As when a conjurer takes a lease
From Satan for a term of years,
The tenant's in a dismal cafe,
Whene'er the bloody bond appears.

A baited banker thus defponds,

From his own hand foresees his fall; They have his foul, who have his bonds; 'Tis like the writing on the wall.

How will the caitiff wretch be fcar'd,
When firft he finds himself awake

At laft the trumpet, unprepar'd,

And all his grand account to make!

For, in that universal call,

Few bankers will to Heaven be mounters;
"Ye fhops, upon us fall!
"Conceal and cover us, ye counters!"

They'll cry,

When other hands the fcales fhall hold,
And they, in men's and angels' fight
Produc'd with all their bills and gold,
"Weigh'd in the balance, and found light!"

The DESCRIPTION of an IRISH FEAST,

Tranflated almost literally out of the Original Irish, in the year 1720.

O'ROURK's noble fare

Will ne'er be forgot,

By those who were there,
Or those who were not.

N 3

His

His revels to keep,

We fup and we dine
On seven score sheep,

Fat bullocks, and fwine.

Ufquebaugh to our feaft
In pails was brought up,
An hundred at leaft,

And a madder * our cup.

O there is the fport!

We rife with the light
In diforderly fort,

From fnoaring all night.

O how was I trick'd!
My pipe it was broke,
My pocket was pick'd,
I loft my new cloak.

I'm rified, quoth Nell,

Of mantle and kercher † :

Why then fare them well,

The de'el take the fearcher.

Come, harper, strike up;

But, firft, by your favour,

Boy, give us a cup :

Ah! this hath fome favour.

O'Rourk's jolly boys

Ne'er dreamt of the matter,

"Till, rous'd by the noise,

And mufical clatter.

* A wooden veffel.

A covering of linen worn on the heads of the women.

They

They bounce from their neft,

No longer will tarry,

They rife ready dreft,

Without one ave-mary.

They dance in a round,
Cutting capers and ramping;
the ground

A mercy

Did not burst with their ftamping,

The floor is all wet

With leaps and with jumps,
While the water and fweat
Splish-fplash in their pumps.

Blefs you late and early,
Laughlin O'Enagin * !

By my hand t, you dance rarely,
Margery Grinagin ‡.

Good Lord! what a fight,
After all their good cheer,
For people to fight

In the midft of their beer!

They rife from their feast,
And hot are their brains,
A cubit at least

The length of their skeans *.

What ftabs and what cuts,

What clattering of sticks;
What ftrokes on the guts,
What baftings and kicks!

With cudgels of oak,

Well harden'd in flame,
An hundred heads broke,
An hundred ftruck lame.

You churl, I'll maintain
My father built Lufk,

The caftle of Slane,

And Carrick Drumrufk:

The earl of Kildare,

And Moynalta his brother,

As great as they are,

I was nurft by their mother †.

Daggers or fhort fwords.

It is the custom in Ireland to call nurfes, fofter-mothers; their husbands, fofter-fathers; and their children fofter-brothers or fofterfifters; and thus the poorest claim kindred to the richest.

Ask

To the tune of, "Packington's Pound."

ROCADOS and damasks, and tabbies, and gawses,

Are by Robert Ballentine lately brought over, With forty things more: now hear what the law fays,

Whoe'er will not wear them, is not the king's lover.
Though a printer and dean
Seditiously mean

Our true Irish hearts from old England to wean; We'll buy English filks, for our wives and our daughters,

In spite of his deanship, and journeyman Waters.

* Propofal for the universal use of Irish manufactures, for which Waters the printer was feverely profecuted.

In