Say, Stella, was Prometheus blind,
And, forming you, miftook your kind?
No; 'twas for you alone he ftole
The fire that forms a manly foul;
Then, to complete it every way,
He moulded it with female clay :
To that you owe the nobler flame,
To this the beauty of your frame.
How would ingratitude delight,
And how would cenfure glut her spite,
If I fhould Stella's, kindness hide
In filence, or forget with pride!
When on my fickly couch I lay,
Impatient both of night and day,
Lamenting in unmanly ftrains,
Call'd every power to eafe my pains;
Then Stella ran to my relief,
With cheerful face and inward grief;
And, though by Heaven's fevere decree
She fuffers hourly more than me,
No cruel mafter could require,
From flaves employ'd for daily hire,
What Stella, by her friendship warm'd,
With vigour and delight perform'd:
My finking spirits now fupplies
With cordials in her hands and eyes;
Now with a foft and filent tread
Unheard the moves about my bed.
I fee her taste each naufeous draught,
And fo obligingly am caught;
I bless the hand from whence they came,
Nor dare diftort my face for fhame.
Bef pattern of true friends! beware;
You pay too dearly for
If, while your tenderness fecures
My life, it must endanger yours;
For fuch a fool was never found,
Who pull'd a palace to the ground,
Only to have the ruins made
Materials for a houfe decay'd.
On the DEATH of DEMAR, the USURER;
Who died the fixth of July, 1720.
NOW all men by thefe prefents, Death the tamer,
By mortgage has fecur'd the corpfe of Demar:
Nor can four hundred thousand fterling pound
Redeem him from his prifon under ground.
His heirs might well, of all his wealth poffefs'd,
Beftow to bury him one iron cheft.
Plutus the god of wealth will joy to know
His faithful fteward in the fhades below,
He walk'd the ftreets, and wore a threadbare cloak;
He din'd and fupp'd at charge of other folk:
And by his looks, had he held out his palms,
He might be thought an object fit for alms.
So, to the poor if he refus'd his pelf,
He us'd them full as kindly as himself.
Where'er he went, he never faw his betters; Lords, knights, and fquires, were all his humble
And under hand and feal the Irish nation
Were forc'd to own to him their obligation.
He that could once have half a kingdom bought, In half a minute is not worth a groat.
His coffers from the coffin could not fave,
Nor all his intereft keep him from the grave.
A golden monument would not be right,
Because we wish the earth upon him light.
Oh London tavern! thou haft loft a friend, Though in thy walls he ne'er did farthing spend : He touch'd the pence, when others touch'd the pot; The hand that fign'd the mortgage paid the shot. Old as he was, no vulgar known disease
On him could ever boaft a power to feize;
+ But, as he weigh'd his gold, grim Death in fpight "Caft-in his dart, which made three moidores light; And, as he faw his darling money fail,
"Blew his laft breath, to fink the lighter fcale."
He who so long was current, 'twould be strange
If he should now be cry'd down fince his change.
The fexton fhall green fods on thee bestow;
Alas, the fexton is thy banker now!
A difmal banker must that banker be,
Who gives no bills but of mortality!
EPITAPH ON THE SAME.
BENEATH this verdant hillock lies
Demar, the wealthy and the wife.
His heirs, that he might fafely rest,
Have
put his carcafe in a cheft;
* A tavern in Dublin, where Demar kept his office,
+ These four lines were written by Stella.
The very cheft, in which, they fay,
'His other felf, his money, lay.
And, if his heirs continue kind
To that dear felf he left behind,
I dare believe, that four in five
Will think his better half alive.
TO MRS. HOUGHTON OF BOURMONT. Upon praifing her Husband to Dr. SWIFT.
YOU always are making a God of your Spouse;
But this neither Reason nor Confcience allows:
Perhaps you will fay, 'tis in gratitude due,
And you adore him, because he adores you.
Your argument's weak, and fo you will find;
For you, by this rule, must adore all mankind.
VERSES, WRITTEN ON A WINDOW, At the DEANRY HOUSE, ST. PATRICK'S.
ARE the guests of this house still doom'd to be
Sure, the fates have decreed they by halves fhould be treated.
In the days of good * John, if you came here to dine, You had choice of good meat, but no choice of good wine.
In Jonathan's reign, if you come here to eat, You have choice of good wine, but no choice of good meat.
Dean Sterne was diftinguished for his hofpitality.
Oh, Jove! then how fully might all fides be bleft, Would'ft thou but agree to this humble request? Put both deans in one; or, if that's too much trouble, Inftead of the deans, make the deanry double.
ON ANOTHER WINDOW *.
A BARD, on whom Phoebus his spirit bestow'd,
Refolving t' acknowledge the bounty he ow'd,
Found out a new method at once of confeffing,
And making the most of so mighty a blessing :
To the God he'd be grateful; but mortals he'd choufe,
By making his patron prefide in his house ;
And wifely forefaw this advantage from thence,
That the God would in honour bear moft of th'
expence :
So the bard he finds drink, and leaves Phoebus to treat
With the thoughts he inspires, regardless of meat.
Hence they, that come hither expecting to dine,
Are always fobb'd off with fheer wit and sheer wine.
APOLLO TO THE DEAN. 1720.
RIGHT trufty, and so forth-we let
you to know We are very ill us'd by you mortals below. For, first, I have often by chemifts been told,
Though I know nothing on 't, it is I that make gold;
Which when you have got, you fo carefully hide it,
That, fince I was born, I hardly have spy'd it.
Then it must be allow'd, that, whenever I fhine,
I forward the grafs, and I ripen the vine ;
By Dr. Delany, in conjunction with Stella.
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