II.

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

How doth this latest act excel

All you

have done or wrote fo well!

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 wife,
Refembling Him who rules the fkies.
He to the thoughtful mind difplays
Immortal skill ten thousand ways;
And, to compleat his glorious task,
Gives what we have not fense 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 *,

BE

Nov. 30, ST. ANDREW'S-DAY.

ETWEEN the hours of twelve and one,
When half the world to reft were gone,

Intranc'd in foftest sleep 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.

The Queen of Dreams, well pleas'd to find

An undisturb'd and vacant mind,

With magic pencil trac'd my brain,

And there the 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 first, with reafon ftrong,
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 spread,
"The poor within this ifle 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 fmile.
"Hibernia was my favourite ifle;

"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 brighteft rays, "He like the fun to all conveys,

" Shews

4

"Shews wisdom in a single page,

"And in one hour inftructs 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 difpute engag'd,
Effays to prove, by tranfmigration,
The Dean is of the Scottish nation;
And, to confirm the truth, he chofe
The loyal foul of great Montrose.
"Montrofe and He are both the fame,
"They only differ in the name:
"Both, heroes in a righteous cause,
"Affert their liberties and laws;

"He's now the fame, Montrose 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 defcends,
And he at once the conteft ends:

"Ye-reverend pair, from difcord cease, “ Ye both mistake the present case ;

"One kingdom cannot have pretence

"To fo much virtue ! fo much fenfe:

"Search Heaven's record; and there you 'll find, "That He was born for all mankind."

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

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, Nugent! which his art
Shall ever to the world impart ;
For know, the prime of mortal men,
That matchlefs monarch of the pen
(Whofe 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 suspicion 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

He only breathes Boeotian air
"Oh! what a falling-off was there!"
Hibernia's Helicon is dry,

Invention, Wit, and Humour die;
And what remains against the storm
Of Malice, but an empty form ?
The nodding ruins of a pile,

That stood the bulwark of this ifle;
In which the fifterhood was fix'd
Of candid Honour, Truth unmix'd,
Impartial Reason, Thought profound,
And Charity, diffufing round,.

In cheerful rivulets, the flow

Of Fortune to the fons of woe?

Such once, my Nugent, was thy Swift,
Endued with each exalted gift.
But, lo! the pure æthereal flame

Is darken'd by a misty steam :
The balm exhaufted breathes no finell,
The rofe is wither'd ere it fell.
That godlike fupplement of law,
Which held the wicked world in awe,
And could the tide of faction ftem,
Is but a fhell without the gem.

Ye fons of genius, who would aim
To build an everlasting fame,.
And, in the field of letter'd arts,
Difplay the trophies of your parts,
To yonder manfion turn afide,
And mortify your growing pride.

Bb 4

Behold