ROM heaven I fall, though from earth I begin, Though candour and truth in my aspect I bear, hand, "I lofe by the house what I get by the land; "First let me fuppofe I make it a malt-house, "I increate it to twelve, fo three hundred remain; "No little scrub joint fhall come on my board; "Aftone and a quarter of beef from my furloin. The mother the daughter, the daughter the mo- If I make it a barrack, the crown is my tenant; ther. $236. On a Cannon. 66 My dear, I have ponder'd again and again on't. "In poundage and drawbacks I lofe half my rent: "Whatever they give me, I must be content, BEGOTTEN, and born, and dying with noife, Or join with the court in every debate; The terror of women, and pleasure of boys, §237. To Quilca, a Country-Houfe of Dr. Sheridan, LET me thy properties explain A rotten cabin, dropping rain; The name of an Irish fervant. And rather than that I would lofe my eftate." wife: "It muft and it fhall be a barrack, my life. With parfons what lady can keep herfelf clean ? "Or, fhould he pretend to be brisk and alert, Will tell him that Chaplains fhould not be fo "pert; "That men of his coat fhould be minding their "pray'rs, And not among ladies to give themselves airs." But Hannah, who liften'd to all that was past, Sir Arthur Achefon, at whofe feat this was written. A large old houfe, two miles from Sir Arthur's feat. 3 F My lady's waiting-woman. "Sir "Sir Arthur the maltter! how fine it will" See now comes the Captain, all daub'd with "gold lace: "found! "I'd rather the bawn were funk under ground." O la! the fweet gentleman! look in his face; But, madam, I guefs'd there would never come" And fee how he rides like a lord of the land, "good, With the fine flaming fword that he holds in "his hand; "When I faw him fo often with Darby and "Wood. At laft comes the troop, by the word of com"mand, Drawn up in our court; when the Captain cries "STAND! "And his horfe, the dear creter, it prances and rears; "And now my dream's out; for I was a-dream'd" With ribbons in knots at its tail and its cars : "That I faw a huge rat-O dear, how I fcream'd!" "And after, methought, I had loft my new fhoes; "And Molly, the faid I fhould bear fomne ill news. "Dear madam, had you but the spirit to tease, "You might have a barrack whenever you pleafe: “And, madam, I always believ'd you so stout, "That for twenty denials you would not give out." The Captain, to fhew he is proud of the favour, "If I had a husband like him, I purteft, "Looks up to your window, and cocks up his "Till he gave me my will, I would give him no "And, rather than come in the fame pair of sheets "Your Ladyfhip lifts up the fafh to be feen "beaver (His beaver is cock'd; pray, madam, mark that, "Then flourishes thrice his fword in the air, "Then he lowers down the point, and kiffes the hilt.. "I'm fure he'll be proud of the honour you do us. "And, Captain, you'll do us the favour to stay "And take a thort dinner here with usto-day? You're heartily welcome: but as for good cheer "You come in the very worst time of the year; "I think I have seen her picture by Jervas."-"If I had expected to worthy a guest-" Good-morrow, good Captain. I'll wait on you" Lord! madam your ladyship fure is in jeft: "You banter me, madam, the kingdom muf grant" "down. "You than 't stir a foot."-" You 'll think me a "My humble refpects to my Lady unknown." "You officers, Captain, are fo complaisant!” For the Captain's entreated to fit by your fide: "And, because he's their betters, you carve for him firft; Thou haft certainly gotten a cup in thy pate." "Pray, madain, be quiet; what was it 1 faid?" The Parfons for envy are ready to burst. "You had like to have put it quite out of my head. "The fervants amazed are scarce ever able Next day, to be fure, the Captain will come, "To keep off their eyes, as they wait at the table "At the head of his troops with trumpet and drum." And Molly and I have thruft in our nose "Now, madam, obferve how he marches in fiate: " To peep at the Captain in all his fine clo'es. "The man