« ПредишнаНапред »
Stubborn in Honour he must be :
Thus, the Lord Coke hath gravely writ,
An EPITAPH, by Dr. SWIFT, to the
Memory of FREDERICK, Duke of
atque etiam petierunt,
diu ac fæpè orando nil profecere ; Hunc demum Lapidem ipfi ftatuerunt;
* Saltem ut fcias, Hofpes, Ubinam terrarum SCHOMBERGENSIS Cineres
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.
Delivers Cards about
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.
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,
As if a Man in making Poesies,
got about a League from Land,
WILL. WOOD's Petition to the People of
Supposed to be made and sung in the Streets
of Dublin, by William Wood, Ironmonger,
Y dear Irish Fokes,
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.