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When none the Drapier's praise shall fing,
His figns aloft no longer swing ;
His medals and his prints forgotten,
And all his handkerchiefs are rotten I;
His famous Letters made waste paper ;
This hill may keep the name of Drapier :
In spite of envy flourish still,
And Drapier's vie with Cooper's Hill.


The GRAND QUESTION debated :

Whether HAMILTON BAWN * should be

turned into a BARRACK or a MALTHOUSE,

Written in the year 1729.


THE author of the following poem is faid to be

Dr. J. S. D. S. P. D. who writ it, as well as. several other copies of verses of the like kind, by way of amusement, in the family of an honourable gentleman in the north of Ireland, where he spent à fummer about two or three years ago.

| Medals were cast, many signs hung up, and handkerchiefs made with devices, in honour of the author, under the name of M, B. Drapier.

* A bawn was a place near the house, inclosed with mud or stone walls to keep the cattle from being stolen in the night. They are now little uled.




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A certain very great perfon +, then in that king. dom, having heard much of this poem, obtained a copy from the gentleman, or, as some fay, the lady, in whose house it was written; from whence, I know not by what accident, several other copies were tranfcribed, full of errors.

As I have a great respect for the supposed author, I have procured a true copy of the poem; the publication whereof can do hiin less injury tban printing any of those incorrect ones which ran about in manuscript, and would infallibly be foon in the press, if not thus prevented

Some expreffions being peculiar to Ireland, I have prevailed on a gentleman of that kingdom to explain them, and I have put the several explanations in their

proper places,
*HUS spoke to my Lady the. Knight | full of

Let me have your advice in a weighty affair,
This Hamilton's bawn *, whilst it sticks on my hand,
I lose by the house what I get by the land;
But how to dispose of it to the beft bidder, 5
For a barrack for malthoufe, we now inuft confider,

First, let me suppose I make it a malthouse,
Here I have computed the profit will fall t’us ;
There's nine hundred pounds for labour and grain,
I increase it to twelve, to three hundred remain; 10
A handsome addition for wine and good cheer,
Three dishes a day, and three hogsheads a year :
With a dozen large vefsels my vaults shall be ftor'd;
No little scrub joint shall come on my

board :
And you and the Dean no more shall combine 15
To stint me at night to one bottle of wine :

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+ John Lord Carteret, ihen Lord Licutenant of Ireland, afterwards Earl of Granville in right of his mother. I Sir Arthur Acheson, at whose feat it was written.

A large old house, two miles f.om Sir Arthur Acheson's seat. + The army in Ireland is lodged in Arcng buildings over the whole kingdon, called barracks.


Nor shall I, for his huniour, permit you to purloiu
A stone and a quarter of beef from my firloin.
If I make it a barrack, the crown is my tenant ;
My dear, I have ponder'd again and again on't : 26
In poundage and drawbacks I lose half my rent,
Whatever they give me, I must be content,
Or join with the court in ev'ry debate;
And rather than that I would lose my estate.

Thus ended the Knight : thus began his meek

wife ;

It muft, and it shall be a barrack, my life,
I'm grown a mere mopus; no company comess
But a rabble of tenants, and rusty dull rums F.
With parsons what lady can keep lierself clean?
I'm all over daub'd when I sit by the Dean, 30
But if you will give us a barrack, my dear,
The Captain, I'm sure, will always come here :
I then shall not value his Deanship a straw,
For the Captain, I warrant, will keep him in awe ;
Or should he pretend to be brisk and alert, 35
Will tell him that chaplains should not be so pert;
That men of his coat should be minding their pray’rs,
And not among ladies to give themselves airs.

Thus argu'd my Lady, but argu'd in vain ;
The knight his opinion resolv'd to maintain.


But Hannah *, who listen'd to all that was past, And could not endure fo vulgar a taste, As foon as her Ladyship call'd to be dress’al, Cry'd, Madam, why surely my master's poffefsid, Sir Arthur the maltter! how fine it will found! 45 Pd ratber the Bawo were sunk under ground.

A cant word in Ireland for a poor country.clergymar * My Lady's waiting-woman.

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And now my

But, Madam, I guess'd there would never come

good, When I saw him so often with Darby and Wood to dream's out;

for I was a-dreaın'd That I saw a huge rat; O dear, how I scream'd! 50 And after, methought, I had lost my new shoes; And Molly, she said, I fhould hear some ill news

Dear Madam, had you but the spirit to tease, You might have a barrack whenever you please : And, Madam, I always believ'd you fo ftout, 55 That for twenty denials you would not give out. If I had a husband like him, i purteft, Till he gave me my will, I would give him nd reft; And rather than come in the same pair of sheets With such a cross man, I would lie in the streets : 60 But, Madam, I beg you contrive and invent. And worry him out, till he gives his consent.


Dear Madam, whene'er of a barrack I think, An I were to be hang'd I can't sleep a wink : For if a new crotchet comes into my brain, I can't get it out, though I'd never fo fain: I fancy already a barack contriv'd At Hamilton's Bawn, and the troop is arriv'd; Of this to be füre, Sir Arthur has warning, And waits on the Captain betimes the next morning.


Now see when they meet how their honours be.

have; Noble Captain, your fervant-Sir Arthur, your

flave e ; You honour ine much -the honour is mine, 'Twas a fad rainy night--but the morning is fine--Pray, how does my Lady? my wife's at your service.

75 I think I have seen her picture by Jervis.

+ Two of Sir Arthur's managers


Good morrow, good Captain,

I'll wait on you down You shan't stir a foot-you'll think me a clownFor all the world, Captain, not half an inch far

ther You must be obey'd-your servant, Sir Arthur; 80 My humble respects to my Lady unknown,I hope you will use my house as your own. Go bring me my smock, and leave off your

prate, “ Thoù haft certainly gotten a cup in thy pate," 85 Pray, Madam, .be quiet; what was it I said? You had like to have put it quite out of my head.

Next day, to be sure, the captain will come At the head of his troop, with trumpet and drum : Now, Madan, -observe, how he marches in: state : The man with the kettledrum enters the gate : 95:Dub, dub, adub, dub. The trumpeters follow, Tantara, tantara, while all the boys hollow. Sce now comes the Captain all dawb'd with gold

lace: O law! the sweet gentleman! look in his face; And see how he rides like a lord of the land, 95 With the fine flaming sword that he holds in his

hand; And his horse, the dear creter, it prances and rears, With ribbands in knots at its tail and its ears ; At last comes the troop, by the word of command, Drawn up in our court; when the Captain cries,

Stand. Your Ladyship lifts up the fash to be seen, (For sure I had dizen'd you out like a queen): The Captain, to fhew he is proud of the favour; Looks up to your window, and cocks up his beaver; (His beaver is cock'd; pray, Madam, mark that, For a captain of horse never takes off his hat; 106



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