with the kettle-drums enters the gate;" Dear madam, be fure he's a fine-ipoken man, Dub, dab, adub, dub. The trumpeters follow, "Do but hear on the Clergy how glib his tongue «Tantara, tantera; while all the boys halloo. *Two of Sir Arthur's managers. ran + Dr. Jinny, a clergyman in the neighbourhood. "And, “ pains. “And, madam," fays he, " if fuch dinners you" How could thefe chimeras get into your "give, "brains? "You'll ne'er want for Parfons as long as you live." Come hither, and take this old gown for your "I ne'er knew a Parfon without a good nofe; "But the Devil's as welcome wherever he goes: "G-d-n me! they bid us reform and repent, But, z-ds! by their looks they never keep "Lent: "But the Dean, if this fecret should come to his "ears, "Will never have done with his jibes and his "jeers: You caft a fheep's eye on her ladyflip's maid:" "band "(For the Dean was fo fhabby, and look'd like a "ninny, "That the Captain fuppos'd he was curate to "Jinny). Whenever you fee a caffock and gown, "A hundred to one but it covers a clown. Obferve how a Parfon comes into a room; "G-d―n me! he hobbles as bad as my groom: "A fcollard, when juft from his college broke loofe, "Can hardly tell how to cry bo to a goose: Your Noveds, and Bluturks, and Omurs, and “stuff, For your life, not a word of the matter, "charge ye: Give me but a barrack, a fig for the clergy." 239. On the Death of Dr. Swift. Occafioned by reading the following Maxim in Rochefoucault, "Dans l'adverfité de nos meilleurs amis, nous "trouvons toujours quelque chofe qui ne nous "deplaift pas." "In the adverfity of our best friends, we always find fomething that doth not difpleafe us." AS Rochefoucault his maxims drew From nature, I believe them true This maxim more than all the reft "By G-, they don't fignify this pinch of snuff; "I never could take to my book for the blood "And the puppy confefs'd he expected no good "o' me. "He caught me one morning coquetting his wife, "So I took to the road; and what 's very odd, fay, While nature, kindly bent to ease us, I We all behold with envious eyes What poet would not grieve to fee Till he heard the Dean call," Will your Lady-She turns to envy, ftings, and hiffes Her Lady fhip answers," I'm juft coming down :" The ftrongest friendship yields to pride, Give Give others riches, pow'r, and station, Yet, when you fink, I feem the higher. I cry, "Pox take him, and his wit!” If with fuch talents Heaven hath blefs'd 'em, To all my focs, dear Fortune, fend Thus much may ferve by way of proem; Proceed we therefore to our poem. The time is not remote, when I Muft by the courfe of nature die; When, I forefee, my special friends Will try to find their private ends: And, though 'tis hardly underflood Which way my death can do them good, Yet thus, methinks, I hear them fpeak: "See how the Dean begins to break! "Poor gentleman, he droops apace! "You plainly find it in his face. "That old vertigo in his head "Will never leave him till he 's dead. "Befides, his memory decays: "He recollects not what he favs: "He cannot call his friends to mind; "Forgets the place where last he din'd; "Plies you with ftories o'er and o'er; "He told them fifty times before. "How does he fancy we can fit "To hear his out-of-fafhion wit? "But he takes up with younger folks, "Who for his wine will bear his jokes. "Faith! he muft make his ftories fhorter, "Or change his comrades once a quarter: "In half the time he talks them round, "There muft another fet be found. "For poetry he 's paft his prime : "He takes an hour to find a rhime; "His fire is out, his wit decay'd, "His fancy funk, his Mufe a jade. "I'd have him throw away his pen ; "But there's no talking to fome men !" And then their tenderness appears By adding largely to my years: "He's older than he would be reckon'd, "And well remembers Charles the Second. "He hardly drinks a pint of wine; "And that, I doubt, is no good fign. "His ftomach too begins to fail: "Laft year we thought him ftrong and hale; In fuch a cafe, they talk in tropes, (When