Pale dreffy with a fallow face,

Her belly burft, and flow her pace :
And lordly gout, wrapt up in fur;
And wheezing afihma, loth to ftir:
Voluptuous cafe, the child of wealth,
Infecting thus our hearts by ftealth
None feek thee now in open air,
To thee no verdant altars rear;
But in their cells and vaults obfcene
Prefent a facrifice unclean;

From whence unfavory vapours rofe,
Offensive to thy nicer nofe.

Ah! who, in our degenerate days,
As nature prompts, his offering pays?
Here nature never difference made
Between the fceptre and the fpade.

Ye great-ones, why will ye difdain
To pay your tribute on the plain?
Why will you place, in lazy pride,
Your altars near your couches' fide;
When from the homelieft earthen ware
Are fent up efferings more fincere,
Than where the haughty dutchefs locks
Her filver vafe in cedar-box?

Yet fome devotion ftill remains
Among our harmless northern fwains,
Whofe offerings, plac'd in golden ranks,
Adorn our crystal rivers' banks;
Nor feldom grace the flowery downs,
With fpiral tops and copple-crowns;
Or gilding in a funny morn
The humble branches of a thorn.
So, poets fing, with golden bough
The Trojan hero paid his vow.

Hither, by luckless error led,
The crude confiftence oft' I tread:
Here, when my shoes are out of cafe,
Unweeting gild the tarrif'd lace;
Here by the facred bramble ting'd,
My petticoat is doubly fring'd.

Be witnefs for me, nymph d vine,
I never robb'd thee with debgn:
Nor will the zealous Hannah pout
To wash thy injur'd offering out,

But ftop, ambitious Mufe, in time,
Nor dwell on subjects too fublime.
In vain on lofty heels I tread,
Afpiring to exalt my head;
With hoop expanded wide and light,
In vain I 'tempt too high a flight.

Me Phebus in a midnight dream
Accofting faid, *« Go shake your cream."
Be humbly minded, know your post;
Sweeten your tea, and watch your toast.
Thee beft befits a lowly ftyle:
Teach Dennis how to ftir the guile :
With Peggy Dixon thoughtful fit,
Contriving for the pot and fpit.
Take down thy proudly swelling fails,
And rub thy teeth, and pare thy nails :
At nicely-carving fhew thy wit;

But ne'er prefume to eat a bit :

*In the bottle, to make butter.

The quantity of ale er beer brewed at one time.
Mrs. Dixon, 'e house-keeper.

Turn every way thy watchful eye;
And every guest be fure to ply:,
Let never at your board be known
An empty plate, except your ownL
Be thefe thy arts; nor higher aim
Than what befits a rural dame.
But Cloacina, goddess bright,
Sleek - claims her as his right;
And Smedley, flower of all divines,
Shall fing the Dean in Smedley's lines.

I.

TWELVE ARTICLES.

EST it may more quarrels breed,
will never hear you read.

II. By difputing, I will never,

To convince you, once endeavour. III. When a paradox you stick to,

I will never contradict you, IV. When I talk, and you are heedless, I will fhew no anger needlefs. V. When your speeches are abfurd, I will ne'er object a word. VI. When you furious argue wrong, I will grieve, and hold my tongue. VII. Not a jeft or humorous ftory Will lever tell before ye :

To be chidden for explaining, When you quite miftake the meaning, VIII. Never more will I suppose,

You can tafte my verse or prose. IX. You no more at me fhall fret,

While I teach, and you forget. X. You fhall never hear me thunder,

When you blunder on, and blunder. XI. Shew your poverty of spirit.

And in dref place all your merit ;
Give yourself ten thousand airs;
That with me fall break no fquares.

XII. Never will I give advice,

Till you pleafe to afk me thrice:
Which if you in scorn reject,
Twill be juft as I expect.

Thus we both fhall have our ends,
And continue fpecial friends.

