He'd have them try'd at the affizes
For priests and jesuits in disguises;

Swear they were with the Swedes at Bender,
And lifting troops for the pretender.

But Dick can fart, and dance, and frifk,
No other monkey half fo brifk;
Now has the speaker by the ears,
Next moment in the houfe of peers;
Now fcolding at my lady Euftace,
Or thrashing Baby in her new stays.
Prefto be gone! with t'other hop
He 's powdering in a barber's fhop;
Now at the anti-chamber thrufting
His nofe to get the circle just in,
And d-ns his blood, that in the rear
He fees one fingle "Tory there :

Then, woe be to my lord lieutenant,
Again he 'll tell him, and again on 't.

A N

EPITAPH

ON

GENERAL GORGES* AND LADY MEATH†.

UN

NDER this ftone lie Dicky and Dolly; Doll dying firft, Dick grew melancholy; For Dick without Doll thought living a folly.

She

* Of Kilbrue, in the county of Meath. N. + Dorothy dowager of Edward earl of Meath. was married to the General in 1716; and died Apr. 10, 1728 her husband furvived but two days. N.

2

Dick

Dick loft in Doll a wife tender and dear :
But Dick loft by Doll twelve hundred a year;
A lofs that Dick thought no mortal could bear."

Dick figh'd for his Dolf, and his mournful aims croft; Thought much of his Doll, and the jointure he loft: The firft vex'd him much, the other vex'd moft,

Thus loaded with grief, Dick figh'd and he cry'd; To live without both full three days he try'd : But lik'd neither lofs, and fo quietly dy'd.

Dick left a pattern few will copy after:

Then, reader, pray fhed fome tears of falt-water;
For fo fad a tale is no fubject of laughter.

Meath fmiles for the jointure, though gotten fo late; The fon laughs, that got the hard-gotten eftate; And Cuffe grins, for getting the Alicant plate. Here quiet they lie, in hopes to rife one day, Both folemnly put in this hole on a Sunday, And here reft-fic tranfit gloria mundi I

VERSES ON I KNOW NOT WHAT.

MY latest tribute here I fend,

With this let your collection end.

Thus I confign you down to fame
A character to praise or blame :
And, if the whole may pafs for true,
Contented reft, you have your due.
Give future times the fatisfaction,
To leave one handle for detraction."

John Cuffe of Defart, Efq; married the general's

eldeft daughter. N.

VOL. II.

II

1

DR.

DR. SWIFT'S COMPLAINT,
ON HIS OWN DEAFNESS.
WITH AN ANSWER.

Because to few you will be shewn.
Give them good wine, and meat to stuff,
You may have company enough.

Then write and read, 'twill do as well.

A woman's clack, if I have skill,
Sounds fomewhat like a throwsfter's mill;
But louder than a bell, or thunder;
That does, I own, increase my wonder.

DR.

DR. SWIFT TO HIMSELF,

ON

SAINT CECILIA'S DAY.

GRAVE

RAVE Dean of St. Patrick's, how comes it to pass,
That you, who know mufic no more than an ass,
That you, who fo lately were writing of Drapiers,"
Should lend your cathedral to players and fcrapers ?
To act fuch an opera once in a year,

So offenfive to every true Proteftant ear,

With trumpets, and fiddles, and organs, and finging,
Will fure the Pretender and Popery bring in.
No Proteftant Prelate, his Lordship or Grace,
Durst there shew his Right or Most Reverend face :
How would it pollute their crofiers and rochets
To listen to minims, and quavers, and crotchets !

* Dr. Sheridan was publisher of the "Intelligencer," a weekly paper, written principally by himself; but Dr.

Above the door, at country-fair,
Betokens entertainment there ;
So bays on poets' brows have been
Set, for a fign of wit within.

And, as ill neighbours in the night i

Pull down an ale-house bush for spite;

The laurel fo, by poets worn,

Is by the teeth of Envy torn;

Envy, a canker-worm, which tears
Those facred leaves that lightning Spares,
And now t' exemplify this moral:
Tom having earn'd a twig of laurel
(Which, measur'd on his head, was found
Not long enough to reach half round,
But, like a girl's cockade, was ty'd,
A trophy, on his temple-fide);
Paddy repin'd to fee him wear
This badge of honour in his hair;
And, thinking this cockade of wit
Would his own temples better fit,
Forming his Mufe by Smedley's + model,
Lets drive at Tom's devoted noddle,

Pelts him by turns with veife and profe,

Hums like a hornet at his nofe,

Swift occafionally fupplied him with a letter. Dr. Delany, piqued at the approbation thofe papers received, attacked them violently both in converfation and in print; but unfortunately ftumbled on fome of the numbers which the Dean had written, and all the world admired; which gave rife to these verses. N.

+ Dean of Ferns. See the next poem. N.

At