To fuch a fubject tune my lyre,
And fing like one of Milton's choir,
Where devils to a vale retreat,
And call the laws of Wisdom Fate,
Lament upon their hapless fall,
That Force free Virtue fhould enthrall?
Or fhall the charms of Wealth and Power
Make me pollute the Mufes' bower?
As from the tripod of Apollo,
Hear from my desk the words that follow: "Some, by philofophers mifled,
"Must honour you alive and dead;
"And fuch as know what Greece hath writ,
"Must taste your irony and wit;
"Whilst most that are, or would be great,
"Muft dread your pen, your perfon hate;
“And you on Drapier's * hill must lie,
"And there without a mitre die."
ON BURNING A DULL POEM. 1729.
Nafs's hoof alone can hold
That poisonous juice, which kills by cold.
Methought, when I this poem read,
No veffel but an afs's head
*In the county of Armagh; where Dr. Swift, in the year 1729, had fome thoughts of building; as appears by several of the following Poems. N.
Such frigid fuflian could contain;
I mean, the head without the brain.
The cold conceits, the chilling thoughts,
Went down like ftupifying draughts:
I found my head began to swim,
A numbness crept through every limb.
In hafte, with imprecations dire,
I threw the volume in the fire:
When (who could think?) though cold as ice,
It burnt to afhes in a trice.
How could I more enhance its fame?
Though born in fnow, it dy'd in flame.
HIS EXCELLENCY JOHN LORD CARTERET, BY DR. DELANY, 1729,
"Credis ob hoc, me, Paftor, opes fortaffe rogare, "Propter quod, vulgus, craffaque turba rogat." MART. Epig. lib. ix.
HOU wife and learned ruler of our isle,
Whose guardian care can all her griefs beguile;
When next your generous foul fhall condescend
T' inftruct or entertain your humble friend;
Whether, retiring from your weighty charge,
On fome high theme you learnedly enlarge;
Of all the ways of wisdom reason well,
How Richelieu rofe, and how Sejanus fell;
Or, when your brow less thoughtfully unbends,
Circled with Swift and fome delighted friends;
When, mixing mirth and wisdom with your wine,
Like that your wit shall flow, your genius shine;
Nor with lefs praife the converfation guide,
Than in the public councils you decide:
Or when the Dean, long privileg'd to rail,
Afferts his friend with more impetuous zeal;
You hear (whilft I sit by abaílı'd and mute),
With foft conceffions fhortening the difpute;
Then close with kind enquiries of my state,
"How are your tithes, and have they rofe of late?
"Why, Chrift-Church is a pretty fituation,
"There are not many better in the nation!
"This, with your other things, muft yield you clear
"Some fix-at leaft five hundred pounds a year."
Suppofe, at fuch a time, I took the freedom
To speak these truths as plainly as you read 'em
(You fhall rejoin, my lord, when I've replied,
And, if you please, my lady fhall decide) :
My lord, I'm fatisfied you meant me well; "And that I'm thankful, all the world can tell :
"But you'll forgive me, if I own th' event "Is hort, is very fhort, of your intent;
"At least, I feel fome ills unfelt before,
My income lefs, and my expences more."
"How, doctor! double vicar! double rector! "A dignitary! with a city lecture!
"What glebes-what dues-what tithes-what fines→→
"Why, doctor!-will you never be content ?"
"Would my good lord but cast up the account,
"And fee to what my revenues amount
"My titles ample! but my gain so small,
"That one good vicarage is worth them all :
"And very wretched fure is he, that's double
"In nothing but his titles and his trouble.
"Add to this crying grievance, if you please,
"My horfes founder'd on Fermanah ways;
"Ways of well-polifh'd and well-pointed ftone,
"Where every step endangers every bone;
"And, more to raise your pity and your wonder,
"Two churches-twelve Hibernian miles afunder!
"With complicated cures, I labour hard in,
"Befides whole summers abfent from my garden!—
"But that the world would think I play'd the fool,
"I'd change with Charley Grattan for his school*-
"What fine cascades, what viftos, might I make,
"Fixt in the centre of th' Iernian lake!
"There might I fail delighted, smooth and safe,
"Beneath the conduct of my good Sir Ralph† :
"There's not a better steerer in the realm;
"I hope, my lord, you'll call him to the helm."—
"Doctor-a glorious scheme to ease your grief!
"When cures are cross, a school's a fure relief.
* A free-school at Inniskillen, founded by Erafmus Smith, efq. N.
+ Sir Ralph Gore, who had a villa in the lake of Erin.
"You cannot fail of being happy there,
"The lake will be the Lethe of your care:
"The scheme is for your honour and your ease;
"And, doctor, I'll promote it when you please.
"Meanwhile, allowing things below your merit,
“Yet, doctor, you've a philosophic spirit ;'
Your wants are few, and, like your income, fmall, 46 And you 've enough to gratify them all :
"You've trees, and fruits, and roots, enough in ftore; "And what would a philosopher have more?
"You cannot wish for coaches, kitchens, cooks-”
"My lord, I've not enough to buy me books-
"Or pray, fuppofe my wants were all supplied,
"Are there no wants I should regard befide?
"Whose breast is so unmann'd, as not to grieve,
"Compafs'd with miferies he can't relieve?
"Who can be happy-who should wish to live,
"And want the godlike happiness to give?
(That I'm a judge of this, you must allow: "I had it once-and I'm debarr'd it now.)
"Afk your own heart, my lord; if this be true, "Then how unblest am I! how bleft are you!" "'Tis true-but, doctor, let us waive all that-"Say, if you had your wifh, what you'd be at." "Excufe me, good my lord-I won't be founded, "Nor fhall your favour by my wants be bounded. "My lord, I challenge nothing as my due, "Nor is it fit I should prescribe to you. "Yet this might Symmachus himself avow, "(Whose rigid rules are antiquated now)—
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