By faction banifh'd, here unite,
A Dean, a Spaniard†, and a Knight;
Unite, but on conditions cruel :

The Dean and Spaniard find it too well,
Condemn'd to live in fervice hard;
On either fide his honour' guard:
The Dean, to guard his honour's back,
Muft build a caftle at Drumlack;
The Spaniard, fore againft his will,
Muft raife a fort at Market-hill.
And thus the pair of humble gentry
At nerth and fouth are pofted centry;
While, in his lordly castle fixt,

The Knight triumphant reigns betwixt :
And, what the wretches moft resent,
To be his flaves, must pay him rent;
Attend him daily as their chief,
Decant his wine, and carve his beef.
Oh, Fortune! 'tis a fcandal for thee
To imile on thofe who are leaft worthy:
Weigh but the merits of the three,

His flaves have ten times more than he.

Proud Baronet of Nova Scotia !

The Dean and Spaniard muft reproach ye:
Of their two fames the world enough rings:
Where are thy fervices and sufferings?
What if for nothing once you kift,
Against the grain, a monarch's fift?
What if, among the courtly tribe,
You loft a place, and fav'd a bribe?
And then in furly mood came here
To fifteen hundred pounds a year,
And fierce against the Whigs harangu'd?
You never ventur'd to be hang'd.
How dare you treat your betters thus ?
Are you to be compar'd with us?

Come, Spaniard, let us from our farms
Call forth our cottagers to arms;
Our forces let us both unite,
Attack the foe at left and right;
From Market-hill's exalted head,
Full northward let your troops be led;
While I from Drapier's mount defcend,
And to the fouth my fquadrons bend.
New-river-walk with friendly fhade
Shall keep my hoft in ambuscade;
While you, from where the bafon ftands,
Shall feale the rampart with your bands.
Nor need we doubt the fort to win;
I hold intelligence within.

True, Lady Anne no danger fears,
Brave as the Upton fan fhe wears;
Then, left upon our first attack
Her val ant arm fhould force us back,
And we of all our hopes depriv'd;
I have a ftratagem contriv'd.
By thefe embroider'd high-heel'd shoes
She fhall be caught as in a noofe ;
So well contriv'd her toes to pinch,
She 'll not have power to ftir an inch:

Thefe gaudy fhoes muft Hannah place
Direct before her lady's face ;
The fhoes put on, our faithful portress
Admits us in, to ftorm the fortrefs;
While tortur'd Madam bound remains,
Like Montezume, in golden chains;
Or like a cat with walnuts fhod,
Stumbling at every step she trod:
Sly hunters thus, in Borneo's ifle,
To catch a monkey by a wile,
The mimic animal amufe;

They place before him gloves and shoes;
Which when the brute puts awkward on,
All his agility is gone :

In van to friik or climb he tries;
The huntfmen feize the grinning prize.
But let us on our first affault
Secure the larder and the vault;
The valiant Dennis you must fix on,
And I'll engage with Peggy Dixon†:
Then, if we once can feize the key
And cheft that keeps my lady's tea,
They muft furrender at difcretion;
And, foon as we have gain'd poffeffion,
We'll act as other conquerors do,
Divide the realm between us two:
Then (let me fee) we 'll make the Knight
Our clerk, for he can read and write;
But muft not think, I tell him that,
Like Lorimert to wear his hat:
Yet, when we dine without a friend,
We place him at the lower end.
Madam, whofe fil does all in drefs lie,
May ferve to wait on Mrs. Leilie;
But, left it might not be fo proper
That her own maid fhould over-top her,
To mortify the creature more,

We'll take her heels five inches lower.

Why muft he fputter, fpawl, and slaver it
In vain against the people's favourite?
Revile that nation-faving paper,
Which gave the Dean the name of Drapier?
R. Why, Tom, I think the cafe is plain;
Party and fpleen have turn'd his brain.

T. Such friendship never man profeft,
The Dean was never fo careft;
For Traulus long his rancour nurs'd,
Till, God knows why, at laft it burst.
That clumfy outí:de of a porter,
How could it thus conceal a courtier ?
R. lown, appearances are bad;
Yet ftill infift the man is mad.