daily how-d'ye's come of course, And fervants anfwer," Worfe and worfe!") Approves his forefight to the reft: You know I always fear'd the worst, "And often told you fo at firft." He 'd rather choose that I fhould die, Than his predictions prove a lie. Not one foretels I fhall recover; But all agree to give me over. Yet, fhould fome neighbour feel a pain Tuft in the parts where I complain; How many a melage would he fend What hearty pray'rs that I fhould mend! Inquire what regimen I kept; What gave me cafe, and how I flept! And more lament when I was dead, Than all the fniv'lers round my bed. My good companions, never fear; For though you may mistake a year, Though your prognoftics run too fatt, They must be verified at laft. Behold the fatal day arrive! How is the Dean"-" He 's just alive." Now the departing pray'r is read; He hardly breathes-the Dean is dead! Before the palling-bell begun, The news through half the town is run. O may we all for death prepare! What has he left and who's his heir? "I know no more than what the news is; 'Tis all bequeath'd to public ufes. To public ufes! there's a whim! "What had the public done for him? "Mere envy, avarice, and pride! "He gave it all-but firft he died. And had the Dean, in all the nation, "No worthy friend, no poor relation? "So ready to do ftrangers good, Forgetting his own flesh and blood !" Now Grub-street wits are all employ'd; With elegies the town is cloy'd: Some paragraph in every paper, To curfe the Dean, or blefs the Drapier. The doctors, tender of their fame, Wifely on me lay all the blame. "We "We must confefs his cafe was nice; 'Tis told at court, "The Dean is dead." He's dead, you fay then let him rot; "I'm glad the medals were forgot. "I promis'd him, I own; but when? Ionly was the Princefs then : But now, as confort of the King, Now Curl his fhop from rubbish drain s: St. John himfelf will fcarce forbear The fools, my juniors by a year, The screen remov'd, their hearts are trembling: My female friends, whofe tender hearts Have better learn'd to act their parts, Receive the news in doleful dumps : "The Dean is dead: (pray, what is trumps?) "Then, Lord have mercy on his foul ! " (Ladies, I'll venture for the vole). Madam, your husband will attend The funeral of fo good a friend? "Ne, Madam, 'tis a thocking fight; "And he's engag'd to-morrow night: My Lady Club will take it ill If he thould fail her at quadrille. "He lov'd the Dean-(I lead a heart)"But dearest friends, they fay, must part. "Eis time was come; he ran his race; "We hope he 's in a better place." Why do we grieve that friends fhould die? No lots more eafy to fupply. One year is part-a different fcene! Some country 'fquire to Lintot goes, Laft Monday, to the paftry-cook's. "To fancy they could live a year! "I find you 're but a ftranger here. "The Dean was famous in his time, "And had a kind of knack at rhyme. "His way of writing now is paft: "The town has got a better taste. "I keep no antiquated ftuff; But fpick and fpan I have enough. Pray do but give me leave to fhew 'em : Here's Colley Cibber's birth-day poem. This ode you never yet have feen, "By Stephen Duck, upon the Queen. "Then here's a letter finely penn'd "Against the Craftlinan and his friend: "It clearly fhews that all reflection "On minifters is difaffection. "Next, here's Sir Robert's vindication, "And Mr. Henley's laft oration. "The hawkers have not got them yet: "Your Honour please to buy a fet? "Here's Wolfton's tracts, the twelfth edition; "'Tis read by every politician: "The country-members, when in town, "To all their boroughs fend them down: "You never met a thing so smart; "The courtiers have them all by heart : "Thofe maids of honour who can read "Are taught to use them for their creed "The reverend author's good intention "Hath been rewarded with a penfion : Mrs. Howard, at one time a favourite with the Dean. Which the Dean in vain expected in return for a small present he had fent to the Princess. ‡ Wollton is here confounded with Wollafton. 3F 3 "He |