Think not so poor a book below thy care;
Who knows the price that thou canst make it
bear?

Though tawdry now, and, like Tyrilla's face,
The specious front shines out with borrow'd grace;
Though pasteboards, glittering like a tinsell'd coat,
A rasa tabula within denote:

Yet, if a venal and corrupted age,

And modern vices, should provoke thy rage;
If, warn'd once more by their impending fate,
A sinking country and an injur'd state,
Thy great assistance should again demand,
And call forth reason to defend the land;

* It was occasioned by an annual custom, which I found pursued among his friends, of making him a present on his birthday. ORRERYy.

Then

Then shall we view these sheets with glad surprise
Inspir'd with thought, and speaking to our eyes:
Each vacant space, shall then, enrich'd, dispense
True force of eloquence, and nervous sense;
Inform the judgment, animate the heart,
And sacred rules of policy impart.

The spangled covering, bright with splendid ore,
Shall cheat the sight with empty show no more:
But lead us inward to those golden mines,
Where all thy soul in native lustre shines.
So when the eye surveys some lovely fair,
With bloom of beauty grac'd, with shape and air;
How is the rapture heighten'd, when we find
Her form excell'd by her celestial mind!

VERSES

LEFT WITH A SILVER STANDISH ON THE DEAN OF ST. PATRICK'S DESK, ON HIS

BIRTH-DAY.

BY DR. DELANY.

HITHER from Mexico I came,
To serve a proud Iernian dame:
Was long submitted to her will;
At length she lost me at quadrille.
Through various shapes I often pass'd;
Still hoping to have rest at last;
And still ambitious to obtain
Admittance to the patriot Dean ;

And

poor;

And sometimes got within his door,
But soon turn'd out to serve the
Not strolling Idleness to aid,
But honest Industry decay'd.
At length an artist purchas'd me,
And wrought me to the shape you see.
This done, to Hermes I apply'd:
"O Hermes! gratify my pride;
Be it my fate to serve a sage,
The greatest genius of his age;
That matchless pen let me supply,
Whose living lines will never die !"
"I grant your suit ;" the God replied,
And here he left me to reside.

VERSES

OCCASIONED BY THE FOREGOING PRESENTS.

A PAPER BOOK is sent by Boyle,

Too neatly gilt for me to soil.
Delany sends a silver standish,
When I no more a pen can brandish.
Let both around my tomb be plac'd :
As trophies of a Muse deceas'd:
And let the friendly lines they writ,
In praise of long-departed wit,
Be grav'd on either side in columns,
More to my praise than all my volumes,
To burst with envy, spite, and rage,
The Vandals of the present age.

* Alluding to five hundred pounds lent by the Dean, without interest, to poor tradesmen. F.

VERSES

SENT TO THE DEAN WITH AN EAGLE QUILL,

ON HEARING OF THE PRESENTS BY THE EARL OF
ORRERY AND DR. DELANY.

BY MRS. PILKINGTON.*

SHALL then

my

kindred all my glory claim,

And boldly rob me of eternal fame ?
To ev'ry art my gen'rous aid I lend,
To music, painting, poetry, a friend.
'Tis I celestial harmony inspire,

When fix'd to strike the sweetly warbling wire.†
I to the faithful canvas have consign'd
Each bright idea of the painter's mind;
Behold from Raphael's skydipt pencils rise
Such heav'nly scenes as charm the gazer's eyes.
O let me now aspire to higher praise!
Ambitious to transcribe your deathless lays:
Nor thou, immortal bard, my aid refuse,
Accept me as the servant of your Muse;
Then shall the world my wondrous worth declare,
And all mankind your matchless pen revere.

* See a letter to Mrs. Pilkington, Jan. 1, 1732-3, in Vol. XII. + Quills of the harpsichord.

AN INVITATION, BY DR. DELANY, IN THE NAME OF DR. SWIFT.*

MIGHTY Thomas, † a solemn senatus ‡ I call, To consult for Sapphira ;§ so come one and all; Quit books, and quit business, your cure and your

care,

For a long winding walk, and a short bill of fare.
I've mutton for you, sir; and as for the ladies,
As friend Virgil has it, I've aliud mercedes;
For Letty, one filbert, whereon to regale ;
And a peach for pale Constance,¶ to make a full
meal;

*See Mrs. Pilkington's Memoirs, Vol. III. page 65. From their diminutive size, the Dean used to call kington "Tom Thumb," and his wife "his lady fair."

N.

Mr. Pil-
N.

To correct Mrs Barber's poems; which were published at London, in 4to. by subscription; with the addition of several poems by her son Constantine, afterward a very learned physician and president of the college of physicians in Dublin.-The Dean, in his will, bequeathed to Mrs. Barber "the medal of queen Anne and prince George, which she formerly gave me." N.

The name by which Mrs. Barber was distinguished by her friends. N.

| Mrs. Pilkington. N.

Mrs. Constantia Grierson, a native of Kilkenny, who died in 1733, at the age of 27. She was well versed in Greek and Roman literature, history, divinity, philosophy, and mathematics. She gave a proof of her knowledge of the Latin tongue, by her dedication of the Dublin edition of Tacitus to the lord Carteret, and by that of Terence to his son, to whom she likewise wrote a Greek epigram. Lord Carteret obtained a patent for Mr. George Grierson, her husband, to be king's printer in Ireland; and, to distinguish and reward her extraordinary merit, had her life inserted in it. See the preface to Mrs. Barber's poems. N.

And