A LOVE SONG,

IN THE MODERN TASTE. 1733.

FLUT

I.

LUTTERING fpread thy purple pinions,
Gentle Cupid, o'er my heart;

I a flave in thy dominions;

Nature must give way to art.

II.

Mild Arcadians, ever blooming,
Nightly nodding o'er your flocks,
See my weary days confuming
All beneath yon flowery rocks.

III.

Thus the Cyprian goddess weeping
Mourn'd Adonis, darling youth:
Him the boar, in filence creeping,
Gor'd with unrelenting tooth.

IV.

Cynthia, tune harmonious numbers;
Fair Discretion, ftring the lyre;
Sooth my ever-waking flumbers;
Bright Apollo, lend thy choir.

V.

Gloomy Pluto, king of terrors,
Arm'd in adamantine chains,
Lead me to the crystal mirrors,
Watering foft Elyfian plains.

VI. Mournful

VI.

Mournful cyprefs, verdant willow,
Gilding my Aurelia's brows,
Morpheus, hovering o'er my pillow,
Hear me pay my dying vows.

VII.

Melancholy smooth Meander,
Swiftly purling in a round,
On thy margin lovers wander,

With thy flowery chaplets crown'd.

VIII.

Thus when Philomela drooping

Softly feeks her filent mate, See the bird of Juno stooping; Melody refigns to fate.

On the Words BROTHER PROTESTANTS, and FELLOW CHRISTIANS,

So familiarly used by the Advocates for the Repeal of

the TEST-ACT in IRELAND.

N inundation, fays the fable,

1733.

O'erflow'd a farmer's barn and stable;
Whole ricks of hay, and stacks of corn,
Were down the fudden current borne;
While things of heterogeneous kind
Together float with tide and wind.
The generous wheat forgot its pride,
And fail'd with litter fide by fide;

Uniting

Uniting all, to fhew their amity,
As in a general calamity.

A ball of new-dropt horfe's dung,
Mingling with apples in the throng,
Said to the pippin plump and prim,
"See, brother, how we apples fwim."

Thus Lamb, renown'd for cutting corns,
An offer'd fee of Radcliff fcorns:

"Not for the world-we doctors, brother,
"Muft take no fees of one another."
Thus to a Dean fome Curate floven
Subfcribes, "Dear Sir, your brother loving."
Thus all the footmen, fhoe-boys, porters,
About St. James's, cry, "We courtiers."
Thus H-e in the house will prate,

"Sir, we the ministers of state."

Thus at the bar the blockhead Bettefworth,
Though half a crown o'erpays his sweat's worth,
Who knows in law nor text nor margent,
Calls Singleton his brother ferjeant.
And thus fanatic faints, though neither in
Doctrine nor difcipline our brethren,
Are Brother Proteftants and Chriftians,
As much as Hebrews and Philistines:
But in no other fenfe, than nature
Has made a rat our fellow-creature.
Lice from your body fuck their food;
But is a loufe your flesh and blood?
Though born of human filth and sweat, it
May as well be faid man did beget it:

But

But maggots in your nose and chin
As well may claim you for their kin.
Yet criticks may object, Why not?
Since lice are brethren to a Scot:
Which made our swarm of fects determine
Employments for their brother vermin.
But be they English, Irish, Scottish,
What Proteftant can be fo fottish,

While o'er the church these clouds are gathering,

To call a fwarm of lice his brethren?

As Mofes, by divine advice,

In Egypt turn'd the duft to lice;

And as our fects, by all defcriptions,

Have hearts more harden'd than Egyptians;

As from the trodden duft they spring,
And, turn'd to lice, infeft the king:
For pity's fake, it would be juft,
A rod fhould turn them back to duft.
Let folks in high or holy stations
Be proud of owning fuch relations;
Let courtiers hug them in their bofom,
As if they were afraid to lofe 'em :
While I, with humble Job, had rather
Say to corruption-" Thou 'rt my father."
For he that has fo little wit

To nourish vermin, may be bit.

THE

THE YAHOO'S OVERTHROW;

OR,

THE KEVAN BAYL'S NEW BALLAD,

UPON SERJEANT KITE'S INSULTING THE DEAN.

To the Tune of " Derry down."

TOLLY boys of St. Kevan's, St. Patrick's, Donore,

JOLLY

And Smithfield, I'll tell you, if not told before, How Betterworth, that booby, and fcoundrel in grain, Hath infulted us all by infulting the Dean.

Knock him down, down, down, knock him down. The Dean and his merits we every one know; But this fkip of a Lawyer, where the De'el did he grow? How greater his merit at Four Courts or House, Than the barking of Towzer, or leap of a loufe?

Knock him down, &c.

That he came from the Temple, his morals do fhow; But where his deep law is, few mortals yet know: His rhetoric, bombaft, filly jefts, are by far More like to lampooning, than pleading at bar.

Knock him down, &c.

This pedlar, at fpeaking and making of laws, Hath met with returns of all forts but applause; Has, with noife and odd geftures, been prating fome years,

What honefter folks never durft for their ears.

Knock him down, &c.

Of