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Stubborn in Honour he must be :
For Elephants ne'er bend the Knee.
Last, let his Memory be found,
In which your Elephant's profound;
That old Examples from the Wise
May prompt him in his No's and Aye’s.

Thus, the Lord Coke hath gravely writ,
In all the Form of Lawyer's Wit :
And then with Latin, and all that,
Shews the Comparison is pat.
Yet in some Points my Lord is wrong,
One's Teeth are sold, and t'other's Tongue :
Now, Men of Parliament, God knows,
Are more like Elephants of Shows;
Whose docile Memory and Sense
Are turn'd to Trick, to gather Pence;
To get their Master half a Crown,
They spread the Flag, or lay it down :
Those who bore Bulwarks on their Backs,
And guarded Nations from Attacks,
Now practise ev'ry pliant Gesture,
Op’ning their Trunk for ev'ry Tester.
Siam, for Elephants so fam’d,
Is not with England to be nam'd:
Their Elephants by Men are fold;
Ours sell themselves, and take the Gold.


An EPITAPH, by Dr. SWIFT, to the

Memory of FREDERICK, Duke of
SCHOMBERG, who was unhappily killed
in crossing the River Boyne, on the First of
July 1690, and was buried in St. Patrick's
Cathedral, Dublin, where the Dean and
Chapter erected a small Monument to his
Honour, at their own Expence.
Hic infra situm est Corpus Frederici Ducis

de Schomberg,
Ad Bubinidam occisi A. D. 1690.
Decanus et Capitulum maximopere etiam

atque etiam petierunt,
Ut Haredes Ducis Monumentum,
In memoriam Parentis, erigendum curarent:
Sed postquam per Epistolas, per Amicos

diu ac fæpè orando nil profecere ; Hunc demum Lapidem ipfi ftatuerunt;

* Saltem ut fcias, Hofpes, Ubinam terrarum SCHOMBERGENSIS Cineres

Plus potuit fama Virtutis apud Alienos,
quam Sanguinis proximitas apud suos.

A. D. 1731.

* The Words that Dr. Swift first concluded the Epitaph with, were still stronger, namely, Saltem ut sciat Viator indignabundus, quali in cellula tanti Ductoris cineres delitefcunt. For the Author was always heard to speak with great Reverence of the Memory of that brave Duke, as well as of his Glorious Master King WILLIAM ; and indeed of all others, who have struggled for the Liberties of these Kingdoms against the repeated Attempts of arbitrary Power,


A BALLAD on the Game of TRAFFICK.

Written at the Castle of Dublin, in the Time

of the Earl of Berkeley's Government.


r *
** Lord to find out who must deal,

Delivers Cards about
But the first Knave doth seldom fail

To find the Doctor out :

But then his Honour cry'd, Godzooks !

And seem'd to knit his Brow; For on a Knave he never looks

But h’thinks upon Jack How.

My Lady tho' she is no Player,

Some bungling Partner takes, And wedg'd in Corner of a Chair

Takes Snuff, and holds the Stakes.

Dame Floyd looks out in great Suspense

For Pair-royals and Sequents ; But wisely cautious of her Pence,

The Castle seldom frequents.

Quoth Herries, fairly putting Cases,

I'd won it on my Word, If I had but a Pair of Aces,

And could pick up a Third.

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But Weston has a new-cast Gown

On Sundays to be fine in ; And, if she can but win a Crown,

'Twill just new-dye the Lining.

« With these is Parson Swift,

“ Not knowing how to spend his Time, « Does make a wretched Shift,

“ To deafen 'em with Puns and Rhime."

Lady Betty Berkeley finding this Ballad in the Author's Room unfinished, the underwrit the last Stanza, and left the Paper where she had found it; which occasioned the Song, that the Author wrote in a counterfeit Hand, as if a third Person had done it, to the Tune of the Gut-purse. See Vol. II. of the Author's Works.

VERSES said to be written on the UNION.


HE* Queen has lately lost a Part

Of her entirely English Heart,
For want of which, by way of Botch,
She piec'd it up again with Scotch.
Bleft Revolution which creates
Divided Hearts, united States : ,
See how the double Nation lies,
Like a rich Coat with Skirts of Frize;



As if a Man in making Poesies,
Should bundle Thistles up with Roses.
Whoever yet a Union saw
Of Kingdoms without Faith or Law.
Henceforward let no Statesman dare,
A Kingdom to a Ship compare ;
Left he should call our Commonweal
A Vessel with a double Keel;
Which just like ours, new rigg'd and mann'd,

got about a League from Land,
By Change of Wind to Leeward Side,
The Pilot knew not how to guide.
So tossing Faction will o'erwhelm
Our crazy double-bottom'd Realm.


WILL. WOOD's Petition to the People of
IRELAND, being an excellent new Song.

Supposed to be made and sung in the Streets

of Dublin, by William Wood, Ironmonger,
and Halfpenny-monger, 1725.

Y dear Irish Fokes,
Come leave off

your Jokes, And buy up my Halfpence so fine ;

So fair and so bright,

They'll give you Delight; Observe how they glister and shine.



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