When you partly raise your fnout,

Fleer, and gibe, and laugh, and shout:

This among Hibernian asses

For sheer wit and humour paffes.

Thus indulgent Chloe bit,

Swears you have a world of wit.

DEATH AND DAPHNE †.

To an agreeable young Lady, but extremely lean.

Written in the year 1730.

Eath went upon a folemn day

DE

At Pluto's hall his court to pay :

The phantom, having humbly kist
His grifly monarch's footy fist,
Prefented him the weekly bills

Of doctors, fevers, plagues, and pills.
Pluto obferving fince the peace,

The burial-article decrease;

And vex'd to fee affairs mifcarry,

Declar'd in council, Death must marry:
Vow'd he no longer could fupport
Old bachelors about his court:
The int'reft of his realm had need

That Death fhould get a num'rous breed;
Young deathlings, who, by practice made
Proficient in their father's trade,
With colonies might flock around
His large dominions under ground.
A confult of coquets below
Was call'd to rig him out a beau :
From her own head Megara takes

A periwig of twisted snakes;

See an anecdote relating to this lady, above, p. 4.

35

5

10

15

20

Which in the nicest fashion curl'd.

(Like toupets * of this upper world),
With flow'r of fulphur powder'd well,
That graceful on her shoulders fell,
An adder of the fable kind,
In line direct, hang down behind.
The owl, the raven, and the bat,
Clubb'd for a feather to his hat;
His coat, an us'rer's velvet pall,
Bequeath'd to Pluto, corpfe and all.
But loath his perfon to expose
Bare, like a carcafe pick'd by crows,
A lawyer o'er his hands and face

25

30

35

G-d d-n his blood, and b-d and w-ds.

Harangu'd, and welcom'd him to town.
BUT Death had bus'ness to dispatch;

50

His mind was running on his match.
And, hearing much of Daphne's fame,

His Majefty of terrors came,

Fine as a col'nel of the guards,

To vifit where fhe fat at cards.

*The periwigs now in fashion are fo called.

55

She, as he came into the room,
Thought him Adonis in his bloom.
And now her heart with pleasure jumps;
She fcarce remembers what is trumps;
For such a shape of skin and bone

Was never seen except her own :

60

Charm'd with his eyes, and chin, and fnout,

Her pocket-glass drew flily out;

And grew enamour'd with her phiz,

65

As juft the counter part of his.

She darted many a private glance,

And freely made the firft advance ;

Was of her beauty grown so vain,
She doubted not to win the wain;

70

Nothing, fhe thought, could fooner gain him,
Than with her wit to entertain him.

She ask'd about her friends below;
This meagre fop, that batter'd beau :
Whether fome late departed toasts
Had got gallants among the ghosts?
If Chloe were a sharper ftill
As great as ever at quadrille ?

(The ladies there muft 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 Elyfian fhades
The sweetest place for masquerades:
How pleasant 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 spouse for thee :

75

85

go

368 DEATH

Which in th

(Like

With

Tha

An

I

370

ON STEPHEN

Upon thy hand his Auger laid,

DUC K.

For when, by chance, it meagre fhade
Thy hand as dry and cold as lead,
His matrimonial fpirit Hed;
He felt about his heart a damp,
That quite extinguish'd Cupid's lamp:

Away the frighted spectre fcuds,
And leaves my lady in the fuds.

95

100

On STEPHEN DUCK, the THRESHER,

and favourite POET.

THE

HE thresher Duck could o'er the Queen prevail,

The proverb fays, No fence against a fail.

From threshing corn he turns to thresh his brains;
For which her Majefty allows him grains.
Tho' 'tis confefs'd, that thofe who ever faw
think them all not worth a fraw!
Thrice happy Duck, employ'd in threshing Stubble!
Thy toil is leffen'd, and thy profits double.

His poems,

A PANEGYRIC

5

on the DEAN, in the

perfon of a LADY in the north t.

Written in the year 1730.

REfolv'd my gratitude to show,

Thrice Rev'rend Dean, for all I owe,
Too long I have my thanks delay'd;
Your favours left too long unpaid;'
But now, in all our fex's name,
My artless mufe fhall fing your fame.

The Lady of Sir Arthur Acheson.

5

INDULGENT you to female kind,
To all their weaker fides are blind;

Nine more fuch champions as the Dean
Would foon reftore our ancient reign.
How well to win the ladies hearts,
You celebrate their wit and parts!
How have I felt my fpirits rais'd,
By you so oft, fo highly prais'd!
Transform'd, by your convincing tongue,
To witty, beautiful, and young.
I hope to quit that awkward shame
Affected by each vulgar dame,
To modesty a weak pretence;
And foon grow pert on men of fenfe;
To fhew my face with fcornful air,
Let others match.it, if they dare.

IMPATIENT to be out of debt,
O, may I never once forget

The bard, who humbly daigns to chufe
Me for the fubject of his mufe.

Behind my back, before my nose,

He founds my praife in verfe and profe,

My heart with emulation burns

To make you fuitable returns:
My gratitude the world fhall know :
And, fee, the printer's boy below;
Ye hawkers all, your voices lift;
A panegyric on Dean Swift;

And then, to mend the matter ftill,
By Lady Anne of Market-hill .

I thus begin: My grateful mufe
Salutes the Dean in diff'rent views;
Dean, butler, ufher, jefter, tutor;

Robert and Darby's || coadjutor:

40

A village near Sir Arthur Achefon's houfe, where the author

paffed two fummers.

The names of two overseers.