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And be assur'd the court will find him
Prepar'd to leap o'er fticks, or bind 'em.

To make the bundle strong and safe,
Great Orinond, lend thy gen'ral's ftaff;
And, if the crosier could be cramm'd in.
A fig for Lechmere, King, and Hambden,
You'll then defy the strongest Whig
With both his hands to bend a twig:
Though with united strength they all pull
From Somers down to Craggs and Walpole.


$ ************* *************

The AUTHOR upon himself.

Written in the year 1713,
A few of the first lines were wanting in the copy sent

us by a friend of the author's.

Y an



A crazy prelate *, and a royal prude t;
By dull divines, who look with envious eyes,
On ev'ry genius that attempts to rise ;
And pausing o'er a pipe with doubtful nod,
Give hints, that poets ne'er believe in God;
So clowns on fcholars as on wizards look,
And take a folio for a conj'ring book I.
* Dr. Sharp,, 'Archbishop of York.
+ Her late Majesty Queen Anne,

1 Archbishop Sharp, according to Dr. Swift's acconnt, had re uresen'ed him to the Queer as a person that was not a Christian : a greit lady bad supported the aspersion ;, and the Queen, upon such a luranes, bad given away the bishopric contrary to her Majesty's ist stintiops; wbish were in favour of Dr, Swift, Orrery,


D 3

Swift had the fin of wit, no venial crime;
Nay, 'tis affirm'd, he sometimes dealt in rhyme; 10
Humour and mirth had place in all he writ;
He reconcil'd divinity and wit :

He mov’d, and bow'd, and talk'd, with too much
Nor fhew'd the parson in his gait or face;
Despis’d luxurious wines, and costly meat ; 15
Yet still was at the tables of the great ;
Frequented lords; faw those that saw the Queen;
At Child's or Truby's * never once had been ;
Where town and country vicars flock in tribes,
Secur'd by numbers from the laymens gibes,
And deal in vices of the graver sort,
Tobacco, censure, coffee, pride, and port.



But after fage monitions from his friends,
Ilis talents to employ for nobler ends;
To better judgements willing to submit,
He turns to politics his dangerous wit.

And now the public interest to support,
By Harley Swift invited comes to court;
In favour grows with ministers of state;
Admitted private, when superiors wait:
And Harley, not asham’d his choice to own,
Takes him to Windsor in his coach alone.
At Windsor Swift no sooner can appear,
But St. John t comes and whispers in his ear:
The waiters stand in ranks; the yeomen cry,
“ Make rooin," as if a Duke were pafling by.



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Now Finch | alarms the Lords: he hears for cer.

tain This dang’rous priest is got behind the curtain.

* A cofeehonse and tavern near St. Paul's, at that time much fre. gu'nted by the clergy.

† Then Secretary of State, afterwards Lord Bolingbroke,
I The late Earl of Nottingham, who made a speech in the house
Lords against the author,

Finch, fam'd for tedious elocution, proves That Swift oils many a spring which Harley moves. Walpole and Aislabie ll, to clear the doubt, 41 Inform the Commons, that the secret's out: A certain doctor is observ’d of late To haunt a certain minister of state : “ From whence with half an eye we may discover 45 “ The peace is made, and Perkin must come over.”

York is from Lambeth sent to fhew the Queen A dangerous treatise writ against the spleen *; Which, by the style, the matter, and the drift, 'Tis thought could be the work of none but Swift. Poor York! the harmless tool of others hate; 51 He fues for pardont, and repents too late.

Now, her vengeance vows On Swift's reproaches for her From her red locks her mouth with venom fills; 55 And thence into the royal ear instills. The Queen incens'd, his services forgot, Leaves him a victim to the vengeful Scot. Now through the realm a proclamation spread I, To fix a price on his devoted head. While innocent, he scorns ignoble flight; His watchful friends preserve him by a sleight.


By Harley's favour once again he shines; Is now caress'd by candidate divines, Who change opinions with the changing scene: 65 Lord! how were they mistaken in the Dean!

! They both spoke against the author in the house of Commons, although Aillabie professed much friend.hip for him.

* Tale of a Tub.

+ His Grace was sorry for wiiat he had said, and sent a mefiage to the author to desire his pardon.

1 The proclamation was against the author of a pamphlet, called, " The public spirit of the Whigs," against which the Scotch Lords complained. See it in vol. 2.


Now Delaware | again familiar grows;
And in Swift's ear thrusts half his powder'd nose.
The Scottiih nation, whom he durst offend,
Again apply that Swift would be their friend **. 70

By faction tird, with grief he waits a while, His great contending friends to reconcile, Performs what friendship, justice, truth, require : What could he inore but decently retire * ?

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Written foon after the author's coming to live in

Ireland, upon the Queen's death, October 1714.

'1 15 true; — then why fhould I repine

To fee my life so fast decline?
But why obscurely here alone,
Where I am neither lov'd nor known?
My state of health none care to learn ;
My life is here no soul's concern:
And those with whom I now converse,
Without a tear will tend my herse.
Remov'd from kind Arbuthnot's aid,
Who knows his art, but not his trade,



|| D:lauare, then Lörd Treasurer of the household, always caressed ihe author at court: but, during the trial of the printers before the house of Lords, and while the proclamation hung over the author, his Lordship would not seem to know him.

** The Siotch Lords created and vified the author more afte the pr clamation than before, except the puke of Argyll, who woul never be reconciled.

* About ten weeks before the Queen's death, I left he tow i upon occasion of that ircurable breach among the greit mo a. curt, and went down to Berkshire,



Preferring his regard for me
Before his credit, or his fee.
Somne formal visits, looks, and words,
What mere humanity affords,
I meet perhaps from three or four,
From whom I once expected more;
Which those who tend the fick for

Can act as decently, as they :
But no obliging tender friend
To help at my approaching end.
My life is now a burden grown
To others, ere it be my own.

Ye formal weepers for the fick,
In your last offices be quick:
And spare my absent friends the grief
To hear, yet give me no relief;
Expir’d to-day, intomb’d to-morrow,
When known, will save a double sorrow,



To the Earl of OxFORD, late Lord Trea

surer. Sent to him when he was in the Tower, before his trial.

Out of HORACE.

Written in the year 1716.

OW bless'd is he who for his country dics,

Since death pursues the coward as he flies ! The youth in vain would fly from fate's attack, With trembling knees, and terror at his back; Tho'fear thould lend him pinions like the wind, 5 Yet swifter fate will seize him from behind.

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