The DESCRIPTION of an IRISH FEAST, ́Translated almoft literally out of the Original Irish. 1720.

ROURK'S noble fare will ne'er be forgot,

OR

By those who were there, or thofe who were not. His revels to keep, we fup and we dine

On seven score fheep, fat bullocks, and fwine.
Ufquebaugh to our feast in pails was brought up,
An hundred at least, and a madder * our cup.
O there is the fport! we rife with the light
In diforderly fort from fnoaring all night.
O how was I trick'd! my pipe it was broke,
My pocket was pick'd, I loft my new cloak.
I'm rifled, quoth Nell, of mantle and kercher †:
Why then fare them well, the de'el take the fearcher.
Come, harper, ftrike up; but, firft, by your favour,
Boy, give us a cup: ah! this has some favour.
Orourk's jolly boys ne'er dreamt of the matter,
Till, rous'd by the noife and mufical clatter,
They bounce from their neft, no longer will tarry,
They rise ready dreft, without one ave-mary.
They dance in a round, cutting capers and ramping;
A mercy the ground did not burft with their stamping.
The floor is all wet with leaps and with jumps,
While the water and sweat splish-splash in their pumps.
Blefs you late and early, Laughlin O Enagin!
By my hand, you dance rarely, Margery Grinagin.
Bring ftraw for our bed, fhake it down to the feet,
Then over us spread the winnowing sheet:

* A wooden veffel. + Handkerchief. An Irish oath.

To

To fhew I don't flinch, fill the bowl up again;
Then give us a pinch of your sneezing, a yean*.
Good Lord! what a fight, after all their good cheer,
For people to fight in the midst of their beer!
They rife from their feaft, and hot are their brains,
A cubit at least the length of their fkeans t.

What stabs and what cuts, what clattering of flicks;
What ftrokes on the guts, what bastings and kicks!
With cudgels of oak well harden'd in flame,
An hundred heads broke, an hundred ftruck lame.
You chuil, I'll maintain my father built Lusk,
The caftle of Slain, and Carrick Drumruk :
The earl of Kildare and Moynalta his brother,
As great as they are, I was nurft by their mother.
Aik that of old madam; fhe 'll tell you who 's who
As far up as Adam, fhe knows it is true.
Come down with that beam, if cudgels are fearce,
A blow on the weam, or a kick on the a- fe.

AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG
On a SEDITIOUS PAMPHLETI, 1720.

To the tune of, "Packington's Pound.”

BROCADOS and damasks, and tabbies, and gawses, Are by Robert Ballentine lately brought over,

With forty things more: now hear what the law fars, Whoe'er will not wear them, is not the king's lover. Irish for a woman. +Daggers or fhort-fwords. Propofal for the univerfal ufe of Irish manufactures, for which Waters the printer was feverely profecured. Though

VOL. I.

Though a printer and dean

Seditiously mean

Our true Irish hearts from old England to wean;
We'll buy English filks for our wives and our daughters,
In fpite of his deanfhip and journeyman Waters.

In England the dead in woollen are clad,

The dean and his printer then let us cry fye on; To be cloath'd like a carcafe, would make a Teague mad, Since a living dog better is than a dead lion.

Our wives they grow fullen

At wearing of woollen,

And all we poor fhop-keepers must our horns pull in. Then we 'll buy English filks for our wives and our daughters,

In spite of his deanship and journeyman Waters.

Whoever our trading with England would hinder,
To inflame both the nations do plainly conspire;
Because Irish linen will foon turn to tinder,
And wool it is greafy, and quickly takes fire.
Therefore I affure ye,

Our noble grand jury,

When they faw the dean's book, they were in a great fury: They would buy English filks for their wives and their daughters,

In spite of his deanship and journeyman Waters.

This wicked rogue Waters, who always is finning,

And before torum nobus so oft' has been call'd, Henceforward fhall print neither pamphlets nor linen, And, if fwearing can do't, shall be swingingly mawl'd:

.5

And

And as for the dean,

You know whom I mean,

If the printer will peach him, he 'll scarce come off clean. Then we 'll buy English filks for our wives and our

daughters,

In fpite of his deanship and journeyman Waters.

THE PROGRESS OF BEAUTY.

1720.

WHEN firft Diana leaves her bed,

Vapours and steams her look disgrace,

A frowzy dirty-colour'd red

Sits on her cloudy wrinkled face :

But by degrees, when mounted high,
Her artificial face appears

Down from her window in the sky,

Her fpots are gone, her vifage clears.

'Twixt earthly females and the moon
All parallels exactly run:
If Celia fhould appear too foon,
Alas, the nymph would be undone !

To fee her from her pillow rife,

All reeking in a cloudy fteam,

Crack'd lips, foul teeth, and gummy eyes,
Poor Strephon! how would he blafpheme!

Three colours, black, and red, and white,
So graceful in their proper place,
Remove them to a different fcite,
They form a frightful hideous face:

For inftance, when the lily skips
Into the precincts of the rofe,
And takes poffeffion of the lips,
Leaving the purple to the nofe:
So Celia went intire to bed,

All her complexion safe and found;
But, when the rofe, white, black, and red,
Though ftill in fight, had chiang'd their ground.

The black, which would not be confin'd,

A more inferior station feeks,

Leaving the fiery red behind,

And mingles in her muddy cheeks.

'But Celia can with eafe reduce,

By help of pencil, paint, and brush, Each colour to its place and ufe,

And teach her cheeks again to blush.

She knows her early felf no more,
But fill'd with admiration ftands;

As other painters oft' adore

The workmanship of their own hands.

Thus, after four important hours,
Celia's the wonder of her fex:

Say, which among the heavenly powers
Could caufe fuch marvelous effects?

Venus, indulgent to her kind,

Gave women all their hearts could wish, When firft she taught them where to find White-lead and Lufitanian difh.