T. Yet many a wretch in Bedlam knows
How to diftinguifh friends from foes;
And, though perhaps among the rout
He wildly things his filth about,
He ftill has gratitude and fap'ence,

To fpare the folks that give himn ha'pence;
Nor in their eyes at random piffes,
But turns afide like mad Ulyffes:
While Traulus all his ordure scatters
To foul the man he chiefly flatters.
Whence come the fe inconfiftent fits?

R. Why, Tom, the man has loft his wits,
T. Agreed: and yet, when Towzer fnaps
At people's heels with frothy chaps,
Hangs down his head, and drops his tail,
To fay he 's mad, will not avail;

The neighbours all cry, "Shoot him dead,
"Hang, drown, or knock him on the head."
So Traulus when he first harangu'd,
I wonder why he was not hang'd;
For of the two, without dispute,
Towzer 's the lefs offenfive brute.

R. Tom, you mistake the matter quite;

Your barking curs will feldom bite;

And though you hear him ftut-tut-tut-ter,

He barks as fast as he can utter.

He prates in fpite of all impediment,

Who o'er each firing and wire prefide,
Fill every pipe, each motion guide;
Directing every vice we £nd

In Scripture, to the devil affign'd;
Sent from the dark infernal region,
In him they lodge, and make him legies,
Of brethren be 's a fal e accuser;
A flanderer, traitor, and feducer;
A fawning, bafe, trepanning liar;
The marks peculiar of his fire.
Or, grant him but a drone at best,

A drone can raife a hornet's neft.
The Dean had felt their ftings before;
And must their malice ne'er give o'er?
Still fwarm and buzz about his nofe?
But Ireland's friends ne'er wanted foes,
A patriot is a dangerous post,
When wanted by his country moit;
Perverfely comes in cvil times,
Where virtues are imputed crimes.
His guilt is clear, the proofs are pregnant;
A traitor to the vice regnant.

What spirit, fince the world began,
Could always bear to ftrive with man?
Which God pronounc'd, he never would,
And foon convinc'd them by a flood.
Yet ftill the Dean on freedom raves;
His fpirit always frives with flaves.
'Tis time at laft to fpare his ink,
And let them rot, or hang, or fink.

TRAUL U S.

THE SECOND PART.

TRAULUS, of amphibious breed, Motley fruit of mungrel feed; By the dam from lordlings fprung,

Puts in his finger and his thumb

To grope for words, and out they come. He calls you rogue; there's nothing in it, He fawns upon you in a minute :

Begs leave to rail, but, d-n his blood! "He only meant it for your good: His friendship was exactly tim'd, He thot before your foes were prim'd. By this contrivance, Mr. Dean, "By G! I'll bring you off as clean-*? Then let him ufe you e er fo rough, "'Twas all for love," and that 's enough, But, though he fputter through a feffion, It never makes the leaft impression: Whate'er he speaks for madnefs goes, With no effect on friends or foes.

T. The scrubbieft cur in all the pack

Can fet the maftiff on your back.

I own, his madness is a jest,

If that were all. But he's poffest,

Incarnate with a thoufand imps,

To work whofe ends his madness pimps;

Think on every vice in both;
Look on him, and fee their growth.

View him on the mother's fde,
Fill'd with fallehood, fpleen, and pride;
Pofitive and overbearing,
Changing ftill, and still adhering;
Spiteful, peevish, rude, untoward,
Fierce in tongue, in heart a coward;
When his friends he moft is hard on,
Cringing comes to beg their pardon;
Reputation ever tearing,
Ever dearest friendship fwearing;
Judgment weak, and paffion ftrong,
Always various, always wrong;
Provocation never waits,
Where he loves, or where he hates;
Talks whate'er comes in his head;
Wishes it were all unfaid.

Let me now the vices trace,

From the father's fcoundrel race,
Who could give the looby fuch airs?
Were they mafons, were they butchers?,

abufes you to others without provecation.

From his atavus and grandfire :

This was dextrous at his trowel,
That was bred to kill a cow well;
Hence the greafy clumfy mien
Ja his drefs and figure feen;
Hence the mean and fordid soul,
Like his body, rank and foul;
Hence that wild fufpicious peep,
Like a rogue that steals a sheep;
Hence he learnt the butcher's guile,
How to cut your throat and finile;
Like a butcher, doom'd for life
In his mouth to wear his knife;
Hence he draws his daily food
From his tenants' vital blood.

Laftly, let his gifts be try'd,
Borrow'd from the mafon's fide;
Some perhaps may think him able
In the ftate to build a Babel;
Could we place him in a station
To deftroy the old foundation.
True indeed, I fhould be gladder,
Could he learn to mount a ladder,
May he at his latter end

Mount alive, and dead defcend!

In him tell me which prevail, Female vices moft, or male? What produc'd him, can you tell? Human race, or imps of hell?

1

Robin, who ne'er his mind could fix To live withont a coach and fix, To patch his broken fortunes, found A miftrefs worth £ve thousand pound; Swears he could get her in an hour, If Gaffer Harry would endow her; And fell, to pacify his wrath, A birth-right for a mefs of broth.

Young Harry, as all Europe knows, Was long the quinteffence of beaux; But, when efpous'd, he ran the fate That muft attend the marry'd state; From gold brocade and fhining armour, Was metamorphos'd to a farmer; His grazier's coat with dirt befmear'd; Nor twice a week will frave his beard.

Old Robin, all his youth a floven,
At fifty-two, when he grew loving,
Clad in a coat of paduafoy,

A flaxen wig, and waistcoat gay,
Powder'd from fhoulder down to flank,
In courtly fiyle addresses Frank;
Twice ten years older than his wife:
Is doom'd to be a beau for life;
Supplying those defects by drefs,
Which I muft leave the world to guess,

And, when the coachman comes for pay,
The rogue must call another day.

Grave Harry, when the poor are preffing,
Gives them a penny, and God's blessing;
Eut, always careful of the main,
With two-pence left, walks home in rain.
Robin. from noon to night, will prate,
Runs-out in tongue, as in eftate:
And, ere a twelvemonth and a day,
Will not have one new thing to say.
Much talking is not Harry's vice;
He need not tell a story twice:
And, if he always be fo thrifty,
His fund may laft to five and fifty.

It fo fell out, that cautious Harry, As foldiers ufe, for love muft marry, And, with his dame, the ocean croft; (All for Love, or the World well Loft!) Repairs a cabin gone to run, juit big enough to fhelter two in; And in his houfe, if any body come, Will make them welcome to his medicum; Where Goody Julia milks the cows, And boils potatoes for her spouse;

Or dearns his hofe, or mends his breeches, While Harry's fencing up his ditches.

TO BETTY THE GRIZETTE.

Q

1730.

UEEN of wit and beauty, Betty!

Never may the Mufe forget ye:
How thy face charms every fhepherd,
Spotted over lie a leopard!
And thy freckled neck, difplay'd,
Envy breeds in every maid,
Like a fly-blown cake of tallow,
Or on parchment ink turn'd yellow;
Or a tawny fpeckled pippin,
Shrivel'd with a winter's keeping.

And, thy beauty thus difpatch'd,
Lef me praife thy wit unmatch'd.
Sets of phrafes, cut and dry,
Evermore thy tongue fupply.
And thy memory is loaded

With old fcraps from plays exploded :
Stock'd with repartees and jokes,
Suited to all chriftian folks;

Shreds of wit, and fenfelefs rhymes,
Blunder'd out a thousand times.
Nor wilt thou of gifts be fparing,
Which can ne'er be worfe for wearing:
Picking wit among collegians,
In the play-house upper regions;
Where, in eighteen-penny gallery,
Irish nymphs learn Irish raillery:
But thy merit is thy failing,
And thy raillery is railing.

Thus with talents well endued
To be fcurrilous and rude;

Spanish fervice. See above, p. 397.

Fleer, and gibe, and laugh, and flout :

This among Hibernian affes
Jor fheer wit and humour paffes
Thus indulgent Chloe, bit,

Swears you have a world of wit,

DEATH AND DAPHNE.

TO AN AGREEABLE YOUNG LADY,

EUT EXTREMELY LEAN.

EATH went upon a folemn day

DE

1730.

At Pluto's hall his court to pay:
The phantom, having humbly kitt
His grily monarch's footy fift,
Fretented him the weekly bills

Of doctors, fevers, plagues, and pills,
Pluto, obferving fince the peace
The burial-article decrease,
And, vext to fee affairs mifcarry,
Declar'd in council, Death must marry;
Vow'd he no longer could support
Old batchelors about his court;
The intereft of his realm had need
That Death fhould get a numerous breed;
Young Deathlings, who, by practice made
Proficient in their father's trade,
With colonies might ftock around
His large dominions under ground,
A confult of coquettes below
Was call'd, to rig him out a beau :
From her own head Megæra takes
A periwig of twiâed fnakes;
Which in the niceft fashion cnrl'd
(Like toupets of this upper world),
With flour of fulphur powder'd well,
That graceful on his fhoulders fell;
An adder of the fable kind

In line direct hung down behind
The owl, the raven, and the bat,
Clubb'd for a feather to his hat;
His coat, an ufurer's velvet pall,
Bequeath'd to Pluto, corpfe and all,
But, loth his perfon to expofe
Bare, like a car cafe pickt by crows,
A lawyer o'er his hands and face
Stuck artfully a parchment-cafe.

No new-fluxt rake frew'd fairer fkin;
Nor Phyllis after lying-in.
With fnuff was fill'd his cbon box
Of thin-bones rotted by the pox,
Nine fpirits of blafpheming fops
With aconite anoint his chops;
And give him words of dreadful founds,

Gd d-n his blood! and bed and w-ds!
Thus furni'd out, he fent his train
To take a houfe in Warwick-lane :
The faculty, his humble friends,
A complimental meffage fends:
Their prefident in fcarlet gown
Harangu'd, and welcom❜d him to town.
But Death had business to dispatch;
His mind was running on his match.
And, hearing much of Daphne's fame,
His majesty of terrors came,

Fine as a colonel of the guards,
To vifit where fhe fate at cards;
She, as he came into the room,
Thought him Adonis in his bloom.
And now her heart with pleafure jumpt;
She fcarce remembers what is trumps;

For fuch a fhape of skin and bone

Was never feen, except her own :

Charm'd with his eyes, and chin, and foout,
Her pocket-glafs drew flily out;

And grew enamour'd with her phiz,
As juft the counterpart of his.
She darted many a private glance,
And freely made the firft advance ;
Was of her beauty grown fo vain,
She doubted not to win the feain.
Nothing fhe thought could fooner gain him,
Than with her wit to entertain him.
She afk'd about her friends below;
This meagre fop, that batter'd beau :
Whether tome late departed toafts
Had got gallants among the ghofts?
If Chloe were a ftarper ftill
As great as ever at quadrille ?

(The ladies there must needs be rooks;
For cards, we know, are Pluto's books!)

If Florimel had found her love,

For whom the hang'd herself above?
How oft' a week was kept a ball
By Proferpine at Pluto's hall?
She fancied thofe Elyfan fhades
The fweeteft place for masquerades:
How pleafant, on the banks of Styx,
To troll it in a coach and fix!

What pride a female heart inflames !
How endless are ambition's aims!
Ceafe, haughty nymph; the Fates decree
Death must not be a fpoufe for thee:
For, when by chance the meagre shade
Upon thy hand his finger laid,
Thy hand as dry and cold as lead,
His matrimonial fpirit fled;
He felt about his heart a damp,

That quite extinguifh'd Cupid's lamp ;
Away the frighted fpectre feuds,
And leaves my lady in the fuds.

DAPHNE.

D'How to vex, and how to pleafe;

APHNE knows, with equal cafe,

But the folly of her fex
Makes her fole delight to vex.
Never woman more devis'd
Surer ways to be despis'd;
Paradox weakly wielding,
Always conquer'd, never yielding.
To difpute, her chief delight,
With not one opinion right:
Thick her arguments fhe lays on,
And with cavils combats reafon;
Anfwers in decifive way,
Never hears what you can fay:
Still her odd perverfeness shows,
Chiefly where the nothing knows